#and then two days later in the middle of the night he's trying to convince you that yall can make it work

[willowser]

i know i have said this before, but toyua at your first few kid drop offs after you break up is soooooo petty to hide how upset he is 🥺 wears sunglasses the entire time, doesn't speak to you any more than he has to, if he even sees you smile at another man he'll go absolutely nuclear djfbdjalql

[readwritealldayallnight]

Part five of ‘Bird Watching’ aka hot construction worker Simon x single mom reader

Some moments were simply indescribable, certain feelings too large to be named, emotions so grand they couldn’t adequately be put into words, lest their true value be lost in translation from lip to ear

Some things just couldn’t be said, but rather needed to be shown, to be felt

A chaste little thing, a short peck, the smallest, faintest of touches as you brushed your lips against his, more of a quick exchange of breaths rather than a proper first kiss, it had been the most honest response you could think of to express your growing feelings for the man who’d so easily closed his eyes and leaned in to you without hesitation

Nearly a week later and it’s still the only thing you can think of

His lips are at the forefront of your mind as you rock a tired Rosie back to sleep in the middle of the night, his terrible jokes popping into your head whenever you hear the sound of laughter coming from the telly in the background, his deep voice is rattling through your mind as you lie awake in bed, wondering what it would be like to have his strong, steady arms wrapped around you instead of cold, empty sheets

Hope

That was what he said the last time you saw him

He said you gave him hope

You and Rosie

The longer you know Simon, the more you realize you’re starting to hope for things too

You hope that he goes about his day with you on his mind as well, perhaps running into the most mundane things that now remind him of you, the sight of yellow flowers perhaps bringing a smile to his face

You hope he doesn’t work himself too hard during the day, a true ‘dad’ to his projects as he complains of achy knees and a back that sounds like milk being poured into Rice Krispies cereal each morning, the snap, crackle, and pops that come with such physical work

You hope he isn’t too tired to chat with you on the phone after work, something he says is impossible, though you can hear him stifling his yawns on the other end of the line as he tells you otherwise, asking you to keep telling him about yours and Rosie’s day

You hope that you give him butterflies, having seen that you can make him at least blush the most beautiful shade of crimson you’ve ever seen a man wear

You hope the butterflies swarming your own stomach each time you think of him aren’t going to end up eating you alive from the inside out

You hope he’s as sincere, as true, as real as he seems to be, as he continues to convince you he is

You hope this whole thing isn’t too good to be true like the nagging voice at the back of your mind keeps trying to convince you of

You hope you won’t regret letting him in

Right now however?

What you’re really hoping for, is for your sitter to show up already, so that you and Simon can go on what you hope is the first of many dates to come

He’d sent you a text not too long ago, letting you know that he’d just gotten finished with the job for the day, that he was going to head home to shower and change, and that he would come swing by to pick you up within the hour

You’d been looking forward to tonight all week long, ever since he’d asked to take you out on a proper date following the quick kiss in the kitchen, your heart rate feeling as though it’s been waiting to come back down to earth since then

You weren’t entirely certain what Simon had planned for the night, though he had mentioned you’d be grabbing dinner together at some point in the evening, the anticipation of both seeing him and the idea of this being the start of something new, had your stomach in knots

Not only that, but you couldn’t deny your nerves were also all aflutter thinking about leaving a now two and a half month old Rosie alone for the first time since she’d been born

It was a concept you were going to have to grow used to sooner than later, seeing as she’d be starting nursery up in not too long, but this was still uncharted territory for you, motherhood was something you were growing accustomed to, and the idea of leaving your baby alone for just a few hours was an even more foreign sentiment

Your best friend, someone who at least knew Rosie and her routine better than most, had graciously agreed to be the first person you entrusted your baby with alone, and though she wasn’t technically late yet, you were nonetheless surprised that she hadn’t shown up quite yet, knowing that she was always keen on extra time with the tiny baby who has finally starting to fatten up, her pudgy arms and legs getting softer and squishier each day

The little lady in question was currently hanging out in her bouncer, watching you flit and flounce around your room as you got ready yourself, listening as intently as a baby can as you spoke to her, doing your best to involve her in the process

“What do you think, babe? Red or pink for my lips?” You ask, holding up both lipstick tubes in front of her, smiling at the way she seems wholly engaged in the conversation, eyes flitting between your hands. “I think you’re eyeing the pink one. Is that your pick, hon? You want mama to wear pink tonight? Mhmm, I think you’re right. Maybe I should wear something pink too then, huh?”

Glancing down at her own little outfit of the day, an idea pops into your head, quickly out your phone and snapping a photo of Rosie, the onesie being one that your friend had gotten for her while you were still pregnant

You : ‘someone’s excited to show off her outfit to you’

You : ‘as long as she doesn’t spit up again lol’

You shoot off the texts along with the photo of Rosie wearing her corny ‘I love my godmom’ onesie before turning towards your closet, though it’s not long before you get a reply back from her

Sarah : ‘look at those cheeeeeeeeeeeks!!!’

Sarah : ‘i promise i’ll try not to eat your baby but like cmon look at her’

Sarah : ‘maybe just one bite’

Sarah : ‘love it! but you’re hoping to keep her in that til tomorrow? lol good luck with that’

Unsure if you’re reading her last message correctly or not, you quickly send her another few texts, hoping to clarify

You : ‘ikr and she still smells so good too’

You : ‘this is the first time the onesie finally fit her’

You : ‘but i have her jammies and her diaper all laid out for you on her dresser, she can wear that for bed tonight’

You’ve barely had the chance to shoot Rosie a glance that says ‘your godmom’s losing her marbles’ before the phone still in your hand starts to ring

“Uh, hello?”

“What day is it today?!” Your friend asks animatedly over the line

“It’s Friday…? Aren’t you on your way here already? Simon’s meant to be here soon.”

“You’re kidding me.” You hear her whisper to herself before she’s groaning in apparent defeat. “Oh my gosh girl, I- I’m so sorry, I could’ve sworn we were Thursday today! I’m literally in my parents kitchen across town right now. I am so sorry, I- I could leave now and try to make it-”

“Oh, no that’s okay. I know you don’t see them that often anymore, it’s okay. I’ll explain to Simon and we’ll reschedule or something.”

“Are you sure? I feel so bad. You were so excited for this date.” She says, and you know she means it. You don’t want to make her feel any worse than she probably already does, though you can’t deny that you’re disappointed, you were really looking forward to tonight

“Mhmm, I’m positive. You enjoy dinner with your parents, tell them I say hey.”

“Alright, only if you’re sure. But let me know if he wants to just push the date to tomorrow, I promise I’ll be there!”

“I’ll let you know. Bye.” You say before quickly hanging up, tossing your phone onto your bed along with a frustrated sigh. “Oh Rosie, what are we gonna do now?”

Rosie offers up her solution in the form of coos and whines aimed your way, her volume increasing with every second she deems a second too long not being held

You’ve just scooped her up into your arms when you hear a steady knock at the front door, your heart skipping a beat for a moment knowing that he’s here early, that maybe he’s been just as excited for tonight as you’ve been and that he couldn’t wait a moment longer to see you, but then your shoulders can’t help but to sag slightly, knowing that you’ve got to break the news to him

Making your way across the small flat, you cradle Rosie in one arm as you lean against the door, peering into the peephole just to be sure, when the sight on the other side forces you to clamp your mouth shut, god forbid you actually let out the ‘holy shit’ your brain is thinking right now

It’s Simon stood out there, that’s for certain

But you’ve never seen the man look so fucking good before

You’ve grown used to seeing him in his work attire, his dirty, sweaty t-shirts, old jeans caked in paint and plaster, plaid button ups so used and abused they’re practically see-through, hell he was even wearing the stereotypical white wife beater when you first met him across the fence, his defined biceps on full display that day (not that you were complaining), along with his muddy boots, you’ve only ever seen Simon wearing a hard working man’s clothes

Now however?

Well, he obviously must have been planning on taking you somewhere fancier than you expected tonight, seeing as the man is wearing proper dress shoes, dark slacks that hug his enormous thighs just right, and a goddamn button-up shirt that accentuates just how wide his shoulders are, how huge he is to begin with, a man who has very evidently worked hard for years upon years and has the build to show for it

Wanting to lay your eyes on the real thing, you try your best not to look too excited when you all but rip the door open for him

“Hi Simon.” You murmur to him as you lean against the doorway, glancing down at Rosie with a smile as she coos at him too, readjusting your hold on her so that she can see him better. “You- you look really nice tonight.”

You can’t help the way your cheeks heat up getting the full picture now rather than distorted through the lens of a peep hole, god how can someone actually be so tall? You can’t help but lean closer towards him when you catch a whiff of what you think is an enticing cologne or aftershave, your eyes taking in his clean shaven appearance, scars standing out more prominently without the stubble only adding to his already rugged charm

You see his own eyes go wide, gaze scanning you from top to bottom more than once, his lips falling open ever so slightly as he stands there, taking in the sight before him

“Simon?” You ask with a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips when he still hasn’t said anything after a moment, laughing softly when your words seem to snap him out a daydream, his eyes focusing more intently on your own now

“Sorry. I jus’-” He begins before clearing his throat, taking half a step closer to you as he speaks. “You’re so beautiful. Caught me off guard for a beat there.”

Your first instinct is to believe he’s exaggerating, just pulling your leg, because sure your makeup might be more done up than usual, and your hair styled a little nicer than it’s been recently, but you’re still just clad in simple lounge wear, never having had a chance to change properly before your friend called and you didn’t have a reason to dress up anymore

But looking at him now, seeing the way he’s looking at you, you can’t find a trace of insincerity in his gaze, can’t pinpoint any reason why he would be anything but sincere with you, the blush on your cheeks only deepening as you decide he means what he says

“Yeah well, you clean up pretty nicely yourself.” You mumble to him, pleased at the small smile he offers in return. “Though, this wasn’t what I’d been hoping on wearing tonight, obviously.”

“I think you’re perfect.” He answers instantly, tacking your name onto the end. “But there’s no rush, if ye wanted a minute to change? I can hold her, if y’need.”

“No, actually I- I’ve got some bad news.” You add solemnly, absentmindedly shuffling your feet, a nervous tic from your younger years that you never grew out of

“Y’alrigh’?” Simon asks, taking the last few steps closer until you’re within reaching distance, his hand coming up to land on your arm out of pure instinct, though he seems to catch himself at the last second as his palm hovers just above your skin

“Yeah, no, everything’s fine. It’s just that the sitter can’t make it tonight. She got the dates confused, thought I’d asked her for tomorrow.” You regretfully explain to him, unable to meet his eyes, as though this were somehow your fault, rather than a simple mixup that had you feeling just as disappointed. “I’m sorry Simon, I’d really been looking forward to-”

“D’you wanna bring her?”

“W-what?” You ask, momentarily befuddled by the question, unable to understand what he means

“D’you wanna bring Rosie wit’ us? Is tha’ alrigh’? Or if she’s still too little to go out we can stay ‘ere, order takeaway. Or I could cook for ye. Though the takeaway migh’ be less likely to come back and haunt ye tomorrow.” He replies casually, as though the answer were always so evident, the solution truly that simple, a problem easily solved at a moment’s notice

“I- she- wait, are you serious?” You question, only slightly bewildered by how nonchalant he is with the change of plans. “You- you don’t mind? You’d really be alright just staying in tonight?”

“‘Course.”

“But you- I mean you obviously had something nice planned for tonight- just look at you! I don’t want to ruin-”

“You’re not ruining a damn thing, love.” He cuts off your rambling, his heavy palm now landing on your shoulder with confidence. “Wearin’ my nice civvies, fancy food, s’all jus’ to impress ya. I don’ need none o’ it. Just want to spend time with ye, right ‘ere or anywhere else. Alrigh’?”

You can only bring yourself to nod in agreement with him, fearing that words might fail you if you dared to open your mouth now, a flood of emotions threatening to rise to the surface if you spend too long taking in what Simon’s just said

“Why don’t we go in then, and you start thinkin’ ‘bout where you wanna order from.”

Before you can even realize it, nearly two hours have trickled away, the brilliant hues of pink and orange and yellow shining against your windows as the sun sets cast a warm reflection throughout your flat, a sight that can only pale in comparison to the glow that’s emanating from inside

Because that really is how you’re feeling isn’t it?

As you and Simon lounge together on your couch with full bellies, contrasted by the empty takeaway containers and utensils scattered across the coffee table, some radio station or another softly playing music in the background, you feel as though the only way to describe this feeling growing in your chest is glowing, you feel like you’re glowing when Simon’s around

And based of the way he’s sunken comfortably into the cushions of the couch, an arm resting casually across the back with careful fingertips caressing your shoulder every so often, any and all traces of stress and work and life outside this bubble you’re caught up in have lifted off his shoulders, leaving him looking lighter than you’ve seen before, you’re inclined to assume he’s just as content as you are in this moment

“Hmm, dunno ‘bout that.”

“No, I swear to you, Simon! You’ll see, next time we’ll have to go in person, or we’ll just order dessert first.” You insist through your laughter, watching as he shakes his head in playful disbelief. The food you’d ordered was delicious, but as good as your dinner had been, you told him that it was really their sweets that had you coming back for more

“Well, if ye swear, s’pose I’m inclined to believe ye.” He teases with a knowing look in his eyes, ghost of a smirk painted across his lips. “Next time then.”

“Next time.” You agree easily,

“Like the sound o’ that. Next time.”

“Me too. That is, assuming you’d want to do this again, of course. Maybe a proper date?”

“This is a proper date, love. S’like I said, just like spendin’ time with ye. Look, we’ve even got a chaperone an’ everythin’. Proper date in my books.” Simon jokes, jutting his chin towards Rosie in your arms, her chubby little fists tugging at your shirt relentlessly

“Oh yeah, real proper.” You laugh, readjusting your hold on her, smoothing a hand down her back. “Speaking of which, I probably should try to lay her down soon.”

You’ve managed to avoid putting her to bed for as long as you could, the three of you hanging out contently together, bouncing her between your arms and her swing, but you also know your baby, and you don’t want to keep her up any longer, disrupt her routine any more. You weren’t expecting to juggle both Rosie and your fist date with Simon simultaneously, and while she’d been an angel for you two tonight, you knew better than to push your luck

“Ah right. Needs her shuteye, that one. I can head out, if ye’d like.” He offers, almost as though he doesn’t necessarily agree with the words he’s speaking, doesn’t want the night to end yet, but knows that they need to be said nonetheless

“No! I mean- it shouldn’t take me too long to get her down, I can tell she’s already pretty sleepy. If you don’t mind waiting, we could watch a movie together, or just keep talking. I- I’d really like you to stay, if you want to.” You extend the invitation to him, putting the ball in his court now

The idea of parting ways already leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, knowing how incredibly busy with work he is to the point that he told he he’d been working straight through the weekend to get this newest nursery finished, and because of that you’re left unsure when he’ll be able to see you next, your own days dragging longer as you’re left only with Rosie to occupy your hours, in addition to the very man who occupied your thoughts

“I’d like that. I’ll stay.” He answers simply, though his eyes tell you much more than his words ever could, the relief clear in his features

“Great.” You say with a genuine smile. “I might just run to the washroom quickly, before I put her down. Are- are you okay if I just- leave her here with you for a bit? It should only take me a secon-”

“You’re fine love. We’re fine. You go ‘head. We’ll be right here waitin’ for ye.” He tells you, gesturing down the hall towards your bathroom.

You can’t help but to search his face quickly for any chance he might change his mind, but Rosie’s safe in her swing, her whines and grumbles at a minimum for the time being, and so you nod to him before standing and turning the corner

But of course, your girl’s got some sort of sixth sense for knowing when her mum’s left the room, her cries reaching your ears through the closed bathroom door

You try to be a quick as you can, though at least a minute or two has passed by the time you’re jogging back towards the living room, apology already on the tip of your tongue for having left Simon with her, how you should’ve known she’d get upset, but the words die in your mouth as you spot the scene playing out on the couch

Still sat comfortably on your couch, Simon appears as though he hasn’t moved from his spot at all, which you’d be inclined to believe, were it not for the tiny bundle laying across his chest, his large hand rubbing small circles against your baby’s back

Her whines are already quieting down before you can process it, her coos softening the more Simon shushes her, soothes her, speaks to her in that low timbre of his, as if this were second nature to him, something he’d done a thousand times before and had mastered the art of

“Shh, you’re alright now. Your mum’s comin’ back, Rosie. No need for tears.” You hear him tell her as you step closer to the pair

“She- is she okay?” You ask, coming to sit back own next to him, your own hand instinctively coming to caress the back of her head, soft little wisps of hair tickling beneath your fingertips

“Tired. Like ye said.” He replies, his movements never faltering as he comforts your baby as if she were his own flesh and blood. “Think she’s almost out.”

And surprise surprise, he’s right

Rosie’s fighting to keep her heavy eyelids open, mouth parted in the tiniest little ‘o’ as she tries in vain to continue her protests, but in the end she can’t hold out any longer, and drifts off on Simon’s chest, fitting against him like a perfect puzzle piece, appearing all the smaller compared to his large size

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You whisper in awe, eyes locked on the sight of your baby safe and sleeping in the arms of a well-dressed Simon, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his muscular forearms, a vision that leaves you feeling warm all over

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before just pickin’ her up like tha’, you didn’t-” He begins to say, posture stiffening as though he’s about to stand

“Oh my gosh, Simon! Don’t even try to apologize right now. This is like, just about the hottest thing I’ve witnessed all year.” You reassure him instantly, relieved by how he softens up at your words, leaning back into the cushions once more, small chuckles being shared between the two of you. “Wasn’t expecting her to kick up a fuss so quick, and certainly never expected you to jump in and comfort her but, thank you, Simon. Really. I figured she was going to put up a fuss with the sitter tonight, she’s never had anyone but me put her to sleep before. But look at her.”

You both gaze at the sleepy little lump cuddled cozily into his dress shirt without a care in the world, her breaths coming out in soft, even little huffs

“Think she knows I’m trying to earn brownie points wit’ her mum. Helpin’ me out.” He teases his own hand coming lay atop your own, still cradling her back of Rosie’s head

“Already promised you dessert next time, didn’t I?” You say softly, returning his own cheeky smirk with a grin of your own

You hardly even recognize the way your head starts absentmindedly shaking in a mix of disbelief and awe, unable to fully believe the situation you’ve found yourself in, sitting on the very same couch you used to crash on after late nights out with friends, the same couch you’d bawled your eyes out on for hours after discovering you were pregnant, the same couch you’d fallen asleep on after one too many sleepless nights caring for a newborn by yourself, the same couch cushions you’d been digging through for loose change as money got tight

It’s the same couch that Simon Riley is sitting on now, as he holds your sleeping baby, as he looks at you as if there’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now even if this wasn’t the original plan for tonight, as he makes your heart beat faster than you’ve ever felt possible, as he challenges every notion and preconception and idea you’d built for yourself since becoming a single mum

Part of you wants to scream ‘How are you real?!’ just to see if the echo of your voice will ripple across the mirage he might have been all along, will reveal the smoke and mirrors and shed the spotlight on a stage that’s been empty this whole time

But you’re growing tired of holding up the weight of the walls you’ve had to build around yourself, you’re growing sick of making up excuses that never benefited you in the first place, you or Rosie, because a world kept at arms length might in theory be a safer one, but it’s undoubtedly a lonelier one, and while your new role as a mum means having to prioritize someone else’s well being before your own, having to take on the problems for two, you glance at Simon now and know for certain:

You’re not worried

He’s worried

It’s been too long now, almost a full week that he hasn’t heard from you

Not a text, not a call, not a goddamn carrier pigeon, nothing

He hates to admit it, loathes to acknowledge it as the truth, but he’s been so busy with work that he hadn’t even noticed the radio silence on your end until more than three days had passed

He’s been working practically inhumane hours as of late, fulfilling his guarantee to have the site finished and ready to open in exchange for a nursery spot for Rosie, and the work’s had him feeling more exhausted than he has in a long time, though the mental stress could never hold a flame to that of his time in the SAS, the physical toll is nearly comparable, especially considering his body getting any younger

Simon had been arriving at the construction site two or three hours before anyone else was scheduled, before the damn sun was even thinking of cresting the horizon, leaving him relying on an absurd number of floodlights to help get the work done

Not to mention that he wasn’t just the last man to leave the job every single time, Simon only allowed himself to head home when his body literally could not take any more for the day, the streetlights having turned on ages ago telling him to clock out

Arriving home and immediately collapsing into bed had been the routine each night, sleeps so short and restless that his brain never had the chance to conjure up a dream, not until that third night, when he finally slept well enough to dream of you

After all, he had left your flat that night last week feeling as if he was still waiting to wake up from a dream, to find out that was all just a figment of his imagination, in fact too good to be true

After having carefully transferred Rosie into her crib, the two of you had stayed up much too late into the night talking to one another, laughing together, and ultimately, as he’d been hoping he would have the chance to do again, kissing

He remembers how comfortable you were sat next to one another on the couch, how the more you spoke the more the space between your bodies slowly dwindled until he could no longer handle the look in your eyes, the one he knew had to have been reflected on his own face, and he’d taken the leap and reached for you, slotting his lips against your with a hesitancy that was quickly thrown out the window as he heard the deep hum of satisfaction reverberating through your chest into his

He remembers how soft you were, your skin, your hair, your lips, everything about you felt like something too precious for his sullied hands to touch, something too priceless for him to be stealing for himself, but your solid grip on his biceps gave him no room to question whether this was something you wanted as well, something you wanted just as badly as he did

It could have been five minutes, it could have been five hours, all Simon knew was that he was drowning in you and he never wanted to resurface again

Each little gasp you had let out as his strong hands gripped and squeezed your curves had his head spinning, every whimper and moan you didn’t mean to let slip had his own tether on the situation beginning to weaken, each press of your lips against his proved to be a test of his resolve, his willingness to do this right, to take things slow

But fuck, if you weren’t the most delectable thing he’d ever come across… your milk swollen tits pressed up against his firm chest, your soft thighs beneath his fingertips, your bodies arching into one another as though they already knew each other, had danced this dance before

Simon would have died a happy man that night, more than content with having you as his cause of death, a death certificate he could be proud of, but of course, he was only one of the two people in your flat that was vying for your precious attention

Rosie awaking from her sleep and demanding to be fed was the only indication that time was still ticking by, that your make out session had not in fact stopped time as your hearts may have otherwise had you believe

You’d walked him to the door, kissed him goodnight again just for good measure, promising to talk soon and plan another date, one where he might actually be able to take you out

But now, Simon’s left to grapple with the fact that you haven’t called him since, haven’t texted him, haven’t reached out once

He feels like a fish out of water

He’d never done this before, had never had something like this in his life before, something worth holding on to, and now he was left wondering what he was meant to do

Was this his fault? Had he been meant to call you first? Was that some unspoken understanding that he’d never gotten the memo for? Were you waiting for him to reach out first?

When his first text goes out to you the following morning, a simple message checking in on how you and Rosie are doing, he spends his entire work day eager to finish up so that he can check for your response

What he isn’t expecting however, is for his message to go unseen

Left puzzled, more than a tad confused, he decides to call you, wanting to hear your voice, to make sure everything is okay

When the call goes unanswered, your standard voicemail tone being the only thing to come through the phone, Simon has to fight against the familiar voices in his head telling him to jump to the worst case scenario, to anticipate the worst, and instead decides he’s not going to allow another day to go to waste

He’s pulling up in front of your flat and taking the stairs two at a time before he has the chance to talk himself out of it, to imaging reasons A through to Z as to why this may not be a good idea, why you might be ignoring him

Knocking on your door, Simon is steeling himself for whatever scenario he might be about to face, though what he comes face to face winds up being a situation his mind had not jumped to, a much more plausible explanation he hadn’t fathomed in all of his pessimistic worrying

It’s evident from the moment that you manage to crack the door open for him, that that alone took up more energy than you had to spare, the prominent bags under your eyes darker than ever before, the sweat seeping across your brow and upper lip contrasted by the way your body shivers involuntarily

“Love,” he says as softly as he can, though his tone is reminiscent to that of a young child being lovingly scolded, his brow furrowing in concern. “Should’ve told me you were sick.”

“D-didn’t want you t-to see me l-like t-this.” You barely manage to croak out, trying to correct the blanket that’s slipping off of your shoulders, though you barely have the strength to lift your arm and tug it back in place

“How long have you been ill?” He immediately asks, shutting the door behind him and leading you through your flat with a gentle hand between your shoulder blades, feeling the heat radiating off of you even through all your layers

“I- I don’t know. Few d- days?” You reply, glancing sideways at him as though you’re only now realizing that he’s here. “H-how - what are you d-doing here?”

“Haven’t heard from you, didn’t answer your phone. Had me worried, and apparently rightfully so.” He tells you, head on a swivel as he looks for your tiny roommate. “Where’s Rosie?”

“In her c-crib.”

“She sick as well?”

“N-no. Somehow sh-she’s been o-okay. I just- I feel awful, Simon.” You admit, frustrated tears beginning to pool in your eyes, fat drops sliding down your heated cheeks as you blink through them

“You’ve got to be runnin’ a fever, love. You’re not well.” He says with a hand pressed against your forehead, doing his best to school his features despite his displeasure with how warm you feel, your skin borderline burning up beneath his palm. “Let me help you.”

“S-Simon, I-”

“Please.” He iterates before you can even attempt to turn him down, the words quickly dying on your tongue, not a single ounce of energy left to spare for you to fight him on this. “Can we get you to bed?”

Nodding, you allow him to help lead you towards the door he can only presume hides your bedroom, pushing all other thoughts aside as he sees your intimate space for the first time

You hardly have the energy to climb into bed, allowing Simon to stack the pillows behind your head and to cover you with the blankets, exhaustion evident in every move you make, the kind of bone-deep tiredness that has him wondering as to how you’ve been able to manage these last few days by yourself, let alone caring for Rosie on top of everything

“You jus’ lay here, alrigh’? Let me handle things.” He instructs, smoothing the sheets over your legs, brushing your hair out of your eyes, fussing over you like he imagines his mother might have done for him decades and decades ago when he was too young to remember. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Uh- I um- I don’t- I don’t know.” You admit, closing your eyes as you lean back into the comfort of the pillows supporting you, the only thing keeping you upright at the moment

“Stay here, I’ll get things sorted.”

He knows you really can’t be feeling like yourself, based on how you put up no effort in telling him otherwise, hardly even acknowledging his words apart from the slightest nod of your head, your mind evidently in a fog that he’s worried has lingered too long already

Stepping out of your room, Simon peeks into Rosie’s nursery, if only to reassure his own wandering mind that she really is alright, his heartbeat calming down in the slightest when he spots her in the cot, her chest rising and falling in even, steady breaths, nothing appearing out of the ordinary as compared to her sick mum on the other side of the wall

Satisfied that Rosie is settled for the time being, he busies himself in your kitchen with preparing you something to eat, going back to the basics when he heats up some soup he managed to find in the cupboards, trying his best to straighten up the flat while your meal warms up on the stove, throwing wadded up tissues into the waste bin and tossing crumpled clothes into your washer

You appear as though you’re on the verge of sleep, if not already counting sheep, when Simon returns to you with a warm meal, a cold glass of water, and a generous amount of ibuprofen

You hardly protest when he starts feeding you the soup himself, barely blink when he drops the meds in your palm and instructs you to swallow them, only perking up when you overhear Rosie begin to grumble from across the hall

“I’ve got her.” Simon quickly reassures you before you try to move. “I’ll bring her, just wait here love.”

Despite having held her less than a week prior, Simon still can’t believe just how small she is, a true baby bird, how minuscule she feels in his hands, how light she is in his arms, how light she makes him feel when she tries to snuggle her way farther into his chest, as though she and her mum weren’t already burrowing their way directly into his heart already

Stepping back into your room, he watches the relief roll over you as your tired eyes lock on your baby, arms instinctively reaching for her as Simon transfers her over to you

“Oh Rosie g-girl, I know. I know.” You coo to her, sniffling in spite of the brave face you’re clearly trying to put on. “Thank you, Simon.”

“I should’ve come by sooner. Should’ve known.” He says, sitting next to you at the edge of your bed, arm coming up to help you hold Rosie steady should you need it. He’s beating himself up over this, in spite of all logic indicating he had no way of knowing you were feeling poorly, he still feels like he should have been here, should have been helping you sooner

“Y-you didn’t know. I didn’t s-say anything. S’my fault.” You mumble, rocking Rosie against your chest, leaning your cheek against the crown of her head. “I hate f-feeling like this. Feel like I’m useless to my own b-baby, feel like a bad mum, f-feel like a bad girlfriend f-for not talking to y-you, feel li-”

“Shh, none o’ that now.” He shushes your worries, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple, eyes closing as he lingers against you for a moment, begging the relentless beating of his heart to calm down before you’re able to literally hear it banging against his rib cage, itching to be freed and put directly into the palm of your hands where it belongs

He knows you likely didn’t mean to say it, didn’t realize you’d let the word slip, your fever and exhaustion taking precedent over your usually clever mind, but he certainly heard it

Girlfriend

He feels like a damn school boy, blushing the way he is at the prospect of you calling yourself his girlfriend, a term that feels too juvenile, too mundane for what’s been growing between the two of you

He brushes your worries aside, casts your discomfort out the window, taking your dishes to the kitchen if only to allow you a moment of privacy to feed Rosie, promising to return momentarily, though he doesn’t mind taking the time he needs for his cheeks to return to their normal shade, his body betraying the way your words affect him

He knows you likely won’t remember having said so come morning, though he’s hoping you’ll wake up faring better than you are now, that your slip of the tongue was truly nothing more than an honest revelation in your hazy state, an unintentional peek into the thoughts that have been swirling in your mind as of late, perhaps even an unspoken wish accidentally said aloud

But Simon? Well, he’s got no intention of keeping you waiting

If you’re wishing to be his, he’ll have to let you know soon enough that that’s fine by him, seeing as he’s been yours from the very start

Thank y’all so much for the patience with part five being uploaded, in true tumble fashion my first draft of this chapter got deleted right as I was preparing to upload it, and so this was my second time writing this out, tried my best to capture as much of the original draft as I could remember, so I’m really hoping it doesn’t come across as crazy as my brain feels right now

Appreciate all the suggestions people had for where to save drafts from now on, as well as the love you guys always seem to have an abundance of when it comes to my writing. Really does mean a lot

Anyways, really excited for the next few chapters as things are going to start getting messy, someone’s lies might start catching up to him, who knows

- M 🫶🏻

Tag list: @dawnnightshade666 @topaz125 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @th3on3and0nly1r1s @sirbonesly @biscgutz @cmbghost @glossy01 @slowlyshycomputer @barcelonaaababe @astrxsee @sweetpeakarolinaaa @aqua-nina @wizzdot @beautifuleaglealpaca @peachy-satan00 @drewsuncrustables @pato-spoiler-27 @lem-hhn @dravenskye @juullllssss @mxsatorisimp @merkitty49 @monssan99-blog @notkyleelol @tessakate @sahvlren @danika1994 @viennakarma @pastel-devil-06 @asoulsreverie @puppydollgstar @strawberrygato @heletsmelovehim @404creep @just-lilita @desiretolive @marigold-morelli @robinfeldt98 @sleep101 @scaleniusrm @wh0reforstars @beebeechaos @lulutheoverthinker @casterblue @amans-puer @mestrecadumaverick @loud-mouph @t3a-bag @enfppuff @kneelforloki

[woniefication]

I WAS HANGING WITH YOU AND THEN I REALIZED𓈒𓈒𓈒 P.SH

𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨﹔𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘜-𝘗𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘺!

𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘹𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳,𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 @withanushka32,𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘳𝑠・・・Fluff,𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 angst› 𝑽ulnerability﹔ Mlist.﹔ Reblogs and Likes appreciated

Sunghoon always picked up your calls on the first ring. It was a running joke between you two now how he somehow answered before the first buzz even finished.

“Thought you’d be asleep,” you said.

“Can’t sleep.”

“What’s keeping you up?”

He paused. “Nothing important.”

You didn’t push. With Sunghoon, silence was safe. Comfortable. You’d known each other too long to fill it with things that didn’t matter.

“Want to meet?” you asked, almost without thinking.

“Yeah,” he said immediately. “Same spot?”

Fifteen minutes later, you were perched on the same old bench, sharing a tub of chocolate chip ice cream in the middle of an unusually quiet night. The sky was clear, stars faint against the city’s haze.

Sunghoon nudged you with his shoulder. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

You smiled. “You’ve said that before.”

He smiled too, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because it’s true.”

A long silence settled. Then-

“I liked you once,” you said, suddenly.

He blinked. “What?”

You didn’t look at him. “Back in our second year of uni. Remember when I cut my hair short and you said I looked ‘kind of like a walnut’?”

He laughed softly. “Yeah. You didn’t talk to me for three days.”

“I was mad because I liked you.”

The laughter faded.

“You what?”

“I thought you knew,” you said, now finally glancing his way. “You didn’t, did you?”

Sunghoon stared at you, stunned silent.

“I got over it,” you said quickly. “It’s ancient history. I just felt like saying it. It’s funny now, right?”

But it wasn’t funny. Not to him.

Because for the last two years, Sunghoon had convinced himself he was the one hiding something quietly loving someone who never looked back. He had no idea he was late to the story.

“You liked me,” he repeated, like he was trying to understand. “And you just… got over it?”

You shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do?”

And suddenly, it all made sense to him. why you pulled back a little that year, why you never quite looked him in the eye when he mentioned other people. He thought you were just tired. He never realized you were protecting yourself.

“Im an idiot,” he said, shaking his head.

You chuckled. “Not new information.”

But then he turned toward you, expression unreadable. “Do you still feel it?”

You opened your mouth—then closed it. “Why are you asking me that now?”

He hesitated. Then, softly: “Because I don’t think I ever stopped.”

And just like that, the past wasn’t past anymore. It had just been waiting. Quietly, patiently: like Sunghoon always had.

Perm.Taglist: @orimuraa @douqhnxtss @chrrific @liwinly @fleuryns @leaderwon

[cyberstrm]

-> catch me if i fall

levi ackerman x gn!reader

cws: injury details, injured reader

a/n rewatching aot,,,, soft levi brainrot

"what the hell are you doing."

levi's harsh voice cut through the silent kitchen. you could tell he wasn't asking, per se, more like demanding to know why you were up.

two weeks ago, the scouts were on a recon mission outside the walls. it was supposed to be standard, but things went rogue quickly. your ODM gear snapped and you fell tens of meters through the trees. you hit the ground, hard, and shattered your knee. you don't remember a lot of it, just a lot of your own screaming and your captain whisking you onto his horse.

a day or so later, you woke up, knee in layers of bandages. you'd been ordered to stay in bed by your captain (and partner, awkwardly enough) levi ackerman. you'd never seen him so rattled, hands shaking, voice trembling.

"you fell, you fell so far and i couldn't catch you in time."

honestly, staying in bed was getting very boring, so you chanced a trip to the kitchen in the middle of the night when you assumed levi was asleep.

evidently, he wasn't.

"i...um, well, i wanted-"

"you're supposed to be in bed, your leg isn't healed yet."

you scowled. "yeah, i know, but-"

"look at you, you can barely hold yourself up." his tone was harsh, even though it was clear he was trying to be caring. he approached you slowly, setting a hand at your lower back. you flinched away, annoyed.

"i know. i'm bored, and being cooped up in my room is driving me mad." you turned to face him, but moved too quickly. your knee twinged, and you legs buckled.

levi caught you swiftly, holding you tight. his gaze softened.

"listen, i know it's hard. but you're not going to heal if you move around too much."

you sniffled, feeling tears prick in your eyes.

"shhh, angel, i know. it's okay. come on, let's get you back into bed."

he helped you back to bed, holding your waist tightly as you limped beside him.

he set you down on the cool white sheets, and tucked you in neatly. he stroked the hair from your eyes gently.

"stay for a bit?" you asked, batting your eyelids.

"mhm."

he sat by your side, still stroking your hair softly.

"i'm sorry." he said out of the blue.

"for what?" you asked, puzzled.

"for not being able to catch you, when you fell."

you chuckled. "don't be silly, it wasn't your fault." you sat up, looking into his slate grey eyes. he didn't look convinced. you took his face in your hands. "it wasn't your fault."

"i'll catch you next time. i swear it."

"i mean, you caught me earlier, in the kitchen," you smiled weakly, trying to make him feel better.

you could've sworn you saw a smile flicker across his face. he leant forward and kissed you.

"get some sleep now, doll."

[rootedinrevisions]

Terrified to Lose You Two

Summary: Jake is gone. And you don't know when or if he's coming back. Left to navigate the aftermath of that night on your own, you try to convince yourself it was nothing. But when weeks turn into months, and an unexpected scare leaves you spiraling, it becomes impossible to ignore just how much his absence weighs on you.

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, Pregnancy Scare. Also just a lot of angst and worrying. Maybe mutual idiots with feelings?

Word Count: 3,551

Author’s Note: This took WAY longer than I planned it to. But honestly I hadn't originally planned on this to have a Part 2 but since there was interest decided to see what I could come up with. I know the ending is kind of open ended. I'm not sure i I want to have a Part 3 or not. So I tried to leave it so that this could be the end or there could be more. I hope you all enjoy it and that it ends up being worth the wait. xx

You don’t know how long it’s been exactly. Days blur together when there’s no news. No updates. No messages. 

Just an empty space where Jake should be.

You wake up in the middle of the night, stomach twisted in knots, reaching for your phone before you remember he’s not going to text you.  

Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

And that thought is a black hole, threatening to swallow you whole.

So you keep yourself busy. Work. Exercise. Anything to outrun the restless energy clawing at your ribs.

But your body feels…off. It’s subtle at first. A gnawing exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix. A vague nausea that lingers in the back of your throat, never quite enough to make you sick, just enough to make food unappealing.

You brush it off as stress. The lack of sleep. The sheer weight of waiting for Jake to come back. Or even just to hear news that he and the others are okay.

Then you check the date. 

Your heart stops.

No. You count again.

No. Your stomach lurches as you double check your calendar, fingers tightening around your phone as if that might somehow change the numbers.

Late. You’re late.

And suddenly, the exhaustion, the nausea, the hollow ache in your chest…it all feels suffocating.

No. No, it’s stress. It has to be stress.

You can’t be. That doesn’t make sense. You’re on the pill. You never miss a dose. You’ve taken it every day at the same time like clockwork.

This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

You take a slow breath, pressing your fingertips against your temples. Stress messes with your cycle. That’s all this is. The waiting, the worrying, the exhaustion, it's all too much, and your body is just reacting to it.

You try to shake it off. You try to be rational.

But then the symptoms start feeling more real.

A wave of nausea hits you out of nowhere while you’re brushing your teeth. You gag, barely managing to stop yourself from getting sick. Later, in the shower, the steam makes your head swim. The next thing you know, you're gripping the tile wall, knees nearly buckling, blinking against the sudden dizziness.

Your heart pounds. You breathe through it, shaking your head. It's fine. You just stood up too fast. You didn’t eat enough today. Except you did eat. You had half a sandwich, a protein bar, and a coffee. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Wasn’t it?

The doubt creeps back in. By the time dinner rolls around, even the thought of food makes your stomach turn. You stare at your favorite takeout sitting on the counter, appetite gone, throat tight.

Panic wraps around your ribs.

No. No, this isn’t happening.

You can’t tell Jake because he’s not here.

You can’t tell anyone else because they’re all gone too.

You're alone.

So what do you do?

You do the worst possible thing. You start Googling.

And suddenly, every symptom lines up perfectly. Fatigue. Nausea. Dizziness. Loss of appetite.

Sitting on the bathroom floor phone gripped tight in your hands, you stare at the search results until the words blur together.

The answer is simple. You need to take a pregnancy test.

But you don’t move. You don’t get up. You just sit there, legs curled up to your chest, heart hammering in your ears.

What if it’s positive? What if it’s not? What if—

You squeeze your eyes shut.

You tell yourself it’s fine. You tell yourself you’re overreacting. You tell yourself to wait it out.

But no matter how many times you try to push it away, the what if won’t leave you alone.

And deep down, you already know you won’t be able to breathe until you know for sure.

So you make the appointment. And then you drive yourself there. Alone.

The waiting room is small, sterile, and too quiet. You sit stiffly in one of the plastic chairs, phone gripped tight in your hands. You refresh your notifications. Again. Again. Hoping for an update.

Nothing.

You swallow hard, tapping your foot against the floor. The walls feel too close, the air too heavy, and for a second, you consider just walking out.

Maybe it really is just stress.

But before you can make up your mind, a nurse calls your name.

You force yourself to stand, legs unsteady as you follow her back. The blood pressure cuff tightens around your arm, the pulse oximeter clips onto your finger, and you try not to wince when she frowns at the numbers.

“Heart rate’s a little high,” she notes.

You swallow. “Yeah. That’s probably just—” You hesitate, glancing away. “I’ve been anxious.”

She nods, scribbles something on the chart. “What brings you in today?”

You exhale slowly. “I haven’t been feeling great. Lightheaded. Nauseous. My appetite is weird. And, um… I’ve been having some stomach pain.”

The nurse hums, nodding along, but then her next question knocks the air from your lungs.

“Could you be pregnant?”

You freeze.

Your first instinct is to say no. You’re on birth control. You’re careful. This shouldn’t even be a question.

But you’re late. And you do feel off. And there’s that sliver of doubt you haven’t been able to shake.

So instead, you hesitate.

“Maybe.” Your voice is small, unsteady.

She nods again, like she hears that answer all the time, and scribbles another note before setting the clipboard aside.

“We’ll do a test,” she says gently. “Just to be sure.”

And then you’re left alone in the exam room, staring at the speckled tile floor, hands twisted in your lap, heart hammering against your ribs.

You tell yourself it’s fine. You tell yourself you’ll handle it, whatever it turns out to be. But no matter how many times you try to convince yourself, your hands are still shaking as you wait for the results.

Alone.

The knock on the door is soft, but it makes you jump.

The nurse steps back inside, glancing at the chart in her hands. “Your test was negative.”

You exhale. Your shoulders dropping, lungs finally expanding. But it’s not a relief. Not really.

Because nothing has changed. Jake is still gone. You’re still waiting. You’re still alone in this.

Your fingers curl against the paper lining of the exam table, the crinkle loud in the silent room. You should feel better. This should ease something. But all it does is leave a hollow ache in your chest.

Because the fear is still there. The uncertainty. The realization that for one brief, terrifying moment, you’d considered what this could have meant.

You press your lips together, nodding vaguely as the nurse talks. She is going on about something. You think she might be recommending rest and hydration. And there’s something about stress management.

You barely hear her.

Because all you can think about is Jake.

How much you miss him. How much you need him to come home. And how utterly terrified you are that he won’t.

By the time you’re walking out of Urgent Care, stepping into the cool night air, the weight of it all crashes down on you.

You wrap your arms around yourself, blinking hard against the sting behind your eyes.

You don’t want to be alone in this anymore.

But for now?

You have no choice.

* * * * *

It happens when you’re least expecting it.

You’re at The Hard Deck, nursing a drink that you don’t really want, when Nat slides onto the stool next to you. She greets you casually, like she always does, but something in her expression shifts when she gets a good look at you.

"You look like hell," she says.

You huff a laugh. "Feel like it too."

She leans in slightly, voice lower. "Jake’s back."

The words hit like a sucker punch to the ribs. You blink. Swallow. 

“What?”

“Got back a few days ago.” 

She says it so easily, like it’s nothing. Like it’s not the most important thing you’ve heard in weeks.

Your fingers tighten around your glass. A few days. Jake’s been here. Alive. Breathing. Walking around San Diego like everything is normal. And he didn’t tell you.

The realization stings. You force yourself to breathe through it, to keep your face neutral as you take a sip of your drink. “Good for him.”

Nat studies you, like she can hear all the things you don’t say.

If it meant anything to him. If that night, the things unsaid, the way you held onto him meant something, wouldn’t he have reached out?

Wouldn’t he have wanted to see you?

You tell yourself you don’t care. That it doesn’t matter.

But deep down, it does.

Because while he’s been fine walking around, acting like it was just another mission, just another day, you’ve been going through hell.

And now? You don’t know what to do with that.

So you don’t tell him right away. Not about Urgent Care. Not about the nights you spent staring at the ceiling, sick with worry.

But the moment you see him later that night? All of it comes rushing back.

The moment you spot him across the bar, your heart slams against your ribs.

Jake looks exactly the same. Same cocky smile. Same easy confidence. Same damn twinkle in his eye as he laughs at something Coyote says, a beer dangling from his fingers like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Like he didn’t just vanish for three months. Like you didn’t spend sleepless nights wondering if he’d ever make it home. Like that night…the way you curled into him, the way you needed him meant absolutely nothing.

You wait. Wait for him to look over. To acknowledge you. To do something. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even glance your way.

Your stomach twists, but you shove the feeling down. Maybe this is your answer. Maybe you were the only one who spent the last three months thinking about that night.

Maybe it was nothing to him.

If he’s going to act like this never meant anything, like you’re just another face in the crowd then fine.

You can act like that, too.

You tell yourself you won’t look again, but your gaze betrays you. Every few minutes, your eyes flick to where he stands. And every damn time, you catch him already looking.

A half second too long. Just enough to make your pulse stutter.

But neither of you move. Neither of you say a word.

Hours pass like this stolen glances, fleeting eye contact, both of you waiting for the other to be the first to break.

"You know he asked about you, right?" Natasha says, nudging your arm as she slides into the seat beside you.

You blink. “What?”

“While we were deployed,” Bradley adds from across the table. “Not all the time, but enough.” He shrugs. “It meant something to him. That night you went home with him.”

Your chest tightens, but you shake your head. “If it meant something, he would’ve reached out.”

Bradley gives you a look. “He just got back.”

“It’s been three days,” you counter.

“Maybe he thought you would reach out,” Natasha offers.

You scoff, leaning back in your chair. “Well, then I guess we’re at a stalemate.”

They exchange a glance, and then Bradley huffs, shaking his head. “Fine. Be stubborn. But you’ll never know unless you talk to him.”

Natasha smirks, tipping her glass toward Jake’s direction. “And for the record? He hasn’t stopped looking at you all night.”

Your breath catches, but you force yourself to keep your expression neutral. You won’t be the first to move. You won’t. The ball is in his court. It’s his move.

But somewhere between your resolve and your next drink, you realize that if you don’t talk to him tonight you’ll regret it.

So you stand and start making your way over to him before you can overthink it or talk yourself out of it.

Jake spots you coming the second you stan. By the time you come to a stop in front of him he’s already turned towards you, his beer poised halfway to his lips.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, he exhales. “Wanna step outside?”

You hesitate, but only for a second. “Yeah.”

The night air is cooler than you expect, a welcome contrast to the warmth inside. The sounds of the bar fade slightly as you both step onto the patio, stopping near the railing.

Jake leans against it, looking over at you. “How’ve you been?”

You don’t answer. You just wrap your arms around yourself, and that—more than words—tells him everything he needs to know.

His jaw tightens. He looks away for a beat, then nods, exhaling softly. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “That’s what I thought.”

Silence stretches between you.

Jake shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, quietly he says,“I would’ve called. Sooner, I mean. But I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “I spent the last three months thinking about that night. Wondering if you would come back home.”

“Were you really that worried about me?”

You let out a small humorless laugh. Then before you can second guess it and change your mind you just say it. “I was late.”

Jake turns fully toward you now, his brows drawing together. “Late? Like…”

Your throat feels tight, but you push through. “Yeah. And you…you weren’t here…none of you were.”

Your eyes are locked on the wooden planks of the patio below you. But you still hear the audible inhale of air that Jake takes. 

He clears his throat before he says anything. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “So are you…”

You shake your head. “No.”

Jake exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Shit.”

Neither of you speak for a few minutes. Then he shifts closer to you. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that the warmth of him brushes against you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You glance away from him, your eyes look out past the sand at the water and the horizon as the last remnants of the sun dipped below the edge of the horizon.

You take a deep breath and then look over at Jake. Your eyes meet his, and for the first time tonight, you let him in. You let him see the fear, the uncertainty, the weight and pressure that you’ve been carrying around for the last three months.

“I guess I didn’t know what you’d say,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper.

Jake goes silent again. And you feel the way the air shifts between you, the way his eyes stay locked on yours but his mouth doesn’t move. Your stomach twists. Your hands start to shake. And suddenly it’s too much.

The weight of the last three months. The waiting. The worrying. The wondering if you’d ever see him again.

You feel your chest tighten. You need to get out of here. Before he can see the way your breathing picks up, before he can see you break, you take a step back. Then another.

Jake doesn’t move.

You turn to go but before you can take another step, his hand closes gently around your wrist.

“Wait.”

His voice is quiet but firm. Steady.

You freeze.

“Just…wait.”

His grip is light, barely holding onto you, like he’s afraid if he pulls too hard, you’ll slip right through his fingers.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to breathe through the lump in your throat. “Jake, I can’t—”

“Please.”

That single word makes you stop. There’s something there in his voice…something raw.

Slowly, hesitantly, you turn back around.

Jake watches you, jaw tight, something heavy in his gaze. His fingers loosen, but don’t let go.

“I didn’t know,” he says finally, voice rough. “I swear to God, I didn’t know.”

You swallow hard. “I know.”

He nods, but his brows furrow, like that’s not enough. Like he needs you to really believe it.

His thumb brushes over your wrist absently, a slow, grounding motion. “I wouldn’t have left you alone with…that.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.Because part of you believes him. And part of you doesn’t know what to do with that.

Jake takes a breath. “Come sit with me?”

Your instinct is to say no. To run. To protect yourself before he can hurt you again. But when you meet his eyes, all you see is sincerity.And maybe you’re too tired to fight him anymore.

So you nod.

Jake leads you to one of the patio benches, waiting until you sit before he lowers himself beside you.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The sounds of the bar filter through the open doors, but out here it feels quieter.

“I should’ve called you when I got back,” he admits, voice low.

You blink at him. “You think?”

Jake exhales through his nose, shaking his head at himself. “I thought about you. More than I probably should’ve.” He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Nat and Rooster were ready to throttle me with how much I talked about you.”

Your heart stutters. “Then why didn’t you—”

“Because I was scared,” he cuts in, meeting your gaze. “Scared I’d come back and you’d tell me that night didn’t mean anything. That I didn’t mean anything.”

Your lips part, stunned into silence.

Jake laughs softly, shaking his head. “Turns out, I’m an idiot.”

You watch him, the raw honesty in his expression, the vulnerability he rarely lets show.

You take a steadying breath, forcing yourself to ask the question that’s been haunting you since the morning after you last saw him.

“That night…” Your voice comes out softer than you intend, barely audible over the distant hum of the bar. “Did it mean anything? To you?”

Jake’s eyes snap to yours, something unreadable flickering across his face. For a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s weighing his answer.

“Yeah.” Jake exhales, running a hand through his hair before settling his gaze back on you. “It meant too much.”

Your breath catches. “Jake—”

“I thought about it,” he continues, voice steady but raw. “More times than I should admit. But I convinced myself it was better to leave it alone. That if I reached out, you’d tell me it was a mistake.” He lets out a dry laugh. “Hell, I figured you probably regretted it the second it happened.”

You shake your head instantly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I didn’t.”

You swallow hard, hands gripping the edge of the bench. “I never regretted it,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

Silence settles between you, thick and weighted.

Jake watches you like he’s searching for something—like he’s waiting for permission to believe you. Then, slowly, he leans in, elbows on his knees, voice quieter now.

"So where does that leave us?"

You don’t know.

All you know is that after months of silence, of doubt, of wondering—Jake is here. Right in front of you.

And maybe that’s enough.

[sacr1ficialang3l]

Somewhere in the thoroughfare˚୨୧⋆｡ 

OLDER!DEAN WINCHESTER X YOUNGER!READER

SUMMARY: Dean and reader embark on a journey to see the west. They drive for hours upon hours, but reader knows the perfect way to distract Dean for a while. 2.9k

WARNINGS: smut (MDNI). oral m receiving. getting a blow job while driving. do not try this at home kids. age gap.

NOTES: Daddy is back! It took me a long time because I haven't been very inspired lately, sorry I disappeared for a bit. I am still not an expert in writing smut, I will learn one day I promise. Anyway, another one of my little self-indulgent fantasies for you all. As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3

Summer this year was hot and sticky, all humid air and warm sunlight.

It had been miraculously quiet in the supernatural world for the past few weeks, and Dean decided it was the perfect time to take his pretty girl for vacation. He had noticed that you were a little down lately, a little less smiley and your eyes a little less sparkly. You were good at hiding it, but Dean knew that the hunting life was hard on you sometimes. He had gotten used to it after so many years, barely feeling the ache in his bones and the weight on his shoulders anymore, but when he held you in his arms while you cried your pretty eyes out one night, he decided you two needed a break.

He got his credit card ready, picturing five-star hotels and bustling city nights. He was even willing to board a plane just for you. Anything for his sweet girl. So one night, when he was letting you talk about your favorite pop artists—

"So, this Taylor Swift album–"

"Oh, please. Don’t torture me like this, princess. I swear music died in the '90s."

"Shut up and listen, old man. Let me introduce you to peak lyricism."

He interrupts you and explains his plan, asking you to choose any destination.

Imagine his surprise when instead of asking for anything he thought, you chose a road trip.

“Really, sweetheart? All we do is be on the road.”

“I know, but never without the burden of hunting. I wanna drive around with you, no guns or monsters, just us and your other baby.”

“Aren’t you tired of it? Don’t get me wrong, I am thrilled not to get into a plane, but this is for you. We can go anywhere you want, baby.”

“I could never get tired of it. In your car, with all of your dumb luck, is the only place I’ll ever wanna be.”

Dean stares at you for a long moment, eyes a little clouded with something intense, something that makes your insides burn.

“How can you be so perfect?” that makes you giggle, biting your lip and looking up at your boyfriend. “So, where are we going, love?”

“I don’t really care as long as you're with me.”

“Come on. There must be somewhere you wanna go, anywhere.”

“What about Oregon? Oh, but I would also love to drive down Big Sur with you. But what about–”

You were interrupted by Dean’s gruff laughter.

“I think I get the point. We have no time limit, I know how we can visit all the places you want.”

Dean grabbed your waist and pulled you on top of him, letting his hands –so callused from his pistol– brush down your lower back as he pulled you as close as possible.

“Come see the west with me, sweetheart.”

You are somewhere in north Oregon, almost in Washington. You had tried to convince Dean to take you to Forks, but the moment the word Twilight came out of your mouth he refused. (He ends up driving you there a week later, begrudgingly letting you take the aux and play Paramore the whole time you are in there.)

It is one week into your vacation, and the summer heat has only gotten worse. You and Dean are driving down a lonely road towards a little cabin you rented—it was in the middle of the woods and looked extremely homey. You were thrilled when you found it, even though explaining to Dean how Airbnb worked was an ordeal, considering he had only ever stayed in shitty motels without ever making a reservation or entering credit cards in some website.— You are planning to stay there for at least a week before resuming your journey to California.

So right now, you two are surrounded only by the trees, the setting sun, and the extremely hot air. The wind through the window is thick and muggy, clinging to your skin as you rest across the front seat of the Impala. Your socked feet dig into Dean’s thigh, and your head dangles out the window, hair catching the breeze, whipping gently around your face. Your eyes are closed while you tap your hand against your bare leg along with the beat of one of Dean’s rock songs, enjoying the way one of his hands is wrapped around your ankle.

You still find it astonishing that even in this weather, Dean is wearing his usual jeans and black shirt. At least you had convinced him to drop the flannel. You are the complete opposite, dressed in short shorts that barely hit your upper thigh and a white tank top with no bra on. You told him it was because wearing one made you sweat more when he asked, but the truth is that you liked the way Dean stared at the outline of your nipple piercings through the thin material of your almost translucent top, eyes hungry and feral.

You tilt your head up to look at your boyfriend when he starts singing along, his voice barely audible over the wind on your ears. There he is, knowing every lyric of a song released many years before you were born, his crow's feet even more pronounced as a relaxed smile settled on his face, the rough skin of his fingers brushing up and down your calf.

He catches you looking at him, and he gives you one of his signature smug grins.

“See something you like, sweetheart?”

“Oh, definitely.” You say flirtily, pulling your head back inside of the car and half-closing your window to eliminate some of the whistling.

Dean chuckles, and once again, you’re struck by how incredibly handsome he is. His elbow rests casually on the edge of his open window as he grips the steering wheel with ease. The setting sun casts a warm glow over him, making his green eyes practically glow. The veins on his forearms stand out, and the black shirt clings tightly to his chest and biceps.

At the end of the day, you are just a girl, so you lean forward and sink your teeth into the strong muscle of his arm. God, it was so big, almost as big as your head. Dean hisses a bit at the pain but doesn’t pull away, too used to your shenanigans.

“Is this what vampire movies did to your generation?” He grumbles when you let go of his flesh, but his expression softens when he hears you giggle while you admire your work.

There’s a deep set of teeth marks on his bicep—a perfect imprint of your canines. He pretended to be annoyed when you bit him, but he actually relished in bearing your mark. Because he is as yours as you are his.

“Nope, you’re just biteable.”

That makes him snort and shake his head fondly. You look at him again, now closer, and you have to bite your lip at how hot your boyfriend is. This older, experienced, kind, sweet man… all for you. You are so lucky.

A great idea strikes you. You check the GPS on your phone, (Dean refused to use it, saying that he knew how to find his way everywhere with just a map) According to it, you’ve got at least another hour on this empty road. Perfect.

You shuffle around in the bench seat of the Impala until the point of your feet are pressed against the car door, knees bent comfortably as you let your head fall down into Dean’s lap. He is a little startled at first, sending you a confused look. But you simply beam at him sweetly, staring into his eyes from between his torso and the steering wheel. He laughs, brushing some hair out of your face with his free hand.

You wait for a few minutes before putting your plan into action. The moment Dean’s eyes are extra focused on the road, his fingers drumming along to some song you think is by Led Zeppelin (you are learning, for him), you tilt your head to the side and press your cheek against his crotch.

Dean’s movements halt for a second, and he sends you a warning look.

“What do you think you're doing, sweetheart?”

You say nothing, giggling softly and nuzzling against his clothed dick again. The fabric of the denim was rough, and it burned your skin just right. You start to feel how Dean slowly starts to harden under you, and you start to leave soft kisses all over his upper thighs and over the growing bulge.

“Baby, I am serious.” He calls out your name when you don’t stop. “I am driving, for god's sake.”

You catch the edge of the waistline of his jeans in between your teeth, pulling at it softly before you look up at Dean, all doe eyes and fluttering lashes.

“You’ve been driving for hours. Let me give you a little thank-you, baby.”

Dean groans, both his hands now in the steering wheel, like he was scared to lose control. He licks his lips, thinking for a moment with an almost pained expression.

“You’re so… I’m gonna lose my damn mind.” He murmurs, more to himself than to you. “I won’t stop you, but just know that if we crash against some fucking tree it will be your fault.”

You giggle and proceed to unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. You lick a long strip across his now completely hard cock over his boxers. It makes Dean’s breath hitch, and his hips twitch subtly under you. You keep mouthing at the bulge over the thin fabric of the underwear until it is completely soaked with spit.

“Come on, darling.” Dean grunts. “Don’t be a tease.”

You use your hands to pull his erection out of his underwear. It is a little cramped and less than ideal in the small space you have, but you manage to pull his pants down enough so that his cock stands proudly in front of you, long and hard and wet with your spit.

You shift in the seat of the impala once again until you are laying on your stomach, feet kicking in the air playfully as if you were doing the most innocent of things instead of about to blow your boyfriend while he drove.

You brush your tongue against the throbbing tip of Dean’s dick, collecting the precum already there into your mouth. You hear Dean groan distantly, but your head was getting a little hazy already. You loved sucking Dean’s cock. He fit so right in your mouth, the weight and taste of him in your tongue so perfect that you felt dizzy with it. You could spend hours with him nuzzled against your throat, suckling and swallowing around him.

You give kitten licks to the whole length, getting him sloppy and ready. The moment the tip slides in between your lips, Dean lets out the first low moan. It was heavy and husky, and you absolutely loved it. You take him deeper into your mouth, starting to bop your head up and down.

“Fuck, yes. So good, so– ah, so fucking good for me, baby.”

You can feel his eyes on you, and you lean away slightly, his cock sliding out of your mouth with a wet pop.

“Eyes on the road, Dean.” There is a string of saliva connecting your lips and Dean’s dick, and the image makes him curse, his jaw clenching as his eyes flick back up.

You take him inside your mouth again, deeper this time. You breathe in through your nose before you sink in further, until he hits the back of your throat. It makes Dean grunt loudly, but it quickly turns into an extended moan as the warm walls of your throat contract around him.

“Mmnh— you feel so good, baby. You were made for this. Such a tight, warm little mouth just for me. Such, ah, such a good girl, taking my cock so deep. Fuck.”

Dean’s knuckles are white where he is holding the wheel for dear life. You hum at the praises, and Dean lets out a choked whine at the vibrations that throbbed through his length, cock twitching and more precum dribbling out of his tip.

You feel your mind spin a little at Dean’s words and the sweet feeling of him so deeply settled into your mouth. You brush your tongue against the underside of his cock, and it is messy. You’re almost desperate with it, drool dribbling past your lips and down Dean’s balls. He hiss at the feeling and throws his head back for just one second before his eyes return to the road.

“You love cock so much, don’t you?” He growls, strangled. “So fucking sloppy and messy. My pretty girl all needy for me.”

You whimper around him at his words, and you start to suck with renewed vigour. Slurping around Dean’s length and letting out pleased noises every time he hit the back of your throat. He keeps murmuring filthy words at you, fighting the way his hips desperately wanted to thrust into your mouth.

Seriously, you are lucky he has so much self control and doesn’t end up flipping the car.

“Yeah, just like that, sweetheart. I’m– a-ah, I'm close. Make me come in your mouth, baby.”

You pull back a bit, wanting Dean to come on your tongue— you want to taste it, savor the way it coats your tongue with a flavor that you can only describe as Dean. You use your fist to jerk whatever is left out of your mouth, and when your tongue presses into his slit, his cock pulses and he comes.

Dean’s groan is guttural and desperate, fighting to keep his eyes open and his hands firmly on the wheel. Thick ropes of cum fall onto your tongue, and you let out a contented little hum. You lap it all up, eyes rolling back in satisfaction. You swallow around his cock, prolonging his orgasm and making him twitch one last time. Even after he stops coming, you keep suckling around the head of his cock. Dean hisses in overstimulation.

“That’s enough, princess.” He pants, pulling you away by the hair. The combination of the pain and the lack of dick makes you whine. “Stop, or I am seriously crashing the car.”

You lick your lips as you try to catch your breath. You somehow look even worse than Dean did, eyes teary and lips puffy. There was spit dripping down your chin and your breathing was ragged. Your cheek is red and itchy where it rubbed against his jeans, but you love the feeling.

You blink at Dean twice, the fog in your mind slowly dissipating and a proud little grin taking over your face instead.

“I love the way you taste.” You murmur dreamily, and it makes Dean glare at you as he groans.

“You need to stop saying things like that before I pull over and fucking ravish you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You wink at him, moving until you are sitting correctly on the car seat.

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes, but there is a pleased smile on his face. He looks somehow even sexier now, the post-orgasm glow turning his eyes shinier and adding an edge to his grin.

Fuck, you still couldn’t believe all that was yours.

You sigh, opening the glove box and pulling out some tissues. Dean has already put himself back into his pants, so you wipe the last traces of spit off your face. Your throat feels a little raw, so you turn and bend over the backrest of the front seat to reach the cooler Dean keeps in the back.

“Fuck, you’re a hazard while driving.”

You grab a water bottle when you feel him slap your ass. The sharp sting spreads through you, heat prickling every nerve. You sit back down with a huff, turning to him with an incredulous expression.

“What?”

Dean shrugs, trying —and failing— to look innocent, his smirk betraying him.

“Come on. You can’t bend over like that and not expect it. I’m only human after all, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, but an endeared smile takes over your face.

“Why do I keep you around again?”

A day later, you are sitting outside of the rented cabin with Dean next to you, surrounded by nothing but nature. You made him a simple flower crow with some daisies and baby’s breath you’d found in a clearing nearby. It took plenty of begging, pouting, and soft kisses to convince him to wear it, but once it was on, he hadn’t taken it off.

The days pass in a blur of quiet moments—early mornings spent sipping coffee on the cabin’s porch, evenings filled with whiskey, laughter and many more of those old-man stories you loved so much. And of course, a lot more sex.

Weeks later, after countless motel rooms and small-town diners, you find yourselves standing on the coast. you are near the beach, where the salty breeze mingled with the sound of crashing waves, and the sun hangs warm and golden overhead. Dean stands behind you, strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you back against his chest, chin resting against the top of your head.

And right there, in that perfect moment, when Dean turns you around softly and presses his lips to yours, you know exactly why you keep him around.

Because there’s no one else out there for you. Dean Winchester—old enough to be your father, a big bad hunter carrying more baggage than most could bear, with a neon sign flashing 'trouble' on his forehead—is the love of your life.

NOTES: I am trying my best with the smut pls be nice. Another ode to sucking dick by me (I am a virgin if it wasn't clear by now).

TAGS: @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @pink-ghost666 @h8aaz @otteropera @xoswiftieprincess <3

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

[mysterymachine67]

got you into the loophole that is daredevil. i love it. talking about the blind man;

coaxing him to stay home for the night, with a lot of difficulties, but still managing to get him to bed as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear, promising to take care of him in a LOT of ways, then finally relieving him, allat 🤲pls

PAIRING -> Matthew Murdock x M!reader

SUMMARY -> Taking care of Matt because he needs it.

NSFW. MINOR’S DNI.

My writing in this is so ass I’m so sorry 😭

“C’mon, baby, you’ve done enough today,” You spoke, softly. You stood behind him, an arm wrapped around his middle. You were whispering into his ear, trying to convinced him to stay home for the night. But was he listening? No. “You deserve a break for a night. Lemme take care of you.” Matt had one of his hands on your wrist—holding a tight grip.

“I can’t stay tonight you know there’s been a lot of stuff going on lately. If I stay here—“ you cut him off because you couldn’t bear to hear him any longer.

“Matthew, not everybody is your responsibility. You deserve a break—a day off. Let me do something for you.”

There was a long beat of silence.

“No, not tonight. I can’t. Got stuff t’do.” he finally answered.

“Stuff that can wait. You’ve done so much lately, don’t you think you deserve some sort of reward?” God, this was gonna take forever. Matt tipped his head back, and you took the opportunity to kiss at his neck. Maybe not?

“I don’t know.” He sighed. Your other hand came up, sliding along his stomach till it met with his hip. Burying your face into his shoulder you groaned. Why couldn’t he just agree? You promised to take care of him—treat him for a few hours. Who would turn that down? Matthew fucking Murdock it seemed. Just as you were about to open your mouth to say another plea, he started to speak. “If I agree…” he paused for some reason. You could practically hear his smile. “Promise to take care of me properly?” Was that even a question? You popped your head up, lips brushing over his ear. Even nipping a bit.

“Course,” you whispered.

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The two of you slowly walked to his bed, with how you kept stopping to kiss him and feel him.

“I’ll make you feel so good. Make you forget everything,” you’d say, voice calm and steady. When you got close enough to the bed, you pushed Matt down then climbed on top of him. His hands immediately reached out for your body. With you leaning down to kiss him, it made it easier for his hands to roam up and under your shirt—all the way to your back. You groaned softly, pulling back to kiss at his jaw instead. Pressing small, quick kisses all the way down to his neck. Matt gasped when he felt a slight sting due to your teeth; you didn’t bite down too hard, just enough to get a reaction out of him. But either way you ran your tongue over the bite, and sucked—soothing the sensitive area. His breath hitched, legs shifting as he started to get more and more desperate. Your mouth got lower and lower, causing you to have to move your body down. You pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss right on his Adam’s apple. Meanwhile, your hands pushed his shirt up till you couldn’t anymore. You then pulled away, and watched as he sat up a bit to take off his shirt.

Matt threw the piece of clothing down to the floor somewhere, a problem for later. When he laid back down you went right back to the same position you were in before, but this time you were down more so that you could kiss at his chest. He huffed, shutting his eyes for a brief moment. Your hands ran down the sides of his body, all the way to his thighs. Which with every kiss you planted and hickey you made, you got closer and closer to where Matt wanted you the most. Your lips brushed over his stomach before pressing a soft kiss, and your hands started to undo his belt. With his cock finally free after a minor struggle, Matt whispered something. Which you couldn’t make out but you’d assume it had to do with you about to pleasure him.

Anyway, he adjusted his position—getting more comfortable because he had a feeling what would be next. And oh, he was right. The moment he felt your lips wrap around his tip he groaned lowly. A hand coming up behind your head, only daring to hold. Matt let out a soft gasp when you continued. Your tongue rubbing at the underside, then moving to lap up the pre. His legs moved, feet planting on the bed. Thighs tensing and attempting to close around your head when you took him a bit deeper. Keyword, attempting. Fortunately you were in between them so they couldn’t.

You moved back just enough to only have his tip in your mouth. You swirled and flicked your tongue, relishing in the sounds that poured from his mouth. A few seconds past, then you took him. All of him. Relaxing your throat and letting him sit in your mouth for a moment before starting to bob your head. Matt let out a drawn out groan, letting his head fall back against the pillow beneath him. He even dared to raise his hips. Which you shot him a look. The more and more you moved your head, sucked, and moved your tongue, the closer he got. Head turning from one side to the other. Not frequent, just every so often. Pulling away with a wet ‘pop’, you traced a vein with your tongue. Even managing to collect some of his pre-cum. The blowjob didn’t last long. It wasn’t really surprising. You had a pent up, somewhat needy boyfriend who just wanted something, even if he wouldn’t admit it. So when you finally got him like this? After all the struggles and difficulties you went through? He was finally, finally starting to let himself go.

You pressed your tongue flat on the head of his cock, then proceeded to move it upward. Hearing as he sucked in a breath and moaned. He couldn’t help it, the way you took him was perfect. A whine falling from his lips as he went to push his hips up, not intentionally, but forcing you to take more of him. Which it caught you off guard, but with a thought to yourself and a slight grumble you let him do what he needed to do. Which was slowly fucking your mouth. Moving his hips up and down while he let out sounds. Even taking it a step further and slowly putting his hands at the sides of your head. As if he was testing the waters. He couldn’t see your reaction, no shit, but he could tell that you didn’t protest or anything of that matter. In just a few seconds he held his hips up, keeping his cock in the warmth of your mouth as he came.

↓

You were buried inside him in a matter of minutes. Not moving or anything, only making out as you jerked him off lazily with one of your hands. Matt groaned into your mouth, taking your bottom lip in between his teeth when you pulled away briefly. Although this was nice, you knew the both of you needed something more.

So, you did you both a favor—switching him over on his back to finally fuck him properly.

↓

Your cock pushed against all the right spots within him. And something even better? He hugged you perfectly. As if he was made for you. His legs tightened around your waist, pulling you closer—deeper into him. He knew what he was doing, and you did too. Not that you were going to stop him or anything.

You made sure to keep your cock buried inside his warm hole when you leaned down atop him. Your lips brushing over his. First taking his bottom lip in between your teeth and pulling before letting go and kissing him. Just how he had done to you. Matt moaned into your mouth, hands coming up to your shoulders then slowly wrapping his arms around your neck. Pulling away for a quick breath he murmured against your mouth. “You’re really keeping your promise, huh?”

You smiled. “Of course.” You say, before leaning back in for another kiss.

Your hands gripped at his sides, one of your pointer fingers tracing one of his scars. With a hum you broke the kiss, Matt groaning from the loss. Within a few seconds you pulled back, straightening your position then picking up your pace; going back to the fast and deep thrusts that he loved.

Thirty minutes later, you were still pounding into him as if he was gonna disappear. During those thirty minutes, Matt came again. Staining areas of his chest white. The position changed, his legs now hooked over your shoulders—giving you a better angle to fuck your cock deeper into him. He wasn’t that tired. Maybe a few more rounds left in him. At the moment he couldn’t bear the thought of feeling the loss of your cock. You were fucking him too good. The feel of you hammering his insides made him squirm, arch his back, and do anything but stay still. That was until you decided enough was enough; moving your hands from his thighs to his hips. Grabbing him strong enough to make him stay still a bit. His mouth was hung open and all that left it was weak groans, moans, and nearly high pitched whines ‘n whimpers. Which just fueled you on even more. Not stopping till you were grabbing ahold of him once again, and cumming deep in him with a groan. Hips stuttering but still trying to maintain the pace you had set. And Matt? Matt was gone. The thought of him being able to go a few more rounds was no longer in his head—completely faded away. The moment he’d felt your cum fill him once again he came with you. His orgasm washing over him, dick jumping and absolutely throbbing. The angry shade of red it wore wasn’t hard to miss.

When your thrusts slowed, and turned into heavy, deep thrusts, the more easier it was to calm yourselves down. Catching your breath while Matt was still breathing heavily and clutching the sheets so tight his knuckles turned white. You leaned down over him, stopping the movement of your hips. Your lips hovered over his for a few short seconds before you gave him a proper, gentle kiss. “Did so good takin’ me—letting me take care of you.” You mumbled, hands starting to run up and down his sides.

This was something you both needed.

[c-monthecob]

You x Hanma Headcanons!

(I'm not good with fluffy stuff, so sorry if this sucks)

🚬You're lying in bed asleep or getting ready to and he'll send you a text saying "Get dressed. We're going out." No warning whatsoever.

🚬You think it'll be a romantic night, but nope! You're watching him try to pick the lock on a claw machine to get you a teddy bear.

🚬After the owner kicks you out, the two of you sit on a curb outside a convenience store, splitting ramen because neither of you had enough money for a second cup.

🚬Cannot drive the speed limit without his skin itching.

🚬He took you out on a late-night ride and was speeding the entire time.

🚬When he got pulled over, he said, "Is this a bad time to tell you that my license is suspended?"

🚬You suggested going bowling, thinking there was no way he could ruin a date at a bowling alley, right?

🚬He tried to show off his strength by throwing a ball down the alley and ended up hitting one of the TVs. (You're not allowed there anymore.)

🚬He has a habit of suggesting going out to eat, but in the middle of eating, he'll be like, "I'll pay you back later." You stop eating and stare at him. "I thought you were paying?"

🚬 The restaurant has both your pictures up labeled as diners and dashers.

🚬 Tried to do a backflip off a table to impress you, but the table toppled over and he cracked his back on the edge.

🚬 He doesn't hug you. He drapes himself over you, knowing full well how heavy he is.

🚬 Randomly puts you in a headlock to "Keep you on your toes."

🚬 If he kisses you, it'll be random. You never know when he'll do it, but when he does, he'll walk away like nothing happened.

🚬 Sticks his finger into your mouth whenever you yawn.

🚬 He'll lean in, making it look like he'll kiss you, but he'll belch in your face instead. (And it stinks)

🚬 Purposefully leaves doors wide open and pretends he can't hear you yelling at him to close the door.

🚬 Not a single picture of you in his camera roll is a good one. He knows damn well he could take better pictures, but he chooses not to.

🚬 Don't bother asking him to delete them either. "But you look so cute with a bedhead!" or "Who cares if you can see your double chin from this angle?"

🚬 Whenever you're trying to make a decision, he'll be in your ear saying, "Are you sure?" to fuck with you.

🚬 Makes those obnoxious biting sounds whenever you take a bite of food.

🚬 If you stuff your plate he'll shout "DAMN" loud asf and pull out his phone to take a picture.

🚬 He'll show up at your place with a boombox blasting music. Not to be romantic, just to be annoying.

🚬 He convinced you to skip school before. The day ended with your parents having to pick you up from the police station.  

🚬 Thrives off the fact that your parents hate him. When he picks you up, he'll shout, "Hi, Mr and Mrs. L/n! What wonderful weather we're having, right?" In the most sarcastic voice ever.

🚬 Bought you two matching lighters. (Even if you don't smoke.)

🚬If you say you want to try smoking, he'll tell you, "Pretty girls don't smoke."

🚬 If he sees you liking or commenting on another guy's post, he'll send you a screenshot saying, "Feeling friendly today, aren't we?"

🚬 Leans over to look at your phone screen and says stuff like "Who are we texting?"

🚬 If you're laughing at something on your phone, he'll be like "I wanna laugh too."

🚬Tell him you're going out with a guy friend, he'll be sarcastic asf about it. "Okay, have fun with your boyfriend!" "Want me to drop you off? I'll let him know that you're single."

🚬If another guy compliments you, he makes a show about it. "Wow. That was great. Maybe you should write her a poem next time!"

🚬Texts you in the middle of hangouts: "Hope you're having fun because I'm not…" "It's okay. I wouldn't wanna be around me either…"

[mv1simp]

I’m so in love with your writing style and I think for a suggestion max and the reader being toxic asf exes but can’t get over eachother yk and try make eachother jealous but just end up in eachothers bed always 😭 sorry i suck at explaining but id die if i seen u write something like that 🥰

PLS I ALWAYS LOVE THIS CONCEPT nothing more juicy than some toxic tension with exes 🤭

Wicked Games ♥️

Max Verstappen x Toxic Ex!Reader

but baby let’s face it, I’m not into dating, all these hearts I’ve been breaking (come through, I'm not living like i did before)

no matter how hard you try, you just can’t stay away from your toxic situationship with playboy millionaire Max Verstappen after he breaks it off to be “just friends”. At least you can expect him to have more discipline than you, given his skillset as a 3 time F1 champion, right? Too bad he can’t seem to stay away from you either…

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, jealousy, toxic playboy! Max, smut, cheating, hate sex, just the usual classicsTM

You’d heard about Max Verstappen well before you first met him. Having recently moved to Monaco to start your new job working for a software company, you had quickly become familiar with the world of F1 - including its’ current top driver who was known for his aggressive style on the track and his lavish, playboy lifestyle off it. You hadn’t paid much heed to it until you were at a friend of a friend’s house party one night, after being peerpressured by the threat your coworker Bianca delivered that you were apparently “doomed to die alone as an old dog lady who sat in front of her 4 wide screen computers all day.” Bit dramatic, but it did the trick and soon you were walking through the doors of a raging party that night.

You had been warned that Monaco was a small place, filled with many of the rich and elite, and you were bound to run into some politician, actress or influencer sooner or later. You just hadn’t expected the first celebrity you met to be Max Verstappen, three time world champion, freshly out of a highly publicised breakup with a Russian supermodel! Bianca snarked next to you, yet he was laughing loudly in the middle of the living room, surrounded by his friends without a care in the world.

You shrugged, honestly quite disinterested in the celebrity thing, and had forgotten completely about the F1 driver until a few hours later when you found yourself alone on the outdoor balcony wanting some fresh air, tipsy from a bottle of white wine. Hearing the balcony door open and close again behind you, you started talking, assumed your friend had followed you out - I am never letting you convince me to drink that wine again Bianca, oh my god -

Only to turn around and come face to face with the infamous Max Verstappen himself. You hadn’t realised you had squeaked his full name out loud until he smiled bemusedly, saying just Max is fine, sweetheart. You blushed profusely, apologising and didn’t notice the way he looked you up and down in your cute, conservative outfit of light jeans and a fitted pastel cardigan. Instead of going back inside like you had expected, he struck up a conversation about how that white wine was truly deadly, which then led to a debate about the potency of red vs white vs rose, and before you knew it you two had been talking for hours about anything and everything, including your pets (you were very strongly pro-dogs while he preferred cats, which was just diabolical since they ignored humans half the time. He laughed and said that was the whole point). When he found out you worked in software - specifically, for one that specialised in developing e-sim racing tracks, his blue eyes lit up in genuine excitement as he animatedly began discussing specifics with you, an attractive pink flush on his cheeks from his drinking. He was insanely good looking, with his tall broad build and soft smile, and you were pleasantly surprised he was so down to earth. When it was time to go he had easily asked for your number, Bianca gawking at the scene as you typed your details into his phone, your caramel skin all flushed from the attention of a handsome man like Max. She dragged you off after, hissing at you to be careful, he’s way too much of a player for you, don’t expect much from him, okay? After a couple days went by and you had indeed, not heard anything from Max, you accepted that was that and promptly forgot about it.

But then, 3 weeks later in the middle of your Thursday afternoon Pilates session, your phone dinged with a text. Monza track is down in the system wtf. You guys gonna sort this out? You had panicked initially thinking the unknown number was your boss before your phone dinged again. This is Max btw. Wanna come over and fix the glitch here? Just this once plz 🙏

“Here” turned out to be Max’s insane penthouse apartment overlooking the Monaco marina, and just this once became a monthly occurrence whenever Max was home between races and on his rig with you beside him, sharing your technical knowledge about the online track to help him set new records. Monthly became weekly when Max realized you had never actually driven the rig yourself and you found yourself in his lap - for teaching purposes, of course Max stated unconvincingly - and weekly became almost daily when you started to become a little too good on the track and his hands moved down your body, into your cute short shorts and he expertly slid his fingers into you until you fell apart for the first time, still sitting right there on his lap. Think you need some more practise, schatje, Max had smirked. You crashed into the barriers barely 100 metres in. And the rest had been history.

10 months later, this - situationship? relationship? friends with benefits? gaming buddies who fucked on the side? - had you confused. Sometimes he acted like your boyfriend, having homecooked meals together and watching movies on the couch, his head on your thighs asking you to rub his hair in the way he liked. Other times he acted indifferent, giving you the cold shoulder at parties or the rare times you would join your friends at a race. And when you would be stressed about work he would appear as the caring friend on behalf of your now shared group, rubbing your shoulder and offering you comfort and advice. But the worst would be when he would disappear for weeks, obviously busy with work but would cut off all communication and you would be forced to stalk his fan pages to get updates and read rumours of all the models he would be seen with overseas - only for him to turn up at your doorstep randomly wanting to be let in. You tried to be mad each time, yelling at him to explain himself, knowing this wasn’t healthy, really you did - but it was hard to resist his oh so talented tongue when he would lay you back and whisper sweet apologies in between your legs, making you come over and over again on his fingers, then with his mouth and finally on his thick cock that you had ended up losing your virginity too. You hadn’t realized how attached you had become to the champion driver until you were on a group trip to Amalfi coast and were caught making out on a moonlit beach by a stray papparazzi, making Max freak out.

He had been the one to very clearly insist on keeping things secret - for both your sakes, he said - given his very public status and you had been happy to agree, being a private person yourself. But as time has passed and Max became the only guy you wanted to be with, you had started to assumed he had been feeling the same - judging by the expensive diamond jewellery he would turn up with to pair with his wicked apologies, when he would always be the one you called to pick you up when you were too drunk to taxi home, and in the quiet, domestic moments when you were curled up together he murmured you understand me in a way no one else does, liefje.

Apparently though, Max has not been on the same page at all, which he made very clear when he publically dismissed the multiple viral pictures of you two - which now circulated the internet as finally some juicy gossip about the unusually single F1 driver had emerged. All your friends had sent the interview clip to you, with Max’s clear dismissal of I don’t know really know her, just an acquaintance from my friend group. My priority is my career, not entertaining the fangirls, he had said without an ounce of guilt on his handsome face.

You’d been desperate to give him a chance to explain himself, thinking it was a PR tactic, but Max had been ignoring your calls for days and you ended up knocking at his door. He’d let you in with a sigh, watching your eyes fill with tears as he said it had never been that serious, c’mon baby, when had I ever said it was exclusive, just a bit of fun for you too wasn’t it? Got a good fucking from me and a bunch of Cartier jewellery. Let’s just stay friends from now on, yeah?

God. What a fucking prick. You made sure he knew it too as you screamed it at him before storming off. You still hadn’t fully accepted it, checking your phone afterwards and expecting him to call and grovel for your forgiveness, until your friend group’s Sunday brunch a couple weeks later, where Max had made a rare appearance - and this time, with a pretty girl you vaguely recognised from a magazine cover right by his side. You had met his eyes across the table briefly, looking for any hint of remorse but finding none, as he quickly looked away, laughing at the girl next to him. You fled straight to Bianca’s after, into her arms and sympathetic gaze as she rubbed you through your sobs. It took you weeks to get out of your depressive slump, your heart completely broken and humiliated publically. You promised yourself, you were never going to shed a tear over Max Verstappen again.

You were a young, hot, and very talented woman living in Monaco - and now that you were no longer hung up on Max, you were free to monopolise on your single status. Althought he has left you with a broken heart, he’d undeniably made you a lot more experienced and confident when it came to navigating guys - without become too emotionally invested, of course. You only needed to get your heart broken once to learn never to do it again. You traded in your cute conservative outfits for more trendy, fitted pieces that show off your body just right as you started going on dates with different guys every weekend.

After a lunch date earlier that day, you were walking into a friend’s house for a group potluck one evening, still dressed in an off shoulder summery minidress and kitten heels, with matching makeup done to complete the look. You’re absentmindedly replying to a text from the guy who had said he’d love to see you again when you catch sight of Max for the first time in weeks, along with a new girl you hadn’t seen next to him. Before, this would have sent you into a spiral, but now you just push down on any unwanted feeling and greet everyone warmly. Conversation is flowing, wine poured and everyone digs into dinner, and when the topic of dating came up your friends were curious to hear about all the dates you’d been spotted on recently. You start telling some of them one of the funnier first date stories where the guy’s ex had been bartending and he had been paranoid the whole night about being poisoned. At some point you notice Max has been glancing in your direction. You look back, raising an eyebrow to say What? and this time he doesn’t break eye contact, staring at you before slowly drifting his gaze up and down your body. You flush and turn around, ignoring him the rest of the night and also ignoring the butterflies that swirled in your stomach from seeing him. Fucking asshole, checking you out while his girlfriend is right next to him on the couch.

Max’s heated stares across the room continue at the next gathering and the one after that and you continued to purposely avoid him. And if anyone noticed that you were dressed in cuter and tighter outfits each time, in the pastel colours that you knew he liked with matching heels, revealing more of your tantalising tan skin for Max’s gaze, they wisely chose not to comment. It all came to a head at a party on Max’s yacht one weekend. You greeted him politely as you stepped on, having come to terms that you two ran in the same circle and had to act like civil adults. He greeted you back easily, arm around a different eye candy model this time. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his usual playboy ways and went to go fix yourself a drink.

After you had all gone swimming and eaten dinner and were now relaxing watching the sunset, your phone dinged with a text to signal the arrival of Anton, who was the latest hire at your workplace and had recently been coming to a few events with your friends. He was also your newest hookups in your recent string of casual relationships - most of which had been average in bed at best, and you had your fingers crossed that Anton was going to deliver. Your group greeted him warmly as he came upto the deck, coming straight to your side and you leaned in to rest on his lap, all relaxed from your cocktails. You didn’t miss Max’s glances at Anton’s hands that lay on your thighs. The night went on and more drinks were drunk and people wandered off, yet Max’s agitated gaze was now firmly fixed on Anton’s fingers moving up your legs, lifting your skimpy sundress and rubbing your thighs. His own latest fling was completely ignored as she sat next to him, clinging onto his biceps. Smirking with satisfaction at having riled Max up for once, you excused yourself to head to the toilet downstairs.

You had barely entered the hallway when you were yanked into a side room and slammed against the door as it closed. Max?! you gasped, looking up to find his stormy blue eyes staring at you heatedly. You push him back with full force, What the fuck do you think you’re doing-

He cuts you off with a scoff, Oh, what I’m doing? You’re the one practically getting fingered by that fuckwit in front of everyone! He steps forward, now even closer into your space, and you can’t deny how turned on seeing him get all hot and bothered has made you. What, jealous Verstappen? Missed me that much? you tease. Too bad, you already fucked it up with me. Otherwise that could have been your hands on me instead.

Max looks positively murderous at your jab before a predatory glint emerges in his eye. Schatje, he says, making you bristle and demand stop calling me that but he ignores you. Schatje, you’re the one who wants my hands on her, hmm? I heard you, you know. Earlier when you were talking to Bianca about how none of the guys you’ve been fucking have been able to do it for you. Making you cum was never a problem for me, remember? don’t you miss it? Shall I fix that problem for you?

Oh, you do remember. For all his arrogance Max was an absolute god in the bedroom and you missed the sex dearly - and it seems Max had been missing it too. He easily lifts you up against the wall, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as trails his hands up your dress and you’re rolling your eyes and denying his words, telling him he was a cocky asshole and you hated him but not stopping him as his fingers slid into you, finding you already dripping. He smirks, all ego, but you quickly wipe it off his face by telling him it’s probably still wet from when Anton went down on me earlier. A complete lie but Max didn’t need to know that, did he?

And no one else needed to know that Max angrily swore at your lie as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, grabbing a hold of your tiny dress and whispering how you were such a dirty girl for wearing these slutty outfits and teasing him.

No one needed to know when he yanked his raging erection out his trunks and began thrusting into you, moaning in your ear about how you were just as tight as the first time he had fucked you, right here on the same yacht, and just like that night he’s going to make you come again now-

And no one needed to know that when you both emerged hastily upto the deck a while later, sitting down next to your respective latest partners but your eyes still fixed on each other, it was his cum that was now covering the inside of your thighs.

Once you had started you both couldn’t stop. Everytime you saw each other things got more and more out of control. A new influencer at Max’s side who was left alone when he fingered you to completion in the dark gardenshed outside a friend’s house party, his other fingers shoved inside your mouth for you to suck on and keep your moans quiet. An ex client of yours left wandering trying to find you, his date at his own charity gala, while you were upstairs riding Max on a plush chaise in the office up, heels still on and silk dress pulled up, making him swear in a way only you could get out of him as you took him in deep. You’d tell him you hated him, that you were only using him to relieve your sexual tension and he meant nothing and he would laugh, whispering in your ear Don’t lie, baby, I know you love this, your sweet pussy just needs my cock inside it, huh?

This went on and on for weeks, a twisted competition where whoever would concede first and drag the other one away was the loser - and you and Max both despised losing. It wasn’t until you were almost caught on camera by paparazzi yet again, this time in the back of his Aston Martin Valkyrie with your head between his legs, deepthroating him messily, using your tongue just the way he liked it- that Max freaked out again and demanded you two break it off at once. You’d rolled your eyes at his melodrama, thinking he was bluffing, but true to his word Max hightailed it out of a room the next few times he saw you, despite your best efforts at picking an outfit you were sure would make him crumble.

Time for you to up the ante, you mused. You weren’t going to stop until you walked away as the winner of this wicked game. You licked your lips as you devilishly thought up your plan.

Maybe this time you’d go flirt with one of his handsome driver friends and really piss him off?

—————————————————————————

A/N: love seeing requests you guys send, pls send as many as you want I need inspo!!! Hope you enjoyed this anon lmk what u think, will write Part 2 soon if u keen 🫶 soz I made it too long ahahah had to split it up

[megumismyhusband]

phantom busters hcs! /ᐠ - ˕ -マᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

kotaro:

shy baby. you have to initiate almost everything early on. but once he’s comfortable? clingy.

always holds your hand. like always. if you’re sitting next to him, he’ll fumble for your fingers and squeeze them.

the kind of guy to write little notes and leave them for you to find. “good luck today!” “you’re doing amazing!” “i love you.” — scribbled on receipts or sticky notes or gum wrappers.

gets flustered when you compliment him but will remember every single thing you say and bring it up months later. “you said i look nice in blue, so… i wore this.”

likes laying on your lap while you play with his hair. melts into your touch. completely at peace.

you guys always listen to asmr or music together at night. it’s your little wind-down thing.

always invites you to quiet little picnic dates at parks no one else really goes to. he’ll bring sandwiches and a book to read with you, and you’ll both just lay there in the sun like time doesn’t exist.

kaoru:

acts all tough but he’s so weak for you it’s embarrassing. one pout from you and he’s sighing and saying “fine, come here” like you didn’t just win.

buys you dumb little gifts but tries to be chill about it. “this looked like something you’d like. whatever. don’t make a big deal.”

you make him laugh like really laugh, the wheezy breathless kind, and he always tries to hide it but fails.

if you fall asleep on him, he’ll stay frozen for hours. won’t move a muscle. you’ll wake up and he’ll be like “you drooled on me” but his voice is soft and he’s secretly so happy.

always gives you anime and manga recs. texts you full-on reviews after he finishes stuff, like “9/10 pacing was slow in the middle but the ending made me cry. you’ll love it.” and he’s right every time.

he love love loves dressing you up.

eugene:

the most thoughtful boyfriend on the planet. you mention something once and two weeks later, he’s like “i got you that notebook you said you liked.”

helps you study without making you feel dumb. will quiz you with flashcards and encourage you the whole time. “you’re doing great, babe. one more and you’re done, i promise.”

remembers your favorite drink, snack, color, that one show you said you were gonna start—everything.

gives you the warmest hugs ever. full-body, hold-you-like-he-means-it type hugs. and he does.

texts you “good luck” before every test or big day and “i’m proud of you” after, no matter how it went. literally your #1 fan.

mogari:

chaotic but so loving. always pulling you into random adventures, like late-night convenience store runs or wandering around in the woods, convinced there’s treasure nearby (he gets lost every time).

super protective in his own way, always looking out for you, even if he’s still joking around about it.

he’s such a cuddle bug! when he’s tired or just feels like being close, he’ll pull you into his arms and refuse to let go, whining if you try to move.

he’s always on a mission to make you laugh.

[medlarmeadows]

Hiya! I was wondering if you could do a cc!charlie/gn!reader where they have a friendly sleepover BUT as the night goes on it get more and more romantic :3c and may there be cuddling and kisses please and ty.

P.s have a nice day/night ^-^

i'm so sorry i took basically a whole month to get this done! i hope my writing has done your request justice :) hope you're having a nice day/night!

(also i wrote this with charlie's Another Crab's Treasure vod playing in the background. it was a huge distraction, i don't know why i did that)

-

can i kiss you sleepover?

cc!Charlie Slimecicle x gn!reader

Warning(s): light cursing, one piss joke, they kiss.

Word Count: 1.25k

masterlist | request guidelines

Sleepovers at either Charlie’s or your apartment were pretty common. With the two of you living on opposite sides of the city, all it took was a movie night ending too late or a drink too many in someone’s system to get one of you to announce that a sleepover was in order.

(It was to prevent either of you from having to travel home in the middle of the night, and absolutely not because you both wanted an excuse to spend more time together.)

The night started as most nights did, with you popping over to Charlie’s place for dinner. What surprised you, though, was that instead of your usual takeout, he had decided to chef it up in the kitchen.

“Whoa,” you said when you arrived, inviting yourself in and dropping off the snacks you had bought on the kitchen counter. “So, this is why you didn’t want to grab snacks with me today.”

“I had a lot of ingredients I had to use up,” he replies nonchalantly, giving you a one shoulder shrug. “Thought a change in our routine couldn’t hurt.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, leaning against the dining table while he sets the food down. You try to ignore how pinpricks shoot up your arm when he brushes against your arm.

“Is this how our friendship has devolved? You’re throwing your leftovers at me?”

Charlie nearly trips on the way back to the table with two wine glasses in hand. You double over laughing, and thus fail to catch the way the tips of his ears turn red.

“I’m joking, I’m joking.”

You spend dinner catching up with each other’s weeks, with a few jokes thrown in courtesy of Charlie attempting to serve wine as professionally as he can. It contributes to the slightly romantic atmosphere of the dinner, but you choose not to acknowledge it.

After dinner, you force Charlie out of the kitchen so that you could clean up (it was the least you could do to repay his romantic well-prepared dinner). It’s a few minutes later that you join him in the living room for the official start to your movie night.

Usually, you sit side by side on the couch, not too close and not too far from each other. But the couch feels a little small today as you’re forced to share one blanket (“Sorry, the other one’s in the washer.” “What, did you piss on it? Little piss boy?” “Fuck off.”).

Charlie fidgets throughout the first movie, but you don’t mind it. When the second film starts playing, he moves one arm to rest on the couch behind your head. The hand that rests next to your next starts fidgeting with your hair, making the flesh of your neck goosebump when his fingers get close.

You distract yourself from his antics by stuffing your face with crisps. You were close friends who were comfortable being physically close to each other. You hugged all the time. You spent a lot of time together.

You try to convince yourself that it wasn’t that deep.

Several hours later, it was to no one’s surprise that, when you finished watching the fourth Pirates of the Caribbean film, Charlie announced that it was too late for you to Uber back home.

“Dude, I can’t believe it’s already 3 am,” he comments as he gets up to throw the empty crisp packets.

“Is it?” you ask between yawns, stretching out over the cushions he had previously occupied. Your eyes are halfway closing when he comes back to unceremoniously yank the blanket off you.

“What the hell!” you yell at him, throwing a pillow at him in hopes to wipe off the cheeky grin from his face.

The pillow didn’t deter him from coming closer, prompting you to pick up another pillow to smack him with. However, he catches you off-guard by snatching the pillow from you. You reflexively tighten your grip on the pillow, causing you to stumble right into Charlie.

Stunned, you look up at him, his wide-eyed gaze meeting yours.

“Hi,” you mumble awkwardly.

“Hi,” he replies, a mischievous grin lighting his face up.

Charlie lightly shoves you away from himself, bending to grab the first pillow you had thrown at him. With a declaration of war, he chases you around the coffee table, the movie credits still rolling on the TV screen providing some dramatic background music.

You feel your inner child light up inside you as you evade Charlie’s grasp, letting out cheerful yelps despite it being the middle of the night and you might get noise complaints. However, caught up in the gleefulness of your mini tag game, you trip on the edge of the coffee table and send yourself hurtling into the couch.

“Holy shi- ”

Behind you, Charlie’s unable to stop his momentum. In a split second, he’s sent tumbling on top of you, the pillow that he was holding somewhat cushioning his fall so he didn’t full body slam into you.

There you lie on Charlie’s couch, caged by his arms which had mercifully landed next to your face and not on it. His messy hair looked even messier after running several rounds around his living room, and you resist the urge to run your fingers through them.

You’re captured next by his blue eyes, still shining with something familiar, but with an added emotion that you’re sure is mirrored in yours. You’re so close to each other you’re practically breathing in each other’s breath, and you can’t help your eyes from straying to glance down at his lips.

When you glance back up to his eyes, you catch him shifting his gaze as well, causing your breath to hitch. You catch the moment he clocks that you’d done the same thing he did as he moves just an inch closer to you.

“Is this okay?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” your response is just as breathy.

Charlie studies your expression carefully, almost as though drinking in your features he had never seen so up close before. Then:

“Can I kiss you?”

You blink once. Then twice. Then:

“Yes, please.”

Charlie crosses the space between you two within the blink of an eye. His lips capture yours, and you finally understand how people could describe a kiss as sweet. Because now that you’ve tasted Charlie’s lips on yours, you’re not sure even honey could compare.

You’re not sure how long you stay locked in each other’s embrace. One of your hands come up to gently thread through Charlie’s hair, eliciting a sigh from the man. When you come up for breath, the movie credits are no longer rolling.

“Wow,” you say, breathless.

“Definitely wow,” he repeats, breathing just as heavily as you are.

“Why haven’t we done that before?” you ask in between a yawn.

“I don’t know.” He takes a second to smile fondly at your yawn. “Sleepy?”

You nod, further relaxing into his hold. “Between the movies and the running around, I’m pretty tired out.”

Charlie hums his acknowledgement before getting off you to stand. Suddenly, he scoops you up in his arms, causing you yelp and loop your arms around his neck.

“Charlie!”

“It’s snuggle time!” he crows, carrying you to his bedroom.

The night ends with you and Charlie snug under his blankets. The weight of his arm around your waist and the feeling of his heartbeat against your back slowly lulled you into what could’ve been the most comfortable sleep you’ve ever had.

[inklore]

middle of the night.

— kenji sato x f!reader

premise: it doesn’t matter how many times you try to convince yourself that you’re done with him you always end up back in his bed.

contents: exes with benefits, p in v, tiny bit of plot, oral, alcohol consumption, booty calls, slight toxic relationship | wc: 1k+

note: went into this movie already down bad for him and came out of it even worse. i had to write something for him, i'm obsessed.

“Baby, come on.” You can tell from the deep bravado of his voice that he’s been drinking. That he’s had one too many more than he really should have allowed himself. That something clearly went south at some point during the day that had made him grip the glass of liquid poison until he was tipsy enough to let go of the day's frustration and call you. 

His inhibitions always lead him back to lighting up your phone at late hours of the night. 

Your own endless cycle of your lack of impulse control has you staring down at the screen of your phone, determined, grounding your feet at the line you had drawn in your attempts to not answer his calls again. 

Ever again. 

"Kenji, it’s never going to work.” 

“But it feels so good when it does.”

“I can’t keep doing this.” 

And yet you end up scuffing up that line you drew in the sand as you step over it and answer your phone. Each and every time. 

“Just come over. We can just talk.” 

“Kenji,” you sigh. Both of you know that ‘just talking’ has never been a strong suit for either of you. It was hard to just talk when his mouth was between your legs or your face was pressed into his pillow. 

“I promise. I just want to see you, please. I’ve...” he swallows. Maybe he takes a sip of whatever has his mind hazed and slipping into old habits. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

His voice, when it’s like this, gravelly, raw from the liquor he’s consumed, low and almost needy, always makes your insides burn. Always makes you forget how to breathe. 

And then he’s sighing; it’s breathy, and you can hear ruffling, like he’s situating himself against the back of his couch or removing something—clothes, his pants, images of late nights with him leaned back against the cushions of his couch, his legs splayed open for you to sit prettily in front of him, your lips teasing the tip of his cock, making your cheeks heat. 

Making you swallow hard. Close your eyes. Try to ground yourself. Try to list all the reasons why you should not go over to his house right now. 

It’s never a good idea. 

Never. 

But no and Kenji Sato never went into the same sentence in your brain, and maybe that’s a bigger problem than your resolute “fine” through the phone. 

“Just to talk.” 

“Just to talk.” You can hear his smirk through the phone. “I can’t wait to see you, baby.” 

And you know, as you hang up the phone, as you put on your shoes, as you get into your car—before you even answered the phone—that the last thing the two of you are ever going to do is just talk. 

That’s why when you show up at his place, when you knock and he opens the door barely seconds later, that curve of his mouth, his hand reaching out and gripping the bottom of your shirt, “Hi, baby.” Rolling off his tongue like a siren song to your insides, it is no surprise you are pressed against the back of his door seconds later. 

His mouth on yours, his hands everywhere. Pulling at your clothes, pulling you closer to him. His hair falling in your face in that way you’ve missed so fucking much. That you have grown addicted to feeling when he’s on top of you and thrusting between your legs. 

“Knew you missed me too,” Kenji groans when you fall to your knees and take his cock in your mouth. His teeth in his bottom lip as he looks down at you like you own his world. His very being. Like he doesn’t know pleasure unless it’s given to him by you. 

A feeling you know too well in regards to him. 

And you don’t tell him differently. Because yeah, you did miss him. You always miss him. That’s why you can never stop these visits. Never say no to him. Even if the two of you will always be the right person wrong time, every time you think it will be different. That your heart might actually be a little more safe than the last time. 

It doesn’t matter, though. You know that when his palm grabs the back of your neck to pull you up from your knees, his thumbs pressing into the side of your jaw as he brings his mouth down on yours—nothing matters but this. How good it feels. How good Kenji feels, how good he makes you feel, how much the two of you love each other even if he’s bad at it. 

You need him to fill your lungs with air when he pushes inside of you, his thick cock filling your tight cunt, that heavy breath of relief he lets out as if nothing has felt as right as this. As you. Under him. Digging your nails into his lower back as he thrusts into you. As his mouth bites and sucks at your neck. 

As his hand snakes between the two of you and presses his thumb against your clit. Your legs tightening around him. Your cunt tightens around his cock, your moans become more breathy, panting into his mouth as his tongue licks into yours. 

“Yeah, baby. Come on. Come on, give me it.” 

And you do. You come and come again when he puts you in a different position—when his mouth is hot and wet at your shoulder blade. When his fingers grip your hips and pull you back, his hand pushes down on the base of your spine to have your ass push up higher for him. To allow him to go deeper until you’re gripping the sheets and seeing stars. 

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” 

By the time he pulls himself from your wetness, his fist moving against his cock fast and hard, your arousal still slick against him, making the lewd noise burn your cheeks. Your body heating back up as you watch his brow furrow. “Look at me, baby, look,” he says breathless as he paints the mound of your pussy with his come. You know reason will never mean anything. You’re his, and when he calls, you’ll come running each and every time. 

[a-boca-do-inferno]

medicine (caesar x human!reader)

summary: The ape colony is short on painkillers for humans, except Caesar learned a lot in his time living with them. Lucky for you.

warnings: period mention, interspecies (mild)smut

words: 1.9k

notes: lol yeah another one... im just enjoying it while i can ok. my vacation ends next month 💀 boa leitura!

It couldn’t be later than midnight. You hissed as your cramps only got harsher and harsher. In the cold everything became much worse, and this time was no different. You curled up towards Maurice to try and borrow some warmth from his fur, yet it felt helpless; your body shook like a leaf, and the pain in your womb was ridiculous.

Noticing your distress, Maurice wakes up from his sleep and signs with a worried expression, “I call Caesar?”

You shake your head even before he can say his name. The ape king had more important matters to attend to than your stupid human cramps. On top of it all, it was his resting moment now. You wouldn’t bother him with this. “No. Let him sleep.”

“Herbs?”

“Doesn’t work.” You grunt in frustration, signing with a frown. “I’m fine. By morning it will get better. It’s just the cold.”

“Winter start now.” Maurice argues, still with his gentleness in every word. You only nod in response and he insists, pointing towards Caesar’s tent. “Talk tomorrow. He can help. Lived with humans… before.”

Your eyes fell on the king sleeping a few feet away from you. Could Maurice really have a point? Perhaps Caesar indeed knew some trick to help with period cramps. You did hear he was brought up with human parents, which meant he must’ve had a woman around—you never touched on the subject out of respect, since you two weren’t close. Exchanging a last look with the orangutan, you displayed another short nod. A wave of pain reached your abdomen again and you sighed quietly, burying yourself in ginger fur, despite it being fruitless at that point.

The next day, the colony was awake as soon as the sun was out. It was a rare morning with sunlight and you thanked heavens mentally, appreciating the heat, even if mild, radiating from the star above. The pain had subdued considerably and you took the opportunity to help with supper. Sometimes you helped Maurice in school, but being on your feet proved to make matters worse those days.

You settled around the fire with the girls who tended to cooking. As you were in the middle of grilling fish, a hand touched your shoulder and you turned to face Caesar beating a tight expression. You stood up immediately to greet him, showing your respect for the king. You tried your best to look obedient to his power, as you were well aware of their history with humans, and his reaction was always the same—a dismissive hand gesture, green eyes softening gradually. However, his gaze remained serious now, and you gulped in anticipation.

“Cramps?” Caesar points to your stomach, his gravelly voice a low sound.

Your cheeks heat up and you want to roll your eyes, but refrain from doing so. Maurice and his gigantic mouth. You had hoped he’d forgotten about last night’s talk. Gesturing sheepishly, you stare at the floor. “It’s fine. The sun helps.” You motion upwards to prove your point.

Caesar glances at the pink sky and notices the big star almost fading in the horizon, then back at you. Your inability to keep eye contact with him didn’t go unnoticed, either, making him narrow his green orbs. The muscles in his jaw jump, and he grumbles, his face unimpressed, “sun not here at night.”

“I know, but...”

“But?” He challenges, raising a brow. The king crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture that made him even more menacing. You were used to his imposing presence—the tall and muscular build, the scars on his body, the permanent look of seriousness—yet there were few things more intimidating than seeing Caesar like this, with his displeasure directed at you.

You take a deep breath, trying your best to sound convincing even though you felt like a child being reprimanded. “But I have Maurice to…”

“Maurice... ratted you out. Like humans… say.” Caesar cuts you off with a hint of amusement, in contrast with his dry voice. Carefully, he takes your shirt in his large hands, lifting the fabric to expose your belly without so much as a request for permission; not that he needed it, anyway. His calloused fingers made goose bumps on your skin while navigating your soft form. He lets go of you and signs sharply. “Need medicine. Can’t stay like this.”

You furrow your brows. “They don’t work, Caesar, but it’s okay. It’s just a couple of days. It’ll go away.”

He stops for a moment, contemplating your protests. His gaze flicks to your eyes, acute and intense, making you shrink under his scrutiny. “Not okay. Pain… too much.” Surely the ape would never let you be writhing in pain every night, no matter if it was but a week. With a final huff, Caesar then orders, “you stay with me tonight.”

“But I...” At the look he shoots you, you know there’s no more arguing. The king has spoken. With a defeated sigh, you nod and watch him step away on his hind legs, towering over the others. You mutter under your breath, “God, I miss democracy.” 

As the day went on, you did your best to ignore the annoying throb in your abdomen, knowing you'd be glared at by Caesar if he caught you grimacing again. A low hum of crickets began to fill the night air as the apes settled down around the fire. The hour grew late and the campsite gradually became quiet, the crackling bonfire the only source of light and life. 

You were eating fish alongside Maurice and Rocket, laughing at something the ginger spoke about the kids in school today. On the other side of the circle, green eyes kept vigilant over you with no subtlety at all. You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks burning at the attention. Caesar finished his meal, glancing towards you through the darkness as you remained by the fire after everyone was gone. He slowly made his way over, his massive figure casting a shadow as he approached you. 

With some lightheartedness he signs, extending a hand, “time to rest.” Your eyes follow his gestures and you take his palm. He guides you toward his tent in considerable silence before closing the curtain-like branches draped over the entrance, hooting faintly as he points to his nest. “Lie down.”

You obey him, your breathing slowly increasing its pace. You clasp your hands over your stomach anxiously, intertwining your fingers. “What are you gonna do?”

Caesar scans over you for a moment, noting the tension in your demeanour. “Massage.” He grunts, moving to sit next to you, his muscles rippling with his every movement. The ape pries apart your hands, replacing them with his own much larger ones, his palms settling on your abdomen similar to how he did earlier. He eyes your reactions closely. “May… I?”

You didn’t respond with words, silently granting Caesar permission to go on with his idea. Hooting again, a sound that almost felt like he was trying to soothe your nerves, his rough skin made contact with your tender one, brushing and squeezing it in fairly skilful ways. In spite of the awkwardness of the situation, you found yourself relaxing under his ministrations, your eyelids fluttering shut from time to time. The ape didn’t say much as he worked, green orbs fixated on your expressions while continuing to move his hands in small circles over your womb area. His face was nearly unreadable, the usual stoic frown now replaced by a look of concentration.   

The ape kept going, a low grumble escaping him every now and then as he tried to maintain the pressure at a certain point to make the pain dissipate. You had no idea when it shifted in nature, yet all of a sudden, his movements seemed a lot more sensual than anything. Your interior was only getting hotter by the minute, accompanied by the clear flush on your face. It’s the hormones. It’s the hormones. It’s the hormones. Your attempts at making yourself believe in those affirmations were unsuccessful, pathetic at best; and it all came down crumbling when the quietest moan left your throat, causing Caesar to freeze and stop with the massage.

You stare at him with widened eyes, embarrassment and fear encapsulated in your features, and you immediately sit up and sign in desperation, your tone just as urgent, “I’m… I’m sorry, Caesar, please. It was just…”

A dark look passed over Caesar’s face as he watched you stumble on yourself with apologies. Without a word, his stare dropped to your body once more, the fingers in your abdomen applying more pressure against the flesh, feeling the heat as you reacted to his touch. He could smell your scent changing and a guttural sound escaped his lips as his green eyes glanced at you unblinking, his hand slowly drifting down your womb and stopping on your pelvis deliberately. 

You inhaled sharply, in surprise and excitement, the realisation hitting you like a brick. The ape curled his digits and resumed the massage, his nostrils flaring as he huffed, clearly aroused. Your faces stood inches apart, his hot, heavy breath against you blowing your hair lightly. You put your arm around his neck and he grunted in appreciation, his expression softening at the way you whimpered in pleasure, begging for more. His fingers rubbed circles on your clit through your clothes in a steady rhythm, causing you to bury your face in his furry neck, gasping.

“I’m gonna…”

Caesar heaved in your ear encouragingly and it was the final straw. You came against his hand, squeezing your thighs in reflex whilst he kept massaging your heat through your orgasm. The ape king continued to look at you eagerly and you tried to get out of his grasp, ashamed of what just transpired. He swallowed thickly, holding onto your forearm to prevent you from scooting away, and pressed your foreheads together.

He hooted, grabbing your palm and taking it to his leg. Your gaze followed his movement and you noticed how excited he was, too. Your mind was hazy from your high just a few seconds ago, then it dawned on you that he felt as aroused as you by what happened. It wasn’t just you and your period hormones. It never even crossed your mind that it was possible for him to desire you this way. You cupped his cheeks as your heads stayed pressed to one another, closing your eyes, his scent intoxicating your system.

Caesar nuzzled your cheek, inhaling the sweet smell of you in as much as he could, making sure to memorise each and every inch of your scent under his touch. He ran his hand to place it on the nape of your neck, guiding your body towards his, until you were sitting on his lap, straddling his massive frame. The action brought your chest flush with his, a low rumble escaping him when your curves brushed his bare skin. He found the crook of your shoulder, his tongue trailing a path over the sensitive area, making you shiver. The king huffed again, his free hand sliding up your leg to grip a handful of your flesh, pulling you closer—his grip kept you in place, letting him claim you in any way he wanted.

“Cold?” He hums, still nuzzling you.

The sensation causes you to blush deeper, caressing his chin. “Not anymore.”

“Cramp?” Caesar rasps inquisitively, placing a warm palm on your belly again.

You snort and shake your head. “No. Your medicine worked... Thanks.”

You can swear there’s a smirk on his lips as he nods once, holding your hips protectively. “Good.” He presses you closer to him and huffs, and you understand it right away. Your doctor’s appointment wasn’t over yet, it seemed.

[joequiinn]

And You're Driven Like the Snow | s.h. x mall goth!reader

Summary | Just when you thought Christmas Eve couldn't get any more stressful at Starcourt, that pretty boy from Scoops Ahoy (that you did not have a crush on) walked into your shop and threw your whole night for a loop.

Prompt | You need a last minute gift, but man that sales clerk sure is cute…

Warnings & Notes | fem!reader, mostly fluff, sorta merry little meet-cute (?), mutual pining, post-S3 au in which nothing bad happens, nervous & awkward Steve, reader's appearance not described only parts of her wardrobe are referenced

Author's Note | This was an idea I had started only a couple of days before @littlexdeaths posted the Twelve Days of Promptmas list, so when I saw a prompt that fit the vibes, I made some little adjustments to the story! This is my first go at writing Steve, so I hope I've done him justice.

Recommended Listening | very merry gothmas

WC | 12.5k

!!! MINORS DNI !!!

Still night, nothing for miles // A white curtain come down Kill the lights in the middle of the road // And take a, take a look around

The guy in that stupid little sailor suit should not have ever caught your eye, not for anything more than a simple laugh at his expense before moving on with your day. And yet - as you entered the mall before hours, running late and knowing that your manager would chew you out for it - you caught yourself doing a double-take, looking from his gorgeous head of hair down to the near dangerous length of his shorts.

It only lasted for perhaps a few seconds, but nonetheless you had to shake yourself from the moment, utter confusion written across your face. Why the hell had you looked for even just that second, eyeing some pretty boy who most certainly wasn’t your type at all?

Once you had entered Spencer’s Gifts through the staff door and gotten the expected scolding from your manager who was on an authority high, you’d all but forgotten about your strange lapse in judgment on your way here. And so your day carried on as usual, your week carried on as usual, and that stupid looking boy from the ice cream shop wasn’t even a blip in your mind.

Until a week or so later, when once again you spotted him from afar as the two of you entered Starcourt for your respective shifts. This time, you couldn’t help but stare a little longer, looking him up and down with an insatiable curiosity as he walked far enough ahead of you that he was most likely unaware of your presence at all.

You tried to convince yourself that you were staring this time simply to figure out why he caught your attention in the first place - it had to be because of how stupid that Scoops Ahoy uniform was, right? There was no way you were oddly charmed by how well he wore it, or how his hair looked incredibly soft, or how his absentminded expression had an endearing quality to it. Nope, you weren’t staring out of any sort of interest in him at all, it was simply some morbid sense of curiosity about someone so clearly unlike yourself.

It was the third time you were staring, however, that made you kick yourself, because on this occasion the Scoops Ahoy guy caught you.

You’d been walking quite a fair distance behind - hoping that you didn’t look like a total creep watching how his long strides carried him - when his keys fell from his hands. When he turned to pick them up, the two of you met eyes across the expanse of the empty mall; you hadn’t even realized that you stopped walking until that moment.

You were instantly flustered by his brown eyes and the curious furrow of his brow, trying in vain to look around yourself and act as if you totally weren’t staring at all. Of course, you knew even as you did it that the act wasn’t going to work; when you nervously met his eyes again, you thought perhaps you saw something like amusement there. So, panicked and not knowing what else to do, you glared harshly as if to dismiss your staring and briskly continued on towards the escalators without daring to slow or look back at him one last time.

Why you’d been so caught up in him at all was a mystery to you, and so from that point you made a conscious effort to ignore him in the hopes that eventually your intrigue would be forgotten. So, you briefly found some guy cute? Didn’t matter, especially considering that you had no intention of ever speaking to him anyway.

Most days, that stupid Scoops Ahoy guy never even crossed your mind, but when he did, it was nearly an annoyance. If ever you visited the food court for lunch, it was almost aggressive the way you ignored the ice cream parlor, acting as if it wasn’t even there. During some of your morning walks through Starcourt you tried to keep your head down, but more than once the two of you had accidentally fallen in-stride with one another, which would prompt you to practically stomp forward and act as if you didn’t know he was there at all.

Then there was one day when you were convinced that your coworker was conspiring against you, because Shelley all but dragged you down to Scoops Ahoy despite your protests. Evidently, her ice cream craving took precedence over your arguments against accompanying her.

You could feel the tension in your body and across your face as you awkwardly stood there beside Shelley, your eyes trained on the floor as if that would keep you from doing something foolish. If your coworker was aware of your rigid demeanor, she didn’t draw attention to it, far too focused on ordering the most annoyingly intricate sundae you’d ever seen.

As luck would have it, you weren’t invisible simply because you wouldn’t look at the Scoops Ahoy guy, because he turned his attention to you and asked, “Anything for you?”

You looked up with a mean expression, which was somewhat unintentional - your nerves always managed to make you seem bitchy rather than anxious, which was a win depending on who you asked. You could see the exact moment that he recognized you, his expression faltering for a brief moment; you weren’t sure if his surprise was good or bad.

Your eyes bounced around his face for a moment, flicking down towards his name tag just long enough to read that it said “Steve” in bubble letters; shit, having his name made this so much worse somehow. But you found your voice quickly - although it felt like a lifetime - giving him a blunt and mildly rude, “No.”

You could see a bit of tension between his brows at your response, but he was able to mask it quickly, putting on that false customer service smile while turning his attention back to Shelley. That interaction was damn near mortifying for you, and for weeks after you avoided the food court like a damn plague.

Then, of course, there was that one time you were cleaning up shelves near the front of Spencer’s, minding your business and trying to zone out everything around you, when you felt as if there were a pair of eyes on you. So, you looked around quizzically, up and down the wide aisles of Starcourt, when finally you spotted Steve rubber-necking from across the way just so he could stare at you. Beside him was his fellow Scoops Ahoy employee, and under other circumstances, their matching uniforms would have made the sight of them comical to you, but in this instance all you felt was confusion and nervousness.

Now it was your turn to pull a bewildered expression as a flustered look flashed across Steve’s face. He abruptly pulled his gaze away, pretending to look at the mannequins in the shop window next to him, though he practically tripped over himself in his panic.

Despite your utter confusion, something about it made you smile to yourself while turning back towards your work, though you just as quickly shook off the expression. You were not about to get giddy just because some guy was looking at you - for all you knew, his stare was a bad thing. Maybe he was just trying to remember your face so he knew which store to avoid, or maybe - an even worse thought - he was confusing you with someone else. Regardless, you kept your head down until you were finally done with your task, whisking deeper into the store the moment that you were free.

You were a pretty far cry from Steve Harrington’s usual type - the all-black wardrobe, the intricate make-up, and the wild hair of the goth scene had never been of any interest to him before. In fact, a younger, more entitled and rude Steve would have probably mocked your appearance. The only time he would spare a second glance at someone clad in black was usually because their attire was garishly off-trend, but otherwise he’d never once spared any goth chick a second glance.

That is, until that one morning when he dropped his keys and caught you staring at him.

Steve was almost certain that he’d seen you around before, though only sparingly and in his periphery; he could have been confusing you with some of the other mall goths he’d seen lurking about, but he was pretty damn confident that he recognized you specifically.

He was taken aback by the fact that you were watching him so intently, his interest only amplified by the way your expression morphed from curiosity into a glare before you briskly walked off in the direction of your respective workplace. Steve couldn’t help but watch you go, an intrigue planted in his brain as he looked you up and down, perhaps trying to commit your appearance to memory. He wondered why you seemed so focused on him, which quickly morphed into wondering about you in general.

It was almost refreshing to have someone new to be curious about, considering that chicks seemed to abruptly lose interest in Steve over the summer. It bolstered his confidence to catch you staring at him, a confidence that he didn’t realize had wavered so much.

Oftentimes, Steve would go days at a time without thinking about the goth girl who gave him pause, but every time he thought he was free of you, you’d appear again like clockwork. He’d see you in the parking lot as the two of you rushed into work, on a lunch break trying to scarf down your food so you wouldn’t be late, talking with people who were maybe coworkers or friends. And even that brief, stinted interaction when you were in line at Scoops Ahoy managed to intrigue him despite your rudeness.

Again, it was usually only in passing, but Steve was becoming increasingly aware of your presence… and increasingly aware of the fact that he found you very attractive.

He didn’t know a damn thing about you - not your name or what your voice sounded like or your interests - but Steve was beginning to enjoy those random sightings of you around Starcourt, even looking forward to them as if you were a rare lunar eclipse. Watching you walk quickly across the mall and towards the escalators became a guessing game for him, wondering which shop you worked in - though, he didn’t want to be that guy who would swing by your workplace just so he could catch a glimpse of you. He wasn’t sure what it was about you that he was so drawn to, yet he couldn’t resist looking each time you were nearby.

Robin, of course, wasn’t stupid and caught onto the fact that someone was drawing Steve’s attention every now and then, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out who. Although they’d only been friends for a few months at this point, the two of them were practically attached at the hip, so it was strange that Steve wasn’t talking about whoever this new distraction was.

Considering that he all but gave up on flirting with girls at Scoops and hadn’t been on a date in months - so far as Robin was aware - it only made this scenario all the more intriguing to her. Now, Robin was committed to figuring out who had caught Steve’s eye and why he wasn’t saying anything about it.

She finally got her answer one day as the two of them were walking through Starcourt after work, Robin insisting on stopping into a couple of stores before leaving. She noticed Steve clearly focused elsewhere, and so she tried to slyly look around, hoping she’d pinpoint the chick that had Steve’s head turning. Evidently, he must have been caught, because Steve whipped his attention around rapidly, even stumbling over his feet as he tried to play nonchalant.

So, Robin looked back while stifling her laugh, eyes scanning the crowds for anyone who could be the culprit - she was expecting it to be obvious, to see a gorgeous girl in preppy clothes with equally as generic hair and make-up. But when no one instantly stood out, it made her pause, eyes focusing in on each and every face more carefully.

Steve hadn’t realized that she stopped walking until he was a few paces ahead, looking either side of him before turning around towards his best friend. His brows furrowed with confusion as he asked what she was doing, but Robin was too focused to answer; so, he walked back towards her, trying to follow her line of sight, still feeling a touch frazzled by the fact that you’d caught him staring at you so damn openly.

It took a minute, but Robin was still coming up blank - no one looked to be Steve’s type at all. She turned her attention back to him, eyes narrowing with a scrutiny that was making him nervous all over again.

“Who were you looking at?” Robin asked. Steve’s brow rose with worry that he’d been caught before he tried to put on a false show of innocence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit.” Robin’s expression became even more scheming, eager to play detective and uncover what Steve wasn’t telling her, “Don’t play dumb, I know you’ve been distracted by someone recently, so who is it?”

Despite it being an uphill battle, Steve still tried to feign confusion, “I haven’t been distracted by anyone.”

“You’re not as subtle as you think.” Robin smiled devilishly, looking around Starcourt again, “So, why are you afraid of just telling me?”

Steve stared dumbly at her for a moment, heart drumming nervously as if he’d committed some kind of crime. With a deep sigh, he shook his head while looking down at the ground in defeat - he figured the worst Robin could do was pick on him a little, so there was no reason to be this secretive about it.

So, Steve looked back towards Spencer’s, half hoping you wouldn’t be at the front of the store, but you were still there directly in his sight. He pointed towards you, praying that you wouldn’t happen to look back up just like you did a couple of minutes ago. Robin followed his finger, her brow knitted together when the only person who fit the bill even slightly was you, the goth chick with the “don’t talk to me” attitude.

She looked between you and Steve, back and forth enough times that it was nearly slapstick; everything she knew about Steve up to this point hadn’t prepared her for the realization that maybe goth could be his type. Is that why he hadn’t mentioned it, why he hadn’t once discussed a new crush he was maybe developing?

Once the shock of it had passed, Robin’s eyes lit up with amusement, which only made Steve sigh in preparation for the inevitable annoyance she was about to be, “How the hell do you know her?”

“I don’t know her.” Steve insisted quickly, “I just started noticing her, that’s all.”

Robin’s expression grew giddier as she bumped her shoulder into his, “Then when are you going to try to get to know her?”

“I’m not.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Why?” Robin couldn’t help but grow invested in the scenario, especially because Steve was being so resistant to it, “What’s the harm in just talking to her?”

“I don’t know if I’m even into her, let alone if she’d give me the time of day.” Steve argued as if it were the most obvious thing.

“Only way to find out is to try.” Robin sing-songed, delighting in her best friend’s torment.

“And be on the receiving end of that glare again? Yeah, no thanks.” Robin shook her head at his stubbornness, prepared to keep up her taunts, but Steve spoke again before she got the chance to, “Look, drop it, I’m not gonna talk to her.”

“But aren’t you at least a little curious? Maybe she’s your soulmate.” Robin teased as Steve began walking again, all too invested in putting as much distance between you and him as possible. She had to jog a few steps just to catch up with him again, “Come on, Steve, just go for it.”

“I’m really not as interested as you think I am.” Steve argued as Robin looked back towards Spencer’s again briefly. She hummed with doubt, clearly not convinced by the disinterested front he put up; as Steve’s best friend, she decided it was her job to just give him the little nudge he needed, she just had to figure out how and when.

As if he could tell that she was scheming, Steve raised his brows with a warning look that was far from intimidating, “Robin, don’t.”

She continued to mull things over, quite intent on her new mission, but to appease Steve, she nodded noncommittally while rolling her eyes, “Sure, whatever, I’ll drop it…”

Eventually, Thanksgiving had come and gone; with the cold weather now a mainstay in Hawkins, you stupidly mourned the fact that Steve (and god how you wish you could just forget that name) was now wearing pants instead of those little shorts. Despite your best efforts not to think about him too much, you could no longer resist letting him cross your mind from time to time.

Around that same time that the shorts were retired for the coming winter, your manager had roped you into a supervisor role that you didn’t even want; it was more thrust upon you once they began hiring seasonal staff to help with the influx of holiday customers. This meant that you were constantly swamped with tasks, overworked and underpaid as you seemed to spend every damn day at Starcourt covering shifts or counting inventory or arguing with the delivery guys over damaged shipments.

And all for a minimum wage position at some gag store like Spencer’s freaking Gifts? You decided that you may have to do some job hunting once the holidays had come to an end.

To top it all off, you were now stuck short staffed for the closing shift on Christmas Eve thanks to two employees calling out “sick;” really, you thought it was ridiculous that Starcourt was even open on the holiday, but nothing was going to stop capitalism America from catering to those last-minute, needy shoppers.

Honestly, you didn’t celebrate the holiday, so it wasn’t as if being at work was keeping you from family or friends or parties - but you really weren’t excited to deal with argumentative customers and theft and the impatient crowds of people who simply couldn’t be bothered to do their shopping any sooner. That was the kind of shit that was bound to make you rip your hair out.

But, alas, here you were, trying to keep it together as shoppers crammed into the small store, ruining displays, asking for price checks, being rude and dismissive with the kids at the registers. It was exactly the kind of chaos you were expecting, and yet somehow it was even more insufferable than you had prepared yourself for.

Considering that you were the keyholder for tonight, you tried your damnedest to keep the ship known as Spencer’s afloat - you were all too happy to get confrontational with rude customers, get your fellow employees off the registers when it was clear shit was becoming too much, ran back and forth from the stockroom to the store floor in your best effort to keep the shelves full. The stress of it all dared to turn you into an addict of some kind, because right now you could definitely use a fix of something that you couldn’t even name.

The shop was only set to be open for another half hour, and although the crowd had thinned, there were still far too many customers here for your liking - at this rate, you’d be stuck at work half the night just trying to get everyone out of here and get the store closed properly. At least the staff looked less stressed than before, at least you had the chance to breathe between shopper complaints and demands, though that did little to alleviate your frustrations.

As you were busy putting out the last few boxes of He-Man figures that had been flying off the shelf all goddamn night, you could sense someone approaching you from the corner of your eye, a question hurriedly leaving their lips before you even had a chance to greet them.

“Would it be a little vulgar if someone gave this as a gift to the person they were interested in?” Your brow furrowed as you met the eyes of a girl about your age, her freckled face cute and friendly as she held out a pillow in the shape of tits. You looked back and forth between the gag pillow and her face a few times; although you were exhausted by the day you had, something about her question dared to amuse you, as if she knew that you needed some kind of pick-me-up.

And it had almost worked, too, until you noticed the man who had followed just a step behind her; he dragged his hand down his face uncomfortably, shaking his head while hissing her name frantically beneath his breath. His posture suggested he was exacerbated - as if he didn’t want to be here or as if they’d already had this conversation or as if he was embarrassed. It then took you another split second to realize who he was, as he wasn’t wearing that familiar uniform that you’d been trying and failing to ignore for months.

It was Steve.

Your expression instantly sobered as he looked between you and the girl, his panicky, apologetic gaze making you nervous instantly. Just like you had done nearly half a dozen times since learning of Steve’s existence, you impulsively glowered at him as if to dismiss your fears, although you immediately cursed yourself for doing something so stupid.

But maybe he didn’t notice, because his attention was already on the girl instead, brows raised with surprise at her behavior, his attitude akin to that of a scolding parent tired of their kid’s shit, “Jesus, Robin, really?”

Robin shrugged defensively, although there seemed to be some kind of knowing amusement in her eyes, a twinkle of mischief, “Well, I wanted a second opinion.”

“Oh yeah, sure you did.”

You looked between the duo awkwardly, not wanting to walk away considering that you were on the clock, but so wishing to be anywhere but here right now, as you could feel your face growing warm simply because Steve was standing right here in front of you.

In a measly attempt to calm your nerves, you returned focus to the box of figures you’d been unloading just a few moments ago. Beside you, the two bickered in hushed tones, just quiet enough that you weren’t really sure what the problem was or what they were saying to one another.

You took a deep breath through your nose, pressing your lips together as you put the last Skeletor up on the shelf; you had to decide if you were going to leave them to their squabbling or try to assist them. And for whatever reason, you chose professionalism over your selfish desire to get the hell out of dodge.

“Depends on how well you know the person.” You said plainly, cutting through their spat and quieting the both of them. You picked up the now empty box while looking from one pretty face to the other, your gaze tired from the long day that you’d had, “If they’re already a friend, hopefully they’ll laugh, but some fake tits probably won’t make someone interested in you.”

Your nose scrunched as you mulled over the girl’s question again, looking down at the stupid pillow that was dangling forgotten in her hand. A silent conversation was clearly happening between Robin and Steve, if their expressive faces were anything to go on. You sighed deeply, closing your eyes for a moment to compose yourself - it was damn near closing time, and the last thing you needed was to be stressing out over the guy that you did not have a crush on. He was just nice to look at, that’s all, though having him here just a few feet in front of you made you antsy as all get-out.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” You asked dully, drawing their attention back to you; you tried not to swallow nervously under the inviting warmth of those deep brown eyes.

Although he looked about ready to say something, Robin spoke first, her tone purposeful to the point that it was suspicious, “Actually, if you don’t mind, Steve here was looking at something behind the counter; could you show it to him?”

Steve shot Robin a look that seemed to be either a threat or a plea, and you continued to look between them with doubt, uncertainty, and trepidation; your shift had already been ridiculous as it is, and whatever shenanigans were clearly going on here was the last thing you wanted to worry about. Once again, you could see some kind of conflict happening even without any words being spoken between them.

So, you sighed decisively, shaking your head a little, “I’ll meet you up at the counter whenever you’re ready.”

You ducked into the storeroom to discard your empty box, taking a moment to breathe and relax before peeking out the door to see if your walking away had prompted Steve and Robin to leave or if they were still lingering around somewhere. A muttered “fuck” passed between your lips as you saw them clearly bickering near the front entrance, as if one wanted to go and one wanted to stay. You rolled your eyes up towards the ceiling because of course this would happen to you tonight, obviously the one person you’d been mildly attracted to recently would show up at your workplace when you were at your most stressed. So damn typical.

Collecting yourself, you walked from the storeroom towards the front counter, curious if they’d actually come up to look at whatever the hell Steve was supposedly interested in; really, you were hoping they’d just give up and leave, it would certainly make your night easier. You tried your damnedest to not look back over in their direction, letting the other customers serve as a much needed distraction, ringing up their purchases and trying to shoo them out and close shop as quickly as possible.

You were starting to think that the rush to lock up the store for the night had dissuaded Steve and Robin, because you couldn’t see either of them from your vantage point at the checkout counter. And by some miracle, you didn’t have any customers in need of assistance - at least for the moment - so you let your shoulders deflate, a relieved sigh escaping you. Less than ten minutes and you’d be able to lock the doors.

But your luck had run out almost immediately, because you saw someone coming up to the counter from the corner of your eye; preparing yourself, you took a deep breath and turned, though your confidence had withered away the moment you met their eyes.

Steve approached you alone, Robin nowhere in sight, which made your nerves even worse than before. His mouth was open as if he was about to speak, but no words were coming out, looking like he was frozen beneath your gaze; you had to resist that impulsive urge to glare, though you were certain you nonetheless didn’t look terribly approachable.

He leaned stiffly against the counter, trying his best to look easy and unbothered despite clearly feeling the opposite. You simply stared for a moment, unsure of yourself, before you managed to pull it together at least briefly.

“What was it that you wanted to look at?” You asked in your monotonous customer service voice, bracing your hands on the counter as if that could keep you calm and steady.

“There wasn’t actually anything,” Steve finally found his voice as he looked nervously between your eyes. Your brow curved up curiously, though a part of you had nearly suspected that answer.

“Yeah, I figured.” Your tone came off colder than you intended, and it caused apprehension to immediately flashed across Steve’s face. Realizing your mistake, you looked around yourself before rounding the counter, walking purposefully as if you had something else you needed to be doing, though all you were really doing was trying to escape. You could feel Steve following, the crowded shelves of merchandise forcing him into nearly too close proximity behind you.

“Sometimes Robin just says things, you know, she can be funny like that.” Steve explained as your expression furrowed, wondering what his deal was. You stopped walking abruptly, causing Steve to bump right into you, ill-prepared for the sudden halt. As he quickly apologized, he steadied his hands on your shoulders for the briefest of seconds, just as suddenly snatching them away as if he’d been burned by you.

You spun around to face Steve, his body so close to yours that you practically bumped noses in the process; your eyes widened nervously, taking in his handsome face as you tried to keep yourself composed. Steve’s string of repeated “sorry”s tapered off, his mouth ajar as his eyes grew larger, too, gaze bouncing around your face rapidly.

“Well,” You started in what you hoped was a confident, disinterested tone, “we close in about five minutes… so if you plan on buying something, you should probably go check out.”

Steve nodded dumbly as he looked between your eyes before he dropped his gaze towards the ground; you realized he had absolutely no merchandise in hand, “Uh huh, yeah, I’ll do that.”

You licked your lip, taking in the pretty way his hair fell in his face and the unsure look in his eyes. For a moment, you became engrossed in him, feeling your own expression soften the longer you stared. But just as quickly, you shook yourself out of it, trying to speak with an air of finality that simply didn’t land, “I… hope you have a good holiday?”

Steve looked up at you through his lashes, though you turned quickly to continue walking away before you could get caught up in his eyes. But apparently he wasn’t ready for the conversation to end just yet, because he followed after you and continued, “Sorry, wait--”

You paused with a deep, nervous sigh, getting more and more edgy as the moments ticked by. What could this clean-cut, vanilla guy possibly want with someone like you?

You spun again, crossing your arms comfortingly in front of you while raising a brow; you realized after you’d done it that you probably looked pissed and defensive rather than nervous. When you didn’t say anything, Steve tripped over himself while trying to find his words, cheeks tinged with pink as he looked anywhere but your eyes.

“Look, I know I’m holding you up and you probably want to get home to your family or a boyfriend or something, I mean, it’s Christmas Eve, of course you’d have plans,” he started quickly, and there was something so damn charming about it that you couldn’t help the way your eyes lit up, gaze softening as you studied him; even still, your heart beat quickly inside your chest, “but I just, uh, I’ve seen you around the mall and thought I’d… introduce myself.”

Steve finally looked between your eyes again, and it appeared that your expression only made him more anxious, because he began yet another spiel, “God, that makes it sound like I just go around introducing myself to every damn person in the mall. I don’t - honestly that would be a lot of work - I mean that I wanted to talk to you specifically, you know.”

You couldn’t help the surprised grin that tugged at the corner of your mouth, absolutely taken aback by the unexpected personality behind the handsome face. Considering that you’d only ever watched Steve from afar and barely interacted with him once before, you let yourself think he was some uninteresting, dull guy. That little assumption made it so much easier to ignore the desire to stare at him, to forget about him more often than not. Now that you were so close and seeing his actual personality come through, he was, unfortunately, winning you over far too easily for your liking.

“Oh, you’re smiling, that’s good,” Steve said, his eyes growing larger as if he hadn’t planned on saying that out loud. Pushing his hair back in a fluid motion, he looked around the store while trying to take a deep breath, “You’re kinda scary, you know that?”

An unexpected laugh escaped you, your rigid posture relaxing a hair more, “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Steve held up his hands as if he were approaching a skittish animal.

“I know.” You responded without thinking; once again, your goddamn nerves were making you come across like a total bitch, “Uh, usually it makes people less interested in talking to me.” 

There was something of a frenzied look in Steve’s eyes, and you realized that maybe your blunt attitude was causing him panic. His posture had grown a touch more tense than it already was, and your fear of fucking up was causing a chaos of butterflies in your chest.

But in that same moment, you remembered that you were still on the clock and desperate to close the store, your mind going back into work mode as you hissed a small “shit” beneath your breath.

“Look, I gotta close,” You started, catching the way Steve’s face fell in defeat. You quickly added in what you hoped was a more friendly tone than the one you’d been using all night, “but, uh… it was nice talking to you.”

Your expression furrowed with uncertainty, looking between Steve’s eyes as you awaited a possible acceptance or rejection to what you just said. Mirrored back to you was his own trepidation and doubt, as if he hadn’t quite understood what you said.

When he didn’t respond right away, you raised your brows questioningly, “Maybe… we’ll chat sometime?”

The question prompted Steve to nod quickly with a slightly improved look on his face, though he still seemed dumbfounded, “Yeah yeah, totally.”

You stared at each other for a long, awkward minute, neither really knowing what to say or do next. The tension between you filled your head with concern, and you were growing more and more confused the longer that you lingered.

“Well, uh… bye.” You said dumbly before awkwardly turning your back, walking deeper into the store so you could take even just a minute to calm the fuck down. You pulled a critical face at your own stupid behavior, muttering about how crudely you handled that pathetic excuse of a conversation. You tried to shake it off, knowing that you still had to get the rest of the customers moving so you could lock the damn doors, but you feared Steve would be a nagging little distraction in your mind until you finally made it back home.

Despite knowing better, you couldn’t help but look back over your shoulder apprehensively - you weren’t sure if you wanted to meet Steve’s eyes, or if you were hoping he’d already walked away. A jolt of anxiety shot up your spine when you found that he was still watching you, looking to be in deep consideration as if he was trying to make sense of that frazzling interaction. You both startled and turned away from each other at the same time, and all you could wonder is if you had fucked up enough that you’d scared Steve away.

When you finally had Spencer’s closed for the evening, you walked out in a group with your coworkers, everyone bracing themselves for the cold, teeth chattering and arms shivering. The parking lot was still littered with a couple dozen cars as you all moved together - clearly other Starcourt employees were stuck working even later than you.

You were barely listening to the eager conversation happening between the others, who were discussing their plans for the holiday; stupidly, you were still hung up on your conversation with Steve. Your day had already been stressful and shitty, so totally biffing that interaction was yet one more dumb notch in your belt. You really shouldn’t have gotten yourself worked up over it, but your nerves clearly had other plans, because now it was the only thing you could think about whether you liked it or not.

The group eventually all went their separate ways as you continued meandering to your stupid little car, not in any rush to get back home. Packed snow crunched beneath your feet as pretty flakes stuck to your face and hair; although it was cold, the night was still and the temperature almost soothing after the long day you’d had.

Unlocking your car, you carelessly tossed your bag into the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel, fumbling with the key as you tried to slot it into the ignition. But once you turned the key, all you got was a sad sputtering sound from the engine, which filled you with instantaneous dread. You paused for a moment before trying again, yet once more, the car wouldn’t start.

Really? One more goddamn thing to worry about tonight. Grumbling and huffing, you kicked the door open again and popped the hood of the car, though what you were looking for you had no idea - you knew absolutely nothing about cars, hell, you could barely put air in the tires without it becoming a whole goddamn ordeal.

With your hands braced on the lifted hood, you stared down into the old engine as if you’d miraculously figure out what needed to be done; you tried to take deep, calm breaths so that you wouldn’t freak out unnecessarily, but you could feel that impulse slowly bubbling up inside you.

To let out some of the frustration, you kicked the front bumper, your heavy boot protecting you from feeling any pain on impact. Your arms fell with defeat to your sides, because, unfortunately, simply staring at the engine did nothing to resolve the problem.

Around you, other cars left the parking lot slowly, but no one made an effort to stop and offer you assistance, not that you were really expecting any help to begin with. Headlights reflected off the glistening snowy surfaces, frost and ice crackled under tires, and you stood there like some sad, pathetic ghost of Christmas whatever-the-fuck.

“Need a hand?” A voice called from behind you, taking you by surprise, considering that you assumed the driver was simply going to pass by and ignore you. You sighed deeply to get your stress under control, because without looking you already knew exactly who it was that offered you assistance; at this rate, it was damn near ridiculous and ironic that he’d be the one to show up to your rescue.

You turned slowly to face Steve, hoping you didn’t look too pathetic as a small glare settled in your eyes. He hung out the window of his car, brow knotted with worry as he looked between you and your shitty vehicle; you leaned your rear against the front of your car, crossing your arms to protect yourself from both the cold and Steve.

“You’re not following me, are you?” You jested with little amusement, because what else were you supposed to do after the shitty day you’d had?

“Not on purpose.” Steve answered simply, pulling in next to you and putting his car in park, “Battery?”

You shrugged with a melodramatic sweep of your arms, a defeated, sad laugh escaping you, “Who fucking knows.”

There was a decisiveness to Steve’s expression as he climbed out of his vehicle and popped the hood, opening the trunk and digging out some jumper cables. The focused look on his face helped to ease you despite the way your night was going, and it very nearly made you smile through your frustrations.

“Well, let’s hope this works.” Steve said as he hooked up the cables, double checking his work along the way to make sure he didn’t blow up either engine. Eventually, he pointed towards your driver door, “See if we can get this started up.”

You nodded quickly as the two of you slid into your respective driver's seats, Steve starting his car up first; but after three attempts, your damn car still wouldn’t start, and you slumped back into the seat, groaning loudly while tugging at your hair in frustration; god, what kind of shit luck were you dealt?

Steve came up and leaned in the open door frame, eyes sympathetic as he gazed down at you; you didn’t even have the energy to be nervous about his close proximity or the gentleness of his gaze. A weak laugh escaped you as you shook your head, “As if tonight couldn't get any worse.”

You met Steve’s eyes, looking between them pitifully as the cold of the evening began to seep into your bones. He stared back sympathetically, his expression troubled by the fact that he couldn’t fix the problem for you. Despite all your earlier nerves and awkwardness around him, all you felt right now was amity between you two.

“Thanks for trying.” You sighed, resting your head back and staring absently at the ripped and tattered ceiling. You swallowed down the upset lump in your throat, “I meant what I said earlier - about wanting to chat sometime, I mean.”

A faint smile graced Steve’s lips as he glanced down at his feet a moment, meeting your eyes again kindly, “Bet you weren’t expecting it to go like this, though.”

You shook your head while closing your eyes as a smirk dared to tug at the corner of your mouth, “Not in the slightest…”

Steve wet his lips as his brow furrowed again, looking around at the parking lot that was growing emptier as the minutes ticked by. His face was contemplative for a long beat before he brought his attention back to you while taking a deep breath, “Let me give you a ride.”

You balked at the suggestion, shaking your head quickly, “You really don’t have to do that, I’ve caused you enough trouble--”

“What else am I supposed to do, leave you stranded here?” Steve interrupted, raising his brows for emphasis, waving his hand in a “follow me” motion as he stepped back. You stayed planted in your seat, watching him with uncertainty; Steve gave you another look when you didn’t follow, “Come on; gives us a chance to chat some more, right?”

You hesitated a couple moments longer, but eventually you scooped up your bag and stiffly climbed out of the car; Steve was already in the process of unhooking the cables and closing your hood. As you awkwardly stood there waiting for him to finish, he studied you from the corner of his eye, which prompted your brows to furrow as you went on the defensive.

“You better not be kidnapping me.” Your statement caused Steve to laugh and shake his head at how ridiculous that notion was; he closed the hood of his car next and rounded to the driver’s side.

“You’re scary, remember? I don’t have the balls to kidnap you.” You couldn’t help but smile gaily at his response, which seemed to please Steve, as an equally delighted look crossed his face, “Oh, another smile, good.”

You rolled your eyes, though you were nonetheless still fascinated by how nervous Steve seemed to be around you. As you stared at him for a brief moment, he chewed the inside of his cheek and made another hand gesture before ducking into his car, “Come on, it’s getting cold.”

So, you followed his lead and slid into the passenger seat, though once you closed the door it was like another wave of tension washed over you - stupid as it seemed, you found there to be something so personal about being alone in a car with someone you barely knew. Your posture grew stiff almost instantly, eyes staring straight ahead into the snowy night as Steve cranked up the heat and began a slow crawl across the parking lot.

“Where am I heading?” Steve asked while glancing over at you; you kept your eyes forward as you told him your neighborhood. For a very long minute, the two of you were silent as the strangeness of this scenario dawned on you both. Steve cleared his throat, “Sorry about earlier.”

You glanced over at him with a confused look, trying not to shrink nervously when he turned to face you, “What do you mean?”

“I was bothering you at work,” he started with a shrug, “kinda wasted your time.”

Timidly, you looked back towards him again, thankful that his eyes were back on the road, “You weren’t bothering me.”

Steve made a face as if he didn’t believe you, “Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”

You hummed in acknowledgement of your earlier attitude, forcing yourself to be a little more communicative so he couldn’t misinterpret you again, “We didn’t really get the time to talk much… and I was nervous.”

Steve laughed, an inviting sound that drew both an amused and confused look across your face. He glanced at you again, shaking his head humorously, “You, nervous? That’s not the impression I got at all.”

The corner of your mouth tugged up as your eyes looked about his face, “Then what impression did you get?”

Steve took a breath, searching for the right way to phrase this, “That you didn’t want to talk to me in the slightest.”

“Oh.” You answered dumbly; when Steve shot you another look from the corner of his eyes, you tried to find your words, “No, I did want to talk to you… just didn’t know how.”

A far too charming smile spread across his lips as he turned to you again, “Didn’t know how?”

“You’re a little scary, too.” You shrugged with a faint grin, which grew larger at the amused twinkle in Steve’s eyes; again, he laughed, a sound that you could easily get used to.

“Never been told I was scary before…” He focused on the road for a long beat, fingers lightly drumming on the steering wheel as he mulled that thought over. Evidently, it prompted another question, because he gave you another curious glance, “Why were you scared of me?”

Your brows rose as you opened your mouth, but you hesitated before any words could come out. Nerves started to drum in your chest again as you felt heat rising up your neck and into your cheeks; and with the way Steve patiently kept looking over at you, the heat became even worse, “I, uh… no reason.”

Steve’s face twisted with suspicion at your lack of an explanation, narrowed eyes shooting a critical look in your direction. Feeling the intensity of his stare, you kept your unblinking gaze on the road, watching the snow falling gently in front of you.

Steve mulled your answer over, recalling that first day he caught you staring, the time you came to Scoops, and finally your first conversation earlier this evening; of course he could suspect reasons for why you would be nervous or hesitant, but he also wasn’t stupid enough to assume anything about you either.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, drawing on all that confidence he once harbored back when he was still King Steve, when he could land any girl he set his sights on. Though that was a side of him that he hadn’t seen nearly this entire year, he figured he had to shoot his shot eventually, “I can tell you why I was scared…”

The way he trailed off made you curious, although there was something dubious about it. You looked back towards him with a knot between your brows, and now that he had your attention, Steve’s face lit up, his smile almost causing you to drop your guard.

“I’ll tell you, but then you have to tell me why you were scared.” You shook your head with an unamused laugh, knowing that when the other shoe dropped it would be something like this. Despite yourself, you grinned, still falling for Steve’s charm even when he had you backed into a metaphorical corner.

“Oh, you wanna know real bad, huh?” You teased, because really that was your only defense between Steve and the nervousness that was crawling over you again. He gave you a short nod, his expression taunting and challenging.

“I mean, the least you could do is tell me, considering that I’m giving you a ride and all…” Steve’s unexpected playfulness took you aback, causing you to gape for a moment, which only seemed to amuse him even more. You tried to relax your expression, to put up a front of disinterest, but it was far too late for that, “So?”

You rolled your eyes and smirked, even as your heart stuttered; shit, you did not want to tell Steve what you thought of him. Maybe you could come up with a convincing lie, or maybe you could just intimidate him again until he gave up. But admitting to the fact that maybe you were crushing on him, that this ordinary pretty boy was somehow winning you over? Nope, that was something you did not want to do.

And yet… why had he come to talk to you in the first place? Why did he want to introduce himself, why was he so willing to help you on Christmas Eve when he should be off somewhere with family or a partner? Your curiosity was growing by the minute.

“Fine.” The word left your mouth before you could second guess it. Steve looked at you almost in disbelief, as if he had convinced himself you wouldn’t take the bait; you stared back, hoping your eyes didn’t give away your hesitation. Despite the warmth in the car, you shivered with nerves and apprehension.

Steve swallowed while looking back towards the road, nodding faintly to himself as he considered whatever the hell was going on in his head. You waited, impatience making you fidgety as your eyes practically burnt a hole in the side of his head.

“How much further to your place?” Your expression twisted with surprise, anticipation put to an abrupt halt thanks to the whiplash that came with the question. You studied Steve for a moment before realizing that maybe he was trying to buy some time or simply avoid the subject all together. Now, you were growing evermore curious, opening and closing your mouth smally as you considered whether or not you’d play along.

“Um, five minutes up the road.” You answered, trying to shake yourself from your mild stupor. Steve simply nodded, and you couldn’t help the way you leaned towards him just a little as if you were studying a newly discovered species, “What, you scared now?”

“No.” Steve looked back at you, “Just wanna make sure I don’t miss your house.”

Your faint smile and narrowed eyes made it clear that you didn’t believe him, though he tried to remain convincing. Slumping back into your seat a little, you kept your eyes locked on Steve, studying him and looking for evidence of hesitation. Considering it was per his suggestion that you agreed to admit anything, you couldn’t help but suspect that it was nerves that got to him, regardless of what he said.

Realizing that your brief time with Steve was soon to come to a close, you frowned forlornly, gaze dropping from his face. Considering that this whole night had been a little weird, you weren’t sure why you were so disappointed that it would end, but… perhaps that was because it felt like something was only just beginning, cheesy as that sounded. A part of you felt that if shit stopped now, it wouldn’t get to start up again - whether that was true or not didn’t matter.

Your heart picked up speed in your chest as you turned your eyes back towards Steve, words spilling from your lips before you could even realize what you were saying, “Can we just drive for a bit?”

Steve’s brows rose in surprise as he looked back over at you, his lips parting as if he had a question to ask, though no words came out. Suddenly embarrassed by your silly request, you raised your hands up as if in surrender, though your tone ended up being defensive.

“I mean, only if you’ve got nothing going on. Stupid of me to ask considering it’s Christmas Eve, but I’ve got nothing to go home to so I just thought…”

You weren’t sure what you thought, that was the whole problem. The look on Steve’s face was tough to read as he considered what you said, and, feeling foolish, you melted into your seat a little as your face twisted self-consciously.

“Let’s drive.” Steve finally said with a certainty to his tone, taking you aback as he gave you a winning look, “Where to?”

You shrugged dumbly, still trying to fend off your chagrin. Steve took you in for a moment before returning his eyes to the road and driving towards an unknown destination.

Only a minute later, he broke through the silence again, “So, is no one home?”

You shook your head, though you realized he almost certainly didn’t see it, “Dad works nights.”

Steve opened his mouth to add something, but stopped to mull it over first, “My parents are out of town. No one’s waiting for me at home, either.”

Although your brows drooped down, you gave a good humored smile as you two met eyes, “Hm, and they didn’t take you?”

“They never do.” Steve smirked and rolled his eyes, though you suspected that a part of him wasn’t nearly as okay with that as he led you to believe.

For a long beat, you studied him in silence, enjoying his profile as he focused on the road; you took in the thoughtful look in his eyes, the inviting shape of his lips, the downturn of his brows. God, you shouldn’t have been feeling all these butterflies thanks to some guy you only just met, and yet they became harder to ignore the longer you stared at Steve’s pretty face.

He, too, looked towards you when he had the chance and took you in closely, making you squirm as his dark eyes trailed from your eyes to your lips, down your neck and body before jumping back up. Lucky for you, he still had to drive, otherwise you may have melted under his intense, deliberate gaze.

About a minute into the silence that settled between you two, Steve turned up the radio, just enough to have background noise but not too loud to be disruptive. Coming through the speakers was some classic Christmas song that made you cringe; as if he caught your averse reaction, Steve switched stations, though the pop rock that took its place was no relief to you. You tried to ignore the music, not wanting to be sour about something as unimportant as that.

Although you still felt tense given the quiet that was stretching out between you and Steve, there was a certain comfort in the silence; driving down an empty road, snow falling gently, and a cute boy to keep you company wasn’t half bad.

Again, you found yourself studying Steve’s features, questions and inquiries coming to mind as the minutes passed - what were his hobbies? Was he from Hawkins, or was he a transplant like you? What were his friends like? Hell, what even was his last name? So many things you could ask, and you didn’t know where to start.

Well, there was one place to start, if you were feeling a little mischievous, but even the thought of it made you anxious and antsy all over again.

“Why were you scared earlier?” You blurted out, your own brows rising in surprise; maybe you had to get a better hold of your nerves, else you might keep saying things without thinking.

Steve shot you an apprehensive glance, though he tried to mask it with a smile, “Ah, so my distraction didn’t work.”

“Not in the slightest.” You grinned even as your nerves made it appear sheepish and noncommittal, “And don’t just say it’s because of the whole goth thing.”

“Well, not the whole goth thing,” Steve teased, pleased with himself when he caught you fighting back an amused look. After a moment, though, he sighed smally, looking around at the neighborhood he was driving through; apparently knowing where he was, he took a turn with some destination inevitably in mind.

You pulled a curious face when Steve didn’t elaborate, when his face settled into a decided look; you considered asking again for fear that he was going to find a means of distracting you once more from the question. But quickly enough, Steve pulled into the lot next to a park - it’s playground covered in snow - and you started growing nervous all over again.

With the car in park, Steve finally turned his undivided attention to you, causing you to unintentionally shrink back in your seat a little; there was a sort of safety that had come with him being preoccupied by driving, but now that his eyes were locked on you, your confidence began to diminish just a bit.

The look on his face held a sincerity that took you aback, and even in the relative dark of the night you could see the unsure gleam in his eyes. He took a deep breath before admitting plainly and assuredly, “I was scared because you were cute and intimidating.”

You blinked at him a couple of times as you processed his words, though they made your heart drum loudly enough that it was damn near distracting. As the seconds ticked by and you didn’t respond, briefly stuck in a dumbfounded look, Steve’s expression slowly fell into a look of dismay.

Getting antsy, he fumbled to elaborate, “I was interested in you, is what I mean. I wanted to get to know you, maybe flirt and see if we were compatible, you know, that sort of thing.”

Stupidly, you blinked at him again, feeling heat rising in your face - fuck, he thought you were cute, too. That should’ve been a relief, so why the hell did it make you even more nervous than you were before? You forced yourself to look away from his face as your eyes got big, because shit the butterflies in your stomach were going absolutely crazy right about now.

“You… were interested in me…” You muttered like a total idiot, but at least you finally found your voice again. Gazing up at him through your lashes, the look on Steve’s face was damn near worried as if he were preparing himself for rejection. Chewing on the inside of your lip, you finally smiled, bashfully dropping your gaze even as you tried not to sound as nervous as you felt, “I thought you were cute, too. Never had the guts to talk to you, though.”

A relieved little laugh leapt from Steve’s throat, his posture relaxing as he stared at you wide-eyed, almost as if he didn’t entirely believe you. Looking back up at Steve made your face and ears grow even hotter, his excitement at your response unexpected but nonetheless encouraging, even as you picked at your nails nervously.

“Oh, thank god, that makes this so much easier,” Steve breathed out, causing you to giggle, a delighted sound that was so unlike you.

As Steve continued to stare at you with disbelief, you tried to stop fidgeting with your fingernails, tried to relax the nervous energy in your chest because yes, this should be easier like he said, yet your body’s reaction would lead one to assume you were in all-out panic mode.

“You didn’t have the guts?” Steve asked with a laugh, “You saw how nervous I was to talk to you, right?”

You rolled your eyes with a fond shake of your head, “At least you did it; I figured a pretty guy like you wouldn’t be interested in me.”

“I thought you wouldn’t be interested in me.” Steve found himself staring at your lips, the temptation to lean over and kiss you coming over him abruptly, though he tried to shove it aside and ignore it, “So, I guess maybe I should ask you out now, right?”

You nearly giggled again as you looked between his eyes with a pondering expression, “I mean, we’re already here - alone, getting to know each other…”

Steve laughed smally, his eyes taking you in, “Oh, so this is a date now?”

You raised your hands in a vague, unsure motion, a faint knot between your brow, “Could be?”

Another charming smile crossed Steve’s lips, and you were still astounded at the fact that you could make him grin and laugh so damn easily. The look on his face was sweet as his gaze swept gently over your face, looking between your eyes and your mouth like he was studying you closely; when he finally drew his attention away, it was to stare out the windshield and watch the snow fall.

“You're not what I expected,” he started as you absently began to fiddle with your nails again, “I was worried you’d be mean, or that you’d laugh at me.”

An embarrassed smile drew across your lips as you took the opportunity to enjoy his profile again, “If I didn’t like you, I would’ve been mean… and I did laugh at you, once, when I first saw those stupid shorts you used to wear.”

A chuckle leapt from Steve’s throat as he looked back at you, “Yeah, they’re kinda ridiculous, aren’t they?”

“Your entire uniform is ridiculous.” You laughed gleefully, “But I… liked it.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed teasingly, “Oh, so that’s why you were staring.”

Easily flustered, you diverted your gaze down towards your hands, focusing on the chipped nail polish that you’d been fussing with, your face growing hot yet again,“Well, I just… yeah, okay, that’s why I was staring.”

Steve leaned in close towards you, dipping his head to try and catch your eyes, “If you hadn’t been staring, I wouldn’t have noticed you.”

You glanced up through your lashes, a faint grin on your lips as you met Steve’s attentive stare, “Then I guess we’re both lucky you have nice legs.”

Steve laughed again with utter amusement, something almost like wonder alight in his eyes; you thought he may have leaned in a little bit closer, but you weren’t quite sure. He glanced down at your hands briefly, watching the way you continued to gently scratch at your nail polish before meeting your eyes.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you’re a little strange.” Your brows rose at the comment, and so Steve continued, “Well, wait, don’t get mad about that. What I’m saying is that your energy is really nervous, but you don’t come across like you’re scared at all, you know what I mean?”

You looked between Steve’s eyes, wondering how he had managed to clock you so damn easily. Your nail picking became a little more aggressive as you came to your own defense, feeling jittery as you spoke quickly, “Yeah, I know I can come across pretty bitchy when I’m nervous, it’s landed me in trouble before. I don’t always think when I speak or I don’t know when to shut up, because my head gets all messy and loud, so it’s impossible to think clearly anyway--”

“Can I kiss you?” Steve blurted out with awe in his voice, disrupting your train of thought and causing you to look back at him with large eyes. He even looked surprised at the question, as if it leapt from his mouth without warning or thought; his expression was much like your own, taken aback and confused. He quickly tried to course correct, raising his hands defensively, “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, that was totally out of left field--”

“Yes.” Steve paused and looked as if he didn’t hear you correctly, brow furrowed while trying to read the look on your face, which was torn between sheepishness and eagerness, “I’d like it if you kissed me, actually.”

Steve, admittedly, had not anticipated your approval of the idea, especially considering how it was asked. He just got so hung up on how damn cute your rambling was that it drew him like a moth to a flame; he wasn’t thinking when the question left his mouth. Shit, you said “yes” and it made his nerves spike, heartbeat eager in his chest as he took in your features a little longer, biding his time so he could calm down.

From where he leaned over the center console, Steve moved in a little closer, looking between your eyes and lips. You mirrored this as if in a trance, body drawing towards him; when you paused, a smile graced his lips as he said firmly but quietly, “Come here.”

You felt a chill up your spine thanks to the simple yet wanton direction, Steve’s delivery of it far more enticing than he probably realized. Despite wanting to kiss him, you felt momentarily frozen as you took him in, hooded eyes becoming enraptured by his lips.

Coming back to yourself, you took a calming breath and moved in closer, and once you were but a few breaths apart, Steve carefully cupped the back of your neck, fingertips grazing through your hair. The touch made you sigh longingly, your body melting in response; a knowing smile graced Steve’s face.

There was a moment’s hesitation between you as Steve’s warm breath brushed across your lips and cheeks; you swallowed down the lump in your throat just before Steve leaned in, closing that short distance between you to capture your lips with his own.

Your body jolted at the feel of his kiss, so soft and tentative, and yet charged with your combined pining for one another. As your body relaxed despite the frantic beating of your heart, your fingertips trailed up Steve’s arm, gently grabbing at his shoulders through the fabric of his coat. His mouth was tender and explorative against yours, touch gentle on the back of your neck as he pressed forth more confidently; you met him with equal need and curiosity, your body growing eager for more as your nerves slowly dissolved away.

When Steve tried to pull back and catch his breath, your grasp became assertive, fingers tightening on his sleeve as your other hand moved to cup his cheek. You felt a small, surprised laugh in his throat, taken aback by your eagerness, though he was just as enamored by it.

He carefully gripped your jaw with both hands, pulling you back just enough for him to take in a gasp of air; you, too, took a deep breath, delighting in the way his lips grazed against yours, the way his thumb lazily trailed along your cheek.

After a beat of consideration, Steve kissed you again needily, fingertips firm along your jawline as a fire lit up inside you. Your lips grew feverish as you leaned in closer, curling your fingers in his soft locks while an eager sound rose in your throat. As you kissed him with zeal, Steve matched your desire, mouth growing urgent against yours, grip becoming increasingly possessive while his tongue trailed along your lower lip. With another hungry sigh, you opened your mouth to him, tongues swirling together impatiently, desperate for one another.

You pushed closer to Steve, though the center console pressed irritatingly into your stomach, causing a faint sound of annoyance to rumble in your chest. Wanting to be so much closer, you broke away from the kiss abruptly, though his lips chased yours, gently nipping at your jawline as goosebumps broke out across your skin.

Finding your voice, you managed to instruct breathily, “Move your seat back.”

A huff of a laugh escaped Steve as he muttered against your neck, “What?”

You gave his hair a tug, directing him to look you in your lusty eye while repeating slowly, “Move the seat.”

He looked between your eyes for a moment before your reasoning dawned on him; he nodded quickly, pulling away so he could slide the seat back, creating enough space between him and the steering wheel for you to slot into. And you did just that, gracelessly crawling over the center console, careful not to crush Steve with wayward limbs or unsteady knees.

Once situated in his lap, you laughed smally at yourself while resting your hands comfortably on either side of his neck. Steve smiled at the way you bit your lip, hands firm as they settled on your hips; his hooded eyes took you in adoringly. Impatiently, your lips crashed onto Steve’s once more, feeling his fingers flex against you, eager little sounds escaping your throat.

Hooking your arms around Steve’s neck, you kissed him yearningly, his hands creating a hot, greedy trail down your back, pressing you flush against him as if he couldn’t get enough. The movement caused your hips to roll against his, making the both of you moan into the other’s mouth from the friction. The way your lips moved together was aching and salacious, tongues explorative and hands grabby as if trying to consume each other whole.

Even as he kissed you and groped at your body lewdly, there was something undeniably tender about Steve’s touch; his lips were endlessly hungry for yours, he held you close as if fearful of letting go. It caused a knot of arousal to twist in your stomach, your body blazing and impassioned after all these months of watching him and wondering what he tasted like.

Steve’s hands roamed your body in a slow, amorous crawl, teasing down your spine and grabbing at your ass, sending an eager shiver through you as if there weren’t all these layers of clothing keeping your skin separate from one another. Your mouths became even sloppier, kisses ravenous as you breathed each other in and tasted each other’s tongues, keen moans passing between your lips to his.

Your own grip at Steve’s neck and hair was growing possessive and domineering, tugging at his locks and scratching his skin enough that he whined shamelessly. Emboldened by the heat scorching between you, your hips rolled once more, slow and deep, making Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of your ass as he groaned; the sound was far too encouraging, causing a coil to tighten in your center. You moved to hold his jaw softly in either hand, breaking away from his lips hastily with a big gasp for air.

For a long beat, you stared at one another through lusty, hooded eyes, watching the way Steve licked his lip as he watched the rise and fall of your chest. His lips were so damn inviting, and you wanted to lean right back in for more, yet you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, didn’t want to be greedy for more than you could take. Steve’s hands gently trailed up your back again, finding a comfortable resting place at your waist, where his fingers drew absentminded circles into the back of your coat.

While staring at Steve’s handsome face, an airy laugh fell from your mouth, your eyes lighting up softly; his brow furrowed in response, leaning forward to tease at your lips, nose gently bumping yours.

“What?” You could hear the grin in his whispered question, causing you to laugh again, your smile causing your lips to brush gently; the intimacy of the moment dared to give you butterflies as you nearly shivered.

You bit the inside of your cheek in an effort not to giggle again, pulling back from Steve so you could trail your thumb along his jaw and to his plush lower lip, “You got a little something…”

Steve looked as if he was about to ask you to elaborate, but the gentle way that you cleaned his lip with your thumb stalled him as a captivated sigh left his throat. He realized then what you meant, noticing the way your near-black lipstick had smudged around your mouth; he laughed, too, while trying not to moan from how much he enjoyed your sweet and careful touch. Once you were certain you’d gotten most of your lipstick off of him, you delicately held his chin as if to inspect your work.

“Is making out with you always going to be messy?” He teased, bringing a hand up to help you with a smear of lipstick that was under your nose. Your cheeks warmed as you fondly rolled your eyes, half-tempted to lean back in for another kiss as if to prove a point.

You hummed smally in your throat, “Only if it becomes a regular thing.”

Steve’s brows rose cheekily as a large smile spread across his face, “Oh, I plan for it to.”

Heat rose in your cheeks again as you bit your lip, laughing faintly while looking away from his eyes as if bashful, “Do you?”

He leaned towards you again, trying to catch your eyes with his, “Well, I’d still like to take you on a real date, so, yeah, I’m counting on this becoming a regular thing.”

Another uncharacteristic giggle left you as a swell of excitement filled your chest, “Then maybe I have to do something new with my lipstick so you’re not wearing it by the end of every date.”

Steve shook his head, hands gently sliding down your neck and to your back as he stared at your lips again, “Don’t change it, I like it too much.”

You leaned in close again, lips grazing with Steve’s as you whispered flirtatiously, “Good, because I think I like kissing you.”

Steve’s nose brushed gently against yours, his lashes tickling your skin as you felt a faint smile on his lips, “You think?”

“Might need to do a little more of it just to make sure.” You planted a teasing kiss against his lips before pulling back, which made his hands grip tight on you as if you were something coveted.

“Well,” Steve’s lips were gentle as they grazed against yours, his voice low and sweet as his fingertips trailed along your back, “should we make sure now? You’ve got me all night, if you want.”

You hummed as if you were mulling the suggestion over, hoping that you were making Steve antsy from the wait. You smiled fondly as your hands wove into his hair, tugging gently as your lips hovered just centimeters away from his; when he tried to kiss you, you pulled back tauntingly, causing a faint sound of impatience in Steve’s throat. Unable to resist the laugh that escaped you, you caved to his desire and you pressed your lips longingly to his.

.

.

Addt. Author's Note | I'm currently working on a follow-up to this oneshot because I just can't get enough of these two! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for that, please let me know, I hope to get it out soon!

Tags | @doomsdaybby @eddiernunson @k-yurieee @mediocredreams @raven-hawkins

@thecreelhouse @viviennemcgloine

[steddieas-shegoes]

never gonna give you up

for @steddiemicrofic "fake" prompt that needed to include the words: and, around, desert, down, give, gonna, let, never, run, up, you

1987 words | rated e | no cw | tags: modern au, flirting, bisexual steve harrington, handjobs, some platonic stobin, ridiculous and unserious

😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎

"This might be the first time someone's deserted me in the middle of a date," Steve said into the phone.

"You aren't counting that one time Sarah left during the movie?" Robin asked.

"She had a family emergency!" Steve exclaimed.

"Right, and I'm definitely going on a date with a dude later."

"You're saying she didn't have a family emergency?"

Steve remembered that date, remembered how she'd even had tears in her eyes when she said her mom called and she had to run home.

"You're gonna unpack that all night, aren't you?" Robin sighed on the other end. "Steve, just go home. Take a week off from trying to get into some poor woman's pants. Leave some of them for me to get into. I beg you."

"What makes you think they'd come running to you?" Steve looked over at a guy standing at the counter of the diner, clearly trying to pick up his order. From the back, he seemed tall, but that could be the black skinny jeans and boots combo.

"Let me talk to them for one minute and I'll have them convinced."

The guy turned as the woman behind the counter walked to the kitchen, his eyes settling on Steve talking on his cell phone at the table in the corner. It's not like there were many people here on a Monday night, nothing else to look at but Steve awkwardly sitting by himself with two glasses on the table.

The guy started to walk over, and Steve recognized him immediately.

"Gotta go, Robs."

"What? How are you done wallowing already?"

He hung up before she could continue, putting his phone face down on the table.

"Well, well, well. Never thought I'd see the day where Steve Harrington shows back up in Hawkins."

Eddie Munson didn't know shit about Steve, never really had. He thought he did, just like everyone else in high school, but the gossip that followed him around never had much truth to it. He really only had two girlfriends for most of high school, and only one of them was serious enough for him to sleep with.

The sleeping around came after his move to Chicago, when he was constantly surrounded by women who would give him all the attention he wanted.

"Never really thought I'd be back," he said with a genuine smile. Kill them with kindness or whatever his grandmother used to say.

It seemed to throw Eddie off at least, his mouth opening and closing around whatever rebuttal he planned.

"So why are you here? Visiting the parents?" Eddie crossed his arms, leaned his hip against the edge of the table.

"Nah, came to visit Dustin Henderson. Staying for a few more days and thought it would be nice to take someone out. I guess she didn't agree," Steve shrugged.

Eddie glanced down at the empty spot across from him, the glass on the table with half of the drink missing. He looked back at Steve's face.

He sat down across from him and smirked.

"So. Come here often, sunshine?"

Steve snorted, shaking his head as he looked up at Eddie.

"Not as often as I would if I was coming to see you," Steve replied, taking a sip of his drink.

Eddie clearly wasn't expecting him to flirt back. He recovered quickly, though.

"I suppose we could fix that, then, huh?"

Steve looked him up and down, taking in the messy bun his curly hair was pulled into, the pen mark on his cheek, tattoos up and down his arm.

"I suppose we could."

Waking up in Eddie Munson's bed was definitely not what he expected when he arrived in Hawkins two days ago, but stranger things had happened.

He opened his eyes to sunlight streaming in through the curtains and Eddie's warm body pressed against his back.

Neither of them had gotten dressed after their shower last night, too tired to do anything more than rinse off the sweat and cum from hours of making each other come undone.

Steve let himself have this. Eddie would kick him out when he woke up, kindly of course, but he'd make it clear to Steve that this was a one night thing. No matter how good it was, Steve wasn't an idiot. He knew Eddie would never actually be interested in a guy like him.

"Mmm. Stop thinkin' s' loud," Eddie's lips brushed against the back of Steve's neck in a half-kiss, sending a shiver down his spine. "'s too early."

Steve smiled to himself, let Eddie's arms tighten around him and hold him close for a bit longer.

"I should probably head back to the Henderson's. Claudia will be worried if I'm not there for lunch," Steve said quietly.

"Just text Dustin, tell him your date went well."

Steve shouldn't get his hopes up. It's not like he was gonna do long distance, and even if he would be willing, there was no way Eddie would.

"I can't lie to him," Steve felt his heart flip flop in his chest at the admission.

Eddie's head lifted and his breath hit the side of Steve's face instead of his shoulder. "Did it not go well? I thought it- well, I thought it went great, actually."

Steve turned in Eddie's arms, facing him, placing his hands on his chest. "It did go well! It did."

"Okay, then…"

"It's just this wasn't exactly a date, was it? You just felt bad for me, probably wanted to see if the rumors were true."

"What rumors?"

"You know. The ones about me sleeping around, being good with my mouth." Steve's eyes searched Eddie's, looking for any hint of recognition. When none came, he continued. "How I let anyone fuck me on the first date?"

Eddie's brows furrowed. "Is that what people say about you?"

"You don't have to act dumb, Eddie. Some of it's true."

Eddie's hands were rubbing up and down his back, making goosebumps appear on his skin. "You are good with your mouth. That one’s true. The rest though? I never believed any of that shit.”

“Really? Why not?”

Eddie’s hand traced along Steve’s only tattoo, a robin placed just under his collarbone. “Because I never gave much thought to rumors. Lord knows most of the ones about me weren’t true.”

Steve thought about all the rumors he’d heard about Eddie in high school.

Back then, he may have believed some of them, but he had firsthand experience with things getting out of hand.

“You can think what you want, but I brought you back here because I genuinely enjoyed talking to you at the diner. I wouldn’t have slept with you if I wanted to get rid of you. Trust me. I’m not really a one and done guy,” Eddie’s hand cupped his cheek, thumb rubbing along his cheekbone. “If you’re in a rush to go, I can’t stop you. But I think staying in bed with you all morning sounds pretty fuckin’ good.”

Steve’s breath hitched, his heart kicked up in his chest. “You know, I’ve actually never bottomed before last night.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Never?”

Steve shook his head. “Never found anyone I could trust to be gentle.”

“Was I gentle enough? Shit, you should’ve told me. I used spit as lube, Steve! That couldn’t have been comfortable.” Eddie pulled away a few inches, mumbling to himself in a panic.

“Eddie.” Steve tried to get his attention back on him. “Eds.”

Steve shifted forward, his front pressing against Eddie’s, his half-hard cock finding friction against Eddie’s thigh.

They both groaned as Steve rocked against him again.

“Everything was perfect, Eds. Only thing that would make it better is if I get to watch you come again right now," Steve said against his lips, pushing his hips forward so their cocks brushed against each other.

"Fuck, keep doing that and you'll get your wish, sweetheart."

He was sensitive, worked up from the hot breath against his mouth, the tongue brushing against his bottom lip. Steve couldn't remember the last time he'd been this wrapped up in someone, this attentive to the sounds they made, this focused on making sure they both felt good.

The friction was enough on its own to get Steve to the edge, and if Eddie's moans were anything to go off of, he was right there with him.

Steve never felt safe enough to be loud, not until he had Eddie begging him to make noise.

"C'mon, Stevie. Wanna hear how good you feel. Sounds so good when you can't hold it back," Eddie's hand gripped his hip, tugging him closer. They were both leaking precum, dripping down each other's lengths and losing track of where one of them ended and the other began.

Steve couldn't hold it back, didn't want to anyway. Letting Eddie hear how good he felt was a need.

"You gonna come with me, sweetheart?" Eddie gasped out as he wrapped his hand around both of them, slowing his hips to focus on moving his hand, finding the perfect angle and pace to get them both over the edge.

Steve bit his lip and nodded, barely holding back a whimper as Eddie's grip tightened around them.

"Come for me, Stevie."

Eddie's voice had a direct link to Steve's cock, maybe through the hand wrapped around him. Steve came with a shout, curling forward so his forehead fell against Eddie's shoulder.

He was overstimulated, fighting the urge to buck into his hand and pull away at the same time.

Steve pulled his head back to watch as Eddie groaned, cum hitting both of their stomachs as he worked himself through his orgasm.

They both lay there in silence, Eddie's grip loose around them as they both softened. They'd need to clean up before the cum dried in Steve's chest hairs and made them sticky, but moving seemed like an impossible task.

"You live in Chicago now?" Eddie asked suddenly, making Steve jump. He rubbed his cleaner hand on his back in silent apology.

"Yeah," Steve breathed out. "With Robin Buckley. From band?"

"I know Robin. She used to come to my shows before she moved."

"Small world."

Eddie snorted. "Just Hawkins." Eddie sat up, pulling Steve with him. "You know, the guys in my band have been considering moving to Chicago. Think it's a good place for a metal band?"

Steve searched his face for any clues as to what he was really asking. Certainly he didn't expect Steve to know if a metal band would feel at home somewhere.

"I…guess?" Steve answered.

"I'll just text Robin," Eddie wiped his hand on the sheets and reached over to the bedside table to grab his phone.

"Wait. You keep in touch with Robin?" Steve felt like he was being pranked.

"Not as much as I should, but yeah. We caught up last time she visited her parents." Eddie typed on his phone for a moment, then looked up at Steve with a smirk. "Problem with that?"

"No, I'm just kinda shocked she's never really mentioned it." Steve stood up with shaking legs. "I should probably grab a shower and go."

"You normally a runner?" Eddie asked, amused.

"No? Why do you ask?"

"It's just the second time you've been rushing to leave. Thought I told you I wanted you here."

Steve knew what he wanted, and he knew it was too much, too fast, too ridiculous for Eddie to even consider it.

But maybe, if he played his cards right, maybe he could have Eddie for more than today.

"Shower with me?" Steve settled on, pouting his bottom lip out.

"And then?" Eddie pushed.

Steve didn't know what to do, but he knew what he wanted.

"And then we'll go back to the diner and actually eat something together." Eddie nodded, encouraging him to continue. "And then you give me your number."

"For?"

"Planning our next date."

[azrielsdove]

The Night the High Lord Fell: Rhysand x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Lots of tears, Suggestive, 18+

***

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. You ran from your room, darting through the halls and down the stairs of the townhouse. Dread settled over you as you ran, heading towards the darkness pooling in the living room.

Your heart broke at the sight in front of you. Rhys was kneeling in the middle of the room, his head buried in his hands. Shadows twirled around him, the floor a mass of darkest night. You hurried to his side, slamming your knees into the ground as you slid next to him. You wrapped your arms tightly around his shaking body, holding your oldest friend as close as you could.

“I’m here, i’m here. I’m here, Rhys.” You murmured over and over, one hand coming to stroke his hair. He sunk into your hold, the only sign that he even knew you were there. You continued to whisper that you were with him, that he was safe. This was a routine the two of had done since you were young. One comforting the other, grounding them and reminding them that they weren’t alone.

Though you had never seen him this bad.

You replayed the events leading up to today in your head, trying to figure out what could have upset him like this. He hadn’t been the same since he came back from Under the Mountain, but no one expected him to be. Not after all he had endured down there, ending with finding his mate-

Her wedding.

Feyre was to be married today. Realization shuddered through you, hot and fast. She married Tamlin.

She rejected Rhys.

You knew that was her own choice, that a mating bond didn’t necessarily have to be followed. You just never expected her to not be called to it. Rhys had gone to the wedding, intent on “rescuing” her. Clearly, she had not wanted to be rescued.

You saw movement out of the corner of your eye, turning slightly to see Cassian and Azriel standing in the entry. You shook your head slightly, a sign to let them know he needed to be alone. Well, aside from you. The two Illyrians nodded and retreated back, presumably to pass the information on to Amren and Mor. Something had happened with Rhys, but you had it under control. You would debrief them later.

You lost track of how long you sat there, holding your friend and whispering familiar securities. Eventually the swirling darkness around you began shrinking, called back in to its master. You stayed with Rhys until late in the night, never moving from his side. As the early rays of dawn began peaking over the horizon, he finally raised his head from his hands and looked at you.

Your heart ached at the pain on his face.

“She was happy.” He said, voice hoarse from hours of silence. “She is thriving down there. I expected to find her still struggling, I expected Tamlin to have ignored her needs, I-I-I.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I was wrong.” You said nothing, simply tucking his head against your shoulder and resuming the stroking of his hair. Wet tears slid onto your neck, the only warning you got before his body started shaking with sobs. You held him tighter, rocking slightly. You thought about Tamlin, about how Under the Mountain must have changed him as well. You were there when he and Rhys were friends, and you were there when it was all torn apart. You didn’t think he was inherently bad, but his upbringing had certainly been no help. You still struggled to see how anyone could choose him over Rhys.

“You won’t have to handle this alone, Rhys. I’m here,” you soothed, trying to think of anything that would help. You did not know the pain of a broken mating bond, but you knew it would take a long time for him to recover from this.

And you would be by his side every step of the way.

***

Morning had fully come by the time you convinced Rhys to stand up, helping him up to his room. You drew him a bath and pushed him into it, forcing him to wash away the physical reminders of the day. You washed his hair carefully, fingers moving delicately across his scalp. You remembered his mother doing this to you when you were young, how calm you would feel when she did.

You dried him off and helped him out of the bath, handing him the towel before moving to prepare his bed. You kept the drapes drawn tight, all light blocked from the room. This was not the first time you had taken care of Rhys like this, but it was certainly the worst. You knew something in his soul had been torn out, a pain you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

You guided him into bed, not bothering to try to get him to dress. You knew him too well to waste your time on that. You tucked the covers gently around him, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face. His eyes were empty, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. You felt a pang in your heart at the shell of your friend, seeing him in such a state. You grabbed the sleeping draught you had requested Madja bring, tilting it down his throat. He gave no protest at the sweet-tasting liquid.

You waited by his side until the draught took, watching his eyes close and his body finally relax into sleep. You sat there for a while longer after, holding his hand and observing him. Only when you had convinced yourself he was peacefully asleep and would stay that way did you stand and leave. You closed the door gently behind you, not at all surprised to find Mor waiting on the other side.

“How is he?” She asked, biting the tip of a nail in worry. You shook your head, the tears that you had been holding back escaping.

“I’ve never seen him in such a state,” you cried, wrapping your arms around yourself. Mor tugged you close, running her hand through your hair the same way you had done to Rhys. She walked you to your room, only a door down from his.

“We will get him through this. You don’t have to handle his pain on your own,” she said, making you sit on your bed.

“I don’t see how to get him out of this. He’s completely broken, Mor. The combination of all that he went through Under the Mountain and this, back to back?” A shudder ran through you. “How does one survive all that?” You felt sick even thinking about all Rhys had endured.

Mor brought you a change of clothes, gathering your hands into hers. “We have to figure out a way, don’t we? We can’t allow him to suffer in this forever.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead, giving your hands a squeeze. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

You watched as she left the room, insisting that you try to rest. She was off to have the kitchen prepare your favorite meal and deliver it, a subtle nudge that you should eat. You looked down at the clothes she had brought you, her words playing over and over in your mind.

“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

But what if you can’t?

***

The next day wasn’t much better. Nor was the next. Or the one after. Certainly not the one after that.

Weeks had gone by of you trying everything you could to get through to Rhys. He barely left his bed, survived off a liquid diet that you spooned into his mouth, and never spoke a word. He was wasting away in front of your eyes, both physically and mentally.

You weren’t doing much better.

You spent all your time attempting to get through to him. After you had given him his now-nightly sleeping draught you collapsed into your bed, crying until your face was raw. The tears had begun to slow, your body losing even the energy for that. You were becoming your own shell in your desperate attempt to heal Rhys.

A knock sounded at your door. You weren’t even sure you had said “Come in,” but the door opened and Mor entered. She tsked at the state of you, carrying over a tray of food and sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Now this won’t do,” she mused, observing the rumpled sheets and your dirty hair. “You can’t help him if you’re working yourself to death!” You turned your head and bleakly opened one eye.

“I don’t know how to help him.”

“You have to help yourself first. Here, let me draw you a bath and get you cleaned up. Then we will eat and devise a new plan. Staying in that stuffy room with him all day isn’t doing either of you any good.”

You couldn’t argue with her, or maybe you just didn’t have the energy to try, so you allowed her to pull you to the bathroom and force you into the large tub. She only left after you insisted that you were able to wash yourself, dropping the sponge into the water with a huff.

When you had finished she had a warm towel ready for you, along with clean pajamas. “I will not have my two closest family members waste away into nothingness.” She stated as you got dressed, pushing the tray of food towards you. You knew better than to argue, sitting on your bed and reaching for a bread roll. You hummed at the taste, suddenly realizing how long it had been since you had a hot meal.

“Now, let’s talk,” Mor began, clapping her hands together. “Tomorrow you have to get him up and moving. He needs to go outside.” You nodded in agreement, already feeling better from bathing and eating. Gods knew getting outside would be good for you too.

“Outside. I can do that,” you agreed, grabbing another roll as you thought of how to get him out of bed tomorrow.

***

“Outside” was not as easy as it had seemed.

You strode into Rhys’ room that morning full of renewed purpose, flinging the drapes open wide and letting in the sun. You had expected him to protest in some way, to grumble at you or pull the blankets over his head.

Instead he just lay there, as unmoving as ever.

You sighed, walking over to the edge of his bed. “Come on, Rhys. We are going to go outside. Get some fresh air. Doesn’t that sound nice?” You should be used to his lack of response by now, no better than talking to a corpse. You pulled the blankets from his body, grabbing onto his hands. You tugged him up to sit, sliding his legs off the edge of the bed. “Okay Rhys, you have to help me here,” you groaned, hoisting him up to stand.

Before immediately dropping him to floor.

You gave a shout of alarm, quickly bending down to make sure he was okay. After ensuring there was no damage down, you stood up and walked for the door, telling him you’d be back shortly. You knew Cassian and Azriel had been staying at the townhouse ever since Rhys came back, too worried to reside elsewhere. You knocked on Azriel’s door, pacing while you waited for him to answer.

“Is everything okay?” He asked when he did, taking in your agitated form.

“Yes! Well, no. I mean, he’s okay, but, uh, I..” You looked down at the ground. “I may have dropped him on the floor.” Silence came from the Shadowsinger.

Followed by a sharp laugh. “You dropped him?” You looked up at him, crossing your arms defensively in front of you.

“I was trying to get him to go outside. I need your help. He can’t stay in that bed forever.” Any ounce of humor fell from Azriel’s face as he gave a nod of agreement.

“Take me to him.”

He followed you back down to Rhys’ room, taking a look at the crumpled form of his High Lord on the ground. He sighed, picking him up with ease. “Where do you want him?”

“In the bath, for now. We will battle dressing him and getting him out later.” Azriel abided, taking Rhys into the large bathing room. You followed closely behind, grabbing a set of clothes for him as you went. Between the two of you, you got Rhys into the tub and washed. Getting him out was a bit more difficult, his body slippery from the water. Azriel ended up using his shadows to haul him out, using them to keep him standing as well. You dried and dressed him quickly, unsure how much of this he was even noticing.

You looked over him with a frown. Clearly a walk would not be happening today, but you still needed to get him out. You sighed, sidling up next to him and throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Call your shadows,” you instructed Azriel, bracing yourself to take the weight of Rhys. Azriel looked half-inclined to argue before thinking better of it, pulling his shadows back from Rhys. You groaned under the dead weight, but managed to hold the two of you up. “Come on, Rhys. Walk with me to the balcony. Can you do that?” You weren’t sure he even heard you anymore, or if he had completely sunk into himself. You nudged him in the direction of the doors, taking a step.

He didn’t react.

Azriel silently took up the spot on his other side, helping you half-carry Rhys out to the balcony. You set him down on a chair, making sure he was steady before letting go. You gave Azriel a small smile, appreciative of his help. “I’ll call for you if I need your assistance again, okay?” He nodded once at the dismissal before slipping from the room, leaving you and Rhys alone on the balcony.

You pulled a second chair over to his, sitting facing him. You tucked one of his hands in yours, thumbs running over the soft skin there. “I was thinking about your mother the other day,” you began, focusing on the once strong hand in yours. “Remember when she caught us preparing that sugar trap for your sister?” You gave a small laugh, recalling how amused she had been, trying to put on an angry front. She had found the two of you covered head to toe in powdered sugar, sugar that was supposed to explode all over his sister. “She was always too nice to us, don’t you think? Washing us up in the bath after we coating her house in that powder. Making us sugar cookies once we were all clean, our only punishment that we had to share with your sister.” You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. “I miss them, Rhys.” Emotion clogged your throat, chest becoming tight. You continued rubbing your thumbs in soothing circles on his hand, still focused on it. “I miss you,” you whispered out, your voice not strong enough for anything louder.

Gods, you missed him.

“I know what happened to you has been horrible. I can’t even begin to imagine all you went through Under the Mountain, only to have it followed up with a broken mating bond.” Tears slid down your cheeks. “You deserve all the time to heal that you need, I know that. It’s selfish of me, I know, to wish that you were okay again. You need time to recover from it all.” You sniffed, tears coming faster. “I just miss you so much, Rhys. I don’t know what to do anymore. You were gone for fifty years, disappearing right under our noses. We barely got a goodbye.” Sobs were shaking your body now, the memory of Rhys’ warning flooding your head before all communication was lost. “Then you come back, mated to the girl who saved you. A true match, some would say. None of us thought she’d find happiness elsewhere, you know that. You go to rescue her, your fairytale romance, only to find that she didn’t need rescued.” You gave a cold laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You found her thriving and happy in the arms of another, in the arms of your enemy. Your mate, who couldn’t be bothered with you. How cruel is that?” Hot anger flared through you at the injustice of it all. You knew Feyre deserved to be happy just as much as Rhys did, but you couldn’t help to wish that she hadn’t found happiness like that. “You come back here, a shell of yourself. Don’t you see, Rhys?” Your voice grew quiet. “You came back to me. You’ve always come back to me.” You paused the massaging of his hand, going silent for a moment.

“My heart is yours. I would give it up a thousand times over for you to live happily with the one your soul was mated to, if she had wanted that. Maybe…maybe there’s a reason she didn’t want it. More than just her love for Tamlin.” Tears fell onto his hand, one thumb moving to swipe them away. “Maybe the cauldron realized it made a mistake,” you muttered, refusing to look up at him. Not that he would react to anything you said, you weren’t even sure he could hear you. Perhaps that’s why you now felt able to tell him the truth, to tell him how you truly feel. “I love you, Rhys. I’ve loved you for a long time now. I know you wanted a mate, that you held out for the soul cauldron-bound to yours. When you found her, I accepted that was it. I would move to the side, no longer your Second both in court and in your life. And that was okay. Anything to see you happy was worth it.” Your tears slowed, as if putting the truth out there was healing the brokenness inside of you. “But what now, Rhys? You are wasting away into nothingness, and I don’t know what to do. I need you to come back. Please. Come back to me, one last time.” You slowly raised his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it before letting go.

Except the hand did not drop.

Instead, it curled around one of yours.

Your head shot up in alarm, eyes wide as you saw Rhys looking at you. Truly looking at you. His eyes were shiny with tears of his own, his hand locked tight around yours. As if he was scared that if he let go you’d bolt and never be seen again.

“Is it true?” He asked, voice hoarse. “You love me?” You bit your lip nervously, nodding slowly. Was it too much? You hadn’t realized he was listening, you should’ve looked up sooner, how could you dump all that on hi-

Your thoughts were interrupted by him pulling you forcefully into his lap, wrapping his arms tight around you. “Oh, sweet angel,” he murmured into your hair, arms strong around you. You slowly moved to twine your arms around his neck, holding him just as tight. “I never thought you’d feel the same.”

Your head shot up and you looked at him, narrowing your eyes. “What?” Rhys laughed, a sound so joyful you couldn’t help the smile the ticked at the corners of your mouth. He raised one hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face lovingly.

“I’ve been in love with you for ages. I assumed you didn’t feel the same, and I didn’t wish to ruin what we had. While I did want a mate, I used that excuse as more of a front than a real reason. It was never about who my mate was.” He smiled at you. “It was always about you.”

You continued to stare at him in shock, your mind unable to believe what he was saying. All this time, all this time, you both wanted each other. You didn’t realize you were crying again until his eyes widened in alarm, brushing the tears away from your cheeks with his hands. “Hey, don’t cry, don’t cry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you long ago, shouldn’t I?” You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up through you, pure disbelief at the situation.

“We have been fools,” you said, smiling at him. “Sad, poor fools.” He laughed with you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Perhaps we have been. I’m willing to forgive our past mistakes if you promise to stand by my side until the end of our days. If you will have me.” You nodded against him, tears of joy falling from your eyes. He smiled, before dropping his voice ever so slightly. “May I kiss you?”

You gave an answering smile, curling your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. “You may.”

Rhys’ lips met yours a little uncertainly, as if he was scared to come on too strong. You flattened one palm against the back of his neck, pushing him closer to you. He took that as a sign to abandon all caution, one hand wrapping tight around your waist while the other held your face to his. He kissed you with a passion you had never experienced, the feeling of a thousand suns bursting inside of you. You moaned slightly against his kiss, his fingers digging into your waist at the sound. This was where you were meant to be, this was what it had all been for.

Rhys’ hand trailed down your body, stopping on the curve of your thigh. He hoisted your legs up and over him, making you straddle his body. You gasped at the feeling of him under you, his hips coming up to roll against yours. His fingers played with the hem of your shirt, teasing the skin there. You were seconds away from abandoning all rational thought and allowing him to take you right here when a low cough sounded from the doorway. You shot back from Rhys, eyes darting to the intruder. Rhys only chuckled, hand trailing up and down your body.

Azriel.

“I just came to check everything was okay, but I see you’ve got it under control.” He said, eyes sparkling with a million plans to tease you for this. You glared at him, thoughts muddled by Rhys pressing soft kisses to your neck.

“Yes, Azriel, everything is under control. Now if you’d leave us, I have some rather important matters to attend to,” Rhys said, biting your skin in between words. Azriel nodded, a smile ghosting his lips as he disappeared from view.

And attend to those matters he did.

***

Happy Mother’s Day to any moms I have following me!! 🫶🏻 And Happy Sunday to everyone else haha. I hope you guys liked this one!!