#and then i end up feeling miserable and left out and abandoned because no one gets as near me as i wish them to

[taragreenfield]

Who is the worst love interest in YA and why is it Mal Oretsev?

One thing about Mal is that you can open any article on toxic relationships and find at least 10 matches with his behavior. Aggression, belittling, disrespect, guilt-tripping, blame-shifting, emotional abuse, manipulation, possessiveness, controlling behavior, substance abuse—you name it, and it's probably here.

He doesn't really care about Alina at first, but when she's taken to the Little Palace and suddenly becomes popular, he remembers that she is his friend. "You are becoming your own person?" Not on my watch!" So he finds her in the palace, sees that she for once feels confident and beautiful, that summoning made her healthier, that she finally learned to control her power, and that other people appreciate her—and of course he has to shit all over her, calling her "a cosseted princess" and insinuating that she whored herself out to the Darkling (because she wears his color and symbol, oh horror). He apparently assumed that Alina was tortured and mistreated there and got offended that she was actually thriving. What a friend, eh?

When they run away, he nags her for eating too much (the girl who didn't have an appetite due to wasting sickness and looked borderline malnourished), doesn't care that suppressing her power made her so weak she could barely move her feet, and keeps reminding her that he became a deserter for her. I already can see their married life, where he reminds her how he almost died for her if she ever complains about anything. Idyll.

When Alina becomes the general of the Second Army, Mal's douchebag behavior reaches the critical level. He constantly whines to Alina about how he feels unneeded because she's busy with her job and he's not the most important guy in the group anymore. He spends evenings getting drunk, gambling, and beating up Grisha. He constantly gets aggressive whenever Alina interacts with Nikolai, forcefully yanks her more than once, speaks over her (telling everyone she won't wear black and won't accept Nikolai's proposal as if she can't make those decisions herself), and shares embarrassing stories about her in attempts to "humanize her" (nothing raises morale and fosters respect towards your commander quite like stories about them jumping in puddles and getting beaten up as a kid for ruining their slippers).

When Alina shares her worries about disturbing visions she's having and dares to flinch when he touches her, he gets pissed off and leaves (with a bottle of alcohol, of course).

He kisses Zoya and tells Alina it's her fault because "Zoya doesn't flinch when he touches her."

He also tells her he would like to carve her powers out of her and says he preferred her when she was repressing her powers (which made her sickly and miserable).

He works as the captain of her guard, but after yet another hissy fit, he abandons his position at night, leaving Alina alone. She walks outside in despair and almost gets torn apart by a group of overzealous fans.

He distances himself from her when she struggles with responsibilities and claims it's "for her own good." He even speaks like a textbook abuser.

In the very end, Alina is said to be mocked and sneered at by their servants, and he doesn't seem to care that their staff has no respect for his wife. He gets to be popular once again; she doesn't steal his spotlight, so he's not particularly bothered.

Almost every interaction between them ends with Alina feeling ashamed, guilty, drained, and miserable. She immediately picks up on the slightest displeasure or coldness from him and berates herself for her "careless" words. She feels guilty when he shows up drunk and bruised after leaving her in danger. When she thinks he returned, she tells herself it's okay he kissed Zoya and left, as long as he comes back and she's not alone anymore. Self-respect? We don't know her!

Even when his lines are supposed to be romantic, they also usually end up sounding disconcerting. "I love even the part of you that loved him", as if she has to be generously forgiven for having "lustful thoughts" about another man while Mal gets to sleep around all he wants. "You looked beautiful even in Cofton with pollen on your brows"—that's when she could barely stand from wasting sickness. She looked beautiful when she was sick, wow, what a great compliment! "I see you now"—when the whole country sees her, she's a literal saint. "I'm ready to starve and freeze with you." If you want to appear selfless and loving, you can say you are ready to starve and freeze so she doesn't have to instead of suggesting suffering with you. The girl had two guys offering her to be a queen, and she picked the one who wanted her to starve and freeze with him. Genius.

Even his change of heart in book 3, when he gets all supportive and appreciative of her powers, honestly sounds like a manipulative technique. Abusers aren't mean to their victims all the time; otherwise, the victim might finally come to their senses and leave. They usually have periods when they are all apologetic, generous, helpful, and supportive to lull the victim back into a false sense of safety. They also love to make grand but ultimately useless gestures to prove their devotion (like a huge-ass tattoo over their back, ahem).

One of the most astonishing things about those books is how they paint a pretty convincing portrait of a domestic abuser (down to their victim's reaction) and then try to tell you that he is actually a great, loyal, dependable guy and the safest, most wholesome option for the heroine.

"I will strip away all that you know, all that you love, until you have no shelter but mine" - that's what Aleksander tells Alina at one point. It's ironic that Mal is the one who actually succeeded in that. She loses her power because she claims her third amplifier (Mal), then she fakes her death and leaves with Mal (who, unfortunately, survived) for her orphanage under a false name. She is officially dead. She doesn't even have her name anymore. It doesn't seem lke she has any close friends or consistent communication with other people. There is only Mal and the orphanage servants who scowl at her and consider her a lunatic. No power, no acceptance, no status, not even respect, no recognition. Nobody but Mal knows her story and her real identity, and she can't share it with anyone else, as she must preserve the myth. Mal is a "charming popular guy" and she is his weird unlikeable wife, no longer Grisha but too odd to fit in with ordinary people.

[twistedpink]

Hello! I love your writing sm <3

Could I request General!Lilia with that one military graduation tradition where the soldiers are required to stand still and wait for a loved one to touch them so they can move?

Idk if you know what I'm talking about but like here's an example: https://youtube.com/shorts/2142YOyLS8M?si=0xV64So-Sl_YtVSL

Remember to take care of yourself, drink lots and eat lots so you can stay healthy 🫶

I LOVE THESE VIDEOSSSSSS

General!Lilia’s spent his entire deployment thinking of you at home,, How you may want to remarry, and if you haven’t thought of it already you definitely will once you see him. He’s not the same man you married, and he just barely has the courage to admit to himself it scares him- More than any humans or the senate. The thought of you leaving him is terrifying, but he’d understand in the end. He’s been turned into a monster.

General!Lilia that keeps your clothing in pristine condition his entire deployment despite being filthy himself. You’ve done the charity of sending him the blanket from your wedding bed, a couple socks, and the bane of his existence. Your favourite night shirt. He deludes himself to think still smells of you after months of use- It reeks of the outdoors and his sweat and tears, but he’s never failed to bury his nose in it and feel all giddy.. You cared enough to send these mundanities to him, and they’re his greatest treasures. His last (sleeping) night on duty is spent wearing your socks in your shirt wrapped up snug in your blanket. More than anything, they give him strength.

General!Lilia’s lost so much. His troops and friends, his princess, his morals,, His tap out’s done alone, in a field untouched by the war. A pessimistic, realist part of him’s convinced that you’ll never come, that he deserves to rot in this field. If you were to abandon him here, he wouldn’t make it out alive. Not because it’s particularly dangerous,, But because he’d wait as long as it takes for you to be with him again- Even if you’re no longer “his”.

General!Lilia doesn’t blame the hypothetical you in his head for scorning him- Actually, he thinks you aren’t being harsh enough. He hasn’t earned a kiss or gentle touch, he doesn’t deserve your tender affections anymore. Your husband’s a failure. But he can admit he’s good enough to have stayed loyal at least,, No town flower’s tempted him, nor alley specials for soldiers. He’s never considered himself the romantic altruist type, but if you are to hate him, to leave or slander him, he just wants to look at you one last time. Then he wouldn’t have to worry if he’s failed so miserably that even you fell to the conflict.

When you appear out of the thicket, unmarred by the battle and even looking concerned for him, it’s a massive weight off Lilia’s shoulders. The time you take running across the field feels like a lifetime. You look the same as when he left for war.. You know nothing of the things he’s done, the things he can’t undo. He is not the man you knew. He briefly thinks of flying off- He’s had no difficulty when breaking the rules before, so what’s the difference? He’s sure you’d be better off without him. There’s a barely audible thunk against the metal of his armour when your arms are thrown around his neck, hurriedly removing the bloody mask he wears to see his face again. To see your Lilia safe and sound. Once all the pressure’s released, he wants to deflate, wants to collapse in your arms and weep and kiss and love you again despite the angry, violent thing he’s become,, He settles for hugging you back. He can feel you cry at seeing him so defeated, hear your heart race and smell your smell (The shirt doesn’t do you justice). He allows himself to breathe you in. It’s time to go home <3

@bju3c0re

[yumeka-sxf]

Was not expecting a Yuri/Yor chapter, but it was a pleasant surprise! First thing I want to mention is the fact that Yor is not wearing her usual Thorn Princess earrings, but instead has rose earrings similar to the button on her red blouse.

I could be wrong, but I believe this is the first time we've seen her with different earrings. Perhaps it's an indication that she's feeling more "at ease" as far as her relationship with her Thorn Princess identity, since we know that her usual earrings function as weapons if needed. Maybe she doesn't feel as much of a need to be "on guard" all the time as she used to be.

As for the bulk of this chapter, it featured great character development for the Briar siblings. What stood out to me the most is how hard it is for Yuri to understand that Yor's happiness truly does come from the happiness of others, plus the fact that she has very few desires for herself, especially materialistic ones that can be bought at a store. It's hard for him to grasp because he spent his whole life watching her selflessly sacrifice her own childhood to take care of the both of them, so he feels he has to overcompensate. But again, because he can't fathom that she actually enjoys taking care of others, the only explanation he can come up with for her lack of wanting things for herself is that the Forgers are "controlling" her somehow (also due to his own bias, lol).

It was amusing how Yuri's attempts to frame Loid and Anya as "brainwashing" Yor failed miserably...it only served to highlight how much she cares about them, especially Anya. I loved the below panel ❤️ She's such a mom.

By the way, this next panel cracked me up the most 🤣 I was curious what the "go at it" part was in the Japanese version, and it turns out to be the verb 絡む ("karamu"). It has several meanings, but mainly it means "to be entangled with" either with physical things like vines or wires, but also to be entangled with a person in a problematic way, such as by quarreling. I can only imagine how Yuri interpreted this 😂

In the latter part of the chapter, Yor finally made it clear to Yuri that he doesn't need to keep pitying her. She states that she enjoyed the time she spent taking care of him, and whatever negative feelings she had after he left her are in the past, so he doesn't have to keep trying to compensate for it.

For a brief moment, Yuri daydreams about the two of them going back to their hometown to live peaceful lives before ultimately realizing that they have responsibilities in the city that they can't just abandon. The emphasis on their respective "real" jobs that they can't reveal to each other, plus the later scene of Yuri lamenting that he feels distant from Yor because he can't show her who he's really become, definitely gave me a feeling of foreboding. Plus the fact that the chapter ends with him possibly being assigned a new job.

Even though the rest of the Forgers didn't appear in this chapter, we did get this precious little panel when Yuri was musing about why he feels so lonely. So thank you for this Yuri and your rolodex wheel of anxious thoughts 😂

I think it's still too soon for any kind of big, story-shattering reveal, but I feel like Yuri's next assignment could be something akin to the mole hunt arc, where something big almost happens...the fandom focuses a lot on a Twilight/Thorn Princess reveal, but a Briar sibling reveal would be just as major in my opinion, which is the vibe I got from this chapter. Since Yuri already had an encounter with Twilight, what if he had some kind of run-in with Garden next? 👀

...or maybe this was just a standalone chapter and we'll never find out what Yuri's next assignment is because it's not important and the next chapter will move on to something else 😅 I'd say it's 50/50 at this point, lol.

[yeahiveheardofbears-fics]

Be My Anti-Valentine

You and your best friend Steve have a movie night on Valentine's Day, since you are both perpetually single. Except, maybe not for long...

hey babes! Happy way late Valentine's Day! I will say that i did base the reader character, once again, on my OC Mac from my ST rewrite series. so some side characters, relationships, and places will be from that universe. You don't need to read that to get the story, but if you like this dynamic then I definitely recommend it! I treat this little smut one shots like deleted scenes that didn't make sense in my main fic, but wouldnt escape my brain. I also did a lot of build up because I can't seem to write smut for Steve without making him an absolute loverboy <3 Enjoy!!

l-bombs, friends to loves, lots of exposition word count: 14,096 TW: uhhh, really not much, this is pretty loving honestly. underage drinking i guess

REQUESTS ARE OPEN, IF YOU LIKE THIS, PLZ MESSAGE ME CAUSE I NEED INSPO <3

fic masterlist

read on ao3 or read below the cut:

February 14th, 1986

The neon glow from Family Video flickers just across the street, casting a greenish hue onto the wet pavement outside. Through the glass doors of Vinyl Frontier , you can see the faint movement of Steve inside, pacing behind the counter, no doubt pretending to look busy. You know better.

He’s probably just spinning a tape case in his hands, waiting out the last few miserable hours of his shift—same as you.

You stretch your arms above your head with a groan, then lean against the counter, staring at the real misery: the Valentine’s Day display Jet had you set up. Rows of records with love songs, sappy ballads, and an obnoxiously large hand-drawn sign that reads MAKE A LOVE MIX FOR YOUR SWEETHEART! in looping red letters. The entire thing makes your skin crawl.

You’re halfway through reorganizing the New Releases section—because some asshole put Iron Maiden next to Cyndi Lauper —when the store’s phone rings behind you. You sigh, abandoning the records to grab the receiver.

“ Vinyl Frontier , what do you want?”

There’s a scoff on the other end of the line. “Wow. That’s how you answer the phone now?”

You smirk, already recognizing the voice. “Oh, it’s you. My bad. Vinyl Frontier , home of angsty losers and overpriced imports. How can I help you, Steve?”

“Much better.” There’s a pause, then his voice lowers conspiratorially. “Listen, just giving you a heads-up—there’s a couple that just left my store, all lovey-dovey, handsy as hell. They’re headed straight for your store, so you’ve got, like, thirty seconds before you have to witness… whatever the hell they were doing here.”

You groan, already standing to peek through the store window. And sure enough—there they are. The couple in question, walking hand-in-hand across the street, their matching red sweaters obnoxiously bright.

“Ugh. Them?”

“You know them?” Steve asks, bemused.

“They were making out between The Smiths and Bauhaus the other day,” you say, flopping back against the counter. “I Lysoled the shelves after they left.”

Steve makes a disgusted noise. “Jesus Christ. They were all over the romance section at Family Video . Like, I get it, love is great, whatever, but I work here. Have some goddamn respect.”

You snort. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Harrington.”

“Oh yeah, it’s been real happy,” he deadpans. “Nothing like watching every couple in Hawkins remind me that I’m pathetically single.”

You roll your eyes, even though you feel the same way. “It’s like an infestation. Can’t even walk two feet without seeing someone swapping spit.”

“Tell me about it.” There’s some muffled conversation on his end, the sound of a VHS tape clattering onto the counter. “Anyway, you still coming over?”

“Obviously.”

“I grabbed your stupid movies,” he says, sounding so put out that you have to grin. “But just for the record, I still think your choices are ridiculous.”

“They’re perfect,” you correct. “What’s wrong with them?”

Steve exhales like he’s been waiting for you to ask. “Alright, let’s start with The Thing . How exactly is that an anti-Valentine’s movie?”

“Because it’s about paranoia and distrust,” you say. “There’s no love. Just body horror and existential dread.”

“Uh-huh. And Sleepaway Camp ?”

“You know damn well why.”

“Okay, fine, that one’s fair.” He pauses. “But My Bloody Valentine ? You picked a Valentine’s Day slasher . That’s, like, half giving in to the holiday.”

“It’s a classic, Steve.”

“Mm-hmm.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “I feel like you just wanted an excuse to watch a bunch of horror movies with me.”

You scoff. “Oh, please. I don’t need an excuse for that. I can bully you into watching horror movies whenever I want.”

There’s a beat of silence before he huffs a quiet laugh. “You know, I hate that you’re right.”

“I love that I’m right.”

Steve sighs dramatically. “Fine. But when I get nightmares about shapeshifting aliens, I’m blaming you.”

“You’ll live.”

“Debatable.” Another pause, then his voice softens just slightly. “Robin’s not gonna make it, by the way. She’s got a ‘not-date’ with Vickie.”

That gives you pause.

“So it’s just us,” you say.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Just us.”

There’s a moment of… something. Not awkwardness, exactly. Just an awareness that wasn’t there before. You glance around the store, suddenly finding it hard to focus on anything. The record stacks, the cheap plastic Valentine’s decorations Jet made you put up, the couple now giggling in the corner near Fleetwood Mac .

“Well, that just means more popcorn for me,” you say, brushing past it.

“And I won’t have to listen to Robin complain about my movie choices.”

“ My movie choices,” you correct.

“Whatever.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “So, uh… you still coming?”

You twirl the phone cord between your fingers, a habit you thought you’d grown out of. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Cool. See you later.”

“See you.”

You hang up, staring at the receiver for a second longer than necessary.

This was fine. Totally normal. Just another movie night.

Right?

---

Steve sighs as he hangs up the phone, rubbing the back of his neck before turning toward the counter—only to find Robin standing there, arms crossed, one brow arched so high it’s practically in her hairline.

He stops short, already exasperated. “Don’t.”

Robin tilts her head, feigning innocence. “Don’t what?”

“ Don’t make it weird.” He gestures vaguely toward the phone, like somehow the conversation itself was to blame for whatever this was.

She scoffs. “Oh, I didn’t make it weird. You did that all on your own.”

Steve groans, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ, Robin.”

She just smirks, shifting her weight against the counter. “It’s not my fault you two sound like a couple in a bad rom-com.”

He glares. “It’s your fault for having a date tonight.”

Robin immediately corrects him. “It’s a not-date.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Same difference.”

“Uh, huge difference,” she says. “Dates are romantic. Not-dates are for pretending it’s not romantic while still getting nervous about it.”

He gives her a flat look. “That literally makes no sense.”

Robin shrugs. “Well, good news, dingus—you’ve got a not-date too.”

Steve scoffs, crossing his arms. “It’s not a date.”

Robin just lifts a brow. “That’s what I just said.”

He throws his hands up. “No, I mean—it’s not even a not-date! It’s just a normal night. We watch movies all the time.”

Robin sighs, then pushes off the counter, walking over to him with that look—the one that means she’s about to call him on his bullshit.

“Steve.”

“What?”

She softens just slightly. “You do realize that you two are both my best friends, right?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah?”

“And that I’m not blind?”

He groans. “Robin—”

“I mean, come on.” She starts ticking off fingers, like she’s listing off groceries. “You grab her movies for her even when you think they’re stupid, you call her at work just to talk, you let her make fun of you without even trying to fight back—”

“I fight back,” he protests weakly.

Robin ignores him. “—and, oh yeah, you both spent the last five minutes awkwardly dancing around the fact that you’ll be alone tonight.”

Steve crosses his arms tighter. “So what? It’s not weird to hang out with a friend.”

Robin nods sagely. “Totally. Just a friend.”

“Exactly.”

“Just a friend. On Valentine’s day. that you think is funny and hot and cool and—”

“Okay, I never said that I find her hot.” He throws his head back dramatically. “She’s annoying and bossy and thinks she knows everything—”

Robin hums. “Mmm, yeah. Real convincing, Harrington.”

“—and she’s constantly making fun of my hair—”

Robin shrugs. “You kinda deserve that one.”

“—and she has this stupid little smirk when she’s right about something, and she always has to be right, and when she gets all smug about it, she does this thing where she tilts her head a little, and she has this way of looking at you like she’s three steps ahead in a game you didn’t know you were playing—”

Robin lifts an eyebrow.

Steve doesn’t notice.

“—and she has that voice, you know, like all confident but a little raspy, and when she laughs at something she actually finds funny, not just something dumb Dustin says, it’s, like—”

Robin makes a face. “Steve.”

“—all breathy and warm, and she smells good all the time even when she’s just coming off work, and I don’t know what it is, but it’s like cherry or maybe something floral, but not too much, and—”

“ Steve .”

He finally stops, blinking at her.

Robin stares at him, then slowly grimaces. “You do hear yourself, right?”

Steve pauses. Blinks again. “Shit.”

Robin claps him on the shoulder. “There it is.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She doesn’t even like me like that.”

Robin snorts. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve points a finger at her. “You don’t know that.”

Robin raises both hands in surrender. “Okay. If you say so.” But she’s grinning, and it pisses him off.

Before he can argue, the bell over the door jingles, and a couple walks in, already giggling to each other. Steve immediately straightens up, plastering on his best customer service face.

Robin steps back with a smirk. “Don’t worry, lover boy. We’ll continue this conversation later.”

Steve glares at her as he turns to the customers. “I hate you.”

Robin flashes him a grin. “You love me.”

And unfortunately, she’s right. Again.

---

You hang up the phone, exhaling through your nose, then lean against the counter and let your head fall back, staring up at the ceiling. The sound of a throat clearing makes you lift your head, and when you glance to the side you see your boss, Jet, standing in the doorway of the back office, arms crossed, looking entirely too amused.

"Was that Harrington?" he asks, voice dry as ever.

You roll your eyes and turn away, stacking the pile of records you’d been sorting before Steve called. "No, it was the Pope. He wanted to know if we have any Black Sabbath in stock."

Jet snorts, stepping further into the shop. "So, Harrington."

"Maybe."

Jet leans against the counter, watching you work with that knowing look that always makes you feel like you’re under a microscope. "You two sure do talk a lot."

"Yeah, it’s called friendship, Jet."

"Uh-huh." He tilts his head. "Y’know, back in my day, we didn’t call it friendship when two people made goo-goo eyes at each other across a counter."

You nearly drop the stack of records. "Oh my god, shut up."

Jet just grins. "I’m just sayin’."

You huff and move to the other side of the store, grabbing a rag to wipe down the shelves. The Valentine’s Day display mocks you from the corner, obnoxiously pink and full of records Jet made you pull— Foreigner , REO Speedwagon , Whitney Houston , all the stuff people were eating up today.

"He's annoying," you say, mostly to distract from whatever the hell Jet was implying.

"Sure."

"And bossy."

"Mm-hmm."

"Thinks he knows everything."

Jet makes a vague gesture. "Yeah, yeah, you’re really selling it, kid."

You scowl at him, but Jet just chuckles, watching you scrub furiously at a perfectly clean shelf.

"You know," he says, a little softer, "you don’t gotta dance around it with me. If you like him, you like him. No shame in it."

You pause, grip tightening on the rag. "I don’t."

Jet tilts his head, unconvinced. "Look, all I’m sayin’ is… I’ve been around the block a few times. And I know the look of someone trying real hard to pretend they don’t care about someone when they definitely do."

You set the rag down a little harder than necessary. "And what look is that, exactly?"

Jet just grins. "The same look you get when you talk about him but try to pretend you’re just complaining."

You open your mouth, then close it. Scowl. Pick up the rag again.

Jet chuckles. "Listen, I don’t give a damn one way or the other, but if you wanna keep lying to yourself, at least try to be good at it."

You groan. " Jet ."

"Hey, just giving you some wisdom." He pushes off the counter, stretching. "Y’know, back in the day, I had a girl I danced around with like that. Thought I was bein’ slick, thought no one noticed."

You glance at him, wary. "And?"

"And turns out I was just an idiot," he says with a shrug. "So maybe don’t be an idiot, huh?"

You roll your eyes. "Thanks, dad ."

Jet winks. "Anytime, kid."

---

Steve shuts the register with a satisfying clack and stretches, rolling out the tension in his shoulders. It’s finally closing time, and for once, he’s actually looking forward to tonight—not just because it means getting the hell out of Family Video , but because he has plans.

Casual, totally normal, not-a-date plans.

Robin is watching him, arms crossed, in that ‘I know something you don’t want me to know’ way that makes his skin itch.

He sighs. “Just say it.”

Robin grins. “Say what?”

“You know what.”

“Oh, I was just wondering if you were gonna make a move tonight.”

Steve groans, grabbing his jacket. “Jesus, Robin. Again with this?”

“What?” she says, following him as he grabs the store keys and heads for the back door. “I think it’s a valid question.”

“Well, I think it’s a stupid question.”

Robin shrugs, undeterred. “That’s funny, because you didn’t actually answer it.”

Steve flicks off the lights, plunging the store into dim shadows illuminated only by the neon glow from the sign outside. He turns back to Robin, exasperated. “There’s no move to make.”

Robin smirks, watching as he fumbles a little with the keys. “Uh-huh.”

“There’s nothing going on.”

“Sure, sure.”

Steve scowls. “You really think I’d make a move?”

Robin shrugs again. “I mean, yeah.”

Steve groans, shoving his arms into his jacket. “Okay, fine, let’s say hypothetically I was gonna make a move. What would that even look like?”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Go on.”

Steve exhales sharply, shaking his head, but then—he starts talking. Slow at first, still pretending this is all theoretical, but then it starts flowing a little too easily.

“Well,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “first of all, I wouldn’t just spring anything on her. She’s not the type you can just, like, surprise with that kind of thing. So I’d make it seem like a regular movie night. No pressure, no expectations. Just us hanging out, watching her dumb horror movies, which—by the way—are not romantic at all, so she wouldn’t suspect a thing.”

Robin hums. “Sly.”

Steve points at her. “Exactly.”

They step outside into the cold night, their breath fogging in the air. Steve locks the door behind them, still talking.

“Then, I’d wait for the right moment. Maybe during The Thing, since she always gets way too focused on the practical effects and starts ranting about how they were done. That’s when I’d sit next to her—real casual, nothing weird. But, like, closer than usual. Just enough to see if she notices.”

Robin leans against the wall, intrigued. “And if she does?”

Steve shrugs, flipping the keys in his hand. “Then I’d play it off, act like it’s no big deal. But if she doesn’t ? That’s when I’d start testing the waters. Maybe during Sleepaway Camp , since she’s seen it a million times and won’t be as locked in. I’d stretch, put my arm on the couch behind her—”

Robin snorts. “The yawn move?”

Steve glares. “No, not the yawn move. Just an arm casually placed behind her. If she leans in, then, boom—I know she’s comfortable with it. And then,” he continues, getting into it now, “if everything feels right, if she’s not pulling away or making fun of me, then I’d make my move.”

Robin crosses her arms. “Which is?”

Steve exhales, eyes flicking upward like he’s playing it out in his head. “I’d wait for the perfect moment. Maybe when she’s talking, because she always talks during horror movies—”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “You like that she talks during movies?”

Steve waves a hand. “That’s not the point. The point is, she gets really into it, and when she’s really into something, she forgets to be sarcastic for, like, a whole second. So while she’s mid-sentence, I’d just… shift toward her, lean in a little, make sure she notices before I do anything.”

Robin watches him, interested now. “And then?”

Steve tilts his head slightly, picturing it.

“And then,” he says, voice softer, “I’d go for it. Just—slow, you know? Like, give her the chance to pull away, but hoping she doesn’t.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t make it some big thing, no cheesy lines, nothing rehearsed. Just… see what happens.”

Robin stares at him for a second. Then makes a face.

“Okay, ew,” she says. “Reel it in, Romeo.”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“You were getting way too into that.”

Steve scowls. “I was just answering your question.”

Robin smirks. “Oh, you so weren’t. That was not hypothetical. That was a step-by-step plan.”

Steve huffs. “It was a theoretical —”

“You definitely have thought about this before.”

Steve groans, rubbing his hands over his face. “Robin—”

“You even mapped out the exact movie timing—”

“Shut up.”

“You are so nervous.”

“I am not—”

“Hey, what are you guys talking about?”

---

You’re walking toward Steve and Robin, hands shoved into your jacket pockets, head tilted slightly in curiosity. You glance between the two of them, your eyes narrowing ever so slightly, like you just walked in on the tail end of something you weren’t supposed to hear.

Steve immediately panics. “Why are you here?”

You blink. “Uh… hello to you too?”

He clears his throat, scrambling to backtrack. “I just—I thought we were meeting at my house.”

You shrug. “Eddie’s still working on my car, so I figured I’d just come straight here.”

Steve nods a little too fast. “Right. Cool. Yeah.”

Robin, who had been standing beside him with a smirk so smug it could power Hawkins for a week, is now outright grinning. She’s practically vibrating with barely restrained laughter.

Your eyes flick between them again. “What?”

Robin doesn’t answer. Instead, she turns to Steve with a knowing smile. “Well, I’m off to my not-date . Wish me luck.”

Your brow furrows. “Good luck?”

Robin winks—not at you, but at Steve. “You too.”

Steve glares at her. “Robin.”

She just grins wider and gives him a two-fingered salute before turning on her heel and heading off down the sidewalk, leaving you standing there with an eyebrow raised.

You shift your weight onto one foot, watching her go before turning back to Steve. “Okay, what was that?”

He shakes his head way too quickly. “Nothing. Just—nothing.”

You don’t buy it for a second. But whatever that was, Steve clearly isn’t going to spill, so you let it slide. For now.

You exhale, rocking back on your heels. “Alright, weirdo.”

Steve shifts awkwardly, clearing his throat. “You ready?”

You nod.

“Cool,” he says, fumbling for his keys like his hands suddenly forgot how to function.

Without another word, you both head to his car.

Once you’re at his house, Steve pushes the front door open first, stepping inside and flicking on the lights without a second thought. You follow behind him, toeing off your shoes as the familiar silence of the Harrington house settles around you.

As usual, the place is empty.

“Where are your parents this time?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Steve snorts, tossing his keys onto the hallway table. “No idea. They left a note on the fridge, but I didn’t read it.”

You roll your eyes, unsurprised. “So, what? Business trip? Spa retreat? Another month of pretending they don’t have a son?”

“Something like that,” he mutters, shrugging off his jacket. “Not like it matters.”

It’s not like you’ve been here a ton, but every time you have been, it’s been the same—big house, too much space, and no parents in sight. Just Steve, filling the empty rooms with music or movies, like background noise could make up for the lack of anyone actually being home.

You don’t push it. Instead, you drop your bag on the couch and walk straight to the TV, glancing over your shoulder. “Movies?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got ‘em. You set up, I’ll grab snacks.”

You flip through the stack of VHS tapes he brought home from Family Video .

“You actually grabbed all the ones I asked for?” You sound surprised.

Steve scoffs, walking past you toward the kitchen. “You don’t pay me enough to improvise.”

“I don’t pay you.”

“Exactly.”

---

Steve tells himself he isn’t nervous.

He tells himself this as he unlocks the door, steps inside, and watches as you walk in after him, dropping your bag on the couch like you belong here. Which, in a way, you do.

He’s not nervous.

It’s just a normal movie night. Just like all the others.

Except it isn’t.

Because tonight, he has a plan.

A foolproof, step-by-step, can’t-go-wrong plan—one he stupidly let Robin in on, which means there is no backing out now. She’ll ask about it later, and if he tells her he chickened out, she’ll never let him live it down.

So he’s doing this.

…Right?

This is fine. If he just acts normal, you won’t suspect a thing. He pours the popcorn, pops open a couple of sodas, and grabs a bag of chips for good measure. When he comes back into the living room, you’re already loading The Thing into the VCR.

Steve watches you from the doorway for a second. The way you move so easily in his space. The way you don’t hesitate, like it’s your house too.

And yeah. Fuck . He wants this.

He clears his throat and heads to the couch, dropping down beside you—closer than usual.

You don’t say anything.

Step One: Close the Distance.

Easy.

Done.

You didn’t call him out on it, which means he’s in the clear.

The movie starts, and you sink into it, fully focused by the time the sled dog is sprinting through the snow, the helicopter in pursuit.

Steve lets himself relax. Just a little.

Step Two: Casual Arm Placement.

He waits. Gives it time.

You’re locked into the movie, already muttering something under your breath about the brilliance of practical effects. You do that a lot—talk through horror movies, not in a bad way, but in a way that shows how much you actually care about them.

Steve listens, nodding like he’s paying attention to what you’re saying, but really, he’s timing it.

Then, casually, effortlessly, he stretches, letting his arm fall across the back of the couch.

Not touching you. Just there. Close enough to be felt but not enough to be anything.

You don’t react.

So far, so good.

Steve suppresses a smirk. See, Robin? I got this.

Step Three: The Lean-In.

This one is trickier.

It has to be subtle . Smooth.

He waits again, watches as you settle further into the cushions, legs curled up beneath you, completely lost in the movie. That’s when he shifts—barely, just enough to angle himself toward you. Just enough to close the gap a little more.

Still, no reaction.

That’s either a really good thing or a really bad thing.

He reminds himself of the plan.

Wait until Sleepaway Camp for the next move. That’s when he’d test the waters, when you wouldn’t be as focused, when he could ease into it without making it weird.

But then you glance at him, just for a second, and something about the way you look—eyes slightly narrowed, like you noticed but aren’t saying anything—makes his stomach flip.

Fuck it.

Maybe he doesn’t want to wait.

You’re completely locked in when the scene shifts to the research station, the dog curling up in the kennel with the other huskies. It’s the moment before all hell breaks loose, the moment before the thing reveals itself.

It’s perfect.

Steve watches your profile, the way your eyes flick between the screen and your soda as you reach for it.

This is it.

This is the moment.

He turns toward you, leans in slightly, ready to shift even closer.

And then, of course, everything goes to shit.

Disaster: The Soda Incident.

He reaches for his drink at the exact same time you do.

Your hands knock together.

Oh, fuck.

Cold liquid spills all over your shirt.

You gasp, jerking upright as the icy soda soaks through your clothes.

“Shit—”

Steve freezes. Stares. His brain short-circuits.

This was not part of the plan. Not even close.

“Fuck—hold on—” He scrambles to set his drink down, moving fast like he can somehow reverse time and undo the absolute catastrophe he just caused. “Shit, shit, shit. I—I’ll grab a towel—just—shit—hang on!”

He bolts up so fast he nearly knocks over the popcorn bowl, tripping over the coffee table in his rush.

You’re just sitting there, stunned, dripping soda onto the couch, blinking at him like you can’t believe what just happened.

The movie keeps playing in the background, oblivious to the fucking disaster unfolding in real life.

Steve disappears down the hall, heart pounding, and he knows—

Yeah.

This definitely didn’t go according to plan.

---

You sit there, staring down at yourself, blinking at the damp fabric clinging to your chest.

What the hell just happened?

One second, you were watching the movie, minding your own business, and the next—Steve fucking Harrington managed to dump an entire soda all over you like some teenage rom-com protagonist who can’t keep his hands to himself.

Except this isn’t a movie, and Steve is currently gone, having bolted from the room like the place was on fire.

You exhale, peeling the wet fabric away from your skin, grimacing at the way the cold sticks to you. From somewhere in the house, you hear the telltale signs of Steve running around in a panic. Footsteps pounding up the stairs. The sound of a cabinet slamming. A muffled curse. Footsteps back down the stairs, faster this time, followed by another thud and another round of cursing.

Then silence.

You sigh, shifting uncomfortably, and just as you’re about to get up and find a towel yourself, Steve comes jogging back into the living room.

He’s got a hand towel in one hand and a shirt in the other, looking a little too disheveled for someone who was gone for all of thirty seconds.

“Okay, here—” he starts, reaching out with the towel.

And then he stops.

You blink at him. He blinks at you.

Because, yeah. If he was actually going to clean you up, that would mean touching your chest.

Steve goes bright red. “Right. Shit. Here—just—take it.”

He thrusts the towel at you, along with the shirt, and you grab them both, giving him a look.

“Yeah, genius. Didn’t really think that one through, did you?”

Steve groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I was panicking!”

“No shit.”

You push yourself off the couch, the wet fabric sticking uncomfortably as you shift. “Gonna go change.”

He nods quickly, eyes locked very purposefully on anything but you as you walk past him and down the hall toward the bathroom.

You shut the door behind you and sigh, shaking your head.

Steve had been weird all night. Fidgety. Kind of jumpy. Not normal.

And this? This had to be a new record for him in terms of absolute dumbassery.

You grab the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off with a wince, already shivering slightly as the air hits your skin. Then, you look at the shirt he gave you.

It’s not one of his polos or his sweaters—it’s a T-shirt, old and worn, with the faded logo of the Hawkins High basketball team across the front.

You snort. King Steve in his prime.

The fabric is soft, smelling like detergent and him, and when you pull it on, it’s tight. Not uncomfortably so, but enough that it stretches a little over your chest, fitting snug around your torso in a way that most of your own shirts don’t.

Great.

You shake your head and step back out, making your way to the living room.

Steve is at the VCR when you return, swapping out the tape for Sleepaway Camp , his back to you.

He glances over his shoulder when he hears you come in, eyes flicking down to his shirt on you before darting back up to your face.

“Uh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. Again.”

You shrug. “It’s cool, this is how most guys try to get me out of my clothes.”

Steve chokes.

Like, actually chokes.

“…Okay,” you say slowly, watching him. “That was a joke.”

Steve shakes his head so fast you think he might snap his own neck and you narrow your eyes. Something is off with him. But you let it slide, stepping back toward the couch as he finishes setting up the movie.

When he sits down again, he leaves a little more space between you this time, but you don’t comment on it. The movie starts, the opening credits rolling, and as the familiar music kicks in, you shake your head.

Steve Harrington is acting weird as hell tonight.

---

Steve is reeling.

He never fucks up like that.

Sure, yeah, maybe he’s been in a bit of a dry spell lately. Maybe he hasn’t had as many dates as he used to. Maybe he’s been selective (Robin’s word, not his) about who he flirts with. But when he does?

This is the part he’s good at.

The easy charm, the confidence, the effortless way he makes a girl laugh and then smoothly inches closer—that has always been his thing.

But this? This was a fucking disaster.

It has to be a sign that this was a bad idea, that Robin got into his head and made him think there was something here when there wasn’t.

Because if there was, he wouldn’t have botched it so badly. He wouldn’t have dumped a fucking drink all over you like a nervous wreck. Wouldn’t be sitting here now, stiff and awkward, trying way too hard to act like nothing happened.

He flicks a glance at you, at the way you’re curled up on the couch, adjusting yourself in his old Hawkins basketball T-shirt.

And—fuck.

The thing about that shirt?

It was his from junior year.

Which means it used to fit him.

Which means, on you, it’s tight .

Steve swallows hard and yanks his gaze back to the screen before his mind can wander any further.

Platonic. Just friends, Harrington. And friends don’t look at their friends’ boobs in a too-small shirt and think about—

He shoves the thought down so hard it practically leaves skid marks in his brain.

Instead, he focuses on the movie.

Sleepaway Camp isn’t a great distraction—it’s weird, and dumb, and kind of awful in the best way—but it’s what’s on.

You talk through it, like you always do, making the occasional joke, sometimes pointing out a particularly bad effect or cheesy dialogue.

Steve answers, strictly platonically.

He ignores any comment that could be vaguely sexual, even when you joke about the guys’ ridiculously short shorts or when you outright laugh at the worst attempt at seduction in cinematic history. Normally, he’d engage—he’d throw something back, tease, maybe flirt just for the hell of it.

Tonight, though, he forces himself to keep it neutral.

Because the more he thinks about what almost happened—the way he was about to go for it, the way he was about to shift even closer—the more his stomach twists.

The movie ends, and Steve is way too quick to jump up.

“Want another drink?” he asks, already halfway to the kitchen.

You nod, stretching as you get up to swap the tapes. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve heads to the fridge, grabs the handle, and—

---

You’re kneeling in front of the VCR, sliding My Bloody Valentine into place, when you hear Steve’s footsteps behind you.

“No more soda,” he announces like it’s a death sentence, hands perched on his hips. “I got, uh—water, orange juice, milk—”

You pause, turning to look at him. “Milk?”

Steve throws his hands up like that’s somehow your fault. “I don’t know, I’m just listing shit. We’ve got juice boxes if you wanna feel like a kid again.”

You roll your eyes, but the second he says it, an idea sparks in your head. You glance at the TV, then back at Steve, then at the couch, where the remnants of the soda disaster still linger. Tonight’s already off the rails, so why not lean into it?

“Why don’t we just make it a drinking game?”

Steve blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

“Come on, we’ve done drinking games before.”

“Yeah, but that’s when there’s more people.”

You narrow your eyes, tilting your head slightly. “And?”

Steve opens his mouth, then stops. He looks at you, thinking, probably trying to come up with a reason why that matters, why it’s somehow different when it’s just the two of you. But he doesn’t have one. Instead, he lets out a slow sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, okay, I guess that doesn’t actually matter.”

You smirk, victorious, and push yourself up from the floor. You don’t know why he’s hesitating. It’s not like this is some big deal. It’s just a stupid drinking game to go with a stupid horror movie on a stupid holiday. It’s a way to make the night a little more fun, a little less whatever the hell this has been so far.

Steve still looks skeptical, like he’s waiting for some reason to say no, so you press on before he can talk himself out of it.

“We’re both alone on Valentine’s Day,” you say, watching his expression carefully. “Everyone else is out on their dumb dates, drinking their dumb fancy wine, eating overpriced chocolate, being all lovey-dovey. And we’re here, watching horror movies and trying not to spill anything else on my shirt.”

Steve lets out a quiet laugh through his nose, shaking his head.

Encouraged, you keep going. “For once, we don’t have to deal with interdimensional bullshit, no creepy government guys, no nightmare monsters from hell. Just a normal, boring, stupid romantic holiday that we’re stuck spending alone.”

He huffs, crossing his arms. “So, your grand plan is to drink through the pain?”

You shrug. “We deserve a night of dumb, normal young people shit.”

It’s only when you say it out loud that you realize how true it is. You’ve spent so much of the last couple of years dealing with things that no one your age should have to deal with. Near-death experiences, government cover-ups, missing people, watching friends suffer and not being able to do anything about it. It’s been a lot, and maybe it’s selfish, but you just want one night that feels easy.

Steve is quiet, considering. You step closer, just enough to reach out and clap a hand on his shoulder, half in encouragement, half in challenge.

“Come on, Harrington. It’s one night. What’s the worst that could happen?”

For a second, he just looks at you. There’s something in his expression you can’t quite place, something unreadable behind those brown eyes. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll go grab something my parents won’t miss.”

---

Steve comes back into the living room, bottle in one hand, glasses in the other, expecting to see you on the couch where he left you. Instead, you’re sitting on the floor, pillows propped against the coffee table, legs stretched out, completely at ease like this is just how movie nights are supposed to be.

He stops short, eyeing you with confusion. “What are you doing?”

You glance up at him, completely unfazed. “It’s more fun this way.”

Steve squints. “Sitting on the floor ?”

“Yeah.” You pat the space next to you, smirking. “Come on, try it.”

He sighs but doesn’t argue, lowering himself down beside you, setting the bottle and glasses on the floor. His knees knock against yours briefly as he gets comfortable, and for some reason, that small, barely-there contact sends a little jolt through him. He ignores it, grabs the bottle, and tilts it in your direction.

“Alright,” he says, twisting off the cap, “rules.”

You hum in thought. “Okay, obviously, we drink every time someone dies.”

“Obviously.”

“Drink every time someone says ‘Valentine.’”

Steve snorts. “This is My Bloody Valentine , we’re gonna die.”

“That’s the point.” You grin and hold up a finger. “Drink when someone does something really fucking stupid, like running upstairs instead of outside.”

“Classic.” He pours your glass, then his, setting the bottle aside. “What about drink if you get spooked?”

You narrow your eyes. “You just want an excuse to make me drink more.”

He grins, bumping his knee against yours. “Gotta level the playing field somehow.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. “Fine. And… drink if there’s a sex scene.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You just made that one up.”

“Maybe.”

“You so did.”

You smirk. “It’s still a good rule.”

He shakes his head, but his smile lingers as he lifts his glass. “Alright, to terrible horror movies and drinking games.”

You clink your glass against his, and with that, the game begins.

Two-thirds of the way through the movie, and you’re both comfortably tipsy. Not drunk, but warm, relaxed, feeling looser, laughter coming easier.

At some point, Steve stopped noticing when your knee brushed against his. He didn’t think much of it when your arm pressed against his as you reached for your glass. Didn’t acknowledge the way you shifted slightly, leaning more into him as you adjusted yourself on the pillow, both of you sinking deeper into the comfort of the moment.

But now?

Now, he notices.

His focus snaps to the way your thigh is flush against his, how your elbow nudges his arm when you gesture toward the screen, still mid-rant about the practical effects.

And suddenly, it sobers him up just a little.

Not enough to stop enjoying himself, but enough to remember.

The plan.

The one he’d botched spectacularly earlier when he panicked like a fucking idiot and spilled soda all over you. He should have waited for the right moment, should have followed through exactly the way he told Robin he would.

But maybe this is the moment.

He watches you as you talk, completely wrapped up in explaining why this particular death scene is underrated. Your eyes are bright, hands moving as you emphasize certain points, and you’re not filtering yourself the way you sometimes do. This is that window—where you’re passionate, where your guard is down, where you aren’t trying to be anything other than exactly you.

And you look so fucking pretty.

His chest tightens.

He doesn’t think. Doesn’t overanalyze. He just goes for it.

His hand moves before he can stop it, reaching up to cup your face, fingers brushing along the curve of your jaw. Your words falter, breath catching, eyes flicking to his in startled confusion, but you don’t pull away.

And then he’s leaning in, closing the space between you, pressing his lips to yours.

It’s soft, tentative but steady, warm in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol. His thumb strokes lightly along your cheek, grounding himself, savoring the way your lips part slightly, like you weren’t expecting this but aren’t against it either.

You don’t pull away.

You don’t pull away.

It’s a slow, lingering kiss, the kind that feels like it’s meant to happen, like it’s been waiting to happen. The kind that shifts something in the air, something unspoken but undeniable.

When he finally leans back, just enough to look at you, he searches your face, breath unsteady.

And for the first time all night, you’re speechless.

---

You stare at him.

For a full minute, maybe longer.

The kiss still lingers, warm on your lips, your brain lagging behind, trying to catch up with the reality of what just happened. Steve watches you like he’s waiting for something—maybe for you to freak out, maybe for you to say something, anything.

And eventually, you do.

“What—” You shake your head, eyes narrowing slightly. “What the hell was that?”

Steve opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, you cut him off.

“Wait, no. You’re drunk.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re drunk, and you’re feeling weird about Valentine’s Day, and you were caught up in the moment—”

“I—”

“We’ve been drinking, and you’re—”

“Jesus, would you let me—”

You’re still talking, half-rambling, voice layered with that dry disbelief you always get when shit blindsides you, and Steve, clearly realizing that you’re just gonna keep going, shakes your shoulder a little. Not hard, just enough to jolt you.

You stop. Blink.

He exhales. “I did it because I wanted to.”

Your stomach does something stupid and traitorous at that, but you shove it down, tilting your head slightly, giving him the flattest expression you can manage.

“Okay,” you say. “Well. Now you have.”

Silence settles between you. Not uncomfortable, but something. You’re still way too aware of the fact that his hand was on your face, that his lips were on yours, that you let him do it.

And worse—you kissed him back.

Steve shifts beside you, turning his attention to the movie, but his voice is softer when he says, “For the record, you kissed me back.”

You don’t respond. You just keep watching, your heart pounding way too hard for something as simple as sitting next to him. Your brain spins, trying to process the entire situation, trying to put all the little pieces together, trying to figure out what the hell you’re supposed to do with this new information.

And then, for some reason, you look at him.

Like, really look at him.

He’s still staring at the screen, trying to act normal, and to the average person, he probably looks normal. But you know him better than that. You’ve spent too much time around him not to pick up on the small tells—the way his jaw is a little tighter than usual, the way he shifts slightly like he’s trying not to fidget, the way his fingers tap lightly against his knee. He’s trying to keep his cool, trying to play this off like it isn’t a big deal.

And now, you can’t stop noticing things.

The two beauty marks on the side of his neck, just under his jaw. The way the glow of the TV flickers against his skin. The shape of his mouth, the way his lips look softer in this lighting, the way his eyes shift when something catches his attention on screen. The way his arms look in that stupid polo shirt, his biceps just defined enough that—

Nope. Absolutely not.

You shake yourself out of it, tearing your eyes away, trying to breathe properly again.

And then—like puzzle pieces clicking together—your brain finally catches up. The closeness, the arm around the back of the couch, the spilled soda. You turn to him, narrowing your eyes, and before you can stop yourself, you smack his arm.

He flinches, looking at you, completely caught off guard. “What the hell?”

“You planned this.”

Steve’s face does this weird thing—half shock, half shit, I’ve been caught —before he recovers, shaking his head. “What? No.”

You stare at him.

“Steve.”

He doesn’t say anything and you raise an eyebrow, waiting.

He shifts, clears his throat, and you see it all over his face—he’s absolutely about to try and deflect.

And then, just as he’s about to speak, you say his name again.

“Steve.”

And just like that, he freezes.

---

Steve feels cornered.

And not in a bad way, necessarily, but in a ‘shit, there’s nowhere to run and I’ve already been caught’ kind of way. You’re looking at him, waiting, eyes narrowed, arms crossed, the full force of your glare locked in.

And Steve—Steve does what he does best in moments of extreme pressure.

He rambles.

“If I planned this, it wouldn’t have gone so disastrously,” he starts, gesturing wildly like that’ll somehow help his case. “Like, this is the part I’m usually good at, okay? The flirting, the—moves, the whole making-it-seem-effortless thing. You know, the part where I don’t look like a complete idiot and spill an entire drink on you like I’ve never spoken to a girl before.”

You don’t say anything. You just raise an eyebrow, completely unimpressed.

Steve exhales, shaking his head. “And, honestly? It’s kind of your fault.”

That makes you blink.

“My fault?”

“Yeah, because you—you throw me off!” He gestures at you like that’s an obvious answer, like that explains anything. “You’re always making these stupid jokes, and you’re too quick, and you make fun of me before I can make fun of myself, and you never let me get away with anything. It’s—”

His mouth keeps running. His brain catches up about three sentences too late.

“—it’s really annoying, except it’s not, because I actually kinda—”

Steve stops mid-sentence, everything catching up with him at once.

Fuck.

You tilt your head, waiting.

He swallows, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, I’m an idiot.”

You hum. “Yeah, but I already knew that.”

Steve lets out a short, almost nervous laugh before dragging a hand through his hair. “Okay, listen. That wasn’t—I didn’t mean it’s actually your fault. That was—I’m sorry, that was just me being defensive, and that was a dick thing to say.”

You nod slowly, clearly waiting for the rest.

He sighs, looking at the ceiling for a second before bringing his gaze back to you. “Robin put this thought in my head. I mean, she’s been putting this thought in my head. Since, like, the second I met her at Scoops.”

You don’t look surprised.

He shakes his head. “But if I’m being completely honest, it was already there.”

That’s when you stop him.

“Of course she did.” You sigh, rubbing your temple like this is something you’ve been expecting.

Steve frowns. “Wait—what do you mean of course she did?”

You hesitate, shifting your weight slightly before reluctantly admitting, “Because she’s been saying the same things to me for months.”

Steve blinks. That is not what he expected you to say.

It takes him a second to process, but when it clicks, when he realizes what you just admitted, his mouth stretches into a slow, growing grin.

“Wait.” He points at you. “Are you saying you like like me?”

Your entire face shifts into the most unamused expression he’s ever seen.

“Did you just say like like ?”

“Yeah.”

You narrow your eyes. “How old are you?”

“Okay, what about fancy me?” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Sweet on me?”

“Oh my god.”

“Got a little crush on me?”

“Steve.”

“Are you pining over me?”

You groan, shaking your head. “I refuse to answer if you keep saying it like that.”

Steve leans in slightly, tilting his head. “Not answering kinda is an answer.”

You look at him, lips pressing into a thin line, but you don’t pull away.

And that’s when something in him shifts.

For once, he stops talking. Stops trying to play it off, stops trying to dance around it, stops deflecting. He just watches you, watches the way your expression flickers—sharp one second, a little softer the next, like you’re not quite sure where this is going.

And then, quieter than before, he says, “How do you actually feel?”

You inhale. Exhale. Then, with the kind of reluctance that makes his heart beat just a little faster, you start listing.

“Despite the fact that you’re ridiculous.”

He grins.

“Despite the fact that you’re a little too cocky sometimes.”

“Objectively false.”

You roll your eyes.

“Despite the fact that you’re an idiot who spilled an entire soda on me.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Yeah, that was bad.”

You pause, hesitating, but then, softer, you add, “Despite all of that… I still like being around you. More than I should.”

Steve swallows. “Yeah?”

You nod once. “Yeah.”

Something settles in his chest.

He exhales, gaze flicking down to your lips briefly before meeting your eyes again, smirking a little. “So, theoretically,” he starts, tilting his head, “if I wanted to kiss you again, would I still be at risk of getting punched, or…”

You roll your eyes, but there’s something there now, something warmer, something less guarded.

So Steve doesn’t wait for an answer.

He just leans in and kisses you again.

This time, it’s different.

The first kiss had been tentative, careful, almost testing the waters. But this one—this is something else entirely. This one is lingering, deeper, his hand sliding along your jaw again, the warmth of his palm grounding you as his lips part against yours.

The shift is slow but undeniable—the way his fingers slide back into your hair, the way he tilts his head just enough to deepen it, the way your hand moves, resting lightly against his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt like you’re steadying yourself.

Steve barely has time to think—barely has time to do anything other than sink into you—before the next thought crosses his mind.

Holy shit. This is actually happening.

He smiles against your mouth and feels the corner of your lips curve upward.

When you finally lean back, it takes a second for his brain to catch up, his eyes opening, his breath coming in unsteady, shallow waves. He stares at you, the way the glow of the TV dances against your skin, the way the softness in your eyes matches the one in his chest, the way his hands are still cupping your face, his fingers threaded through your hair.

He exhales, letting his forehead rest against yours.

And then, without thinking, he says the first thing that comes to mind.

"Wanna be my Valentine?"

You snort.

You literally snort.

"That was so lame," you mutter, pulling back enough to look at him, laughing a little. "Seriously, Harrington?"

He shrugs. "So?"

"So, you missed it. Valentine's Day technically ended like an hour ago."

"Yeah." Steve pauses, thinking. Then, "We can do better next year."

Your stomach does a fucking somersault.

"Next year?"

"Yeah." He's got that dumb, boyish grin again, the one that makes his eyes bright and that's simultaneously too much and not enough. "I can take you out. Somewhere nicer than just my living room, somewhere where we're both not covered in soda. We can dress up, make a real thing of it. Maybe dinner, maybe a movie, maybe the stupid arcade."

"You hate the arcade."

"Not the point."

You huff a quiet laugh. "And what about the year after that?"

"Ah, see that's the year we get really crazy. We take a vacation, maybe road trip to Chicago, rent a hotel room for the weekend."

"A hotel room, huh?"

"Yeah, and we can have a fancy dinner at a nice restaurant. One with tablecloths and candles and everything."

You narrow your eyes slightly, watching him. "So, basically, you're planning a bunch of cliche, classic Valentine's dates."

"Basically."

"Like we're a couple."

"Like we're a couple." He nods.

"And you want to keep doing this for years?"

"And I want to keep doing this for years."

Steve looks so certain, so unbothered by the fact that he just threw out the words 'for years' like it's the easiest thing in the world. Like it's a promise, a guarantee. And when you see the way his gaze softens, the way his eyes flick between yours, the way his expression goes a little more serious, you realize—

That's exactly what he's doing.

You swallow, looking at him, and then, slowly, you ask, "Why?"

"Because I'm an idiot."

You roll your eyes.

"Because I'm an idiot," he amends, "who's liked you for way too long, and I've just been trying not to notice it."

"Steve—"

"And because I know I've made a lot of mistakes, okay?" He pauses, exhaling a little shakily. "Like, a lot of mistakes. But the biggest mistake would be not going for this, not seeing where it could go."

You shake your head, your heart beating way too fast.

"Steve," you say, "we've only kissed twice."

"Yeah, and?"

"And... it's been twenty minutes."

"And?"

You let out a small, exasperated laugh, looking at him like he's insane. "It's been twenty minutes."

"Listen," he starts, and the fact that he's using the exact same tone of voice as you, the one where he's trying to argue, the one where he's determined and stubborn and refusing to back down, makes something in your chest shift.

He reaches for your hands, lacing his fingers with yours.

"There is a lot of shit we've had to deal with. A lot of crazy, unbelievable shit. But this is something I know, okay? This is something I'm sure about. So, maybe we go into it too fast, and maybe we take our time, and maybe we try a few things and figure out what works. But I don't care."

Steve squeezes your hands gently.

"We've spent the last three years dealing with monsters and evil Russians and upside-down hellscapes, and the second I got to kiss you, the second I got to actually act on the thing I've wanted for way too long, I didn't think about any of that. I didn't think about the fact that the world is probably gonna keep fucking us over. I didn't think about all the reasons why this wouldn't work or why we shouldn't be doing this. I didn't think about the risks or the bullshit. I didn't even think about the fact that I'm supposed to be spending Valentine's Day alone. I just..."

He stops, his breath catching a little.

"I just felt it. The way it made me feel. The way I just want to keep doing it, again and again. And the fact that I know, I fucking know, we're gonna have to deal with a lot more weird shit before we can even begin to be normal, I'm not worried. Because at the end of the day, if you're there, then everything else doesn't matter."

And with that, the last of your defenses crumble.

You stare at him. At this ridiculous, self-proclaimed idiot, with his perfect hair and his pretty smile and his dumb, charming confidence.

At Steve Harrington, the guy who used to be the most annoying, egotistical prick you'd ever met.

At the guy who's become one of the best people you've ever known.

At the guy who is, somehow, right now, here, saying all the right things.

"Shit," you mutter. "You're making it really hard not to fall in love with you."

Steve grins, and then, the absolute bastard, leans in.

"Then stop trying."

He kisses you again.

You feel it everywhere—in the way his mouth slides against yours, warm and inviting, the way his fingers tangle into your hair, the way he pulls you closer.

Your fingers curl into his polo, gripping tightly as you shift closer, and Steve groans against your mouth, his hands sliding to your waist like he can’t not touch you now. The warmth of your body pressed against his is enough to make him lightheaded, the scent of your shampoo mingling with the faint whiskey on your breath making his head swim.

His hands start to move without thinking, fingertips tracing over the fabric of your shirt—his shirt—feeling the heat of your skin underneath. You gasp softly, and Steve nearly loses his mind right there. He has to pull back, has to take a breath before he does something completely reckless, but even then, his forehead stays pressed against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“Bedroom?” His voice is rough, barely above a whisper.

You nod. “Yeah.”

That’s all he needs.

Steve gets up first, pulling you with him, hands firm on your waist as he steadies you. You both stumble slightly, tipsy but nowhere near drunk, laughing under your breath as you navigate through the house. It’s not far—just up the stairs, past the stupid family portraits his parents insist on keeping up despite never being here.

And then, finally, his room.

The door clicks shut behind you, sealing you both in, the soft glow from outside casting long shadows across his walls.

And then, Steve is on you again.

He doesn’t hesitate this time, doesn’t second-guess himself as his hands find your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as he kisses you like he’s been waiting to do this forever. Like he’s scared it might slip away if he doesn’t hold onto it.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you sink down, pulling him with you. Steve follows, pressing you down gently, settling between your legs as he leans in, his lips never leaving yours.

His hands start to wander, slow, exploring—mapping you out like he wants to memorize every dip and curve. And god, you’re soft. So warm, so right against him.

 His mind is already racing, imagining every place his lips could follow, every inch of skin he could trace, every way he could make you melt into him.

Your own hands roam, sliding down his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Steve leans back, just enough to let you pull it off, the cool air hitting his skin making him shiver. His chest is exposed, his hair a little messy, his arms flexing slightly as he props himself up, and the sight is enough to make you pause.

Steve smirks, catching you.

But instead of teasing, he leans down, kissing along your jaw, his voice low and soft as he murmurs, "My turn."

Steve teases the hem of the shirt he let you borrow. You sit up a little and he starts to lift it up over your chest, but it's a tight fit and it gets stuck. You're about ready to have him just rip it off at this point, but when he speaks, his voice is soft and gentle and his breath is hot on your skin and all the words die on your tongue.

"Hold your arms up, okay?"

You obey, raising your arms and letting him slide the shirt off. He tosses it on the floor and you shiver at the sudden cold, but it's quickly forgotten as Steve looks down at you.

"Fuck."

The word slips out of his mouth before he can stop it. His eyes drink you in, trailing over the swell of your breasts in your bra, the smooth skin, the curve of your waist, and suddenly, he's overwhelmed.

"So you don't think I'm like, a total perv, I didn't think that shirt would be that... snug when I grabbed it. So, uh, sorry, but I'm also not complaining, because you have a really great—shit, what was I saying?"

"Shut up, Harrington," you mutter, grabbing his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

He chuckles against your lips, then shifts.

Steve starts slow, his mouth tracing a line down the side of your neck. He pauses, sucks at the hollow of your throat, feels the way your breath hitches when his teeth graze over the delicate skin. Your fingers card through his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp, and the sensation is enough to make him shudder, a quiet groan slipping out.

Then, he moves lower, lips pressing a kiss in the space between your breasts. His hands trace over the tops of them, then down, cupping you, feeling the weight, thumbs swiping along the edge of your bra. You sigh, arching into him, and it takes every ounce of control not to lose it right there.

Steve leans back, eyes meeting yours, silently asking permission.

You nod, and he reaches behind you, unhooking your bra with a little more ease than expected. When he slides it off, his eyes flick down to the newly exposed skin, and you swear you hear his breath hitch.

Then, his mouth is on you, and all rational thought leaves your brain.

Steve knows his way around a girl's body.

But right now? With you?

It's like starting from square one.

Because right now, everything is heightened. Every noise you make, every little gasp and moan, every hitch of your breath, every brush of your skin against his. It's enough to drive him absolutely insane, enough to make him lose focus, and when he feels you shift underneath him, when he sees the way you look up at him, his mouth still wrapped around your nipple, sucking gently, he feels that familar tug in his stomach.

It's that same feeling—the one he can't shake, the one he can't get rid of, the one that has him thinking thoughts like 'fuck, she's so pretty' and 'holy shit, I really like her' and 'god, this is gonna ruin me, isn't it?'

But right now, none of that matters.

Right now, he can't stop.

You're arching into him, fingers buried in his hair, tugging lightly, and the sound that slips out when he scrapes his teeth lightly is enough to make his cock twitch. His mouth trails lower, over your stomach, kissing along your hipbones, and he's moving faster now, impatient, hands sliding to the button of your jeans.

He hesitates, just for a second, looking up at you.

"Is this okay?"

You nod, swallowing, and Steve's hands move. He undoes the button, slides the zipper down, and hooks his fingers into the sides. He doesn't wait for a response this time—he yanks, hard, and the sound that slips out is one part surprised, one part pleased, and it's so fucking hot that he can't stand it.

Once they're off, he looks at you, taking a second to breathe, to appreciate how fucking gorgeous you look, laid out on his bed in nothing but a pair of panties. Then, his gaze trails lower, and he sees the wet spot on the fabric, and it hits him.

Fuck, you're soaked.

He exhales sharply, his eyes flicking up to yours. "Holy shit."

"Yeah." Your voice is breathy, a little embarrassed, but there's something there, too. Something needy, something desperate.

"Do you have any idea," Steve says, leaning over you again, "how long I've wanted to see you like this?"

His hand slides down, palming you through the fabric, and when he rubs lightly, your entire body shudders.

"See, this?" He rubs a little harder, the fabric of your panties sliding against your clit. "This is my new favorite thing."

You gasp, arching into him.

Steve keeps going, rubbing you through the thin layer of cotton, watching the way your hips lift into his hand. He presses a kiss to your jaw, then to your neck, sucking lightly, and then, without warning, he slides off your panties and his fingers are back on you. 

"Fuck," he groans, feeling the heat, the wetness coating his fingers. "So fucking wet, baby."

His voice is lower than before, the pet name slipping out without thinking, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to start fucking his fingers into you. Instead, he teases, sliding his fingers, feeling the slickness, the way your breath catches when his thumb circles around your clit.

And then, he dips a finger inside.

You let out a low moan, a sound that has his cock twitching again, and the urge to just bury himself in you and fuck until neither of you can breathe is almost overwhelming. But he doesn't. He doesn't rush it.

Instead, he keeps going.

"This is what I'd think about," he says, adding a second finger. "When I would lay here, at night, after I was done talking to you."

You don't say anything, too focused on the feeling, but he knows you're listening. He kisses down your neck, fingers moving slowly, curling inside of you, his palm brushing over your clit, and then, when he adds a third finger, the stretch is enough to make your brain short-circuit.

"I'd be in bed, alone, and all I could think about was this." His voice is rougher now, the way you're squeezing around his fingers driving him insane. "What you would look like, how you'd feel, how you'd taste."

Steve picks up the pace, thrusting a little harder, his fingers curling, finding that spot, and the whimper that escapes is the hottest fucking thing he's ever heard. He's fully hard now, his cock straining against his jeans, and he has to shift, has to grind his hips against the mattress to take the edge off.

"And now," he murmurs, "I get to find out."

Steve presses his lips to yours, swallowing the moan as he fucks you with his fingers. He can feel the way your body starts to tighten, the way you squeeze around him, the way your breath gets unsteady, and he knows you're close.

"God, look at you." He curls his fingers again, watching the way your hips rock into his hand. "So pretty, baby. So perfect."

His free hand comes up, brushing over your nipple, and that's all it takes.

You gasp, clutching onto his shoulder, your head falling back as the orgasm rips through you.

And then, Steve has an idea.

Before you can even process, he's sliding lower, his lips moving, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, then down, until he's settled between your legs. You can feel the heat of his breath, and then, his tongue drags along the inside of your thigh, and the realization of what's about to happen sends a jolt through you.

You barely have time to process before his mouth is on you, and fuck, the sensation is overwhelming.

"Oh, god," you gasp, and your hands fly down, tangling into his hair, trying to anchor yourself.

He doesn't go slow this time. He's not gentle or teasing. He just licks a long stripe over your pussy, his fingers parting you, his tongue swiping through the wetness, savoring the taste, and when his mouth finds your clit, his lips closing around it, you have to fight to keep your hips still.

Your entire body feels like it's on fire, the pleasure sharp and white-hot.

Steve is relentless, his tongue moving expertly, swirling around your clit, alternating between hard, firm strokes and light, teasing ones. When he sucks, his tongue flicking, you cry out, a string of curses slipping out as your fingers tighten in his hair.

He groans against you, the sound muffled, his fingers gripping your hips tightly, and then, you feel it.

One hand slides under your thigh, his arm hooking under your leg, pulling it up and over his shoulder. His other arm wraps around the other, holding you down, his hand spreading you, keeping you wide open for him.

Then, Steve goes harder.

He doesn't give you time to breathe, doesn't let you recover. Instead, his tongue moves faster, licking, sucking, his face buried in you, his grip on your thighs iron-tight. The sound is obscene, filthy, wet and messy and fucking perfect, and when his teeth scrape over your clit, your back arches off the bed.

"Steve," you pant, trying not to lose it completely. "I'm—I'm gonna—"

He hums, like he already knows, and the vibrations are enough to send you over the edge.

Your entire body seizes, the pleasure shooting through you like lightning. You don't even know what's happening, if you're crying out or moaning or gasping or a mix of all three, but you can't focus, can't breathe, can't do anything other than let it rip through you, white-hot and fucking amazing.

By the time it finally fades, the aftershocks rolling through you, you're completely breathless. Your legs feel like jelly, your fingers are numb from gripping his hair, and you're positive that every nerve in your body is fried.

When Steve pulls away, sitting up, you look at him.

Your eyes are wide, your chest heaving, and it's only then that you notice the lopsided smile.

"Did I kill you?"

"Shut up," you mutter, your face flushing.

Steve's smirk widens. He crawls up, leaning in, his lips brushing against yours. "You taste amazing."

You're too weak, too fucked out to respond. All you can do is look at him, his mouth slightly parted in a loose smile, his lips shiny. And the fact that you're the reason, the fact that he was just between your legs, eating you out, is enough to make another pulse of warmth spread through your stomach.

Then, Steve looks down at you, his smile turning softer.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"You good?"

You exhale. "Yeah. Just... a little lightheaded."

"Sorry," he says, not sorry at all. "I'll try not to be so good next time."

He grins in a way thats too sweet, too genuine, and then, he presses a kiss to your forehead. He shifts, pulling back, and you're about to ask what he's doing when he reaches for the nightstand. He opens the drawer, digging around, and you're about to ask him why he's suddenly acting so weird when he holds something up.

A condom.

Steve glances at you, and his face does that thing—that half-shy, half-smirking thing—like he's still trying to play it off.

"We don't have to," he says. "If you don't want."

You hesitate.

It's not like you've never thought about it. You've imagined him more times than you'd ever admit, late at night, under the cover of darkness, when it's just you and your own mind and the things you'd like to do. But now the guy is currently in front of you, giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes of all time, as if he didn't just give you the best orgasm of your life with his tongue a few minutes ago.

Your heart stutters, and it's not because you're scared or nervous.

"Yeah," you say. "Okay."

Steve blinks, and then, he grins.

"Yeah?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, asshole."

"Hey." He points a finger at you. "No name-calling while we're having sex."

You snort, and the laugh that follows makes him smile wider.

Then, without thinking, he leans down and kisses you.

The kiss is soft, gentle, almost hesitant, but you can taste yourself on his lips and it's enough to send a shockwave through your system. You wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him closer, and the second his bare skin presses against yours, the weight of him settling between your legs, the hardness of his cock pressing against your thigh, your pulse jumps.

Steve reaches for the button on his jeans, fumbling slightly, but once he's kicked them off, he's on you again. His body is warm, the skin soft under your hands, and his mouth finds yours, his kiss a little more desperate now, like he's trying to ground himself, his fingers sliding into your hair, nails scratching lightly against your scalp.

When you shift underneath him, spreading your legs, his breath hitches, the friction enough to make him grind into you. You bite back a whimper, arching into him, and when you reach between you, palming him through his boxers, his cock twitches.

"Off," you say, tugging the waistband. "Now."

Steve huffs a laugh against your mouth.

"Demanding."

But he doesn't hesitate.

He sits back, just enough to pull them off, and the second they're gone, you swallow.

Fuck.

Steve Harrington is a lot of things.

Gorgeous. Annoying. An absolute idiot.

But right now, you're noticing a whole new set of adjectives.

He's hard, the tip flushed and swollen, and he's a little bigger than you were expecting. He's lean and fit in a way that has heat pooling in your stomach, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly as he reaches for the condom, and the sight is enough to make you a little dizzy.

"I can practically hear you thinking," he mutters, leaning in again, his mouth finding your jaw. And then, there's that stupid, cocky smirk. "Like what you see?"

"Absolutely not," you deadpan.

"Uh-huh." Steve's grin widens, but instead of saying anything else, he tears the wrapper open, rolls it on, and then, he's leaning in, bracing his weight over you. "You're cute when you're lying."

You feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance, and when he leans down, kissing you softly, his hand finds yours.

He tangles his fingers with yours, pressing them down into the mattress, his thumb tracing over the back of your hand.

"Still okay?"

His voice is different now. Quieter, softer.

And something about it makes your chest ache.

"Yeah."

"Tell me if it hurts."

You nod, and then, slowly, Steve pushes into you.

He goes slow, inch by inch, his gaze locked with yours. It's intense, overwhelming, and you can't tell if it's the fact that his eyes are so fucking pretty, or the way his fingers lace with yours, or the way his breath stutters a little when he bottoms out, but whatever it is, you feel it everywhere.

Steve holds still, letting you adjust, his chest rising and falling unsteadily, his eyes a little more focused now, and you know he's holding back.

"You can move," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

He exhales, nodding, and then, he does.

The first few thrusts are slow, experimental. He's careful, gentle, and the feeling of him, stretching you open, the way his hips meet yours, the way his hand finds your thigh, pulling it up and wrapping it around his waist, it's all so much.

But when Steve looks at you, his hair falling into his face, his eyes dark, the words slip out before you can stop them.

"Harder."

His rhythm stutters. He blinks.

And then, the corner of his mouth tugs upward.

"Yeah?" He pauses, the smirk spreading. "Are you sure? Cause you might not be able to walk tomorrow—"

"Oh my god, Harrington."

"You know, I think we're past the last name thing at this point."

You groan, burying your face in his neck. The laugh that escapes him is so fucking dumb and beautiful and perfect, and then, without warning, he slams into you.

"Jesus," you gasp, your body arching, fingers clutching onto his shoulders.

"Still not my name," he quips, and before you can respond, he keeps going, his hips snapping into yours, and the noise that slips out when his cock hits a certain spot is obscene.

It's different, being with Steve.

With anyone else, you're always a little guarded. Always a little reserved. Always trying to keep yourself in check, make sure your reactions aren't too exaggerated, make sure you're not too loud, not too much, not too needy. But with him, it's different.

There's none of that.

Right now, the only thing in your head is him.

The scent of his cologne mixed with sweat, the softness of his hair, the warmth of his skin, the sound of his voice, low and breathy and perfect. His hand slides over your breast, cupping you, his thumb rolling over your nipple, and the pleasure shoots straight through you.

And then, he leans down, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

"God, you're gorgeous." He hikes your leg higher, angling deeper, and the drag of his cock inside you is almost enough to send you over the edge. "So beautiful."

You whimper, the sound high and desperate, and his lips press against your neck.

"Could stay here forever," he murmurs, and then, his teeth graze your skin. "Inside you. Just like this."

"Steve," you gasp, your head falling back.

His name on your lips does something to him.

It's almost instinctive, the way his body moves, the way he fucks into you, his hips grinding against yours. His fingers dig into your thigh, his other hand moving down, sliding along your hip, gripping your ass, and the way you react is perfect.

"Just like that, baby."

Steve keeps talking, his mouth running, whispering the most ridiculous things, like how he loves the way you feel and the way your nails drag over his shoulders and the way your breasts bounce when he fucks into you. And every single one of his stupid, filthy compliments has your body tensing, the heat building in your stomach.

Your legs are around his waist, the heels of your feet pressing into the small of his back, and when he leans forward, shifting the angle, his mouth finding your breast, his tongue swiping over your nipple, the sound that escapes is embarrassingly loud.

"Steve," you whine, the sound needy and desperate.

"I know," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "Fuck, I know."

Steve knows what he's doing. And the fact that he's got you wrapped around his finger, completely under his spell, makes him feel like he's on top of the fucking world.

His hips start to lose their rhythm, his movements getting a little sloppier, and when you start to tighten around him, the whimper he lets out is downright sinful. He leans back, his eyes meeting yours, and when his fingers find your clit, his touch firm, the feeling is enough to send you over the edge.

You don't even try to stop the moan, the sound slipping out, and then, the words.

"Don't stop." Your nails drag down his back, fingers curling, and Steve nearly loses it right there. "Steve, please. Don't stop."

"I won't." His voice is rough, the sound making you squeeze around him. "I won't."

And then, his mouth finds yours, and the second your lips part, the second his tongue slides against yours, the sensation is too much.

"Steve," you pant. "Fuck. Steve."

The sound of his name, over and over, coming out like a plea, is too much.

It's the combination of everything—the way your body arches, the way you clutch onto him, the way you squeeze around him, the way his name slips out.

"Shit," Steve groans. "I'm gonna—"

"Me, too," you gasp, and when you squeeze his hand, the orgasm ripping through you.

He chases after you, the pleasure slamming through him, his hips stuttering as he comes, his forehead falling against yours. Your names spill out, mixed together, and then, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of ragged breathing, the scent of sweat and sex and his cologne mingling together, the faint buzz from the TV downstairs drifting through the room.

By the time Steve catches his breath, his head is spinning.

His limbs feel like jelly, and his arms shake slightly, his body half-collapsed on top of yours, the feeling of your bare skin against his making his pulse race. He doesn't pull out, doesn't move, just lets his forehead rest against yours, the sound of your breath the only thing keeping him tethered.

After a few moments, his brain finally catches up.

He leans back, watching you.

Your face is flushed, lips slightly parted, the light sheen of sweat on your skin making you glow. And the expression on your face—the blissed-out, relaxed, fucked-out expression—makes his stomach flip.

"Shit," Steve whispers.

And then, before he can stop himself, before he can think, he says, "I love you."

The words are quiet, a little shaky, and the second they slip out, his breath catches.

Your eyes go wide.

Fuck.

He didn't mean to say it. Not now. Not like this.

The thought comes, unbidden, and then, he's hit with the realization.

Oh.

That's exactly what he meant.

Because it's true.

It's always been true.

Steve has said those words before, a handful of times, and each time, it never meant the same thing. The first time was in eighth grade, during a game of truth or dare. It was a joke, an inside-out version of the words that had everyone laughing. The second time was to a girl he dated briefly during sophomore year. He wasn't in love with her, not really, but the way she reacted, the way her entire face lit up, made him wish he was. And the third was to Nancy, when he was convinced it was true. That it would be true. Forever.

But the second it leaves his mouth, the second he says it now, the weight of the words settles over him.

It's heavy. Solid. Like the kind of thing that can't be taken back, the kind of thing that changes everything.

And when he looks at you, when he sees the way you stare back, the look in your eyes making his chest ache, the words hit him again.

He loves you.

"Fuck," Steve says, exhaling sharply. "Sorry, I didn't mean—I shouldn't have said—"

"You love me?"

Your voice is soft. Small. A little incredulous.

"I..." He pauses, looking at you.

You don't say anything, and Steve doesn't know if he's ever felt this fucking terrified in his entire life.

And then, slowly, your lips curve into a smile.

"You love me," you repeat, the smile spreading.

"Yeah."

"Like, love-love?"

"Oh, so ‘love love’ is okay to say, but ‘like like’ is childish?"

You ignore his call back. "Like, 'I want to hold your hand in public and fall asleep on the couch together and wake up with my face buried in your hair and spend the next ten years wondering what took us so long' love?"

The corner of his mouth tugs upward.

"All of the above."

Your heart jumps, and without thinking, you lean in, kissing him softly. When you lean back, Steve's eyes are a little wider, and the hope in his expression is almost painful.

"Do you...?"

You grin, and the second the words slip out, you know they're true.

"Yeah. Iove you too, Harrington."

"Hey," he starts, tilting his head. "I told you, we're past the last name thing."

"Fine," you say, rolling your eyes. Your face softens as you meet his gaze, and you move your hand to fix some of the hair stuck to his forehead. "I love you, Steve."

He's never loved his name more.

"So," you start, "where does that leave us now?"

"Well, according to my calculations, you are currently in my bed, naked, and I am stil insi-" he pauses, realization hitting him. "Oh my god. I told you I loved you for the first time while I was still inside of you. What kind of maniac does that?"

"Is this what love is like for you?"

"Oh shut up," Steve says, smiling, and finally, he pulls out.

He rolls over onto his back, staring at the ceiling, and then, without looking, he reaches for your hand.

"How about," he says, squeezing lightly, "we sleep, and then, tomorrow, we can talk about all the ways we're going to tell our friends and make them suffer?"

You snort, looking over at him. He's taking the condom off, tying it off, and then, he tosses it into the trashcan beside the bed. He turns back, shifting closer, and the fact that you're both naked, in bed, post-coitus, isn't lost on you.

"And the day after that," he adds, pulling you closer, "we can spend the entire day here, naked, in this bed, and we'll figure out a new plan."

"A new plan?"

"Yeah."

He's so close, his nose brushing against yours, and when his eyes flick between yours, there's a look there. A promise.

"We can make a new plan every day," Steve says, his voice a little lower, "for as long as you want."

And then, he kisses you, and it feels a little like the world shifts.

It's a small shift, just enough for everything to click into place.

Because now, everything is different.

Everything is new.

It's a promise.

And when Steve pulls away, when his eyes meet yours, when he smiles, a little crooked, a little sleepy, a little in love, you can't help but smile back.

[sukiyurii]

Tension

(NSFW! Caitvi x reader, f!reader, AFAB!reader)

(praise, oral sex, strap-on sex, all!receiving, bottom!reader, bottom!vi)

wc: ~4.7k

Caught in a little lie between Vi and Caitlyn, they use your own inability to conceal your feelings against you.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚Because you and Vi were practically inseparable up until she was kidnapped, it was only natural that when the two of you reconciled in Zaun, she brought you back to Piltover with her and Caitlyn.

This led to a lot of you and Caitlyn butting heads. She was still becoming accustomed to Vi’s rash behavior, so when you add your own attitude to the mix; she’s less inclined to receive it positively. Don’t mistake her difficulty for lack of effort, because she does try. She meets your sarcasm, snide remarks, and crude words with as much patience as she can muster. 

While you are utterly infuriating and manage to push every single button she has, she is still infatuated with you. She sees the way your eyes soften when you talk to Vi, especially if it’s about your memories growing up, or any of her other adoptive siblings. Seeing Vi vulnerable and unguarded is new, refreshing, and probably her favorite thing to witness now.

There’s equal attraction on any and all ends between the three of you, a general consensus that all of you are just so breathtaking it’s actually ridiculous. While Caitlyn had initially been hesitant to welcome you into her life, she quickly finds herself overly enthusiastic every time she spots you asleep on the velvet couch in her room. 

She’s currently watching you and Vi chat about something, unable to determine what it is in full. She cocks her head to the side as you lean forward and show Vi one of the newest scars your body adorns. It’s deep, jagged, and runs across your left forearm, it’s a truly nasty thing. Vi raises her hand to your arm and gently soothes a calloused thumb over the skin, a silent, sympathetic apology.

Caitlyn stands up from the desk in her room, abandoning the caseload that’s occupying the surface. She makes her way over to the bed, long legs striding quickly, eager to get close to both of you. She crawls onto the bed behind you and settles herself on your left side, bracing herself with her right arm on the opposite side of your back. 

She pretends not to notice the way your breath hitches slightly as she crowds your space, feigning innocence as she looks down at your arm as well. She moves her hand down to your forearm and runs her fingers over the scarred skin, her own fingers dancing with Vi’s as they map out the old wound. 

“It used to really bother me, like… the sight of it,” you explain quietly, earning a few slow nods of understanding from the other two women. “What changed?” Caitlyn inquires gently, pushing your arm up slightly– an attempt to get a better look at it. You shrug, “I guess I… got used to it, I think,” you attempt to explain, but you really don’t have a solid answer. “Scars just kind of become a part of you, right? No reason to dwell on them forever, shit like that’ll make you miserable,” you conclude, giving both of them a faint smile. 

The two women let out a collective hum at your words, continuing to move their fingers over your arm. Vi adjusts herself and moves forward, brushing your knees together. 

The tension between all three of you truthfully could be sliced in half with the dullest knife a kitchen has to offer. Vi’s voice cuts through the air, “Why’re you so tense?” she asks quietly, noticing the way your shoulders had stiffened. The question becomes seemingly difficult to answer as you feel Caitlyn’s breath sweep over the back of your neck, her arm brushing against your back. 

“I– uh, I’m still just kinda sore from training yesterday,” you stammer in a half-truth. It is true that you were all dragged to hours worth of intense conditioning yesterday– still leaving you quite sore. But the reason that your body had tensed wasn’t due to your still aching muscles. It has everything to do with the fact that you can feel Vi’s calloused hands running over your skin and her pretty eyes trying to peer into your soul. Followed by Cait’s arm pressing into your back and her breath running down your neck. 

You feel Vi’s grip on your arm tighten ever so slightly, “You’re a really bad liar, y’know that?” She teases, voice dropping ever so slightly. You hear Caitlyn let out a quiet chuckle, followed by her slender fingers snaking their way up your right arm. “I–” you begin, but the words quickly fall short, almost as if you didn’t even know what you wanted to say to begin with. 

“What was that?” Vi coos quietly, a playful tone to her voice as she leans forward slightly, causing you to lean back reflexively. However, it only gets you so far as you further press yourself into Caitlyn’s awaiting, eager presence. Caitlyn lowers her head, placing her chin on your shoulder. 

The action causes your breath to hitch, causing  her to let out another quiet, amused chuckle. “Seems like we’ve made someone a little nervous,” she mumbles, her thick accent feeding through the air and rolling over your ears. You turn your head briefly as you feel her shift around, now sitting directly behind you. Her hands come up to your waist as she presses her chest to your back. 

You hear Vi’s soothing voice call back to you, “Is this okay, are you alright?” she asks, pulling your face back towards her gently with the side of her index finger. You nod quietly, still slightly awestruck of the situation. Vi shakes her head and says, “We need words from you, can’t just nod right now,” she says firmly, tilting her head curiously. 

“Yes, yeah, I’m good, this is okay,” you reply, giving her a reassuring smile. Both women let out a content hum at your consent, sharing a look that you can’t quite decipher. Well, you can’t decipher it until you feel Caitlyn’s hands untuck your button-up from your dress pants. You feel her long fingers rake over your skin gently, pushing her hands further up beneath your shirt. 

Vi cups your jaw with a calloused hand gently and leans forward, stalling briefly to look at your flushed face. She continues forward until your lips finally meet, causing you to short-circuit briefly. She lets out a quiet moan as you reciprocate her movements, your own hands reaching forward to brace themselves on her broad shoulders. 

You whine as you feel Caitlyn’s hands leave your skin, she shushes you gently as she moves them upwards and begins to undo the buttons of your shirt. She sits up on her knees further and presses her lips onto the side of your neck as her hands tediously work over the garment. You moan softly into Vi’s mouth, fingers tightening around her taut muscles. She reaches one of her hands up and cups the back of your head, pulling you forward, sliding her tongue in between your lips. 

Once Caitlyn has the buttons undone, she quickly shoves the shirt down your arms and moves her lips to your shoulder. She wraps her hands around your bra-covered breasts and squeezes eagerly, nipping down on the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You can feel her inhale sharply as you press your ass back against her front, languidly rolling your hips against her. “Ah– Cait,” you gasp, rewarding a soft moan from her.

You slide your hands from Vi’s shoulders down to the belt around her waist and unbuckle it, dropping it to the floor next to you. Your hands swiftly work along the enforcer jacket, popping the buttons as your hands work their way down. She pulls away from your lips and rests your foreheads together, panting as you push the jacket from her shoulders. “You’re so pretty, Vi,” you mumble, pressing a quick kiss to her jaw. 

Caitlyn pulls away from your shoulder before surging forward, capturing Vi’s lips with hers. You’re entirely sandwiched between the two women, reaching one arm behind you to hold the back of Caitlyn’s head. Your chest presses into Vi’s as you loll your head back onto Caitlyn’s shoulder, giving you the perfect angle to watch their lips dance together.

You place your hand up on Vi’s collarbones before slowly trailing it down her body, grinning eagerly as you hear her moan into Caitlyn’s mouth. You feel one of Caitlyn’s hands leave your breast and trail up to your jaw, holding it firmly. She pulls away from Vi, ignoring the way that she whines at the disconnection. She moves her other hand to the back of Vi’s neck, tangling her fingers into her hair. She tugs on it gently, relishing in the way Vi whimpers at the feeling. 

She keeps a tight hold on your jaw as she leans down and presses her lips to yours. The angle is awkward and sloppy, but she really can’t bring herself to care as she listens to you moan against her mouth. With both of you in her grasp she feels overwhelmingly powerful, elated by the way she makes both of you squirm. She pulls away, much to your disdain and pushes you forward by your upper-back gently.

You turn your head towards her and watch as she slowly begins to shed her own uniform. She grins as she watches both of your eyes widen at the sight of her now exposed skin. She pushes herself onto her hands and knees before crawling forward, settling back on her knees next to both of you.

You immediately tilt forward and attach your lips to her neck, palming at one of her breasts. She cards her fingers through your hair at the feeling and lets out a low moan, tilting her head back. You feel Vi place a hand on the band of your bra, quickly undoing it as she attaches her lips to Caitlyn’s collarbones. You slide your bra off of your shoulders before tossing it to the ground, immediately connecting your hand with Vi’s back– reaching for the end of the bandage wraps.

As you work to undo them, you fumble slightly, which elicits collective giggles from all three of you. Once you finally pull them away and drop them, you attach your lips to one of her breasts, sucking at the skin. “Oh, fuck,’ she whimpers, tightening her fingers in your hair. You feel Caitlyn come up behind your back again, reaching over you to grab at Vi’s other breast, and attach her lips to the stop of your spine. 

You pull away from Vi, looking up to meet her hungry, nearly feral gaze. She reaches up to grab your jaw firmly, giving you a sly smirk. “I know that you’re plotting something,” you tease, not missing the way that her eyes flick from yours, to Caitlyn. “Maybe I am,” she retorts, leaning forward to nip at your jaw, licking over it. 

Caitlyn continues to work her way down your spine, letting go of Vi so she can reach for the front of your dress pants, undoing them. Once they’re open, she slides her hand underneath the fabric of the pants and your underwear, rubbing gentle circles over your clit. 

She grins as you let out a guttural whine, pressing her fingers onto the sensitive bud harsher. Vi reaches for the waistband of your garments and tugs them down your legs, assisted by you. Caitlyn slides her fingers further down, teasing them over your lips. She readjusts, bracketing her long legs next to yours and wrapping an arm around your chest, holding your back to her chest.  

“Isn’t she so pretty, Violet?” she asks, eyes moving from her hand attached to you, to Vi’s. She notices the desperate look, the need that Vi has to touch you. “Yeah, she is,” she answers, sliding one of her own, large hands up your left leg. You shift and flush beneath the praise, whimpering as you feel one of Caitlyn’s fingers slide inside of you. 

You arch and squirm beneath their hands– resulting in Vi pinning your legs down as she lowers herself onto her stomach. She attaches her lips to the side of your thigh as Caitlyn continuously moves her finger inside of you, gently working in a second one. “Do you feel good?” she asks, obviously knowing the answer to her own question.

When you nod eagerly, rolling your head back onto her shoulder, she smirks down at Vim watching as the other woman kisses her way up your leg. “Tell me how good you feel, I wanna hear it,” she encourages, curling her fingers right against your g-spot. 

And as you attempt to stutter your words out, you feel Vi’s arms wrap underneath your legs and pull them over her shoulders. You fist her pink locks into your hands, keeping a firm, grounding hold on it.

“It– It feels really good,” you stutter, thighs tightening around her head as she continues to suck on the sensitive skin. “Tell me more,” she encourages, keeping a languid, teasing pace inside of you. “I’ve never felt this good before, like– like, it feels so much better than a-anything else,” you reply, whimpering as you feel Vi roughly bite onto your thigh. 

“I need more,” you plead, back arching violently. “We’ve got you, just relax, m’kay?” Vi mumbles, wrapping her hands around your hips. You nod and slump back into Cait’s awaiting form, letting them ravish you. Your eyes roll back as her fingers continuously curl inside of you, receiving borderline pornographic moans from you.

Caitlyn pulls her fingers out of you, chuckling as you whine loudly at the loss. Almost immediately after her fingers are pulled away, Vi attaches her mouth to your pussy, moaning lowly at the contact. “I’m gonna be right back, okay?” Caitlyn announces, pressing a final kiss to your shoulder before she peels herself away. You groan at the loss of contact, fully falling into the bed now.

Vi seizes the opportunity and moves over you with a new passion, using the position to her advantage. She sits up slightly and presses your thighs to your chest, keeping them pinned there with her rough hands. She sucks on your clit sloppily, nearly attempting to devour you. You tighten your hands in her hair and tug harshly, desperately trying to grind against her mouth, but finding your efforts useless. “Oh, fuck, Vi,” you moan. 

You hear the quiet commotion of Caitlyn shoving her pants and underwear down her legs, kicking them off to the side. She shuffles through a drawer, and you spare her a brief glance as you see the familiar sight of the pink and purple dildos, and black harnesses coming into view. You grin excitedly at the sight, earning a matching smile from Caitlyn. “Taking good care of our girl?” she asks Vi, trailing a lazy hand up her inked back as she comes up behind her. 

The woman between your thighs nods enthusiastically as she continues to work over your pussy, sighing contentedly as she laps up the salty liquid. You peer your eyes open, drinking in the sight of Caitlyn strapping one of the harnesses onto her lean hips. “She feels so good, Cait,” you whimper, clamping your thighs down around her head again. 

“Always so good at pleasing, isn’t she? Such a good girl,” Caitlyn coos, climbing back onto the bed, dropping the items onto the sheets. “C’mon, Violet, I want you undressed,” she murmurs, shoving your hands away from her head and fists her own into the tangled hair. She yanks Vi away from your core, both of you groaning at the loss. 

You watch Caitlyn tugs her head back and crash their lips together, moaning at the taste of you on her lips. Vi is up on her knees, braced on her hands and back arched– truly a sight anybody sane would kill to see. Caitlyn pushes her onto her back next to you, quickly working her pants and underwear down her thick thighs.

You turn over, attaching your lips to Vi’s messily, curling a hand around the side of her neck as you hold her in place. One of her hands reaches up to hold your forearm, and the other goes down to rub over her clit. She moans into your mouth loudly, hand tightening around your arm.

Caitlyn swats her hand away with a quiet “aht,” and she gets a pathetic whine in return. She shushes her gently before attaching the purple dildo to the harness resting on her hips. Vi reaches for the other harness and stands up, sliding the harness up and securing it firmly– actions a little more ungraceful as excitement thrums through her. 

All while this is happening, Caitlyn has settled herself next to you, trailing her hand back down your body. She connects your lips as her fingers make contact with your pussy again, sliding her fingers back inside. Vi catches you as your back arches at the contact, settling herself on your other side.

“Get on top of her,” Caitlyn mumbles against your lips, giving your thigh a light pat. You nod and comply immediately watching as Vi spits into her hand and rubs the slick over the silicone. 

“Y’ready?” she mumbles, keeping a supportive hand on your hip, and the other on the dildo attached to her hips. You give her an affirmative nod before bracing your hands on her chest, slowly lowering yourself onto the fake appendage. 

You both groan at the feeling, her hands tightening around your hips as she bucks her hips up further. Once she’s slotted inside of you completely, she gives you a firm pat on the ass. “Let’s go, pretty girl, move,” she commands, moaning as your hips immediately rock down on the fake cock. 

You let out a string of moans and curses as you bounce on-top of her, watching as her face flushes a deep pink and raspy moans leave her mouth. 

You feel a warm presence move behind you, “Does she feel good?” you hear Caitlyn ask, breath ghosting over your ear. You let out a guttural whimper and nod, rolling your hips down faster. “She feels really fucking good,” you answer, palming at one of Vi’s breasts. You rub your fingers over her nipple, pinching it softly– eliciting a sweet moan from her lips. 

“Could do this all fuckin’ day,” you continue, grinning down at Vi as you watch her muscles tense beneath you. She uses her strength to help guide your hips, now making eye contact with Caitlyn over your shoulder. 

“Spread your legs, Violet,” you hear her command, and feel the immediate compliance. The movement causes her to shift inside of you slightly, pulling another soft moan from your throat. 

Caitlyn slides her hand between Vi’s legs, thoroughly coating them in the wetness that had already pooled between her thighs. “Already so needy?” she teases, rubbing her fingers over her cunt before sliding two of them inside. 

Vi moans loudly, the feeling causing her hips to stutter in their movements. “Ah– Cait,” she stammers, hips now bucking up into you inconsistently. “What is it? Does it feel good, hm?” she questions, leaning in further. The action causes you to fall onto your forearms, one on either side of her head.  

You press your lips to her lips, locking them together intensely. It’s not long before you detach your lips from hers, moving them down to her jaw and neck. Her thrusts are weaker, but you meet her halfway, bouncing back down into her awaiting lap.

Caitlyn is now three fingers deep inside of Vi, her other hand wrapped around your hip.

“That’s it, baby, you got it. Make yourself feel good,” she praises, curling her fingers further inside of Vi. 

A few minutes later and you hear Vi’s breath hitch, and then a low moan escaping her lips as Caitlyn slides the silicone inside of her. Caitlyn tangles a hand into your hair and yanks your head back firmly, causing you to let out a guttural whimper as she pulls you against her. Your back is arching almost painfully, “Move faster, c’mon,” she whispers, nipping at the cartilage of your ear. She keeps a tight grip in your hair as you pick up your speed, “Yeah, there we go, feels so good doesn’t it?” She coos, craning your head back. 

Her free hand connects with Vi’s thigh as she moves her hips slowly, rolling down into her. “So beautiful, both of you– absolutely radiant,” she mutters, pressing another kiss to your ear, and then your shoulder. 

“Touch yourself, I want you to cum for me,” she encourages, voice raspy and the sentence comes out in subtle pants. You nod at her words, snaking a hand down to your clit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck ah– ah–” you whimper, followed by a blinding orgasm surging through you. You gasp and pant heavily, body and legs tensing with vibrations. Caitlyn wraps an arm around your chest and pulls you back against her, holding you tightly. “There you go baby, there it is, ride it out,” she says, helping coax you down gently from the high. 

Once you’re settled, she helps you pull off of Vi, gently guiding you to the bed. You immediately curl up next to the muscular woman, trailing your hand down to her chest, thumbing over her nipples. You attach your lips to her throat, pulling several moans from her chest. 

She moans loudly, fisting her hands into the sheets. “C’mon baby, I wanna watch your pretty face while you cum,” you murmur, rubbing faster circles over her. “Ngh– I, I–” she stammers, causing Caitlyn to hike her legs over her shoulders and fuck into her harder. Her hands pull Vi’s hips up, angling them higher so that the tip of the silicone rubs against her g-spot. Caitlyn presses their lips together in a sloppy kiss, drinking in all of Vi's moans.

You pull the attached dildo off and push the harness out of your way as much as you can. You rub your fingers over her clit, chuckling into her skin as she lets out a loud, guttural moan. You continue to kiss and suck along the skin of her throat, feeling the vibrations of every moan and whimper ripped from it. 

You feel her hand tangle into your hair as she lets out another chorus of moans and whimpers, “Please, please, please,” she whines. “You can cum, Violet, be good for us,” Caitlyn encourages, pressing soft kisses to the inside of her knee. Vi watches as a searing white light crosses over her eyes and the orgasm wracks through her, clinging onto you tightly. 

The orgasm crashes over her violently, legs tightening around Caitlyn’s neck. Left panting and gasping on her back, Caitlyn continues her ministrations– although a little slower. She gently lowers her legs from her shoulders and back to her waist, continuing to slowly rock her hips. Vi reaches out in overstimulation and attempts to push her hips away, before Caitlyn catches her hands and holds them gently. “I’m almost there, precious, I just need a minute,” she reassures, breathing coming out in rapid gasps as she nears the edge.

You rub a soothing hand up and down Vi’s abdomen, “It’s okay, you can do it, you can do it, baby,” you whisper into her ear, pressing soft kisses to face– successfully wiping the tears from them. 

Caitlyn’s orgasm washes over her intensely, causing her to collapse forward slightly– long hair hanging down. She catches herself on the bed, taking a second to breathe, before pulling away. She sheds the harness from her hips and gently works Vi’s out of hers. 

“I’m gonna go get a washcloth, okay? Will you be okay?” She asks, sliding a hand up both of your legs, soothingly. Once you both give her an affirmative nod, she walks towards the attached bathroom on shaky legs.

As she returns, she slides the damp, soft cloth over your body, pressing soft kisses against your skin. “Did so good for me, my love,” she mumbles, wiping some of the sweat from your forehead. “So, so beautiful,” she adds on, pressing her lips to your forehead. 

Once she retreats from your body, you immediately curl up against Vi, who in turn, wraps her arm around your back. Her other hand comes up to cradle your head gently. Caitlyn repeats the same process of muttering quiet praises and compliments to Vi, you pick up on a quiet, “Such a good girl, hm?” she mumbles, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

When she’s satisfied with Vi’s treatment, you and Vi reach out for her, and Vi takes the cloth from her hand. You both sit up slightly, adjusting to make it easier as you give her the same soft, gentle treatment. You press soft kisses on her abdomen and sternum as Vi swipes the cloth over her flushed skin– successfully cooling her off. “Always make us feel so good, you’re so beautiful,” you say, gently massaging the back of one of her thighs.

As you’re successfully cleaned off and sweat free, you climb beneath the soft, silken blankets. You’re pressed in between both of them, a sandwich that has truly been pulled out of one of your dreams. One of your hands is resting over Cait’s waist, the other laced with Vi’s as her arm is slung over your own. While the positions may not be the most comfortable, they keep all of you happy and satiated. 

taglist:

@tilwehittheheavens @halle5s

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

you left me - aiku, otoya (lover —> them)

you left me - sae, kaiser (lover —> them)

you left me - kaiser, isagi (them —> lover)

you left me - bachira, reo (them —> lover)

——————

i love you - chigiri, reo (them —> lover)

i love you - karasu, rin (them —> lover)

i love you - bachira, ness (lover —> them)

i love you - kaiser, karasu, isagi (lover <—> them)

——————

i saw the “only a reader/writer can tell the difference” trend on tiktok, so here’s my analysis on it:

you left me - a lover who got cheated on or abandoned moved on, but the person who cheated suddenly realizes how miserable their life is without them and they go crawling back to them before the one they cheated on yells at them and says “you left me, so don’t come crawling back to me begging for me to take you back!”

you left me - a lover who is more hurt by the fact that they left rather than the fact that they probably don’t love them anymore or had some sort of tragic reason of why they left. an argument in the rain after the breakup where the abandoned lover goes “you left me. i loved you—no, i love you—and yet you still left me. why?”

you left me - a lover who was abandoned by their partner, but they’re in shock that they could ever get abandoned by anyone. i mean, after everything they’ve done for them, they just end up getting abandoned? they loved them, and yet they only ended up getting left behind and picking up the fragmented pieces of their heart.

you left me - this whole situation is just painful to them. it’s almost like a whisper when it comes out of their mouth, something that could harm them just by hearing it. they never knew that they could feel this much pain, that they could ever feel the rain pour on their heartstrings this much because of abandonment.

——————

i love you - a confident or a person of high status telling someone to stop being insecure of themselves, because some like them loves them. that since they are worthy of their love, they have nothing to dislike about themselves, that they had fixed them and managed to get them to love them when no one else could.

i love you - almost as if someone is comforting another who is in denial that they don’t just simply like them; they’re not fond of them, but they love them. that they’re so unimaginably important to them, that they simply continue with basic human survival without them. that they bring out a feeling that no one else can.

i love you - similar to the first one, but this one is more gentle with the comforting and also less narcissistic. they tell their insecure lover about how they love them to a heart wrenching amount, that they love them so much that they can’t point out a single flaw or mistake of theirs and can only see their beauties.

i love you - almost as if it’s a quiet prayer or even a passing yet elating thought, it’s the feeling of warmth of one’s skin. it’s the feeling of noticing your eyes lingering on someone for a bit too long. it’s the feeling of smiling uncontrollably when even the smallest and stupidest of romantic situations happen. it’s love, true love.

——————

sorry i yapped again guys😭🫶

[nostalgiabearr]

life is so good

☆ pairing: stonerbf!hyunjin x reader

☆ genre: smut, fluff MDNI 18+

☆ word count: 1k

☆ synopsis: it's been a hard week at work and you really need your boyfriend and a smoke sesh

☆ warnings: weed, smoking weed, unprotected sex (don't!), creampie, nipple play, hyunjin drives a truck lmao??

☆ a/n: y'all cannot tell me this hyunjin wouldn't at least smoke weed. also first work on here omg!! pls pls pls don't hesitate to give feedback

as the end of the week approached, you were feeling exhausted. work felt like it had taken up all your time this week and you barely got to see your lover. thankfully, he was all sprawled out on the couch seemingly lost in his own world. you always admired how he could find the positive in everything.

“hey baby,” you said, kissing him on his cheek to pull him out of his daze, “could we go on a drive? i really need a break.” drive and break were usually code words for i really need my baby and i really need weed.

hyunjin smiled as he leaned in for a full kiss and pushed himself up to embrace you. “of course my love. to the overpass?”

“you know me so well,” you said as you helped him up to his feet. on the way out, hyunjin grabbed some joints, and you stole his long hooded cardigan from him. he couldn’t help but notice your dangerously cropped tank and short shorts that barely left anything to the imagination, and you didn’t make it better by draping his clothes over it.

hyunjin helped you climb into the passenger side of his truck and made his way over to the other side to get going. when you two first started seeing each other, you always thought how odd it was that he owned a truck since he was the complete opposite of the typical truck driver. your opinion, however, changed real fast that first night he laid you down on the truck bed to stargaze and later fuck you. now you shared many nights with him smoking, eating, laughing, and fucking in that truck that it could not be a more perfect vehicle for him to own. tonight would be another one of those perfect nights with your perfect boy.

after a quick drive, you two were situated under your favorite abandoned freeway. nestled into the corner of the truck bed, hyunjin took out a joint, pressing it between your lips and flicking the lighter to life. as you took a long drag, hyunjin rested his head in your lap and gazed lovingly up at you.

“tell me what’s wrong baby?” he said before stealing a hit of the joint himself. It was always so easy to open up to him regardless of his carefree nature. hyunjin knew how to be serious when you really needed it and you appreciated that so much. being with him rarely had its down days, but life outside your bubble was sure to not live up to your standards.

as you ranted about rude customers and how your manager somehow stuck the stick up his ass even deeper, hyunjin rubbed slow circles into your thighs. your thin shorts were practically exposing your pussy and hyunjin knew how needy a rough week and weed would leave you. gripping your thigh even tighter, hyunjin maneuvered you to straddle his lap and get even closer to him. 

“remember baby, the world and love are on our side. those people have nothing but karma on their side if they can be mean to my girl.” there was that famous catchphrase of his once again. hyunjin always reminded you that the world and love had you in good hands and everyone else was miserable because they didn’t understand that concept.

with a sigh, you shifted down even harder onto his lap, earning a groan from him. “thank you for listening baby,” you said grabbing the now withered joint from his hands. taking the last hit from it, you ushered him closer and blew the smoke into his mouth as you kissed him deeply. hyunjin’s arms snaked around to your waist as he inhaled the bits you blew into him.

he knew how needy you got, suspecting earlier when you walked in the door from work how this night would end. you were always so in awe of how in tune he was with your emotions, always open to listen, but knowing you had to come to him first before offering his open arms.

sex was pretty much the same, the two of you now moving in sync, grinding against each other as your kisses got sloppier. hyunjin’s hands wandered slowly against your form eventually shrugging his cardigan off your shoulders so he could get a better look at you. his lips fell from yours to stare for a moment before caressing his hands under your short tank top and moving the thin fabric away from your hardening nipples. his lips quickly attached to one while one hand moved from your hips to twist your nipple slowly.

eventually, you had enough and hastily undid his jeans to reveal his straining cock. with his help, you moved your shorts to the side and sunk slowly onto him. time always seemed to stop during sex with hyunjin, but it truly ceased to exist when high. it was like your bodies melted together like this, and with the stars above you, it seemed as if you two were the last people on earth.

as you started to ride him, hyunjin sat up to be able to whisper sweet nothings in your ear and hold you impossibly close.

“my baby is so so good for me, going dumb on my cock and making me see stars.”

soon your slow thrusts turned desperate ruts against each other, your orgasms both quickly approaching. hyunjin’s grip on your hips became bruising as he kissed you sloppily once again urging you to both release at the same time.

“so fucking good, hyune. Gonna cum.”

“me too baby. let all your worries go.” with that, you both let out high pitched moans and slowed your thrusts down as you came against each other. a little piece of each other coming together to fill each other with so much love.

neither of you could muster the energy to pull off each other, instead opting to stare at the stars once again. nothing could beat the feeling of being high on each other, the weed now pretty much out of your systems.

“better now baby?” hyunjin asked as he played with your hair.

“mhm. life is so good with you my love.”

[mahgyu]

Thinking about Toji, who only realizes what he truly feels for you when he sees you happy with someone else.

Toji used to tell himself that you were just another woman he used for sex and nothing more. However, weeks turned into months, and even though he kept saying that you weren't anything special in his life, the situation was actually completely different.

You already spent more time in his small apartment than in your own. When he woke up in the morning, it wasn't with Megumi poking and asking him to prepare breakfast anymore because you promptly woke up before to do it. You did so much for them and never expected anything in return.

Speaking of Megumi, he also began to develop a strong bond with you. You always played together, watched movies, and you even helped with homework when you could. Megumi always looked at you with admiration, as if you were the mother figure he didn't even realize he needed. Toji might have displayed the facade of an unshakable man, but deep down, only he knew how much witnessing these domestic moments affected him.

But, in a way, Toji felt inadequate for you. He was just a troubled single father trying to stay alive, with a questionable job and a life that felt more like a rollercoaster. He looked at you and saw an incredible woman, full of life and potential, while he saw himself as someone who would only hold you back. You deserved more than just sex and a miserable life beside him.

Toji tried to end things by acting like a bad guy, a personality he always portrays to everyone but never before to you, behaving like a jerk so that you would hate him and feel nothing for him but contempt. He was cold, distant, and even cruel in his words. He knew he was hurting you, but it was the simplest way out.

He saw the pain in your eyes when you finally accepted his words and distanced yourself, leaving him alone with his regret and loneliness. Deep down, he hoped you would find someone better, someone who could give you everything he couldn't.

But as time passed, the pain of separation only grew in Toji. He tried to fill the void with more work, giving more attention to Megumi — who didn't make things easier by constantly asking why you had abandoned them. He even sought out other women for sexual satisfaction, but it didn't help. They weren't you; nothing could take you out of Toji's mind. He constantly wondered if he had made the right choice, if he had done what was best for both.

Months later, Toji saw you from afar, leaving a coffee shop, happy with another man. In one hand, a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and beside you, a well-dressed man, with neatly combed blond hair and a serene expression on his face as he briefly sealed his lips on yours. Toji's heart clenched in a way he had never felt before, seeing you smiling and radiant beside someone else made Toji realize how foolish he had been. He realized he had let slip away the best thing that had ever happened to him, all because of stubbornness and egocentrism.

At that moment, Toji realized that you were everything he had ever wanted, and that he had made the biggest mistake of his life by letting you go. He wished he could turn back time and fix his choices, but he knew he couldn't. All that was left for him was regret and the memory of the love he let slip away. He would never forgive himself.

I'll give a gift to whoever can guess who the other man I described at the end is ᵔ⤙ᵔ

I haven't fixed it yet so sorry for any mistakes.

ㅤㅤㅤ

[xcherricutie]

「 ✦ love doesn't die ✦ 」

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

[Yandere!Zombie!Silver the Hedgehog × Human!Reader]

[Word Count - 10k]

[Summary - You've been living in an abandoned city for years. You figured your luck had finally run out when an infected hedgehog finds you, but it seems like he's not entirely dead]

[Tags: Zombie AU, reader is a human because I don't like writing anthro readers I'm sorry, Silver is also a bit taller than his canon height because I mean, come on, blood and gore, some guy loses an arm, Silver isn't super yandere for most of it because I suck at writing]

[Notes: First time writing for Silver, don't expect a masterpiece. Also, the ending is kinda doodoo mainly just cause I wrote 8k of this in one day and just wanted to be done, I didn't feel like coming back to work on it haha. I got the inspo for this from another one shot that is WAY better, I was also rereading the zombot arc and needed to do this. NOT PROOFREAD]

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Dark thunder clouds rolled in, covering the overgrown city in a deep darkness. As the city grew darker, flashes of light beamed down the corpse of what used to be a lively city. Turning a corner, the light revealed yet another empty street, much to your relief. Despite having walked these streets every day for the last five years, you were still wary of any signs of life. After all, most life left were the undead, the immortal corpses of loved ones long gone. As far as you knew, you were the only person left alive. You considered yourself especially lucky, you had never even left your apartment building from before everything collapsed. You maintained your old life to the best of your abilities, just with more isolation, and no internet for entertainment. 

You still recalled what life had been like before with vivid recollection. You remembered your old life back in high school, with all of your friends, human and mobian alike. You remembered the fairly frequent emergencies your world used to face, at the hands of a mad scientist. But that was a time gone by, a distant memory soon to fade from this world entirely. Assuming you were one of the only people left alive and sane, you were the sole carrier of those memories. It felt isolating, lonely, but you tried not to let it get to you. You didn’t want to live out your last days miserably. 

Letting the light of your flashlight guide you back toward the safety of your home, you silently walked across the street, glancing around occasionally for any stray undead. You had discovered they tended to stick together, following sounds, likely blind. But the darkness almost heightened their senses, so you had quickly made your way back home upon noticing the signs of a storm. Unfortunately, you hadn’t beaten the dark clouds, and had been forced to use your flashlight. While you were certain most undead were blind, not all were, and that had you worried. Coming across a human undead wasn’t much to stress about either, they were weak, bones and flesh crumbling at the slightest touch. It was the mobians that had you worried. Most mobians had strength beyond the comprehension of humans in their life, and that had carried over into their undead. You had managed to avoid them for the last five years, but that didn’t mean you weren’t stressing over finally finding one every time you went out for supplies and food. 

As the rundown, boarded up apartment building you called home came into view, you let out a sigh of relief, a small smile tugging at your lips. Just as you took a step forward, you heard a soft tap behind you, sending a violent shudder up your spine as you whipped around, flinging your flashlight in the direction of whatever had caused the source. The sound of your heart thundering filled your ears as your gaze bounced around in a panic, trying to identify the source. As your eyes fell to the ground, you noticed a tiny, circular dark spot on the ground, a wet spot. Staring at it as your panicked mind tried to piece together what was happening, a swashing sound filled your ears, your body suddenly soaked as the sky poured rain. Finally realizing it was only rain, your shoulders relaxed as you scoffed with a smile, rolling your eyes at your own paranoia. Perhaps isolation had done more damage than you had initially realized. 

Turning around, your heart came to a screeching halt in your chest, your blood freezing ice cold in your veins as your eyes met a pair of muted golden, bloodshot eyes. Tufts of messy white quills stood tall, nearly taller than you, stained a deep red shade. His maw was soaked in gore, the heavy stench of iron wafting from his being. He stared lifelessly into your eyes, almost as if looking straight through your head. Your mouth hung open, fear freezing your whole body as a silent scream began to build up within your throat. It seemed your luck finally caught up with you, as the especially tall mobian stood before you, his very presence setting your demise. There was absolutely nothing you could do to fend off the mobian, so as your instincts finally began to kick in, you chose the flight option of flight or fight. 

Turning tail, you immediately bolted down the street. Biting your lip to swallow your terrified scream, you glanced back to see if he followed. Your eyes flew wide open as his eyes were directly in your face, his presence filling the air behind you. He was fast. The scream you had bit back finally freed itself as you whirled around, slamming your flashlight into the side of his skull. You had expected the sounds of squelching to fill the air, but you had been surprised by how intact his flesh still was. How great for you. He just so happened to be one of the especially strong mobians. You were thoroughly screwed. 

His head whipped to the side as your flashlight smashed into his temple. The flashlight flew from your grip, momentarily distracting the undead hedgehog as the light whirled through the air. In that single moment of hesitation, you took the opportunity to run away, zigzagging through the dark. You hoped, prayed to anything that would listen that he happened to be at least slightly blind, but your luck had run bone dry as you heard the drum of footsteps just behind you. 

You pushed yourself harder, running as fast as your legs would carry you. If you could just lose him, for just a second, you could wrap back around and run home. You knew the city like the back of your hand, but you couldn’t risk leading him directly to your safe place. No amount of boards and nails could hold something like him back. 

Beginning to pant wildly, your lungs felt dry, suffocating you as you forced your legs to keep going. You couldn’t let yourself die like this, not after how long you had survived. Your eyes brimmed with tears as you swallowed, your mouth burning and dehydrated. But your ears were zeroed in entirely on the footsteps behind you, or rather, the fading sound of them. Pushing yourself onward, you immediately noticed the lack of footsteps behind you. Hope had instantly begun to overflow within you as you turned a sharp curve, circling back to your apartment building. 

Rushing through the doors, you slammed them shut behind you, taking a shaky breath as you slid to the floor. You were fairly certain that whole escapade shaved off ten years of your life expectancy, but at the very least, you were still alive. You supposed somebody out there must’ve heard your prayers, you thought for sure that undead would never run out of stamina. He is undead after all. 

Taking a moment to calm your breathing, you sucked in a deep breath, relaxing against the doors. Just as you thought to get up though, a loud thud rang through the room, vibrating against the door. Your heart jumped into your throat, eyes flying wide open as you forced your back firm against the door. You could nearly feel its presence just beyond the barrier of glass and boards, banging on the wood. 

Sucking in a sharp but silent breath through your teeth, you slid the bag that hung over your shoulders off, freeing your shoulders of its weight. Grabbing one of the loose boards, you steeled your nerves for whatever came after your next move. You knew you didn’t stand a chance fighting him, so you had to find a way to hold him off while searching for an escape route. 

With the remainders of your courage, you lifted yourself off the floor, back still firmly pressed against the door. The slamming grew more violent, almost as if it were getting impatient, the doors rattling as the boards weakened. You could hear the glass beneath the boards begin to crack, soon to give way. Taking a deep breath, you jumped away from the doors, the doors flinging wide open just as the pressure of your body gave way. 

The hedgehog stood before you, his silhouette being illuminated by the strike of lightning in the far distance. His golden eyes, despite being muted by the lack of life, nearly glowed in the dark, highlighting the spatter of blood across his face. 

You had expected him to immediately run for you, but he hadn’t budged from his spot, staring at you with an almost curious-like aura. You held the wooden board tightly in your grip, prepared to use it as a weapon, waiting for the lifeless body to make its move. Your body was nearly shaking now, the effects of your adrenaline beginning to wear off as your exhaustion caught up to you. You grit your teeth and bore through it, but the suspense had begun to take its toll as your body shook with fear. 

Your gaze had shifted down to his feet as you noticed his leg twitch, foot sliding forward ever so slightly, as if trying to sneak up on you. Your eyes widened upon the realization, an audible gasp slipping from your lips as your mind began to panic. It was intelligent, enough to attempt to evade your alarm. Your whole body bristled as your grip on the board tightened, before the tension in your body suddenly snapped. 

Letting out a scream of terror, you swung the board with all of your strength, the end hitting him square in the neck, knocking him to the ground. You lifted the board once more, slamming it on his head, before turning and taking off further into the building. You could hear it let out a frustrated growl, as if annoyed, his blood-soaked boots squeaking against the floor as he rose. But you didn’t dare look back as you ran towards the stairwell, flinging its metal door open and taking shelter inside. 

As soon as the door slammed shut, clicking into place, you ran up the stairs, your mind panicking as you tried to come up with a way out of this. There was no way out of the building other than the entrance that you had come in through. All of the first-floor windows were heavily boarded up, and there was no exit within the basement. The only other way you could think of was the fire exit, which was in the lobby, where the hedgehog hunting you down was. 

Through your jumbled thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed you had made it to the roof of the building until you pushed the door open, immediately being soaked by the onslaught of rain and wind. Thunder cracked in the sky, streaks of lightning flashing in the clouds. Your attention had momentarily been forced on the storm directly above you, before the sounds of footsteps echoing through the stairwell dragged you back into reality. 

You shut the thick metal door behind you, walking toward the edge of the roof. The wind pushed back as you stepped forward, the slick ground making you stumble as you stood over the edge. The drop was far too long for you to make the jump and survive, which meant you were now trapped here, with a hedgehog that had been very persistent in getting to you. This was it. You had finally met your end, after all these years. But you wouldn’t let the undead corpse have its way, even if you had to take your fate into your own hands. 

A loud thud pulled your attention back to the door, the sound repeating as visible indents had begun to form. You inched backwards, ever closer to the edge, until your heel was pressed into the edge, ready to slip with any slight movements. 

And then, with one final violent slam, the door burst open, revealing the infected hedgehog. An almost animalistic look glinted in his eyes as lightning struck, and you could’ve sworn you saw a faint aura surrounding him before disappearing in small flecks of glittering light. 

Taking a step forward, the hedgehog was immediately soaked in the rain as he approached you. A sharp gasp pushed past your lips as your eyes snapped from the undead to the edge just behind you. Your foot slipped ever so slightly, a startled cry catching in your throat as your arms flailed, attempting to regain your balance. 

Your heart leapt into your throat as your body tipped over the edge, your mind suddenly in a flurry as you realized this was your end. At the very least, you weren’t going to be eaten alive like you had feared. That was the only comfort you received as you fell over, your balance slipping as the ground disappeared from beneath your feet. 

Eyes squeezed shut, you had expected to feel the wind rush past you, before meeting a swift end. Memories flashed through the darkness at a dizzying rate, your heart beating so fast you thought it’d explode before you hit the ground. You had expected everything around you to disappear, the chill of your soaked clothes fading into nothingness, or the feeling of your heart finally stilling. But the only new sensation that had hit you was the feeling of a hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, yanking you upward. 

You felt the air forced from your lungs as your body collided with something wet, freezing cold. A chill ran down your spine as your eyes opened, vision being filled with white despite the darkness. Your nose tingled as strands of fur tickled the tip, leaving behind a cold sensation as your senses were suddenly overwhelmed, overflowing. You were still alive. You had been pulled back up into safety. Or so it had seemed, but the false sense of safety suddenly washed away like the rain as you finally realized what had pulled you back up. 

The hedgehog’s grip around your wrist remained, his other hand now holding your opposite wrist. You stood completely frozen, your mind trying to understand just exactly what had happened. Never, in the last five years of your isolation, living in a world with the undead, had you seen anything of the sort. Not only had every single thing that could walk wanted you dead, but none had the capacity or understanding to save you from death, not even for their own gain. Whatever this thing was, it certainly wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t entirely dead or alive. 

You didn’t know what to do. Judging by the blood spatters dotting his body, the hedgehog was definitely infected. The blood couldn’t have been his own. Which meant that, regardless of his mental capacity, he was still fully willing to eat a living being. Your life was still in danger, even if he had pulled you into some twisted form of safety seconds ago. You were stuck in place, you couldn’t move. Who was to say he wouldn’t sink his teeth into your throat the second you moved even an inch? He certainly had the perfect view of your throat after all, his muzzle leaned against your shoulder. 

After a long moment, one that had felt like years, you finally gave off a sign of life, your wrist twitching in his hold. When he made no efforts to bite into your neck, you gently pulled away just enough to look down at him, to at least try to gauge what was going on beneath the surface. But there was nothing in his eyes to suggest any thought process, no expression that told you he was in control. He simply stared up at you, his eyes shining with the occasional strike of lightning. Even without the sparkle of life, they still seemed bright, a remnant of what once was. 

A particularly close flash of lightning caused you to jolt, eyes going wide. As your facial expression changed, so too did his, eyes going wide slightly, like a delayed reaction. Almost as if mimicking you. You sighed deeply, unsure of what to do. You certainly couldn’t shake the hedgehog, you were stuck with him, but you couldn’t just stand out here and wait for the lightning to finish the job. So, despite what your gut was warning you of, you gave the undead’s hand a slight tug. 

“You, ah...” You paused, half wondering if he could even understand you. What were you even thinking, of course not, but that didn’t stop you from at least trying. “You seem smart. Do you understand me?” 

No reaction. Not even a blink of the eye. You didn’t know what you were expecting, a twitch in his facial muscles or a fully constructed sentence. Regardless, you continued, with the hope that maybe some nerves in his brain were still alive and kicking. He did save you, after all. “We need to go inside. It’s not safe out here.” 

Still unreactive, you decided to just hope your words got through to him, and gave his hand a stronger tug. You pulled the hedgehog slightly, waiting with bated breath for a violent reaction. But he simply let you tug and pull, dragging him back inside, back into the safety of the building. And yet, it had lost its sense of safety as you pulled the undead hedgehog behind you, straight to your safe space, your own room. 

Pushing the door open, a sense of security washed over you, happy to at least be home once again. Even if the hedgehog killed you here, at least it’d be in your home. You had to look on the positive side of having an undead follower for now. 

“This is my home,” You spoke, despite knowing your words would never reach him. You had even shot him a nervous smile, trying to be friendly. It was the least you could do to calm yourself and hopefully the hedgehog as well. Your mind was in shambles. 

“We’ll be safe here. I’ve been here for years.” You said, leading the hedgehog further into your home, telling yourself over and over in your mind to just pretend he was alive. Pretend he wasn’t a threat. 

As you continued to speak, walking around with the infected in tow, you attempted to pull your wrist from his grip, the same wrist he had grabbed to save you. The wrist that he hadn’t released the entire time since pulling you back from that edge. You pulled your wrist away, without even thinking as you spoke all about your time surviving the last few years. It had been your first time talking in years, and had gotten carried away, forgetting that you were still in the midst of danger. You had been forced back to reality as he gripped your wrist nearly painfully tight, pulling you back to his side with force. You looked down at him with wide eyes, your heart rate quickly picking back up as you looked down at him. 

Still showing no signs of life. You didn’t understand what was happening, what was going through that head of his. Some thought must have been present, he had the ability to understand your life had been in danger, he understood to follow when you pulled. He had the ability to resist killing you. So why? Why did he seem so dead, when there was obviously still some amount of life hidden just beneath the blood coated surface? 

“Um... You can let go now,” You tried to calmly say. Instead of seemingly not understanding though, now your words seemed to annoy him, as his empty stare turned into a frustrated look. You felt his fingers tighten around your wrist, his grip quickly growing painful. “I-It’s okay, really. I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay right here.” 

You hoped that was what he wanted to hear. It was the only thing you could think of that made sense. He didn’t want you to leave his side, but why? Was he saving you for later? Did he still fully intend on taking your life? Why wait? You tried to wrap your mind around the situation, despite knowing there likely was no explanation. At least not one you could get to on your own. Likely, the hedgehog himself was the only thing that knew what was going on. He definitely had some train of thought, you were certain of it now, especially since he confirmed being able to understand you, to some degree. 

“Uh...” Mind scrambling for anything that could help you, you looked around your small apartment, trying to find something to get you out of this situation. “Wh-Why don’t you sit down? Come on.” 

You gave a light tug, trying to direct him to the slightly tattered sofa in the room. He didn’t budge for a moment, staring at you, as if he were eyeing you. But after a second’s passing, he let you pull him toward the sofa, sitting him down. He sat down with no direction at all, which had surprised you, as you didn’t think you’d ever actually seen an infected sitting down. 

You sat down next to him, being sure to put a few inches between you and him. He stared at you once again, putting an unsettling feeling within your being. But just as that feeling began to form, you felt his fingers loosen around your wrist, surprising you. His eyes remained trained completely on you, but at the very least, he seemed calmer. 

As your eyes met his, your brows furrowed as you thought. You had never even thought you’d be in a situation like this. You wondered if you could even take this to your advantage. He didn’t seem to be after your life anyway. 

“You can understand me, can’t you?” You asked. When you received no indication that your words got through, you began to think. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely capable of showing that he understood? He could show facial expressions, but so far you had only seen expressions of annoyance or frustration. Maybe he couldn’t show signs of other emotions. You hummed, finger tapping your chin as you tried to think of something to help you get through to him, or at least form some type of communication. A thought crossed your mind, making you perk up as you jumped to your feet. Your sudden movement clearly startled the hedgehog, but you failed to notice as you rushed past him with a burst of excitement. 

Practically shoveling through a closet of your old belongings and things that just had no use nowadays, you finally found what you had been looking for. You slammed down a pencil and paper on the coffee table before the hedgehog, missing the sudden jerk of his body as you surprised him. You looked up to him with a bright grin, unable to contain your excitement at the idea of getting to study the infected, getting to know him and have a look into his mind, without your life being in danger. 

“Okay, so you obviously have some capacity for thought,” You began, reaching out for his hand. He didn’t resist when you grabbed ahold, placing the pencil in his hand. “Try writing something, anything. A word, a number, your name, whatever you want.” 

The hedgehog just stared at you, unmoving. As seconds began to turn into minutes, you wondered if you got too excited. It did seem silly, now that you thought about it. You had assumed that since he managed to express some emotions, especially to your words, that he had some understanding of language. And he had shown himself to possess some motor skills, so why not writing? At the very least, he could do a little scribbled drawing. But it was pretty farfetched to think that something like him, something lacking thought and morals, could communicate. 

But your thoughts were cut off as you heard the scratching of lead against paper. With much applied force, the hedgehog began to slowly but surely make out letters, and soon, a very poorly written word had been forcefully drawn on the paper. The paper had ripped in some places, and the pencil had broken, making the lead appear rubbed. But despite that, there was still very plainly a word written in large across the paper. “Silver”. 

“Silver...” You squinted your eyes at the paper, before they widened as you made the connection. “Is that your name? Silver?” 

The lack of reaction this time finally confirmed your thoughts. If you had been wrong, he would’ve shown signs of frustration, but there was nothing. This was your sign. You had been right. He just lacked the ability to show other expressions, but still had the ability to think. There were still signs of life inside him after all. 

“Oh wow, this is...” You fell to your knees in front of the table, sitting across from him. You stared into his eyes, momentarily awe-struck. You had found somebody; somebody you could actually communicate with. “I can’t believe it. You can actually talk. I-I haven’t spoken with anyone in years. Wait, can the others talk too?” 

Silver’s brows furrowed slightly, your sign of communication, his version of “no”. You visibly pouted, disappointed by the answer, but you couldn’t be surprised. Silver was the only one who could even think, let alone show emotions. 

You wanted to ask him more. You wanted to get to know him. You had gotten lost in your thoughts, trying to figure out more ways to talk with him. You had come up with the idea of asking him yes and no questions and having him write down the answers on the paper. He had been bad about writing too big to fit multiple words on the paper, which had resulted in you running out of paper and ending up just writing on the wooden table. But you didn’t care at this point, too interested in finding out everything you could about Silver, which ended up being quite a lot. 

You had discovered that Silver was once one of the heroes who used to defend the world from the mad scientist who often put it in danger. You had also found out that he was the very last hero to live in the end, every one of his friends dying off one by one to the virus. Thanks to his psychokinesis, he had survived for years, only recently finally losing the fight. Apparently, he had been searching for the cure all this time, a person with special immunity to the virus. In the end, his efforts had gone to waste though, and he had died. You didn’t even know how to begin to process any of that, and by the time you had found out everything, it was late into the night hours. You were running on fumes, eyes struggling to stay open as you thought of another question to ask Silver. 

Your eyes widened slightly as Silver set the pencil down, leaning back onto the sofa. You couldn’t get past the jarring, dead and empty look in his eyes, which never even blinked. It felt odd seeing him move around, seeing him interact with his surroundings, with you, despite the obvious lack of life. For the most part anyway. 

Silver’s hand caught your eye as it softly pat the sofa next to him. You tilted your head in confusion, before realizing what he meant, surprising you. You didn’t think he was capable of that level of awareness, noticing your own emotions. You let out a soft chuckle as you stood, stretching out with a yawn. 

“I’m still shocked that somebody like you even exists,” You said, giving Silver a smile. You failed to notice the slight twitch of his eyes; the flicker of some emotion hidden deep within him. “I guess all those years of perseverance keeps you going. I bet you could cure yourself if you tried hard enough.” 

You joked, but it also made some amount of sense. He was a super powered hedgehog, far beyond anything like you’d ever seen. If anyone could overcome the virus, it would likely be him. You had assumed at this point that his interest in you was because he’d finally found someone alive, someone who wasn’t braindead. You would quickly find though, that wasn’t the only reason for his interest. 

You had decided against Silver’s offer, telling him you were going to sleep in your own room. He had expressed slight annoyance at this, but calmed down after you told him he could sit and watch for danger in the living room. And while it felt nice to know there was somebody who wanted to protect you now, you also didn’t trust that Silver could control his hunger. So just in case, you had locked your bedroom door. You knew it’d do little to stop him, should he really want to get in, but it gave you some comfort. 

Despite your initial excitement, you couldn’t help the fear that Silver was still a danger to you. He could think and communicate, sure, but did that stop him from eating people? Had he actually eaten anyone before? You didn’t dare ask him, scared it was a touchy subject. He had emotions, so it was obvious he must’ve felt something toward his sickness, his “condition”. He was dead, of course it was a touchy subject. So, you lived in uncertainty now, fearing the day Silver lost control. 

But you’d find out his hunger wasn’t what you had to worry about. You found that out almost immediately the next day, explaining to Silver that you had to go out again and search for food. To put it simply, he was not happy. 

“Silver, I have to go out! I will literally die without food!” You argued, pulling on your wrist as Silver held you tightly. He didn’t move or even budge a single muscle, your efforts doing little to escape his hold. You grumbled in annoyance, glaring down at him. “Would you rather me die? I don’t think I’ll be as lively as you when I’m dead.” 

Your words seemed to cut through whatever stubbornness he had been feeling as he returned the glare tenfold but released you. You huffed, rubbing your pained wrist, turning away from him. You grabbed your bag that you had retrieved from the lobby (without Silver, of course), stuffing inside anything you may need on your trip out. You had to leave space for food though, which meant you couldn’t bring very much with you, aside from a flashlight and a knife. 

“I’ll be fine, Silver, promise. I’ve been doing this longer than you, after all,” You teased, though you’re unsure he found it very humorous. But you didn’t linger on it, slinging the bag over your shoulder. “You could even come with me and help. It’d be nice to have some help for once.” 

This seemed to perk Silver up, as his glare relaxed into that empty look you were coming to know. You smiled, a small chuckle escaping your lips. Perhaps he still retained that heroic personality he had in life, trying to protect you from any and all harm. 

With that settled, you and Silver headed out. Silver took the lead right away, keeping a lookout for any infected. The city was empty and silent, most undead out in the woods, looking for wild animals for sustenance. The eerie silence was still jarring to you, even after all these years. Even with all of the plant life overrunning the city, there was a lack of wildlife. No birds chirping, or squirrels running about. As far as you could tell, Silver and you were the only life for miles. Or so you had assumed. 

A splash of water broke through the silence, drawing your attention as you looked down into the murky puddle your boot had stepped in. Your reflection rippled through its surface before disappearing as you lifted your boot, unsettling the mud. You let out a soft hum, eyes glancing around your surroundings. All was quiet, even with Silver at your side now. You found his silence gave you almost a sense of foreboding. Were the infected all this quiet? 

Your attention focused on Silver; you didn’t even register the sound of water splashing just behind you. You barely had time to process the hand that reached out from behind, a shiver running down your spine as your mind lagged behind, realizing just seconds too late what was happening. 

Silver’s feet dragged as he trudged forward, bleary eyes shifting back and forth as he looked around. All was quiet, and his sharp sense of hearing didn’t pick up anything other than the thuds of your footsteps just behind him. Hearing a splash of water, Silver’s ear twitched slightly, but shrugged it off as your presence. It was strangely quiet, even for him. 

A sharp, shrill scream pierced that silence, startling Silver as he whipped around, trying to focus his eyes, trying to find you. His eyes landed on your form, legs kicking as you tried to fight off the infected that had snuck up on you. Its hand wrapped around your face, other hand holding your shoulder as it leaned in close to your neck. 

Swinging your body back and forth, you tried to shove it off, letting out a startled cry as you felt its hot breath down your neck. Tears brimming in your eyes, you grabbed it by the arm, using all of your strength to fling it over your shoulder. Its body slammed against the ground, the rotten flesh of its arm tearing clean off. 

A shudder ran down your back as you dropped the dead flesh, your blurry eyes landing on Silver as he rushed to your side. But you didn’t have time to focus on him as your peripheral vision caught sight of movement, whipping to face whatever was approaching next. Your eyes widened to see not just a few stray infected, but an entire horde. The streets were filled with undead, the putrid scent of death hitting your nose. 

“Th-They’re everywhere,” You muttered, turning to look at Silver. If an infected could look panicked, Silver surely did right now. His eyes were wide, shoulders stiff as he leaned closer to you, as if to try and protect you. But even Silver couldn’t fight off an entire horde, he had found that out in his final moments of life. 

The storm had to have led them in, you assumed. They relied on their sense of sound and must’ve lingered even after the storm passed. They had you and Silver completely surrounded, and there was nothing you could do to get through. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breathing growing erratic as your eyes darted around for any kind of escape. 

Body trembling, you felt your knees grow weak with fear as you realized, this was likely your end. It had been just your luck to finally find someone who could change your life, only to have it all ripped away from you. You squeezed your eyes shut as you noticed the infected beginning to approach, your tears streaming down your face as you tried to shut the world out. 

Just as you closed everything out though, you felt a cold hand wrap around your own, fingers squeezing gently. You peeked your eyes open, meeting the pair of golden eyes you thought you’d never get the chance to see again. But something was different, there was a whole new layer of color to them, a turquoise aura surrounding both you and him. But that wasn’t what caught your eye. It was the smallest upturn of his lips, crinkling his muzzle ever so slightly. You hadn’t even thought it possible for him to make any expressions other than aggravation, but in your final moments, he had given you the comfort you didn’t even realize you desired for all these years. 

Your mind had been distracted from what you had assumed would be your final few seconds in life, your eyes entirely on Silver. Something about your gaze, the way your eyes lit up upon seeing his smile, it made something deep within Silver flutter to life. Something he had rarely ever felt, even in his days alive. It gave him the strength to use up what little power he had access to in his rotten body, lifting his body from the ground. You hadn’t even realized what was going on, having closed off the world as your mind focused entirely on Silver’s face, on his smile, his soft and kind eyes. It wasn’t until your feet had left the ground, did you finally come back down to Earth. 

Your eyes widened as you looked down, the ground getting further and further away as Silver lifted you just above the infecteds’ reach. Your eyes practically lit up with exuberance, nearly welling with more tears as you realized Silver had once again saved your life. But that excitement quickly dissipated as your eyes met his, noticing the strained look written across his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a soft groan as the aura surrounding you had begun to flicker and disappear. He had just barely managed to land on the roof of a tall building, thankfully with no entry to the roof. They were safe, for the time being. 

“Silver, that was amazing!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him without even thinking. Silver’s eyes widened as he felt you squeeze him close, muttering words of thanks over and over as you pressed your face into his shoulder. 

A sharp jolt burst through Silver’s body, causing him to twitch slightly in your hold. It felt electrifying, like something within him had been shocked to life. It almost felt as though his heart had been jumpstarted, his cold, dead body, blood that had long since stagnated beginning to heat up his body. But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t that your touch had brought his body back to life, more so that it had given life to a brand-new feeling, an indescribable feeling that Silver immediately knew he had to protect at all costs. 

“Oh, but...” You pulled away slightly, much to Silver’s dismay, as you cast your gaze over the edge of the building. The sky was still cloudy, blotting out the sunlight, the wind sending a chill down your spine. “We’re stuck up here now. Do you think you could fly the rest of the way home?” 

Silver frowned deeply, giving you your answer. You sighed, shoulders drooping in disappointment. That meant, that until the horde either dispersed, or Silver gained enough energy to fly once again, you were stuck up here. And the fact that you had yet to eat anything today was finally starting to catch up with you, your body feeling tired and weak. 

Your gaze lifted back up to Silver’s, finally realizing your arms were still wrapped around him. You could barely even recall the fact that he was dead anymore, the only reminders being the sickly sweet smell coming from him, and the droopiness of his eyes. But the way he held you softly in his arms, the smile he had given you to comfort you in what could’ve been your final moments, it felt so much like a real person. Like there was still somebody in there. Somebody who cared for you. 

“Can you smile again?” You asked, both genuinely curious, and missing the presence of his smile. Silver seemed a bit caught off guard, his body tensing slightly. His hands pulled away from you, leaving a cold, empty feeling where they had been, which you ignored. It had been far too long since you felt physical contact with another being. 

Silver’s cheeks twitched slightly as he struggled to curl his lips upwards. He had even squeezed his eyes shut, trying to pull his lips upward, but they simply wouldn’t budge. You frowned slightly, wondering if doing even the simplest things overexerted his muscles. They were pretty much dead, after all. It was shocking he could even do it before. 

Letting out a frustrated growl, Silver lifted his fingers to his cheeks, pushing the corners of his lips upward. Your eyes widened at the annoyed hedgehog who forcefully turned his lips upward, giving him a very strange and almost scary appearance, had you not known what was going on. For a moment, you could only stare in pure surprise, before a sputter of laughter escaped your lips. Covering your mouth, you tried to hide the laughter that bubbled up within you, but you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped. Soon enough, your hidden giggles turned into uproarious cackling, sides nearly splitting as you doubled over. 

Like an infection, your euphoria spread to Silver, nearly having to do a double take as you caught sight of his face. His lips had been pulled into a tight smile, mimicking your own. His sharp canines stood out, stained slightly red, his gums showing from how hard he was pulling. But despite that, you couldn’t help the excitement bubbling within you at the sight, chuckling. 

“You have a lovely smile, Silver,” You said, your words causing Silver to falter, his lips trembling. It felt like his heart was trying to stutter back into life, almost painfully so. He didn’t think he’d ever felt an emotion as strong as what was going through him now. And your words only made it worse as you continued. “I’m so glad I met you.” 

Silver knew from that moment that he needed to keep you, he wanted you at his side, forever. 

It had taken a few hours, but the horde of the undead had finally begun to disperse, following sounds in the woods, looking for their next meal. Silver had also gathered just enough energy to fly back home, holding you tightly, taking every chance he could to squeeze you against his own body. You were so warm against him; it was becoming addicting. 

Before finding you, Silver had assumed there was no life left aside from the occasional wild animal. But even those were becoming rare. He thought it a curse that he could see the world around him, that he still had some thought and comprehension, but that he lacked control of his own body. It wasn’t until he saw you for the first time, roaming the dark streets, did he finally feel like himself. He needed to see you, to see an actual living being. He had died all alone and thought the rest of his undead life would be the same, and you changed that. You were like his lifeline, keeping him connected with his humanity. He needed you. 

Once you had made it back home, you made sure to lock the front door, pushing a shelf in front of it with Silver’s help. It wouldn’t stop a group of infected, but it might stop one or two. Maybe. Silver didn’t make it seem like a silly idea, so you found comfort in that. 

As the hours grew late, putting a close to your second day since finding Silver, you found yourself practically attached at the hip to Silver, the same going for him. Asking him more questions about himself and his life, you were enthralled by him. It had been many years since you got to bond with anyone, it felt like you couldn’t detach yourself from him if you tried. 

Letting out a yawn, you leaned back onto the sofa, having run out of ideas to ask him. Communicating with someone via yes or no questions could only get you so far, and you felt like you had hit that limit. There wasn’t much left to ask him, now the information you sought could only be given by him, and that obviously wasn’t possible. As much as you wished for it, Silver still lacked the ability to actually speak, and likely would forever. 

“I guess that’s it for today. It’s too bad we couldn’t find anything, I’m starving,” You mumbled, your stomach growling. It wasn’t like you hadn’t gone a day without food before, but it was still slightly painful. You sighed, standing up as you smiled at Silver. “I guess I’ll just have to try again tomorrow. Hopefully they’ll have cleared out by then.” 

As you turned away, going to prepare for bed, you failed to notice the look of disapproval on Silver’s face. He watched you walk away, a slight scowl on his face. 

Walking into your bedroom, you stretched out your arm, though came to a screeching halt as an intensely sharp pain stabbed through your shoulder, nearly drawing a cry of pain out of you. You hissed, letting your arm go slack as you rushed into your bathroom. The dim moonlight bathed the room in an almost blueish light, highlighting the red gash that had been scratched across your neck and shoulder. You could only stare with wide eyes, your mind unable to process the sight before you, breath caught in your throat. How had you failed to notice that? When did it happen? 

As the memory of the infected that had snuck up on you passed through your mind, you faintly recalled feeling an uncomfortable scratch across your collarbone that you hadn’t given much thought to at the time. Your life was in danger, you were focused entirely on escaping the situation. But now that you were home, and hours had gone by, the blood had dried, and the wound had begun to heal. It wasn’t a deep scratch. Just enough to break the skin. But was that all it took to turn? To become infected? 

It had been hours, you reminded yourself. Turning was usually immediately. But you also knew there were rare cases where it could happen over a course of time, slowly killing the host. You had been infected. There was no doubt about it. 

Stumbling back into your bedroom, you collapsed against the old, beaten mattress. There was nothing you could do except hope that you woke up tomorrow morning. You couldn’t tell Silver. He had finally found someone he could talk to. Someone he could bond with. You didn’t want to crush that so soon. 

Closing your eyes, you ignored the pain in your shoulder, letting slumber take you. You had been fully prepared to just never wake up again, at least not fully. But much to your surprise, you woke up the next day, sunshine pouring into your room through an unboarded window. You blinked away your sleepiness, slightly confused as to why you were still you, before jumping out of bed. 

Rushing to your bathroom, you checked your collarbone once again. The scratch remained, still healing. You had honestly thought it to be a dream when you woke up, but seeing it there, feeling the remaining pain as you moved your shoulder, you knew it was real. 

You didn’t know what to do. Your mind was rushing for a solution, or at least a way to keep this from Silver. You didn’t want him to see you change. You had to come up with some sort of plan to get away from him before changing, and today was the perfect opportunity. 

That was what you had thought, until Silver had decided not to let you out at all today. Just like yesterday, he held you by your wrist tightly, refusing to let you walk through your door. You had even tried the same reasoning as yesterday, saying that he could come with, but he still wouldn’t let you go. You had thought it was because he hadn’t been there to keep you safe from being grabbed, but you were fine as far as he was aware. There was no reason for him to feel bad. 

“I have to go out, I need food, I’m hungry! Just let me go!” You huffed in frustration, ignoring the pain in your shoulder as you tried to tug your arm free. Silver simply glared up at you, visibly growing more frustrated the longer you fought him. He didn’t understand why you thought it was okay to go out again, not after yesterday. Not after he nearly lost you. 

“Let me go!” You raised your voice, trying to urge him to free you. It seemed your tone only made him mad, as he roughly yanked your arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder. You cried out in alarm, holding your shoulder as you hissed. “You’re hurting me, Silver!” 

Your cries of pain seemed to startle him as his grip loosened significantly, almost enough for you to pull your arm free, but his grip returned just as you tried to pull. As your eyes met his, you could see a look of not just frustration in his eyes, but confusion. Guilt suddenly squeezed at your heart, making you sigh as your shoulders fell. 

“Okay, if you don’t want me to go, then why don’t you? You’re one of them after all,” You said, giving him a small, comforting smile. “That way, I can stay safe at home, and you can bring me food.” 

Silver let you go at that, agreeing immediately. He walked past you, shoving the shelf blocking the door aside with ease. As he looked back, your eyes widened as he gave you the tiniest of smiles. The sight made your heart flutter, but at the same time sink, knowing it would be your last time getting to see such a smile. The smile of someone with perseverance great enough to live beyond death. 

You gave Silver a bright grin in return, your smile remaining until the door had closed behind him, leaving you alone with your own thoughts. It was just like before now, when you were all alone. Silver was gone. And it had left a bigger hole in your heart than you thought it would. 

But you had no time to waste. You didn’t know when it would happen. You had to disappear before Silver could return, without being noticed. You waited until you were certain Silver was gone before preparing. 

The table was covered in Silver’s scribbles now, with little room left. Taking a marker, you wrote over Silver’s handwriting, writing a small apology, that you didn’t want him to see you turn. With your final words written, you took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your old apartment one last time. Since showing up, Silver had left that sickeningly sweet smell everywhere he went. A smell that once made you sick and terrified, you found some sense of comfort in, knowing it was from him. 

You wished you could’ve had more time with him. You wished you could’ve met Silver before everything, before he and everyone around him died. You imagined you would’ve been great friends. But you couldn’t linger on that, not anymore. 

Slipping out of your apartment, you made certain that you were completely alone before exiting the building. The streets were silent once again, but this time, you knew nothing was around. Not even Silver. You were alone. 

Making your way into the woods that had begun to creep up on the old city, you were surrounded by the darkness the trees provided, hiding you from the light. Even in the woods, it was dead silent aside from the wind rustling the leaves and branches. It was a lonely final resting place, but you preferred that over putting Silver in even more pain. 

With one final glance back, you could see your memories flashing through your eyes just like before, but at a slower pace now, reminding you of everything you’d lost, and the friend you were going to lose now. You were simply thankful you got the chance to meet Silver. For a mere second, you thought it might’ve been possible he himself was the cure he had been searching so long for. After all, he was still alive, even though his body technically wasn’t. The thought made you smile, comforting you as you disappeared into the darkness. 

The sun had begun to drift lower and lower into the sky. Silver stared up at the sky as it turned from a bright blue into a brilliant orange. Despite the beautiful view, Silver only wished you could’ve been with him to witness it. He knew he had made the right decision in leaving you home, especially since he had seen a few infected during his search. But he still couldn’t help but miss you, wanting to be always at your side. 

Making his way back home, Silver pushed the door open, mustering up his best smile as he held his arms out, showing off the food he had found in his search. But upon seeing the empty room, Silver dropped the food without a thought as he looked around. Where were you? Why were you not here waiting for him? 

Red ink scrawled across the table caught his attention, golden eyes landing on the message. Taking in its words, Silver didn’t even think it possible to feel his blood pressure skyrocket, and yet the feeling that overcame him in those two seconds rivaled the feeling. 

Silver didn’t think he’d ran that fast since he was alive. He didn’t even know he could run as fast as he was, nor did he think he had the same heightened sense of smell as the other infected until he was completely zeroed in on your scent, on the blood in your scent. He couldn’t lose you, not now, not after he’d finally found someone to be with. Someone who was alive and made him feel alive. He had to have you, no matter what. Even if you were infected, he’d find a way to help you. You could be just like him; he would make you be just like him. Even if he had to infect you himself. 

The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, and the woods grew darker with each second. You shivered as the wind blew a chill down your spine, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. Despite the pain in your shoulder, you couldn’t feel any effects of the virus. Perhaps you were one of the rare cases that had to suffer longer? It certainly lined up with the luck you had. 

The leaves crunched softly underneath your boots as you walked, your mind drifting as time slowed to a crawl. You were just ready for it to be over. Silver was probably already home, though you couldn’t even begin to guess what his reaction would be. You guessed he might try to look for you, but you’d already be turned and long gone before he could find you. You felt guilty, but it wasn’t like letting Silver watch you turn was any better. 

Your mind was brought back to reality as you heard a particularly loud gust of wind. Looking around, you felt your fear begin to crawl from the pits of your stomach, and up your spine. Squeezing yourself tighter, you forced yourself to take a deep breath, before continuing on. 

Before you could take even a single step forward though, you were suddenly and violently tackled to the ground. You let out a startled cry, your shoulder slamming against the ground, forcing a scream from your lungs. You felt a hand grab your injured shoulder, flipping you over with great force, nearly knocking the wind out of you. 

Your eyes met a pair of wildly glowing golden eyes, a sneer pulling at his lips, revealing his canines. You cried out in alarm, trying to crawl away, Silver’s tight grip holding you in place underneath him. You had no time to react, no time to stop him as he bent down, immediately sinking his teeth into your collarbone. You let out a shrill scream, feeling your own blood soak your clothes and skin, staining Silver’s muzzle. You fought and shoved against him, feeling the cool air hit your skin as he pulled away, revealing his dripping maw, blood trickling down his canines. 

“Mine,” A strained, raspy voice spoke, startling you. He repeated the word over and over, rubbing his nose against your neck. He switched to the other side, making you panic as you felt his sharp teeth brush over your skin. He sunk his teeth into your flesh, taking in your scent, practically burning it into his brain. He was never letting you out of his sight again. You were his, he needed you, you were all he had left in this world. 

Pulling away, Silver stared at the sight of you below him. Your neck was littered with bites, and after the third bite, you had lost the strength to fight him, just waiting to succumb to your death. Your eyes drooped, a sleepiness unlike anything you’d ever felt washing over you, granting you relief. 

As your eyes fell shut, you could feel Silver lift you, holding you against his fluffy chest. You leaned into his surprisingly warm hold, deciding to just go with it. You were dead anyway, so you might as well soak it in. Despite everything, you were still glad to have met Silver. 

It felt like time had slowed to a near stop, and you couldn’t differentiate minutes between hours, and days between years. It felt like you had been forced to wake though after a long time, sunlight pouring over you, bathing you in its warmth. It was strangely warm. You had expected everything to be cold, dead. 

Eyes slowly peeking open, they blurred in the light, making you groan. Just as you began to stir, you heard a gasp, startling you fully awake, eyes clearing up immediately as you sat up. Just before you stood Silver, or what you had assumed was Silver. He was strangely... lively. Almost like he was alive. 

“You’re awake!” He exclaimed, his crystal-clear voice startling you to your core. It wasn’t like he was almost alive; he was alive. His golden eyes held that flicker of life that was once missing, his lips curled into the biggest smile you had ever seen. 

As if able to tell you were both shocked and confused, Silver chuckled, sitting down next to you on the bed. “A little while after I bit you, I got better. It surprised me too, believe me. I guess it turns out you were the immune person I’ve been looking for all this time!” 

Your brain didn’t process a single word he said. You were shocked you were even still alive, especially after how Silver had bitten you, and many times at that. The memory of Silver biting you over and over suddenly filled your head, the pain still ever present in your neck. You ran your hand over your neck, feeling the deep teeth marks scattered across your skin. Silver’s eyes fell to your hand, his smile remaining, but the glimmer of innocent cheerfulness fading from his eyes. 

“I wanted to be the one to turn you,” Silver said, his voice forcing your attention back on him, looking up at him with wide eyes. He smiled at you, the corners of his lips reaching his eyes and forcing them to crinkle. “I was going to make you like me. But this is better! This means that you can’t turn, and even if I do, I can just bite you and cure myself!” 

Something about Silver’s words, or the way he smiled, put an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Something about this didn’t sit right with you, but you couldn’t quite place it. Was it kind that he wanted to turn you himself? You couldn’t tell. 

“What does this mean? A-Am I going to have to cure everyone else?” You asked, confused. You didn’t think you could handle getting bitten that much. You didn’t even have enough blood to spare a few hundred people. And wouldn’t that, you know, kill you? 

“Oh, no!” Silver chuckled, shaking his head. He took your hand into his own, squeezing it much more gently than he had when he was infected. “I can’t let you be getting hurt. It’s just you and me against the world.” 

Silver gave you a big smile, his eyes filled with love, and yet, you knew, there was no real love to be found. His love had died with him when he died so long ago. 

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

[popamolly]

៸៸ ﹟GO TO HELL!

pairing. alastor x ex wife!fem!reader

warnings. 18+ minors dni, short drabble, rough sex, dacryphilia, blood, overstimulation

author’s note. asks/request are open!

MASTERLIST

ALASTOR had a funny way of being in your life despite everything. You thought you escaped from him on Earth only to end up in the same boiling pot of Hell as him. At first he respected your wishes to be left alone, on Earth you weren’t too thrilled to find out that your husband had been a serial killer, you thought you could turn a blind eye to it but the weight of it became too unbearable. But when you tried to leave him— well, it didn’t particularly end well. You tried your best to avoid him, even in hell but he would always come bother you with that alluring smile of his and charming words and you’d find yourself underneath him yet again. There was no escaping his grasp.

Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head as Alastor pounds your greedy cunt with reckless abandon. The smell of sweat and sex filling the air of his room at the Hazbin Hotel. You moan into the pillow, muffling your voice so you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of hearing you and how positively dick whipped you were but you failed at that miserably. With the sounds that fell from your mouth you were sure that the other patrons of the Hotel could hear you and that was embarrassing— as well as a turn on for not only you but your ex husband.

“Oh let’s hear that voice, my dear.” Alastor chuckled darkly, his claw like fingers digging into the soft flesh of your skin so harshly that you were sure it drew blood. The radio demon had you pinned to the bed on all fours, ass up in the air so he could spread your cheeks to watch his cock disappear inside you. With your back arched and face planted into the pillow you swore you could feel him in your stomach. He was just so deep, stretching you so wide that you felt as if you would break.

“Alastor—! mm..i-it’s too much!” You moaned, your words coming out in nothing but broken phrases as Alastor reduces you to nothing but a drooling mess. Tears stained your cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure and you couldn’t help but beg him to have some type of mercy on you. You weren’t even sure if you had it in you to give him another orgasm because your whole body felt as if it would go numb, “Please! N-No more..ah!”

Alastor’s breath was against your ear, making you shudder just as that familiar feeling in your stomach began to tighten, itching to snap at any moment, “Take it. Give me one more orgasm out of that pretty cunt.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck..!” You grip onto the bedsheets as that wave of pleasure crashes over you again, leaving Alastor nearly growling at the feeling of your cunt tightening around his length, ready to milk him for everything he was worth. Despite your sensitivity, Alastor continues to thrusts inside you, grinning widely as the curses that fell from your mouth toward him, “Fuck you, Alas— ah! I hate you sooo much! Go to Hell!”

“Isn’t that funny? We are already in Hell my love and yet…,” Alastor slows his hips to give you a moment to relax, trailing burning kisses along your spine with that sinister laugh you still somehow loved, “…not even death could part us.”

You whimpered, thinking that Alastor was finally done using your body like his own personal fuck toy but your ex husband had other plans. Of course you didn’t want him to stop but you had too much pride in yourself to actually admit that to him, “A-are you done?”

“On the contrary,” Alastor grips your chin and forces you into a heated kiss that was sloppy but ignited that burning flame inside you once again, “I think you can give me one more, can’t you my little doe?”

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost in any other social media.

[farfromstrange]

Okay, so, I am putting my thoughts under a cut. HEAVY spoilers for both episode 1 and 2 of Daredevil: Born Again. They are scrambled, and I’m gonna need a day to actually write something coherent, but I need to talk SCREAM ABOUT IT.

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUUUUUCK

SCREAMING CRYING DYING FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Cancel MARVEL CANCEL DISNEY CANCEL THEM ALL FUCK THEM

They fucking killed Foggy. That last bit of hope I had shattered when his fucking eyes stayed open and his heart stopped. I started sobbing the moment Karen started begging him to stay with her. She was sobbing, MATT sobbing, I think we were all sobbing. The way he just… stopped fighting when Foggy died. The way he CRIED against DEX like his fucking heart just shattered, and we could all see it. I can’t-

The world ended the moment he died, for both Karen and Matt and everyone else who loved Foggy, and part of me doesn’t want to believe it, but if it is a fake-out, it’s the best one in history because I do not believe he’s still alive. Not after what I’ve seen, but I’d love to be proved wrong BECAUSE THIS CANNOT BE THE FUCKING END. It just can’t.

Matt threw Dex OFF THE ROOF! He WANTED him to die, or he was taking that chance. That blank look on his face just said “Nothing matters now anyway” and he abandoned all his principles because his best friend got killed. He loved Foggy, and now he’s dead. What kills me most is that Karen had to watch Foggy die—she held him in her fucking hands with his blood all over her—and Matt HEARD him die. How is that fucking fair?!

Quick side note about the intro: We’ve got the original theme slightly modified and I actually kinda like the imagery of the statues breaking! It’s as devastating as it is cool.

Anyway. We learned that Karen left for San Francisco. Matt and Karen kind of stopped talking, which, after what happened, I understand. I did NOT see coming though the fact that she’d go so far. Of course, their relationship didn’t have much of a future after that because people deal with grief differently and they both had to get out, but it was devastating to witness Matt being desperate because his world fell apart, and Karen just looking so, so broken for the same reasons. I mean, Matt begging her to give him just five minutes to talk? He sounded so soft. So… God, I can’t even put it into words. They’re both so broken oh my god.

What also got me was her keeping the horn and then giving it to him. (And later he fucking put the ‘in memory of Foggy Nelson’ card in his coat when meeting Heather. He’s always keeping him close to his heart, I’m crying.)

My thoughts are a mess right now. Matt started a firm with Kirsten, and I mean, good for him but everything just fell apart, and they (Matt and Karen) don’t even have each other anymore because they’re fighting their demons on their own. I can’t deal with this. Matt is alone in that big ass apartment with that piece of paper from Foggy’s memorial, cooking and watching the news and trying to move on from everything that happened, and he’s just so goddamn miserable. But who wouldn’t be?

Ben Urich’s niece! That’s all I’m gonna say.

Kirsten setting Matt up was the highlight for me because it made things a little lighter, but that man also needs serious therapy. At least we got him being a flirty flustered little shit though!!

I don’t think I have to say more about the diner scene. It was as intense as it was refreshing to see them talk like that without trying to kill each other.

Mayor Fisk!! Vincent’s performance is top tier! Love how he’s having a marital dispute with Vanessa and now Vanessa’s basically Kingpin and he’s yearning to get her back 😭

And the kiss at the end?? Why’s he so fucking hot and charming? Jesus Christ I almost forgot I was devastated.

I can’t even put into words the things I’m feeling right now. I- I need a few hours of sleep and a clearer mind because I’m still teary-eyed.

Another thing. They portrayed his senses surprisingly well, but Charlie also did an impeccable job. God, that man can ACT! Not that I ever doubted it. There is no better Matt Murdock than him. And he just proved again why I love this character so much.

Onto the second episode!

WHITE TIGER! Amazing introduction of the character. 10/10.

Love seeing Fisk being mayor and trying to do things the legal way, but we all now that’s not gonna stick. Not really.

Corrupt cops! And Matt jumping in to help Hector! That’s my man! He’s still Matt, he cares about injustice, so how can he not help? He can never give that piece of himself up, and I love that he refuses to. Seems like it’s finally giving him a purpose again. Seeing him in court again, being a lawyer, is so refreshing (and hot).

I absolutely love that they made sure that Ben Urich’s legacy lives on in his niece (BB) and GIRL does she seem determined. But I feel like she might get herself in trouble, especially with Fisk and his history with Ben. That’s gonna be interesting! Hope her and Matt get to meet, too.

Could that boy talking to Heather at her book signing (pop off by the way, we love a successful queen) and asking her for help be Muse? I don’t know much about that character, so I’ll let myself be surprised. Makes me scared for what’s gonna happen to her though. I don’t know how much more loss Matt can take, especially since we know he’ll choose to pursue something with her, romantically.

BACK TO FHE FLIRTING! Dinner date? Talking about traveling and having Mai tai’s? Having a future together? Oh, he’s so into her! And he’s smiling and laughing and God he needs that. Also, Matt being so ready to get a taste of Heather? I’m screaming. Choking on his drink and “I’ll take the check, please” AND “I’ll pay you back, in interest” SIR! YOU CANT DO THIS TO MEEEE!

I did not expect Fisk and Vanessa to go to Heather for couple’s therapy but honestly it’s kind of funny. Also curious to see where this goes, especially if/when Matt finds out.

HE STOOD OUTSIDE A CHURCH! I REPEAT, HE STOOD OUTSIDE A CHURCH! But he didn’t go in, so another crisis of faith, Perhaps?

HOLY FUCK! That fight?? Matt beating the shit out of these corrupt cops without any suit or gear to protect him, breaking fucking home WITH THOSE WILD EYES?? And the scream HOLY SHIT FUCK I NEED HIM AHHHH

Okay, that’s all. I need to give myself a moment to breathe now.

[cha-melodius]

#16, Alex/Henry?

(Also requested by @firenati0n. I feel like there were two obvious options for this one: post-leaks in canon, or post-rescue mission of some kind. You can probably guess which one I chose. 😂 read all the hug ficlets)

Firstprince, 16: The “it’s okay, I’m here” hug.

Add’l note: This is more or less a tiny sequel to So Close to Something Better Left Unknown. You don’t have to have read the fic to read this ficlet, but it does contain minor spoilers for the very end of said fic.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

When Henry gave him the watch, it was half a joke and half because Henry’s in love with him and his hopeless heart latched onto the slim chance to keep an eye on him, at least from a distance. He’d expected Alex to leave it behind, or disable the tracker, or at the very least not wear it, but as far as he can tell, Alex had done none of those things. The tracker bops around the globe, giving Henry far too much information on CIA missions merely through its location. Not that Henry would ever pass on that information to his own agency, or anyone else for that matter.

That Alex trusted him not to, to keep his secrets… Well, it means a lot.

He assumed that at some point his own work would bring him within striking distance of Alex again, and he’d make use of the tracker to find him and… oh, hell, he doesn’t know. Say hello? It sounds absurd for a spy, but it’s pretty much all he could hope for. But before that happens, the tracker gets stuck for a week in a remote part of Guatemala, and Henry starts to get worried. Maybe Alex just lost the watch, or abandoned it for some reason. That’s the most reasonable explanation. Even so, Henry quietly requests recent satellite images of that area and zooms all the way in on the watch’s coordinates.

It’s a high-security compound of some sort. Not good.

He tries not to let his imagination run wild. The tracker he’d left in the watch is extremely high resolution, and he watches it occasionally move around the compound, as if someone was wearing it, though mostly it stays in one place. Alex could have traded it or gifted it as part of an operation; it was a valuable watch, after all. Still, it nags at Henry. He’s not going to be able to rest until he finds out what actually happened. The most straightforward way would be simply asking, but he has no way of contacting Alex except a burner phone he has no reason to believe Alex would be monitoring.

He sends a message anyway, but after a few days without a response, he can’t take it anymore.

It’s completely mad, he knows it is, but he makes up an excuse about tracking down a lead on a long-cold operation and books a ticket to Guatemala City. He covertly watches the outside of the compound for three days, keeping track of the men who come and go, and sends photos of them to Bea with a request to run facial recognition and not ask any questions. (She does, of course, but she doesn’t push, even when they come back with the names of some very bad people.)

Finally, once the compound’s primary resident leaves and takes with him what should be the majority of his armed muscle, Henry makes his move. The watch is still inside, and Henry follows the tracker’s signal down into the basement of an outbuilding, taking out a handful of guards with tranquilizers as he goes. The building is dark and dank, and the series of locked metal doors he finds do nothing to help the cold, hard knot that’s settled into his stomach. His hands don’t shake as he picks the lock on the one the watch is resting behind, but that careful composure slips when the door finally swings open to reveal a miserable lump curled on a thin mattress, a head of matted curls just visible through the murky darkness.

Alex flinches away when Henry first reaches out for him, scrambling into the corner, but then his eyes land on Henry and his mouth drops open. He blinks rapidly, scrubs frantically at his eyes, and blinks again.

“Henry?” he croaks in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you, love,” Henry tells him, holding his hands out in front of him as he slowly moves closer. “I’ve come to get you.”

There’s a beat of silence, then another, then Alex surges toward him. Henry almost shies away himself, unsure of what Alex means to do, but then Alex is grabbing him and wrapping him up in a hug so tight it squeezes the air out of Henry’s lungs, and Henry can do nothing else but curl his arms around the trembling man now occupying his lap.

“It’s ok, I’m here,” he murmurs, rubbing a soothing hand down Alex’s back.

“How?” Alex chokes out. “How did you…?”

His voice trails off as he raises his left arm and looks at his own wrist, where a bit of watch strap peeks out beyond the filthy cuff of his shirt. Inexplicably, his captors had let him keep it, though that becomes more understandable when his sleeve slips further down and Henry sees how he’s smeared it with mud. The exquisite Patek Philippe now looks like a beaten up piece of junk.

“I didn’t want to lose it,” Alex says, his voice cracking over the syllables. He drops his arm and tries to bury his face in Henry’s chest. “That probably sounds dumb.”

“No, love, it doesn’t,” Henry says, holding him tighter. It’s torture to pull away, but eventually he must. “Come on,” he says, tipping Alex’s chin, now covered in a scraggly beard, up so their eyes meet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

[jinhyun]

hii, i was wondering if for the "what are we?" prompts if you could please do some sort of combination of "what do you want us to be?" and "i was hoping we could be more than just friends" with felix? that would be so awesome! thank you <3

“What are we?”

The way you said those words made Felix's heart ache. It was hardly a whisper, for your voice betrayed you and cracked as you stared down to the cold pavement.

This wasn't how either of you expected this night to go. It was supposed to be a fun time; a house party with loud music, lots of people and many drinks to intoxicate your system. You and him were supposed to have a blast and get rid of all the stress you had been feeling lately.

Instead, you found yourselves sitting down on the sidewalk after you had run out one second and he followed you the next one.

Felix sat in silence next to you, concernedly staring into your miserable expression as your eyes remained focused on the ground and wouldn't dare to look back at him — the only sign of you acknowledging his presence right next to you being how you hugged the jacket he had placed over your shoulders a minute ago.

He didn't exactly get what happened. He had been talking to a friend of his he ran into, and then he saw you rushedly crossing the front door. He ran after you before he could even process it, only to be even more confused when he found you sitting down on the sidewalk, looking as if your heart had just been broken.

Still, even with such a look on your face, the words that had so weakly abandoned your lips caught him completely off guard.

He didn't know if he had heard it right. He didn't know what you wanted him to answer, nor did he know what to answer without compromising your entire friendship, which is why he ended up uncomfortably shifting in his place and clearing his throat before his eyes fixed on the house across the road.

“What do you want us to be?” He replied, voice nearly as weak as yours.

“That's not fair” you recriminated.

“What's not fair?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I'm asking you what we are,” your eyes finally fixed on his, and he could see how hurt you actually were. “I want you to answer, not to leave me with the responsibility of choosing”.

“So I'm supposed to choose?” He asked; not mad, but troubled as hell. “I don't know what you want me to say, Y/N”.

“Just, whatever you want us to be”.

“I'm in the same place as you here” his voice trembled. “I don't think my feelings for you could be any stronger, but we're… you're my best friend. I love you so much, Y/N, I don't want us to… risk it all and then lose you, I don't know”.

A bittersweet smile curved up your lips. You knew he loved you, and he knew you loved him. Neither of you had ever said it before, but you hadn't bothered to hide it either. Therefore, it didn't come out as much of a surprise when he confessed it like that.

Both of you were well aware of your mutual feelings, but neither of you dared to actually act up on them, in fear of it meaning to lose one another in the future. You were in love with each other dearly, but you treasured your friendship more.

Up until that night, at least, for things had just changed on your end.

“I love you, too” you confessed back, feeling him take a shaky breath. “And I used to think the same, that I didn't want to risk it all and then lose you”.

“Then?”

“Then…” you sighed, resting your palms on the pavement as you leaned back. “Then I saw the way Yumin looked at you, and how much you laughed with her and how happy you looked back then… and I realised that I was okay with not risking it all and being just friends til the end of times because it didn't cross my mind that at some point you'd be with someone else”.

“I'm not with Yumin,” he shut that idea of yours down immediately. “I just ran into her back there and we were catching up, we're not—”

“It doesn't matter,” you gave him another weak smile, as they seemed to be the only ones you had left. “You will fall for someone else at some point anyway, whether it's her or not, and I don't think I'll be able to just stand there and keep being your friend”.

“Y/N…”

“I really won't be able to stand it, Lix” your eyes watered. “The mere thought of you and her hurt like hell, what's it gonna be like when you actually do fall for someone else an—”

Your words were cut off by his mouth pressing lightly on yours. Just like that, the fate of your friendship had been settled.

It was the sweetest way you had ever been told to shut up, and you could only sit there and return the kiss after a couple of seconds, when you managed to snap out of it and realised you were in fact not dreaming.

It was delicate, soft, and didn't last long; only enough to stop you from talking nonsense and to let you know just how truly and deeply he felt for you.

“There isn't anyone else,” he whispered once he faintly pulled away. “There won't ever be someone else”.

You closed your eyes, resting your forehead on his and letting his breathing mix up with yours as you took in his words.

You loved him. He loved you. No matter how scared you were of a future without him if things didn't end up working out, you were sure that being so deeply in love with each other and not being together hurt just as much.

It almost seemed stupid not to give in to your feelings now.

“I think I want us to be more than friends…” you murmured, finally opening your eyes to meet his beaming chocolate ones.

Felix smiled, lightly nodding his head as he leaned in once more. “Good,” he pecked your lips. “Because I don't think I can keep myself from kissing you anymore”.

[rinhaler]

MY BOYFRIEND'S BACK, AND HE'S COOLER THAN EVER!

CHAPTER SUMMARY : Bags are packed, parents are disappointed, and Chigiri has arrived to ride up to the Itoshi family cabin together !

ex-fiancé!rin x f!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, alcohol mention.

WORDS : 4k

notes : me vs wanting to fuck almost everyone in the cabin 😩

LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

“Ready to go?” Chigiri asks, coming inside to assess the situation. He looks at your enormous suitcase and several travel bags before looking back at you with a quirked brow. You look away from him quickly, pretending something on your phone has caught your attention. “You know we’re only going for a week, right?”

“I want to be prepared!”

“It’s crazy,” he laughs, “because I know that somehow you’re gonna come home with more things than you left with.”

“Not true! Your birthday presents are in here!” you smile, shaking the large gift bag in your hand. He tries to take it from you to peak at what’s inside, but you move it out of his reach.

He pouts.

You pout harder.

“Fine, I’ll carry the heavy suitcase. Even though it’s my birthday week.”

“Thank you Chigs~!”

“Don’t call me that~!” he repeats in your sing-song voice.

You laugh, picking up another bag and carrying it to the car. You load them into the back before rushing into your house again and getting the last few bags. He takes them for you, allowing you to lock the door. If you’d had more warning, you definitely would have gotten a house sitter. But you’re trying not to worry about that, you just want to get on the road and leave all of your worries behind.

Worries, including your family. The family who are less than impressed that you’re abandoning them to spend a boozy week with friends instead of them. You don’t care, though. You delivered their gifts and wished them well.

It’s stupid, really, that they’re so frustrated that you won’t be spending time with them. You can’t stomach spending time with your dad and his new girlfriend. He knows you can’t control your face and you say the first thing that comes to your mind.

You inherited that from him.

Your mother however, was devastated when you told her. You figured she’d be okay since she has a larger family to spend the holidays with. But you’re her only child, you suppose you are being a little selfish.

It’s something you have to do though, you feel. You’re not over Rin and you don’t want to spend Christmas with family grieving what should have been you and him spending the day together. This way, you get to actually have fun. It’s not forced or superficial to keep up appearances for your relatives.

No one is going to expect anything of you at the cabin.

“I’m proud of you,” Chigiri smiles, looking at you briefly before focusing back on the road. You scoff, turning the radio up in the car, Mariah Carey blasting through the speakers. You both groan before he hands you the aux cord. “Not in a cringe way. I just mean, I know you’re a people pleaser. So I’m impressed that you put yourself over your parents.”

“Ugh, they were both so disappointed in me. I spent thousands on presents for them both. I even got some toys for my stepdad’s ratty step-kids. What more can I do?”

“God they are ratty.”

“They’re giving Damien from The Omen.” you tell him, both of you laughing loudly as one of your playlists plays softly through the speaker. You turn it up a little, both of you whooping as you hear Boss Bitch by Doja Cat play. “I know I was shitting myself when Sae texted, but I’m so glad we’re doing this.”

“Me too, I was dreading spending my birthday with your miserable ass.” he chuckles and you slap his arm lightly. “Wait! I know you’re still down about Rin, so, this will be a fun distraction. Plus I bet you end up hooking up with one of Sae’s friends, you haven’t had your rebound yet.”

“I am not doing another footballer, I can’t.” you shake your head.

You both laugh lightly and carry on chatting about the events to come. It’s like a weeklong party, essentially. And ever since you’ve known Chigiri, you’ve both loved a party. But it’s never actually the party itself.

The days before a party are always the best. Whether you’re hosting or attending, it’s always exciting. A theme is always ideal but not essential. Either way, you’ll spend weeks talking about it. Who’s going? What will you wear? What are you gonna drink?

You go on numerous shopping trips and buy endless amounts of clothes until you find the perfect outfit. Only to wear it that night and never again. But it’s worth it, every time. Hearing people compliment how gorgeous you look never gets old.

No one’s words meant more to you than Rin’s, though. The way he’d rest his hand in the small of your back while showing you off made you feel like a princess. He’d whisper sweet nothings about how you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen and the things he wanted to do to you when you got home. It made your legs weak and your face flush with heat. And yet, he was always so calm. So cool. He liked to rile you up and pay you no mind as you look up at him expectantly. Acting as if he hadn’t said something so salacious and lewd while chatting with guests.

It drove you wild.

But, truthfully, where your best friend is concerned, your favourite part of a party is the morning after. If he spent the night at your place, especially. You’d wait for him to message you to let you know he’s awake and leave Rin’s side while he was snoring softly. Hyoma can’t handle his drink, and you’re no better. You’d crawl into bed with him and burrow under the duvet after handing him some water and painkillers.

Hungover or not, though, you loved gossiping with him. You’d trade stories about what happened throughout the night and things you heard. It made your day; it made the hangover worth it.

And now, you’re driving towards a week’s worth of that.

You groan as the song changes from Doja Cat to Lust for Life by Lana Del Rey.

“Nope!” he objects, “What kind of psychopath has Doja and Lana on the same playlist?” Chigiri asks, skipping the song. You throw your head back against the headrest, sighing as you think about Rin, again.

The album featuring the eponymous song is one of the first gifts Rin gave you. In vinyl form, of course, along with a pink record player. You had a record player already, but you told him a few times that you’d always wanted a pink one. It was a birthday gift, you remember crying so much as you unwrapped it.

“And I thought we could listen to this together.” you reminisce on him telling you as he handed the album to you. You told him you’d never listened to it before when you were going through her discography. It was a throwaway comment you didn’t think he’d even remember.

You cried listening to the self-titled song, wrapped up in his arms as he held you close. Truthfully, you’ve never felt so loved. And unfortunately, you don’t think you will again. You told him, repeatedly, how in love with him you were.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you after that.

“I need to make a new playlist.” you sigh, Chigiri nods, agreeing. “You’re right, Doja and Lana on the same playlist is psycho behaviour.”

“And you’re only just realising this?” he laughs again.

“I bet he’s got a new girlfriend now. Girls always threw themselves at him, even when we were together.” you tell him. “Oh my God, I miss him. I miss him so much I feel sick. I can’t do this.”

“Shut up.” he tells you, sternly, “I haven’t seen anything on his socials about a girlfriend, but that’s none of your business anymore anyway.”

“You’re still on his socials?”

“… anyway…”

“You know how private he is, Hyoma. If he’s seeing someone he wouldn’t post about her.”

“He posted you.” he reminds you, and you shrug defeatedly. “Besides, you broke up with him. You ended things and you’re still heartbroken. Imagine how depressed he probably is. He’s a workaholic, too. He’s probably distracting himself with work, not girls.”

Hyoma always knows what to say. Deep down, you knew that. But you never would have thought about it until he said. It was a miracle that he even asked you out, after all. His friends never failed to tell you how surprised they were. He’s too focused on football to bother with girls.

But you… you were different.

“You’re self-sabotaging, idiot.” Chigiri tells you. “We’ll get there, we’ll have fun, and you won’t think about Rin at all. I’m banning Rin talk for the rest of the week.”

“Fine fine fine.” you relent, shaking your body in an attempt to dispel any further thoughts of your ex. Though, to be honest, Sae might make it hard to not think about or discuss him. He’s his brother, after all. You can’t expect him to not talk about his little brother. And you certainly can’t ask him not to. “You’re gonna love the cabin. It’s huge. And there’s a lake we can ice skate on.”

“Perfect, can’t wait.”

There are several cars parked outside as you pull up. Chigiri parks, but is frozen in place as he looks at the cabin. It’s clear that the place is not what he expected. You end up leaving him alone to process his thoughts as he drinks it in. It’s the closest he’ll get to feeling like a celebrity, he suspects.

He follows you out, rushing to help you lift your suitcase as you struggle under the weight of it. You smile, gratefully, as he drags it towards the cabin. You decide to pick up his much smaller suitcase as well as all of your other bags. It isn’t hard to keep up with him as he struggles to pull your luggage through the snow.

“This isn’t a cabin. I was expecting a log shack with a few amenities. This is a mansion.” Chigiri tells you as you walk by his side. You giggle, agreeing, you felt exactly the same way the first time you came here with Rin.

You walk up the stairs ahead of him and knock on the door, starting to shiver as the biting winter air begins to attack you.

Chigiri manages to get your suitcase to the top of the stairs before anyone even knows you’ve knocked. He’s cold, tired, and impatient, and decides to ring the doorbell. You can both hear music playing inside.

It gets louder once the door swings open, and you see a familiar face.

“Oh hey, are you the little sister?” Oliver asks, forgetting that you’ve met before. You assume that’s how Sae has been referring to you as when talking to his friends, so, you nod. He smiles at Chigiri and takes your heavy suitcase from him, lifting it with ease as he welcomes you in. “They’re all in the lounge, grab yourselves a drink from the kitchen.” he tells you, winking as he sets down your case with all of the others at the bottom of the stairs.

There’s a lot of luggage, though the amount seems to double when you and Chigiri put the rest of yours down. You aren’t sure how many people must be here, but the nerves are setting in.

“She’s cute!” you hear Oliver tell the group as he goes into the lounge, it’s quiet, but you hear it clearly.

“You’ve met her before, idiot.” you hear Sae tell him, his voice getting closer to you as he comes to greet you. “Hey you.” he smiles, hugging you and placing a soft kiss on your cheek. You hug him back, feeling surprisingly calmer as you allow yourself to melt into his embrace.

You aren’t sure why, but you were worried he’d be weird with you when he saw you in person. This is only the second time you’ve seen him since you and Rin split, after all. The first was a coffee date to explain your side of things face to face. You’re happy you decided to keep in contact with Sae, he’s been so sweet and supportive through it all.

So, really, you aren’t sure why you expected him to be off with you.

Especially since he invited you here.

“Nice to meet you, man.” Sae smiles at Chigiri, holding his hand out to shake, which he does. “Your birthday is on the 23rd, yeah? We’ll plan something fun.”

“Being here is fun enough, don’t worry.” Hyoma responds, looking around. “This isn’t a cabin, by the way.” he laughs.

Sae laughs too, walking back towards the lounge. “Come meet everyone.” he insists. You and Chigiri look at each other, but follow.

You’re the only girl here, by the looks of things. You aren’t sure if that’ll change or not though. Maybe they all have partners who are arriving together later. You’re a little surprised by the headcount, you were expecting more. Including Sae, there’s only four of them sitting around the fire, drinking together.

“Apparently we’ve met before?” Oliver’s brows knot in contemplation, and you nod. “Sorry, sweetheart. Normally I don’t forget a pretty face.”

“Yeah ya do, bullshitter.” Tabito snickers, looking up at you from his seat on the floor. You’ve never met Karasu, but you’ve heard a lot about him. Mostly from Rin about when they used to play together. And you may or may not have stalked his socials before, so you’re familiar with his face. “Nice to meet’cha, heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise.” you smile.

“Do you smoke?” you hear another voice speak as you get further into the room. Your eyes lie on Eita Otoya as he pulls a blunt from behind his ear, and you shake your head. You’re surprised to see them letting loose like this, though you suppose they mustn’t get the chance to often.

Rin found it hard to relax and unwind. He’s always been so career focused, never wanting to do anything to harm his reputation. And you understand that, you do. You’re the same, really. You have an image to maintain, people seem to think being a model is just turning up and looking pretty. But you take it seriously, like Rin.

Though he doesn’t seem to know how to turn it off.

“No Ryusei?” you ask, a little surprised he couldn’t make it.

“Not yet, he should be here soon.” Sae assures you. You laugh, knowing you’re in for a really fun week once Shidou gets here. Sae turns back to look at you, taking you back to the entrance. “I’ll show you to your rooms. Did you want to share? There’s enough for everyone to have their own.”

“She snores, I’ll take my own.” Hyoma tells Sae, earning a smirk from him. You try to argue, but your best friend seems to be too convincing. The rest of the guys join you, offering to help with your bags and carry them up to your room.

And, really, who are you to say no?

Chigiri rolls his eyes, carrying his own case and entering the room Sae had planned for him. You realise Sae is sleeping in the master bedroom downstairs when you see all of the other rooms have been claimed by sneakers and jackets from the other guests, all of them are just too lazy to bring their luggage up.

Though none of them had a problem helping with yours.

Your heart sinks when you realise Sae saved your usual room for you to take. The room you always shared with your ex whenever he brought you here. The guys don’t give you much time to feel sorrowful, though. Not when they’re laughing and joking beside you. Sae notices your forlorn expression, pulling you aside slightly.

“I thought you’d feel comfortable in here, but we can switch if you want.” he tells you, but you shake your head. “Ryusei will be in the opposite room so I’m sure you won’t be thinking about anything other than how annoying he is.” he smiles.

“Thank you, Sae.” you smile, albeit a little weakly. It’s bittersweet, that’s all. “At least I have the best view.” you tell him, opening the doors to the large balcony that looks over the lake. You think about how the nearby town’s lights twinkle at night.

“Right.” he puts a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. “Everyone out, let’s leave her to unpack.” Sae announces, ushering the other three men out of the room.

You smile, waving at them all as they leave. Once they’re out, Sae closes the door behind himself and leaves you alone with your thoughts. As much as you want to sit and dwell on things, you decide to occupy your mind and unpack instead.

You’re startled, a little, when Chigiri comes in to see you. Though you’re relieved when he starts to help.

“You did not need to bring all of this.” he grabs a gold glittery mini stress and holds it up. “I— I’ve never seen this in my life. Oh my God, did you buy new clothes for this? You are trying to get a rebound.”

“No I’m—”

“Yeah, you are.” he stops you immediately. “I’ve been stalking all of their socials in my room, they’re all single. And they all had their tongues hanging out for you when you came in.”

“You work too fast.” you laugh. He shrugs, grabbing a few items of clothing and hanging them up in the wardrobe for you.

You’re thankful for his help, it goes a lot quicker than it would have otherwise. Plus you get to gossip about the week ahead. You try and dodge his questions, but your facial expressions always give you away. You have quite a good poker face, but it doesn’t matter when it comes to Chigiri. He has a way of making you shy and giggly when you’re trying to keep a secret.

“Which one?” he asks, and you tut. “I feel like they’re all your type.” he tells you, handing you your toothbrush to take to the ensuite.

“They are.” you laugh from the other room. You return, zipping up your case and pushing it away. “I’ve always had the hots for Ryusei low key though, but I think Rin would be livid.”

“Rin isn’t here and he’s not our problem.” Chigiri smiles. You both sit on top of your bed and flop backwards with a sigh. He turns his head to the side to look at you while you’re too busy disassociating, staring at the ceiling. “Don’t just do it because you feel like you have to, by the way.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. “Oh, rebound.”

He nods, “We’re here to have fun. So, if you’re going to fuck one of them, do it because it’s fun.”

“I won’t.” you agree. “I’m worried about feeling guilty too… they’re Rin’s friends, after all. I don’t want to upset him.”

As Chigiri is about to respond, he’s stopped by the sound of the doorbell ringing. You smile, widely, when you realise Ryusei is here. Hyoma knows all about Ryusei. His feral replacement whenever Rin used to take you around the world for his away games.

Hyoma isn’t jealous, of course. Especially when he knew you had a little crush on Ryusei. You and Hyoma have only ever been friends, and you’ll never be closer to anyone than you are with each other.

“Should we wait a few minutes so I don’t look desperate?” you ask, sitting upright and resting your bodyweight on one hand as you look down at him.

“Yeah.” he nods.

You nod too. You start lying back down, slowly, looking around at the room as you do. “I can’t.” you tell him, jumping off the bed and heading towards the door. He sighs, but hurries after you.

All of the guests are gathered in the entryway as they greet Ryusei. They exchange hugs and handshakes as they all chat and catch up. You descend the stairs slowly, but not fully, standing at the halfway point with Chigiri as you watch the scene unfold.

His bright smile turns to a look of wonder when he notices you. Eyes softening as he realises you’re here, you’re really here.

“No way…” he smirks, “Hey, kid, how are ya?”

“I’m good,” you nod, an embarrassingly wide smile on your face. “And you? How are you, Ryu?”

“Better for seeing you,” he laughs. “Didn’t know you were comin’.”

“Shut the door, man, it’s freezing.” Sae tells him, approaching to do it for him. But Ryusei stops him, keeping him at arm’s length so he can’t.

“I actually picked someone up on the way.” Ryusei announces, side stepping a little as he waits for the mystery guest to hurry. Chigiri’s eyes widen in horror, the realisation hitting him before anyone else as he looks at you. You’re too busy feeling deflated that Ryusei has brought a girl along with him.

“Oh no.” Chigiri speaks, and you look at him. “We should go back upstairs.”

“What? Why?” you ask him, confused. Though your attention is forced back downstairs when you see another figure enter the cabin out of your peripheral view.

Your heart sinks.

“Rin?” Sae asks as he watches his younger, yet for some reason taller, brother set down his suitcase.

Your heart keeps plummeting deeper through your body as you watch him, too. God, he looks even better than he did the day you ended things. He’s always been striking, beautiful. Just so God damn handsome. But he looks older, more mature.

You feel your breathing get heavier and more intense the longer you watch him. The way he dusts the snow from his expensive looking coat. And that familiar ruffle of his hair as he fixes it into place.

“You said you weren’t coming.” Sae tells him.

“I changed my mind,” Rin responds, gesturing to Ryusei. “He begged, really.”

Sae holds his eyes shut, sighing. Rin isn’t sure what the issue is. He was invited, after all, he just declined. He expected his brother to be happy to see him, he thought it would be a fun surprise. Though maybe he only invited him out of obligation.

Shidou hadn’t made it seem that way, though.

“Look who’s here.” Ryusei smiles, pointing up at you.

Rin’s weak smile drops to a stoic straight line as he follows his friends directional finger and his sights land on you. You’re frozen. You can’t smile. You can’t say hello. You can’t even wave. You’re just staring at each other, both absolutely paralysed with no idea how to act.

“H— Hi…” you struggle to speak. Hyoma is thankful you’re too distracted looking at Rin to see the way he’s cringing horrendously behind your back, but not showing his face to the lower floor.

“Hey.” Rin responds, even smiling a little when he hears your voice. It’s been so long, after all. “I didn’t know you were coming.” he explains.

“Same…” you tell him, hoping he believes you. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew you were coming. Wait—” you interrupt yourself when you realise how horrible that sounded.

“Stop talking.” Hyoma whispers, and you clear your throat.

Everyone else seems to see the funny side, all except Rin. He appears a little downtrodden, though he disguises it well. You know him, though. You’re sure he knows you didn’t mean it how it sounded, but you can’t help feeling a little guilty.

“You made it very clear you weren’t coming, Rin.” Sae tells him. “If you said you were coming I—”

“It’s fine. I didn’t know you were still talking, though.” Rin says, the annoyance in his voice very evident. You can’t tell if he’s purposefully trying to hurt you or if it’s just Rin being Rin. “But we’re adults. I’m sure we can co-exist for a week, right?” he asks, looking at you with his intense, teal gaze.

“R—Right…”

© 2023 rinhaler

[sweetsugarcakes]

Hi! I liked the last one so much I thought I might just request, like, another one??

An Azula x gn reader again. So, Azula and reader are childhood friends, and reader is the exact opposite of her. They are kind, compassionate and believe in the good of people. And that belief is the only thing that kept reader from deserting Azula even when she turned more cruel over time; they hope that Azula will find her good side some time. Azula is very dependant on reader's friendship as it's one of the only ones she's got, and over time she has developed some more serious feelings, but she doesn't tell reader. However, at one point, probably after a battle, it's enough. Reader can't take Azula's cruelty anymore and, under tears, tell Azula how much they detest her cruelty and want her to change her ways and that they know she has good inside of her, because (drumroll) they have loved her for years but think they will have to leave her once and for all if she can't change. Of course, Azula is devastated. She is happy her feelings are mutual but still, there is drama because of reader's accusations and threat of leaving.

Again, a happy end would be phenomenal.

This is a long ask! I hope you like this one too!

Have a great time :))

hii I’m so glad you enjoyed the other one :)

I love this scenario I’ll totally write it❤️

Azula x gn! reader

How much you saw the good in people, even if they were a bad person. You know there must be a reason why they are the way they are. Ever since you were kids you, Ty lee, Mai Zuko and Azula were all friends. At first you noticed in the small cracks of Azula you saw her a bit mean towards the group. She pushed Ty lee when she did an amazing cartwheel instead of her. She almost set Mai on fire for Zuko to save her. You noticed but brushed them off because she wasn’t so bad. But she’ll get better you hoped.

You also noticed that she never was that mean to you. Sure she’ll give you attitude and make snarky comments at you but you definitely got special treatment among the others. You remember having that conversation with her when you were little.

“[Name], promise you’ll never leave my side? I feel that you’re the only one that understands me.” Azula grinned as she looked at her used to be innocent face.

Your little self smiled widely and nod. “I promise Azula I’ll never leave your side!”

So…you never left her side which meant you saw what she had done. When she tricked her uncle and her brother. Almost burning Ty lee alive and forcing her to join her team. Making Mai abandon her baby brother. Even more things which involved her trying to catch the Avatar. But you stood by it all still thinking “She’s going to be good.”

You even thought that when she burned down innocent peoples villages. You saw how miserable the nations had been because of her doings. Not only the nations but Mai and Ty lee were as well. You can tell by the looks of their eyes, they don’t want to do this. They were so scared to stand up to her. You wanted the Avatar to restore the peace between nations and maybe Azula would be better.

One day, at the boiling rock Mai betrayed Azula by saving Zuko. You watched whole scene unfold with Ty lee. Before the two were about to fight each other, Ty lee chi blocked Azula making her fall. Ty lee looked at you, “Come on [Name].” She stuck her hand out as you hesitated and looked at Azula at the floor . You called the guards over to take both Mai and Ty lee away. The two girl were shocked as you chose Azula over your freedom. You helped up Azula since she was still paralyzed. You looked at as she smiled at you. “I know you’ll pick the right choice” hee eyes were filled with love for you and you had it too. She made the guards take Mai and Ty lee away to be in prison.

You thought about how she was ready to kill Mai and make her two best friends rot in the cell. You and Azula come back from trying to catch Aang as it failed but in the process, Azula had hurt other people, you saw children hurt and crying. You saw their parents crying as well or they were deceased from her ordering the soldiers to get information from them and if they didn’t comply well…

Your head was pounding and your hands were shaking you don’t know what to do. You were holding back from crying. Azula still mad about Mai and Ty lee but having you by her side was everything she needed anyway. You two were back at the palace as you finally spoke up…

“Azula I-i can’t do this…” you muttered out. Azula turned to you.

“What?!” She shouts and confused.

“I can’t do this. I’m can’t be by your side. T-this is too much…” you looked down.

“What are you talking about your staying with me! You promised me you’ll always be by my side [Name]! Why are you doing this?! You’re going to be a traitor just like them huh?” Azula was angry you can tell but then stunned seeing you crying and glaring at her.

“I’m done Azula. I did promise but I saw the good in you. I thought everyday that you’ll change into a good person. But seeing you doing these horrific things… it’s awful but I still stayed because I loved you for years. I-I still love you but I can’t if you’re going to be like this. T-this is just cruel…I’m sorry if you can’t change…I don’t think I wanna be by your side ever again.” You saw her panting hard trying to take all this in. She couldn’t believe you loved her and she never noticed. She gritted her teeth about to attack you but she hesitated. Her love for you was too much to hurt you. She just mumbled “Get out! Get out!” You were stunned as she told you get out. You nod as you left. The woman you loved pushed you away you know she didn’t mean it but you needed to do what you said…you knew it was the right thing to do.

You were nearby where Azula’s coronation was being held you saw how horrible she looked. Her hair cut uneven and her makeup smeared a little. You couldn’t help feel guilty about you making her crazy. You then saw the fight with Zuko and Katara with Azula. You saw Azula getting defeated by Katara as you saw her balling as blue fire came out of her mouth. You couldn’t hold back anymore you ran fast to Azula as Zuko and Katara watched you. You hugged her. “Azula please…” you whispered into her ear as you felt her body all hot as she was surprised you were here.

“[N-name]…Please [Name] don’t leave me! I’ll change! I’ll change for you! I love you too! Please just don’t leave my side! I’m sorry” She said between sobs as she just cried harder and clung on to your clothing tight. She didn’t want you to let go. “I promise Azula I won’t leave you again. I’ll be there to help you.” You whisper as cupped the back of her head to make her let it all out. Azula then spoke into your shoulder. “I’ll be good. I have you. I love you [Name].” She said still sobbing. You pulled away for her a little still close as you cup her cheek. “I knew you would turn to be good. I love you too.”

and they lived happily ever after and Azula got her redemption and didn’t go to an insane asylum bc reader was there for her🤭

I hope you enjoyed this one. sorry making this a bit angsty😭 you also have a great day!! <33

[cosmicjoke]

AoT Short Stories Vol. 4: The Former Underground Jail- Levi & Eren:

Okay, again, I'm honestly just struck so much by Levi's kindness, and the awkward but resolute way he tries to express it. I'll never, never understand people who don't get this about him.

So this story revolves around Eren's early days of being in Levi's Special Operations Squad, and having to be kept in a cell in an abandoned castle after a marching exercise ordered for the entire Survey Corps ends up being aborted due to a heavy rain. Because it isn't just Levi's squad that Eren is around here, they have to take the precaution of keeping him separated from the rest of the group, as they still don't know what the nature of his Titan powers are, or whether the can be trusted.

Levi is left keeping watch over Eren in the cell, and notices how miserable he is, sitting in his soaked rain gear. Eren points out that members of the SC don't trust his Titan powers, and they don't want to add to their already substantial worries:

"'That's right', his commanding officer Levi said before turning the lamp in his hands towards Eren. The young man almost looked like an abandoned puppy there with his rain gear still on as he dripped with water, not revealing his expression. Levi's already furrowed brow deepened even further.

Ugh... He looks like one of the beggars in the Underground City. All alone in both body and spirit, just wandering... He's supposed to be humanity's big hope?

Levi let out a loud sigh before delivering a short order.

'In any case, take off that wet rain gear and give it here. You look like a sewer rat. I'll dry it off using the fire upstairs.'

'... Okay.'

Eren lifelessly unlatched his gear, then wrung the rain out of it before handing it to Levi. He noticed Eren's cold and trembling hand and spoke to another one of his soldiers waiting upstairs... He couldn't it if Eren stayed this depressed.

'Petra! Team up with Oluo and guard Eren.'

'Yes, Sir!"

Here we see see Levi's great compassion on full display. He feels awful for Eren, and can't bear to see him so depressed, but doesn't know how to comfort him at all. He compares in his mind the way Eren looks to the beggars on the streets of the Underground City, and wonders how someone who looks that way is meant to be humanity's hope. We can see here Levi's own conflict in putting so much of a burden on the shoulders of someone who's clearly not equipped to handle it. They don't have a choice, but Levi clearly realizes that Eren isn't someone who should be in the position he is. More than that, Levi clearly wants to cheer Eren up, but struggles with knowing how to do so. This is the thing people don't seem to understand about Levi. He's the kindest and most compassionate man, but again, because of the way he grew up, he was never taught the proper way to express that kindness and compassion. Nobody ever showed him how to be gentle or sweet, even as he longs to be. The very fact Eren's clear depression is bothering Levi so much speaks volumes. He doesn't want to see this poor kid suffer. He wants to relieve that suffering, but doesn't know what he can do to lessen it. He's torn between keeping the rest of the Survey Corps safe, and helping Eren. So he calls Petra down to look after Eren for him, knowing she's more well-equipped than he is to doing and saying the right things in order to bring someone comfort.

"When Petra descended the stairs and saw the despondent boy with slumped shoulders alongside her superior officer unable to fully handle the situation, she seemed to recognize what was going on.

'Understood. Um... So is he staying locked up here until the rain stops? That seems a little...'

'That's the decision for now. I'll go check with Hange. If this castle is built to be sturdy, it shouldn't have trouble keeping Eren in check no matter where he might transform... If I know that for sure, I'll give him permission to walk around.'

'Good. I hope he can. Looks like squads with some of your corpsmates are here too, Eren. You want to meet them, don't you?'

'I don't know. I'd be happy to, but...'

'I'm sure they'd love to see you! You've been training away from them for so long.'

Seeing Petra cheerfully encourage Eren made Levi realize once more that he had made the right choice selecting her for his squad.

'Either way, stop sulking like that. This weather's irritating enough on its own.'

'S-sorry.'

As he watched his officer climb the steps from behind, Eren's lowered face wore an expression that had grown the smallest bit more relaxed."

Again, we see that it isn't a lack of wanting to be kind on Levi's part that makes it a struggle for him to offer Eren comfort here, but simply a lack of knowing how to. Petra understands this about Levi, and realizes immediately what it is he's asking her to do, and launches into saying all the right things to Eren to offer him that comfort. This really does demonstrate in such a powerful way just how kindhearted Levi truly is. He thinks about how he was right to select Petra for his squad, upon seeing how easily she's able to encourage and lift Eren's spirits. He picked Petra because he saw her own, great kindness and compassion, and unlike him, an ability to appropriately express it. Levi's own kindness and compassion is every bit a match for Petra's, he just doesn't know how to express it in a way that others will understand. He tries, but it always comes out in this very blunt and at times seemingly rude manner, leading people to think he's callous and cold, when it's exactly the opposite. He tries to help Eren here by offering to dry off his wet clothes for him and then promising to talk to Hange to see if the castle is a safe enough environment to let Eren walk around freely in. He doesn't want to keep Eren in that cell. He wants him to be able to roam around freely and talk with his friends. He calls Petra down specifically because he doesn't want Eren to feel so bad, and he knows Petra will know the right things to say to lift him out of his despair.

Levi's kindness just kills me, as does his own, personal struggle to express it. It really highlights the tragedy of Levi's life, that someone with such a loving and compassionate heart was raised in an environment and by people that made it so difficult for him to convey those feelings to others. Levi's life growing up in the Underground tried so hard to snuff the kindness out of him, but all it really managed was to make it harder for him to express that kindness in a way that could be understood. This is why I'm always going on and on about what an amazing person Levi is, that through all of that, all of the hell he grew up experiencing, and his own struggle simply to survive, he never lost hold of his inherent empathy for others. He never let the cruelty of his life turn him cruel. The tragedy in Levi's struggle is in how it warps people's perception of him, making them think he's some unfeeling, cold-hearted person, when in reality, he cares more deeply and feels greater compassion than anyone. It's tragic to realize Levi's already horrifically awful childhood continues to affect him so profoundly into adulthood, to the point it causes him to be completely misunderstood by his peers. It must cause an immense sense of isolation in Levi, this struggle to make his actual feelings known, and to have people assume he's something he's not, just because he was never taught how to properly express himself and what he means. He tries so hard, though, both to show he really does care, and to offer kindness and comfort in whatever ways he can, even when it makes others look at him like there's something wrong with him. That's exactly what Dimo Reeves meant when he called Levi "awkward but kind". And that really is a testament to what a good person Levi is. He doesn't really know how to offer his kindness, but he tries anyway, because he feels so much intense compassion for everybody.