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headkiss · 2 months

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fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

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Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you thing!! it helps more than you know <3

2K notes · View notes

dollaches · 2 months

Text

— my wait is you

♡ closeted!abby anderson x fem!reader

synopsis: after deciding to stop seeing abby completely due to her inability to commit, she drops everything to make it up to you

a/n: from a req… im so sorry this sucks so bad & i did not proofread

warnings: closeted abby duh, owen gets his own tw, internalized homophobia i guess (?), mentions of crying, improper communication, secret relationships, kissing, sorta established relationship, whiney and needy abby, pussydrunk abs lol, dry humping (THE CROWD GOES WILD), face sitting, abby is a messy eater and a MUNCH, make up sex, mentions of strap usage, cursing, a little bit of angst in the beginning if you squint and turn your head away a little bit, fluff, cliffhanger idk if i’ll make a pt2, and pet names

wc: 3.8k

The bustle from all the people in the dining hall made it impossible to think and in some ways that was comforting, yet everyone's presence was a bit too overwhelming at the moment.

You dropped a half finished sandwich into the trash, having no appetite after what you endured today. As you walk back towards your assigned room, the memories of Abby’s betrayal come flooding back.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that she wanted to live a double life, one in which she was with Owen and another where she was with you.But you were not going to give her the pleasure of having both, not when it’s fucking with your head as badly as it is.

Today you had been assigned patrol with Abby, who you just so happened to be avoiding like the plague as of late. It was easier to avoid her, as you knew if she were to look at you with her kind eyes, you would give in to her every request.

Fate seemed to be against you, as you had the daunting task of facing her for almost an entire day. You brushed off every attempt she made to speak with you, your gun held tightly in your hands as the two of you left the base.

The gentle “hey” that fell from her lips was only met with silence, your eyes focused on the path ahead. She knew you were pissed— knew she fucked up badly enough to ruin everything the two of you had built together. But she just didn’t know how to apologize to you for being unable to be openly out with you.

Tension between the two of you became so thick during your journey that you could’ve cut it with a knife, but you refused to budge.

Even when she tried to soothe you a bit by offering to stop by the old desolate book store the two of you had found, she was met with silence before you simply shook your head and looked away from her.

It was eating away at every inch of her being, her hands twitching at her sides as she yearns to get her hands on you. She misses being close enough to breathe in your sweet scent, misses the way your soft hands felt against her skin— she missed everything.

To you, she was simply being a pain and rubbing it in your face that she had chosen to be with Owen rather than you. So during the entire trip, you remained silent and didn’t allow Abby any comfort for once. She eventually went quiet, her jaw clenched tightly and her eyes narrowing at your form as the two of you got back to base.

And even now as you walked towards the door to your room, you felt anger bubbling within your tummy due to the fall out between the two of you. Just as your hand touched the cool metal of the knob, you felt two warm hands rest on your waist.

Your brows furrowed out of confusion, although you knew who was touching you just by the weight of their hands.

Spinning to face her, you push Abby’s hands away and let a deep frown settle onto your lips. You offer her no words, simply taking her in as she stands before you.

She looks tired, frustration etched into her features as she gazes down at you.

“What the fuck was all that today?” she questions, her anger showing despite the quietness of her voice. She’s keeping it down as per usual, never wanting anyone to even notice the two of you interacting beyond work duties.

“You haven’t let me speak to you for weeks. I miss you, okay? I get that you’re upset with me but don’t give me the silent treatment, just tell me I fucked up and let’s move on” she pleads, her words so rushed from nerves that you barely comprehend what she has said.

Her words only make you want to scream at her, to make a huge scene just to show her how much she has hurt you. But you push it down, keeping your voice just as low as hers is.

“I’m not going to ‘move on’ from you dating some asshole that you don’t even like. I’m tired of you using me to satisfy your own needs so find some other girl who is willing to be your dirty little secret” you mutter bitterly, glancing down to notice the way her hands were flexing as she opened them only to clench them into fists once more.

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Abby. And don’t even think about knocking on my door when he can’t give you what you want.” you seethe, turning your back on her and entering your room without giving her time to completely process your words before you slam the door in her face.

Abby is left wide eyed, her plush lips parted as she is left alone with your harsh words. She goes to knock on your door out of instinct but pauses, her brows furrowing as irritation and desperation make an ugly mix within her. She lowers her hand, now moving with a determined stride towards Owen’s room.

♡

With little to console you after the altercation, you had made the prompt decision to bury your face into your pillow and let your thoughts fade away as you fell into a dreamless sleep. It was comfortable, being so detached from everything around you even if it was only for a little while.

However, any solace you had found was ripped from your hands as a heavy knock sounds on the door. A low groan sounds throughout your small room as you blindly move your hand onto the side table to try and find the lamp.

Once the light switches on, another loud knock can be heard, the door shaking from the force. The second knock makes you rush towards the door, unsure of what to expect but believing it to be urgent.

That is until you swing open the door, the dimly lit hallway showing you a very broken down Abby. Her braid has become messy and loose, her eyes red rimmed and glassy. She looks like a kicked puppy, so lost and scared.

“I broke up with him, okay? It’s done, I swear” she blurts out breathlessly, not even giving you the chance to speak. The information takes a while to set in, the cogs in your mind slowly turning as you realize what she had said.

It was over. She was yours and only yours now.

It’s hard to speak as you try to process everything, leaving Abby with an aching silence. Tears begin to roll down her rosy cheeks, a pitiful whine emitting from her.

“I know you’re probably still mad but please let me stay. You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just— I can’t be alone right now” she whispers weakly, taking a step closer to you so that she is standing inside your room.

She sounds absolutely pathetic and you can’t help but relish in this moment, her pain making up for all you had gone through these last few weeks. You let her come inside, simply shutting your door as a sign that she can stay for the night.

But you’re toying with her, knowing exactly where all these pent up emotions are coming from. You don’t let her get too close, as you want to see just what she wants from you.

“Thank you, thank you” she breathes, relieved to at least be welcome in your room once more. Her shaky hand pushes back her hair to soothe herself, the ache in her body worsening as she realizes you’re wearing the smallest pair of pajama shorts she has ever seen.

It’s enough to leave her feeling dizzy, her eyes flickering back up to meet your own. “You look absolutely perfect” she mumbles, no tears to be found as she feels countless weeks worth of energy beginning to boil over.

Her words make you feel all warm inside, as you know she is all yours now. You need her just as much as she needs you but you are unwilling to confess that just yet.

So you give her a soft hum of acknowledgment at her words, simply turning away and mindlessly rearranging your bed, purposely bending over so your shorts ride up just enough for her to see your panties.

Abby is falling apart in your hands, her eyes lingering on your ass far too long. She had spent these last few weeks picturing you just like this, her fingers buried in her cunt as she got off to the thought of you.

But now here you were in all your glory, and she wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass. With a few quick steps, she is behind you, your back pressing against her chest as she pins you down against the bed with ease.

“What the fuck” you huff, your brows furrowing as you try to squirm out of her grasp but to no avail. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry, can’t you see that?” she whispers, her arms being wrapped around you so tight, scared that you would leave her at any moment.

Seconds after she speaks, her hips begin rocking against you, desperately humping your ass like a woman who had been deprived of something holy for so long. The warmth of her body combined with her little pleas makes you let out a soft moan, breathy and barely there but just enough to let Abby know that you are enjoying this.

“Jesus, Abs. M’ not going anywhere, calm down” you mutter, your words broken up by how harshly she is rubbing up against you, her movements displaying just how needy she is. Her hold on you doesn’t budge, simply focusing on your scent and how warm you feel against her.

She shakes her head feverishly, her breath warm against the back of your neck. “Need to touch you, missed you so much” she breathes frantically, as if she were in some sort of frenzy that could only be soothed by touching you.

The way she rubs up against you has your core aching, desperate for relief that only Abby could give you. “Missed you too, fuck” you huff, trying to be the one in power but failing miserably. Even in her desperate state, Abby finds a way to keep you dumb for her, your mind only filled with thoughts of her giving you the relief you have been craving for so long.

Your confession blows up Abby’s ego a massive amount, her nerves dissipating since she knew the misery she felt without you was shared between the two of you.

“Yeah, baby? You have a funny way of showing it. You’ve been such a little brat, avoiding me and not letting me touch you at all” she grunts, the rocking of her hips faltering as her mind is flooded with a need to be closely connected with you.

“M’ sorry” you huff, still a little frustrated by her previous actions which meant you were unable to be empathetic towards her. Abby pays you no mind as she stops grinding against you completely, helping you get back into an upright position by pulling you by your arms.

“Can you get on the bed for me, sweet girl?” she asks hopefully, unsure if you would even agree to what she wanted to do. Much to her surprise, you nod your head slightly and crawl onto your bed so you can make yourself comfortable.

Your chest heaves with anticipation, watching Abby’s every move to try and figure out what she wanted to do. After taking off her boots and setting them off to the side, she gets on the bed, her large frame being rather intimidating as she spreads your legs open so that she can settle between them.

She’s laying on her tummy, nuzzling her cheek against your inner thigh affectionately as she keeps her gaze focused on you. “Can I taste you, angel? Been thinking about your cunt so much, need to see her again” she mutters, sounding borderline delirious just from the idea of being able to lap at you like a woman starved.

“Mmph, just a little” you say after a moment of thinking, wanting to remind her that being able to touch you like this was a privilege that only you could give her. A pleased grin appears on her lips as you give her permission, nodding her head eagerly.

“Thank you, thank you” she breathes out, pressing a few open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs that leave you aching for more. “Gonna make you feel so good, need to make you come” she hums as she backs up, hooking her fingers under your little shorts along with your panties in one swift movement.

You feel so exposed to her, finding the feeling only adds to your arousal. Abby takes a moment to consider her options before she decides on exactly how she wants to do this.

She uses her thumb to rub soothing circles on your hips, her expression warm and comforting. “Need you to sit on my face, doll. I wanna feel all of you, want to taste all of you. Is that okay?” she questions in a pleading manner, as if she would burst into tears if you were to deny her.

The request makes your heartbeat a little faster, knowing that Abby can barely contain herself whenever she is eating you out. But after weeks of going without her attention, you’re just as needy as she is.

“It’s okay with me, just wanna feel good” you whine, unable to mask your excitement now that she was soothing you completely. She takes notice of how eager you are and decides to make it her personal mission to make you come until she’s decided you’ve had enough.

“Sweet thing, so eager” she coos, giving your hip a gentle pat as a sign for you to start switching positions. You are quick to follow her command, moving out of the way so she can lay down flat on her back. She waits for you to move, glancing at you only to find that you’ve yanked off your t-shirt, the sight of you alone pulling a porn worthy moan from her.

“That’s a good girl” she praises, so pleased that you were completely bare while she remained clothed, as it only reinforced the control she felt she had over you. Shakily, you begin to move up the bed so that you can get into the proper placement.

With your hands holding onto the wall in front of you for stability, you manage to straddle Abby’s head so that she can stare directly up at your heat. “So fucking pretty” she practically pants as she sees you in all your glory, her strong hands grasping your hips with a bruising grip.

It’s not as if you minded, as whenever she decided to show off her strength you found yourself completely enamored. “You sure this is okay, Abs? Don’t wanna hurt you…” you trail off slightly, not wanting her to be unable to breathe or anything like that.

“Baby, if I die with you sitting on my face, I will die doing what I love” she quips in a playful manner, wanting to help you relax. Her words make you smile in the slightest bit, the tension that coursed through your body now melting away.

“Shut up” you mutter playfully, her teasing remark making your tummy flutter. “As you wish” she states quickly, not giving any explanation before she pulls your hips down onto her face.

It’s a bit of a shock to feel her gentle licks against your pussy, a low gasp being pulled from you as warmth spreads throughout your lower half. She’s being messy on purpose, now licking long stripes up and down your cunt, pausing for a moment to messily kisses your clit before moving her tongue lower.

The sensation is enough to make you tremble, your hands weakly grasping at the wall as you try to stay upright. “Jus’ like that” you moan out, your folds so slick that Abby can’t stop herself from moaning due to the complete mess you’re making on her.

Your statement entices her to work harder, now tonguing as your slit to test the waters. The position is almost too perfect, her nose bumping against your clit while she obscenely slurps up all your arousal.

With the pleasure being doubled, you find yourself unable to keep your eyes open any longer, now squeezing them shut as you let ecstasy course through your being. Broken up moans leave your lips as you practically hump her face, needing her nose to rub up against your clit just a little more.

There are no complaints from Abby, as it let her know that you were feeling good. She dips her tongue into your entrance, fucking her tongue so deep into you that you swear it’s almost better than when she fucks you open on her thick fingers.

“Jesus Christ, s’ too much” you say after a string of pitiful mewls, your hips stuttering against her as the pleasure begins to reach its peak. She couldn’t care less, as she needed her fix of you or she might actually lose her mind.

Your scent consumes her whole being, you taste heavy on her tongue. It’s enough to make her ravenous, now using her firm grip on your hips to guide your movements so that you don’t have to do it by yourself. Her tongue continues to stretch you open, fucking you at a rhythmic pace that keeps pace with the way she is rocking your hips against her.

In a complete daze, you grope your tits, trying to pretend it’s her hands instead just to maximize the goodness of the feeling. And it truly works, as all the pleasure combines to make something completely blinding and overpowering.

It’s everything you’ve been craving since you began avoiding her and now it’s all yours.

“Abs, gonna come, you gotta slow down” you whine, your lungs burning from the amount of effort it takes to breathe in properly. Your pleas don’t discourage her at all, as all she chooses to focus on is that you are about to get off just from her tongue.

So she keeps her firm pace, burying her face into your cunt as if it were a sanctuary that only belonged to her. It’s all too much, the way you can feel her spit coating your folds and you can only imagine how soaked the lower half of her face must be.

You can only whine as she refuses to yield and so you find yourself rubbing teasing circles against your hardened buds, trying to match her timing. And within a moment or two, you let out an incomprehensible string of words, moaning so loud that you knew others on the base will be talking about the two of you tomorrow.

You couldn’t care less, too focused on the way the band that had tightened in your tummy had finally snapped and left you feeling euphoric. Your cunt clenches around Abby’s tongue as you come, a low whine leaving her as she feels your gummy walls tighten up even further.

You ride it out, practically bouncing against her since it was hard to move properly even with her help. But it all becomes overwhelming so quickly that you raise your hips the best you can, Abby’s hold on you fading away since she knew you needed time to recover.

After carefully changing your position, you lay down beside her, your breathing still being labored and you can’t help but smile at how much Abby is panting alongside you. The stickiness between your thighs doesn’t bother you much, much more focused on the girl who was lying beside you.

You turn onto your side, facing her enough so that you can give her a sweet kiss. You can still taste yourself on hee tongue, shivers coursing through your form as she eagerly kisses you back. It’s lazy and messy, both of you being so tired out. So you let her tongue glide against yours, moaning against her lips before she gently bites your lower lip.

She pulls away after she gets a small whine from you, a grin spreading onto her features. She is completely different from how she came into your room earlier, her eyes dazed and her whole being practically radiating warmth. You were glad to see the change, as after all that the two of you had been through, you both deserved some relief.

“You’re a mess” you state playfully, noticing that her nose and mouth were completely coated with your slick. “Good” she quips, swiping her thumb against her chin to gather up some of your leftover juices and pushing the digit into her mouth to suck it clean.

The sight leaves you feeling flustered yet strangely proud that she finds the taste of you to be so pleasing. You press your naked body against her, needing some comfort after everything that went down today.

She is quick to wrap you up in her arms, not even caring if you make a mess on her clothes. “You did so good, baby. You’re all mine” she hums soothingly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head as you hide your face against her chest.

You don’t reply, simply wanting to let her words sink in and make you feel safe once more. Abby would never force you to speak, especially when she can tell you’re so sensitive and tired. It’s as if the two of you are having your first time together once more, but this time had much more being for both of you.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you as she mindlessly traces shapes along your back to keep you at ease. But she just can’t help herself, not when she has been aching to make you come multiple times.

“You still got my strap, angel? I think you can take a little more, hm?” she questions, her voice low and soft. The suggestion has your eyes going wide, always amazed by her stamina. You were more than eager to comply, raising your head so you can nod quickly.

“Gonna fuck you nice and stupid so you can sleep well” she states calmly, as if it were the most natural statement ever. With the way it rolls off her tongue with ease, you can almost convince yourself that it is normal.

A lazy grin crosses your features as you take in the idea of her burying her thick strap into your cunt. “S’ still in the closet— if you wanna…” you whisper timidly, suddenly feeling shy under her persistent gaze.

“Of course I want to, sweet girl. Tonight is all about you, I swear” she states smoothly, giving you a quick kiss as she begins to get up to search for exactly what she needs.

Although you’re in for a long night, you couldn’t be more excited to be sharing it with her.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson angst #abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2

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deepspacelxver · 17 days

Text

Clingy Sylus

Sylus was always a bit clingy. Even before you two officially started dating he had always been more than enthusiastic to have you by his side. But now that you were official, his need to have you by his side was constant.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

You were sitting at your desk finishing some work when your phone buzzed. Checking the caller ID you saw that it was none other than your boyfriend, Sylus.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep right now? It’s too early for you to be getting into trouble.” You teased.

“You always seem to think I’m up to no good kitten. Have you ever thought that I might be calling because I miss you?” He taunts back.

“Still, you’re usually in bed by now. Don’t you think it’s a bit late to be missing me?” You say while putting away some folders.

“I could say the same about you. I thought we agreed on fixing your sleep schedule, no more work or coffee after 8 pm. And if I’m guessing I’d have to say you’ve broken both those rules by now. ”

You eye the empty mug on your desk then hop up out of your seat to look out the window.

“Have you been sending Mephisto to spy on me again? And don’t turn this around on me, we were talking about you!”

Sylus chuckles, “Don’t worry sweetie, I haven’t been spying much, I just know you too well.”

You roll your eyes silently. “Anyway back to what I was saying, why are you awake?”

Silence fills the room for a moment before Sylus quietly mumbles, “I can’t sleep… without you.”

You softened at his words, but quickly regained composure as you knew where this was heading. “Sy, you know I cant-“

“Please come over kitten, I miss you.” He pleaded into the phone.

“I have work tomorrow! I can’t miss it and you know that.” You scolded.

“Come on sweetie, just tonight? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” You could practically see the smirk he had on his face.

While the thought of having Sylus hold and caress you in all sorts of place excited you, you had a special mission tomorrow and Captain Jenna would surely have your head if you called off work again.

“I’m sorry Sy, you know I’d love to but this mission is really important and-“

“How much?”

Confused you questioned, “What?”

“How much kitten? I’ll pay anything to get over here and by my side tonight.” He was on the edge now. “We don’t have to do anything, all I want is to hold you close next to me and I’ll pay any amount of money to make that happen.”

“You know I’m not some thing you can rent whenever you please right? I have my own schedule too!” You reproached, slightly offended at his offer to “buy” your time.

He sighed, “I’m sorry Sweetie, I only meant that I’d do absolutely anything to hold you in my arms for a few hours.”

Feeling guilty for your small outburst you apologized, “Of course, I’m sorry. But I just can’t make it tonight Sy…”

“Not even if I won you all those plushies you wanted from the claw machine?”

“Not even if you won me all those plushies” you laughed

Another defeated sigh could be heard through the other side. “Alright alright. Could you at least grant me the pleasure of staying on the phone until I fall asleep though?”

You chuckled lightly, “Of course Sylus.”

#love and deepspace #lads fluff #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #sylus fluff #sylus headcanons #sylus qin #sylus x you #sylus x mc #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus #clingy sylus

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entitled-fangirl · 22 days

Text

A soft spot.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!reader

Summary: During the celebration of the birth of Rhaenyra's son, the reader meets the Starks.

A/n: I have to stop writing shit that can make a great series if I ALWAYS FORGET TO WRITE THE SERIES WTF but anyway. I'm gonna tryyyy to write at least one more part to this

Masterlist

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The second the great Lord Rickon Stark saw her, he knew she could've been a Stark in another life. He just knew it.

But she wasn't. She was the Targaryen Princess.

…

With the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's fifth son, Viserys II, the King threw a celebration. A proper tourney, feasting, and the most important: the lord's vowing their alliance to the family once again.

One by one, each Lord was expected to step in front of the intimidating Iron Throne to vow to both Viserys and Rhaenyra to protect the newest addition to the Targaryen line.

Y/n Targaryen stood idly by with her family between her brothers, Aegon and Aemond.

She and Aegon had always been close, their teasing and playful personalities often getting them in trouble. Aegon had always wondered what would have happened if Alicent had betrothed him to her instead of Helaena.

He leaned down and whispered to her, "Which lord do think is shitting his pants right now?"

Her brows furrowed as she looked at him, but he only smirked and motioned for her to look.

She looked over the crowd, her eyes pausing on a particular man that was sweating profusely. An unexpected chuckle came from her throat. She slapped a hand over her mouth to hide it.

Aemond let out an annoyed scoff and glared at her. "Control yourself, sister."

She cleared her throat and nodded. But still she bit her lip to keep the smile from growing.

The next Lord moved forward and began to speak to the King and Rhaenrya.

Aegon smirked and leaned down again, "I mean really, do you think he's ever seen a real person before?"

A loud giggle left her mouth, echoing through the throne room.

Pure silence followed, every head turning in her direction.

Her cheeks turned a bright pink when her father gave a stern look. "Apologies, father. It will not happen again."

King Viserys shook his head in mock annoyance and turned his attention back to the Lord in front of him.

When everyone's attention returned to the throne, she sent her elbow into Aegon's stomach and he let out a grunt.

Lord Stark stood not far from the royals, a smirk on his face the entire time.

…

That night, Lord Stark managed to speak to the girl. His northern accent was thick as he spoke, "Your brother seems a right cruel one to get you in trouble, eh?"

The princess turned to him, "I'm sorry?"

"No, pardon me," He took her hand and kissed it as expected. "'m Lord Rickon Stark of the North."

Her eyes lit up. "Lord Stark, yes. Thank you for journeying so far."

He chuckled and shook his head, "'Tis nothing if it is for the King. I've come for every celebration of every royal birth. Even yours, Princess."

She smiled. "That was some time ago, my lord."

"Indeed."

A voice interrupted them. "Father."

"Ah, my boy," Rickon patted his back firmly. "Princess, this is my only boy, Cregan."

Her eyes met Cregan's, getting lost quickly.

He was a firm and gruff man, that much was obvious. Standing taller than his father, Cregan was built sturdier than the Wall itself, broad shoulders and a strong back hidden under his surcoat. The wolf sigil laid proudly on his chest, but her eyes didn't even journey that far.

"I… M… My Lord…"

Cregan looked between her and his father, "I apologize, princess, if I am interrupting in any way."

She shook the thoughts from her head, "N… No. No. You are not, I promise."

Rickon Stark's smirk grew into a grin.

Cregan nodded, "That is a relief indeed." He looked around before giving his full attention to her finally. "My father has journeyed here many times, but I'm afraid this is my first since I was a mere boy of 4."

"Four? And for what reason was that?" She asked curiously.

"The celebration of Prince Jacaerys' birth." He smiles, "That was many years ago."

"Yes," the words slipped from her tongue lightly as she continued to study the man.

Silence lulled over them, but they did not mind.

Cregan noticed her wandering eyes, and his head tilted as his soft grin grew.

Finally, she broke her train of thought again and turned, "Pardon me, Lord Rickon-"

Rickon had disappeared into the crowd without excusing himself, and the two hadn't even noticed until just then.

Cregan let out an amused chuckle when her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. "My father has been most excited since we arrived here."

"For what exactly?"

"It's," he chuckled again. "It's an embarrassing tell, I'm afraid."

She shook her head, "Do tell me."

He crossed his arms in thought as his typical northern demeanor returned, "I shouldn't. It is not mine to tell, Princess, but my father's."

She hummed, disappointment flashing across her face. "Ah. I apologize. I should not pry at what is not my business to know."

He shook his head, "Consider us even." Then his head turned back to the festivities. "Do excuse me, Princess. It has been a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well."

She'll remember how delicately he had kissed the back of her hand.

…

"Sister, you've been quiet all evening. It is worrying," Aegon grinned when she later sat at the high table.

She leaned to him, "Perhaps because you made a fool of me earlier."

"You know it was all a jest of good fun," he sipped his wine, "Father wasn't even mad at it."

"We were supposed to be respectful to Rhaenyra and her child!" She rubbed at her forehead. "Perhaps you and I should not stand together during serious moments."

He scoffed, "Sister, if we did so, we'd never be seen together again." He took a bite of food and spoke, "This castle is only ever serious."

She finally grinned, "I fear you're right."

Her gaze looked out over the many tables, finally resting on the form of Cregan Stark. His back was to her, practically giving her nothing to note, but she continued to stare.

Until her eyes wandered just barely past him to see Lord Rickon Stark looking back at her with that same knowing grin and twinkle in his eye.

She froze before giving him a nod of her head in acknowledgment and then looked back down at her plate in front of her.

This was going to be a long week.

....................................

A/n: *rubbing my hands together like a little fly* the things I'm thinking yall

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

#fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #cregan stark x y/n #game of thrones x y/n #house of the dragon #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark #cregan stark fanfic #hotd cregan #house of the dragon fanfic #cregan fanfiction #hotd fanfic

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bsturnzmtt · 3 months

Text

That’s what friends are for - M. Sturniolo

Best friends to lovers

Part 2 here

Paring: softdom!Matt x innocent!Reader

Contains/warnings: manipulation, inexperienced reader, fingering, oral(fem receiving), loss of innocence kinda, pet names, aftercare, no p in v

Summary: You go crying to Matt after a group of ‘friends’ laughed at your innocence and inexperience. So Matt decides to help you…

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You were hanging out with a group of friends, everything’s going fine. There are laughs, jokes, questions, you felt very comfortable.

Until someone asks. “Where is the weirdest place you’ve touched yourself at?” You frown your eyebrows confused by the question. While other people start answering, restaurant bathroom, school, work, library, pool, etc.

“What about you?” Someone asks looking at you.

“Me?… I- what do you mean by touching yourself?” You shyly ask.

They laugh. “Come on, y’know what I mean.”

You stay silent. The whole group laughs at your silence. “No way you don’t know what we’re talking about.” Someone says.

“You can’t be that dumb.”

“You’re such a prude.”

“Oh god, she’s actually that innocent.”

Your eyes blurring with tears at the comments people are throwing at you. You don’t understand anything, you don’t understand why are they this mean to you. You quickly grab your things and storm out of there. You don’t wanna go home, but you can’t stay on the streets crying. So you decide to go to your best friends house, Matt. His house is just a couple blocks away so you walk there.

By the time you get to his house tears stop falling out of your eyes. But it’s clearly that you’ve cried, your red eyes selling you out. You knock on his door.

He answers the door, his warm smile immediately putting you at ease, even in your emotional state. His eyes flicker to your reddened eyes he tilts his head slightly, concerned by your state. “Hey there, sweetheart. What's wrong?” He softly asks with concern.

“I- I’m so sorry to show up to your house like this, it’s just that… tha-.” You can feel yourself start to cry again.

Matt quickly pulls you into a heartfelt hug, letting you cry on his shoulder. “Hey, hey, it's okay.” He murmurs softly, his hand gently rubbing your back. “No need to apologize, you can always come to me, you know that, right?”

You nod but continue to cry on his shoulder. He continues to hold you, waiting for you to calm down enough so that you can talk about what happened. Once your sobbing subsides a little, he gently guides you to his couch and sits down next to you.

He wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You can tell me anything, you know that. So go ahead, what happened?"

“I don’t wanna talk about it…” your voice breaking a little bit as you say that.

"Okay. That's fine too. You don't have to talk about it if you don't feel ready yet." He squeezes your shoulder gently, offering silent support and comfort. "How about we just sit here for a little while?"you nod as he says that.

Some minutes go by, you’re completely done crying and your breathing is back to normal now. “They all laughed at me…” you suddenly say in a quiet voice.

He frowns, listening. "Who laughed at you, sweetheart? And why?" He asks.

“We… we were all hanging out, it’s was all good. We were having a good time until someone asks…” you start explaining.

"Asks what, love?" He gently prods you to continue, keeping a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“Someone asks, ‘Where is the weirdest place you’ve touched yourself at?’” You say.

His expression and posture changes completely from comforting to protective. He pulls you in even closer, scowling. "And what did you say?"

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything. Everyone was answering until someone asked me… I- I told him I didn’t understand the question.” You answer shyly.

His grip on you tightens, eyes flashing with a mix of anger and concern. "Fuck. Those bastards." He mutters under his breath. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

“They all laughed at me and called me a ,prude? I think. I don’t remember the word.” Your vulnerability showing in your voice.

"I don't care what they said, you re not a prude." He gently tilts your chin up to meet his gaze.

“What’s a prude?” You ask him.

He brushes his thumb across your cheekbone, a soft smile on his lips. "A prude is someone who is overly conservative or modest, especially when it comes to sex or relationships. They think you're naive or inexperienced because you didn't answer their crude question." He cups your face, looking into your eyes.

“… what did their question mean?” You ask. Matt could see your innocence through your eyes.

His eyes widen and he sighs heavily, his thumb still rubbing soothing circles on your cheekbone. He looks down, realizing that he may have to explain something uncomfortable to you. "It's a question about masturbation, okay? Touching yourself in a sexual way."

“Oh, like … sex?” You ask innocently.

He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head at your innocent assumption.

"Not exactly, love. It's more about pleasuring yourself, especially when you're alone." He pauses, considering how much to reveal. "Sometimes people touch themselves in private, for pleasure, to relieve tension.”

“Ohhh… I’ve never done that.” You say quietly.

His eyes flicker with surprise, but he quickly masks it with a neutral expression. "Oh. Really?" He looks at you with new eyes, as if he's seeing a different side to you. "That's okay, it's your choice. Everyone has different levels of comfort when it comes to sex and sexual activity" He reassures you, sliding his hand down to rest on your shoulder. "But, there's nothing wrong with it if you ever feel like giving it a try."

“Does it… feel good?” You ask with curiosity.

He chuckles, a soft, warm sound. "Yes, it can feel very good.” he admits with a smile. "You feel a rush of pleasure, a release of tension and stress. Some even say it helps with sleep." he explains, his eyes never leaving yours.

You pay attention at his word, your curiosity growing every second. “Have you done it?” You ask innocently with curiosity.

His smile turns into a soft chuckle again as he looks away, clearing his throat. He seems a bit hesitant to answer, but eventually meets your gaze again. "Yes, I have. It's a normal part of life, love."

“Mmhh” you answer.

He leans in closer, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers. "What is it, sweetheart?“ His hand slides down to rest on your hip, fingers tracing gentle circles on your skin. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?" His voice is low, a husky whisper. "Wondering what it would feel like…” His eyes narrow slightly, studying your reaction, noticing the subtle hitch in your breath and the way your cheeks flush. He leans in closer, his voice lowering to a husky whisper. "You're...interested, aren't you?”

You nod slowly, feeling a little shy. “But.. I- I don’t know how to…”

His soft smile turned into a smirk. “Shhh, don't worry.” He reassures you. "I'll teach you." His hand moves from your hip to your waist, pulling you closer to him. His other hand reaches up to gently cup your face .“I'll be there to guide you through it all."

“Mhh… I don’t know” you say feeling nervous and unsure.

His smirk grew wider. He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. “Trust me.” he whispers, his hand sliding from your waist to gently rest on the small of your back. He pulls you even closer to him, leaving very little space between your bodies. "It's just you and me, okay?" He can be very persuasive... "I promise to make you feel good." he whispers.

He sees you thinking about it still feeling unsure.

He watched you hesitate, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Don't you trust me?" He asks feigning a sad expression. “I just want to help you.” He says pretending a disappointment voice. “That’s what friends are for.” His eyes sparkle with mischief. “And we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“… of course I trust you Matt, you’re my best friend. I just.. I-“

He watched you stutter, his grin growing wider with every passing second. He knows he had you exactly where he wanted you. "Then let me help you. We are best friends. And best friends do...well, all sorts of things together." He says with a little chuckle. He can't help but find your innocence and nervousness adorable. He loves how you don’t what his intentions actually are. "I've been planning this moment for a long time now." His hand moves up to your face again, lightly brushing away a loose hair from your cheek. "I know what's best for you, I promise. You can trust me."

“You promise it wont hurt?” You softly ask. You still feel very unsure but you want to show him that you trust him and that he is your best friend.

He looks into your eyes, studying your emotions, and sees the hesitance and worry in them. "I promise, sweetheart. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you," he had to keep you calm. He couldn't afford you pulling away from him now. “It might feel a little strange at first, but trust me, it won't hurt. In fact, it will feel amazing.”

You nod as he says that, you really love Matt as your best friend. So you accept not wanting to ruin your friendship.

He knew he had you right where he wanted you - vulnerable and willing, trusting his every word. "That's a good girl," he cooed, his voice dripping with approval and affection. He takes you to his room and lays you on his bed. His eyes are filled with lust and desire. He gently caresses your arm, his fingers trailing down slowly, sending chills running up and down your body.

He watches your reactions closely, gauging your level of comfort and arousal. Seeing you shiver at his touch, he knows he's making progress. His hand slides from your arm to the hem of your shirt, fingers dancing teasingly along the fabric. "First, we need to get you out of this." His hands slowly lifting it up your torso. He fully takes off your shirt revealing the lacy bra underneath. He admires your body for a few seconds. “Fuck” he murmurs.

He takes your hand and guides it to his crotch, his fingers intertwining with yours as he presses your palm against the hard bulge in his pants. "See how much you affect me, sweetheart?" he murmurs again, his breathing growing more every second. You let out a small gasp as you feel is hard bulge.

He watches your face as you feel his hardness through his pants, your small gasp and the way your eyes widen slightly. “Ah, you feel that?" He whispers in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “Don't be shy," he whispers, urging you to stroke him gently. He moans lightly at your touch, his eyes closing in pleasure. "God, you drive me crazy." he says, his voice filled with a husky warmth that makes your stomach flutter. "You like that, sweetheart?" He continues to press your hand against his crotch, loving the way your innocent touch makes him feel. He says as he leans down to kiss you deeply while caressing your breasts over the bra. He reaches around your back and undoes the clasp on your bra. He gently tugs the straps down, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He leans in, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it gently.

“Mmmh” you let out a whiny moan feeling his tongue against your hard nipple.

He savors the sweet, innocent sound of your moan, his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud as he sucks gently. "Mmm, you like that don't you?" He murmurs, the vibrations of his voice against your sensitive skin sending another wave of pleasure through you. He continues to tease and taste your nipple, his other hand massaging your other breast, making sure to give it equal attention. After a few seconds he moves one hand down to your thighs, gently caressing them as he makes his way upwards. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart."

With a gentle but firm grip, he pushes up your skirt, making space for himself to touch you more intimately. As his hand inches closer to your core, you can feel the heat building between your legs, aching for more of his touch. His hand finally reaches your panties, his fingers grazing the fabric over your slick folds. "Fuck, you're so wet already," He gently rubs your clit through the fabric of your panties, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm in pleasure.

You bite your lips and let out muffled moans.

He smirks at the sight of you trying to stifle your moans and he loves knowing he's the one causing such delicious chaos. With a smirk he knows you can't see, he slowly lowers his hand, pulling down your panties as he does. When he fully took your panties off you automatically close your legs feeling embarrassed.

His eyes light up as he sees your instinctive reaction to expose yourself, a mix of shyness and vulnerability. "Don't be shy, baby. I want to see you, all of you." He gently spreads your legs apart. He leans down, his breath fanning against your slick folds, making you gasp, his eyes devouring the sight of your bare, glistening sex.

You close your eyes, your breathing gets heavy, you bite your lip harder. All because of the feeling of his hot breath hitting your core.

He slowly exhales against you, the heat making you tremble despite the lack of direct contact. "You're so responsive, it's a fucking turn-on." He reaches up and gently runs a finger along your slit before pulling back and bringing that finger to your lips, gently pressing it against them. "Open your mouth, my love.”

You stay paralyzed for a few seconds, but then decide to do what he says. So you open your mouth looking at him with your innocent doe eyes showing confusion.

He chuckles at your look of confusion. Seeing your innocent, confused expression makes him smile. "Don't question it, just do as you're told," he whispers, his voice low and commanding, and slowly slides his finger into your mouth. He groans at the sight of watching you as you taste yourself for the first time. He guides your tongue to his finger, coating it with your saliva. "Good girl. That's it, sweetheart. Suck on it” he says before taking it back into his own mouth and sucking off the slickness.

You watch as he takes his finger out of you mouth soaked with a mix of your wetness and saliva. He pushes it into his mouth savouring you. You feel your pussy clench around nothing as he does that.

His eyes darken with lust as he sees your reaction to his actions. He groans, savoring the taste of you on his finger. "Fuck, you're delicious," he says hungrily. He can't help but press his palm against your pussy, feeling the heat radiating from between your legs. "You're so fucking wet, it's dripping down your thighs." His eyes flicker up to meet yours for a moment before he leans forward and uses that wet finger to circle your clit.

“Mmhp Matt.” You squirm and moan.

"What was that, princess?" he murmurs. He continues to circle your clit slowly and gently at first, but he increases the pace as he sees you squirm and moan, the wetness from your own arousal making it easy to glide. His other hand moves to gently grip your thigh, applying gentle pressure to spread your legs wider for him.

You cover your mouth with your hands trying to hide your moans and whimpers.

He chuckles at the futile attempt to muffle your sounds, clearly enjoying the way you struggle to contain quiet. He continues to pleasure you until he hears you stifle a moan behind your hands. "Don't hide that beautiful sound, sweetheart.” he murmurs, pulling your hands away slowly and bringing your fingers into your mouth instead.

You suck on his fingers for a few seconds before he pushes them out. “I want to hear you scream my name," he says urgently, his own voice husky with desire. He moves down between your legs and replaces his fingers with his tongue, licking and sucking your clit.

“Mmh oh god Matt.” You desperately moan.

"That's it, princess. Say my name." He presses his tongue firmly against your clit and hums, sending a wave of pleasure through you. The vibrations make you arch your back as he holds onto your thighs, keeping you spread open for him. He smirks against you, feeling you growing wetter against his tongue, which is clearly loving the taste of you, as he is using his fingers to part your folds even more so that he can have easier access. "You taste so fucking good, princess. I could spend hours tasting every inch of you," he murmurs against your pussy, continuing to lick and suck your clit while he slides one finger into your wet pussy.

“Ahh Matt.” You moan in pain and pleasure, feeling his finger stretching you out for the first time.

"You're so fucking tight, princess. Does it hurt?" he coos, his tongue never leaving your clit. “Mhm” you nod. "Relax, princess. Just breathe," he coos, feeling your tightness around his finger. He slowly pumps it in and out, letting you get accustomed to the feeling. You keep letting out moans of pleasure and pain. He smirks against your pussy, pushing his finger deeper, crooking it to hit your g-spot. He could see the mix of pain and pleasure on your face, which made him push his finger in even deeper. "You're so tight.” He says slowly adding a second finger to the first one.

“Matt…Matt mhh.” You whimper in pain.

“Shhh. You're doing so well," His fingers curl inside you, stroking that sensitive spot, applying gentle pressure making you gasp and buck your hips. He lets out a low groan, feeling your walls clench around him. "Fuck, you're gripping me so tightly.” He groans. "You're being such a good girl, just try to breathe." He presses his tongue firmly against your clit, giving it attention as well.

Your moans of pain turn into moans of pleasure after a few minutes. “Mmh mhhp.”

He smirks against your pussy, pleased with the shift in your moans. His fingers continue to pump in and out, curling and stroking that spot inside you that makes you quiver. He adds a third finger, gently stretching you further, feeling your tight walls accommodate him. "You're doing so well, taking my fingers like a good little slut." He continues to finger fuck you, making sure he's hitting your g-spot repeatedly that makes your breathing becoming erratic and your legs tremble. His tongue doesn't leave your clit, applying different kinds of pressures as he continues to suck. "You taste like heaven." He says, his fingers pumping in and out of your tight pussy, curling and stroking that sensitive spot inside you. His tongue continues to flick and suckle your clit, making you feel like you're going to explode any moment.

“Mmh Matt … ahh I-”

"You're almost there, aren't you?" He can feel your pussy starting to clench and flutter around his fingers. His fingers curl and stroke hard across your g-spot, making sure you're right on the edge. He sucks harder on your clit, flicking his tongue in response to the way you clench around him. "Cum for me, darling." he growls against your sensitive clit, feeling you quiver and shake around his fingers. He pumps them faster, curling them deeper inside you, hitting that spot that makes your legs tremble. Suddenly he slips another finger into you, making you see stars. "Come on, princess, scream for me.” Before you could finish, he suddenly pulls his fingers out of you and replaces them with his tongue. He flicks his tongue against your g-spot, feeling it quiver beneath his touch. His fingers now focus on your clit, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and index finger.

You finally cum. You come undone is his mouth and fingers. You let out a scream of pleasure as you do.

He pulls back his fingers and removes his mouth from your pussy, leaving you quivering. He smirks at you, his fingers coated in your juices, licking them slowly, his eyes locked onto yours.

You look at him, your body still quivering a bit, and you’re trying to catch your breath.

He watches you breathe heavily, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. He reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of your face, his hand lingering for a moment on your cheek. "You're absolutely gorgeous when you cum." he says with a satisfied smile. He admires your glistening pussy with a satisfied smirk. He leans in close and whispers in your ear, "You taste amazing, princess." His free hand moves up to your chin, gently guiding your face to meet his. He leans down and kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself. His tongue slips in and out of your mouth with ease, mimicking the movement of what he was just doing to you. He gently strokes your quivering inner thighs, his fingers leaving trails of heat. He pulls you onto his lap, guiding you to straddle him. His erection is prominent against his pants, straining against the fabric.

You rest your head on his chest feeling tired.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close. He runs his fingers through your hair and presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. He can feel your heart still racing from your intense orgasm. "You okay, princess?" He murmurs softly, his hand gently stroking your back.

“Mhm” you nod softly.

He lifts your chin up to meet his gaze, his fingers tracing your jawline. “Good." He says with a small smile. He moves you off of his lap and lays you down gently on the bed, his body followed yours before he wraps you up into a spooning position. His hand comes to rest on your waist as he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “Did it feel good?” He asks.

“…Yes.” You answer.

He lets out a soft chuckle, nuzzling his face into your neck, leaving a trail of kisses along your sensitive skin. “I love hearing that.” He murmurs before placing another kiss against your skin. He rests his hand against your stomach, pulling you closer. He starts to gently move his hips, pressing his erection against your ass as he grinds gently.

“Matt..” you softly say.

He stops moving his hips, his hand stilling against your stomach. He kisses your neck gently, then whispers against your skin. “Yes, princess?”

“…thank you.” You say.

“No need to thank me, doll. It’s my pleasure.” He says with a small smile that you can feel against your skin. He turns you around to face him, his hands cradling your face. He presses a soft kiss against your lips before pulling back and looking into your eyes. He sees the exhaustion and pleasure in them and can't help but smile softly. “You don't have to thank me, princess. I’m your best friend, right? I would do anything for you, that’s what best friends do.”

He tilts your chin up, his thumb gently stroking your lower lip. He watches as you cuddle closer in his arms. His breath ruffling your hair and his hips gently moving, grinding against yours. But he stops himself before losing control. "We should probably get you cleaned up and in some comfortable clothes, huh?" He suggests, his voice still soft and soothing. His hand drifts down to your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Why don’t I run you a warm bath?”

“Can we stay here, in bed?” You softly ask feeling tired.

He smiles softly, his thumb continuing to stroke your lower lip. "Of course, princess. We can stay right here." His other hand still on your thigh, he gives a gentle squeeze, his thumb rubbing small circles on your skin. He pulls the covers over you both, tucking you in close to his side.

Tysmmmm for 150 followers 💕 this is insane. Love you guys so much 🩷

Might do a part 2 of this… with actual p in v

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Tag list: @mattsturniololover1 @immattsslut @stonermattsgf

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hoshifighting · 1 month

Note

Could we get a reaction where the members make the reader cry?

seungcheol would freeze the moment he sees the tears in your eyes. he’s not used to seeing you like this, and it hits him harder than any argument ever could. “fuck, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—” he’d start, reaching out but stopping himself, his voice would drop, softer, “please, just... i’m an idiot, okay? i’ll fix it, i swear.” unsure if he should touch you yet. “hey, i’m sorry… i didn’t mean to… please, don’t cry.” he’s not good with his words when he’s panicking, but he’ll do anything to fix this, to make you smile again.

jeonghan prides himself on being the calm in the storm but when you start to cry... “are you seriously crying right now?” he’d say, but his voice would crack just a bit, backstabbing his own emotions. when he realizes that he’s the reason for your tears, the smirk would drop from his face, and he’d feel a pang of guilt deep in his chest. “shit, i didn’t want to make you cry,” he’d mutter, suddenly feeling helpless.

joshua’s heart would break at the sight of your tears. he’s always been the one to comfort you, not the one to cause your pain. “hey, hey, don’t cry,” he’d say softly, his hand reaching out to gently wipe your tears away. the guilt would eat at him as he realizes just how much he’s hurt you.

junhui would panic a little when he sees you crying. seeing you like this would make him feel lost. “wait, don’t cry, please,” he’d say, his voice almost pleading. he’d step closer, unsure of how to comfort you but desperate to try.

soonyoung would be devastated, immediately regretting whatever he said or did to make you cry. “shit, no, don’t cry,” he’d blurt out, his own eyes starting to water just at the sight of you. he’d pull you into his arms without a second thought, holding you close. “no, no, no… please don’t cry, i’m so sorry.” he’ the type of dude who doesn’t knows how to react when people are crying. especially if he’s the cause.

wonwoo would be stunned, when he sees your tears. he’s not good with words, but he’d try his best. “i’m so sorry… i didn’t mean to hurt you, you know that...” he’d say quietly. he’d reach out, hesitating for a moment before gently touching your shoulder. “i’m sorry. let’s talk, okay? i want to make this right.” he’ll do his best to express how much he cares, how much he didn’t want this to happen. he’ll sit with you, offering his hand, hoping you’ll take it. if you do, he’ll hold on tight, silently vowing to never let this happen again.

woozi would be hit with a wave of guilt that he couldn’t quite hide, even with his regular stoic expression. “you’re crying? jagi please let me—” “you’re so mean jihoon!” he’d feel a tightness in his chest, hating himself for being the cause of your pain. “i’m sorry… i shouldn’t have said that. i don’t want to see you like this.” he might not know what to say at first, standing there, feeling like the worst person in the world. he’ll gently take your hand, rubbing small circles on the back of it, his way of comforting you. he’ll sit with you in silence if that’s what you need.

minghao hates the idea of making you cry. he really likes balance and harmony, so seeing your tears feels like a personal failure. minghao will gently guide you to sit down, offering you a tissue and giving you the space to express how you’re feeling. he’s good at listening, at understanding what’s beneath the surface, and he’ll do everything he can to reassure you, to make sure you know that he cares deeply. his touch is gentle, comforting, as he promises to do better.

mingyu + seeing you cry because of him would completely wreck him. he’d instantly feel like the worst boyfriend in the world, his heart breaking at the sight of your tears. “oh no… don’t cry because of me, I don’t deserve it...” mingyu would pull you into a tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder, whispering apologies and trying to comfort you as best as he can. he’d probably end up crying a little himself, unable to stand the thought of hurting you. he’ll do anything to make things right, to bring back your smile.

seokmin is always careful with his words, so when he sees you crying because of something he said, it feels like a knife to the chest, hands reaching out to cup your face, gently wiping away the tears. he’s the type to immediately feel guilty, replaying every word he said in his head, wondering where he went wrong. he’s desperate to make it right, holding you close and whispering apologies until you both calm down.

seungkwan will do anything—make silly faces, tell stupid jokes, even sing your favorite song—just to see you smile again, when that doesn’t work, he’ll just sit beside you, his heart breaking a little more every time he hears you sniffle. deep down, he’s scared, scared that he’s hurt you too much this time.

vernon feels like the ground’s been pulled out from under him. “shit, i—i’m sorry.” he’ll try his best, awkwardly pulling you into a hug, he’ll stay quiet, holding you until your breathing evens out.

chan seeing you cry because of him would completely break his heart. “shit, babe, i didn’t mean it like that.” his eyes loaded with worry as he reaches out to you. chan would pull you into a tight hug, holding you close as if he could shield you from any more pain, his heart breaking a little more every time he sees another tear fall.

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azrielslittleslut · 4 months

Text

The Frenzy (pt. 1)

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader accept the mating bond.

Warnings: smut, NSFW, 18+, p in v, oral (m and f receiving), praise, language, shadow play, usual mating bond shenanigans, this might get a little crazy idk yet

Word count: 1.8k

a/n: this fic will be multiple parts. All of them will be smutty, as Az and his new mate will be exploring their new bond.

Enjoy!

The glass plate slid across the wooden table, the sound absurdly loud in the otherwise quiet dining room.

"Here," you murmured to the beautiful male sitting across from you. "Eat every last bit of it."

Azriel swallowed, and you found yourself staring at the way his Adam's apple bobbed with the movement. "Are you-" he stammered, blinking slowly. "Are you sure about this? You know what this means?"

You giggled as you leaned forward to pick up a piece of bread. You made sure to lean forward far enough so that your cleavage would be on full display for him. "I have never been more sure of anything in my life. And yes, you silly bat, I know what this means," you said as you raised the bread to his luscious lips.

You and Azriel had become friends nearly seventy years ago when you came to the Night Court to help Rhys with some court matters. The friendship had started off slow, usually with the two of you sitting in silence. He would read his spy reports and you would read your epic fantasy novels. He had always teased you for it, not understanding your love for those things when you lived in a world full of magic and mythical creatures.

That teasing had turned into an easy friendship, and it did not take long for romantic feelings to bloom. At the time, you had thought something would become of it. That was until Amarantha came and Rhys was taken away from them.

You were with Az while he screamed at the stars for his lost friend. You had held him during his nightmares and bandaged him up after fights and battles. You had kissed his beautiful, scarred hands when he despaired over them, over the pain and bloodshed they had caused.

The trials of life had overshadowed the feelings of love, but you had accepted that. Being Azriel's closest friend was better than not having him at all.

That was until six months ago when the bond snapped into place. When it happened, the two of you just stared at each other. Azriel had fled, of course, as he was not a male who faced his problems head-on. You had stared at him in silence as he flew away, trying to fight the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks.

A few days later, Azriel approached you, apologizing for his behavior. "I got scared," he said. "I don't want to fuck this up. I don't want to hurt you. You mean too much to me."

You had taken his face into your hands, pulling it down so his lips were almost touching yours. "You're a horrible spymaster if you're that oblivious to the feelings I have for you."

That started months of Az courting you, bringing you flowers, taking you on dates. He did not have much experience with healthy relationships, and he had insisted on doing it right.

But tonight.. tonight was the night you were ready to accept the bond. To accept him. You had taken him to your private residence on the outskirts of Velaris. It was far away from everyone and everything else, especially your family and friends and their prying eyes and ears.

Now, you found yourself staring at the most beautiful male you had ever seen in your long life. Your mate.

"Are you going to eat, or am I going to have to force-feed you?" you asked him, raising a brow.

His eyes darkened, and he lowered his eyes, noting how close your fingers were to his lips. He said nothing as he opened his mouth to take a bite.

You watched in silence as he ate the whole thing from your hand. When he was done, you traced your index finger across his lips to wipe away any crumbs. "Good boy," you purred as you ran your hand down his face to trace his jaw.

Whatever control Azriel had been holding onto snapped. Faster than you could move, he winnowed into shadow and reappeared right next to you. In a swift movement, he lifted you up into his strong arms, holding you close. Your breasts were pressed against his chest, and your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist.

You let out a soft moan at the feeling of his hard cock pressed against your center. "Already hard for me, shadowsinger? We're just getting started," you teased as he carried you to the bedroom.

He let out a growl as he threw you onto the bed. He leaned down, tucking in his wings, and you felt the ghost of this breath against your lips. "I get hard every time I look at you." He laid a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away. "You are the most beautiful person I have ever met, and I thank the Mother every day for bringing you into my life."

His hazel eyes were so full of love and adoration that it took your breath away. You reached a hand up, tangling your fingers in his soft curls. "I love you, Azriel." Your voice was breathless as your need for him ran through your veins.

He kissed you then. Gone was the gentle and tender male from before. This kiss was full of passion and dominance, and it lit a fire in your bones that send a rush of heat to your throbbing pussy. "Please, Az," you beg. "No teasing right now."

Azriel wrapped his lips around your tongue and sucked, grazing his teeth along the tender flesh. "I know, love." He pulled away just enough to raise a finger to his siphon. "Teasing will come later."

He tapped the stone, and both of your clothes disappeared in a flash of cobalt. The feeling of his naked body against yours was dizzying in the best way. You ran your hands over him, trying desperately to memorize every bump and scar as if this was the last time you were going to touch him.

He kissed his way down your chest, cupping your breasts to raise a nipple to his lips. He flicked his tongue out, and you moaned a the feeling. He continued his torturous path down and down until he made it to your dripping pussy.

You raised up on your elbows, looking down at him. "I said no teasing." You tried to close your legs to stop him, but his shadows wrapped themselves around them, holding you open.

He kissed the inside of each thigh before hovering over your slit. Your breath caught at the sight of him between your legs. A dark part of you wanted to show it to Feyre so she could paint it for you.

"I have to get you ready for me, princess," he says, his voice low and sexy as hell. "Plus, I've wanted to taste this pretty cunt for years now."

He licked a stripe up your center, and your vision went white. He circled his tongue around your clit and the world around you fractured and fell together again. You buried your hands in his dark locks, grinding your hips against his face. "Yes, Az. Yes, yes, yes."

"You taste so fucking good," he groaned against your pussy. "Better than I ever imagined."

You were beyond words, unable to think as he took you apart with his tongue. You let out a sinful moan as he thrust in a finger. You started to feel the pressure of your orgasm starting to build in your lower belly. You weakly pulled him away, although you very much wanted him to stay between your thighs for much longer.

"I want to cum on your cock," you whispered, pulling his wet face up to yours. He kissed you savagely hard, and you moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips.

His shadows released their hold on you, and he nudged your legs farther apart as he settled between them. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him brush against your tender flesh. With one hand, he aligned himself with your entrance. With the other, he gripped your hand in his own, placing it above your head. "Eyes on me, love." You locked eyes with him, meeting his lust-blown gaze with your own. "I love you," he murmured and pushed himself in.

You screamed at the feeling of his cock filling you, stretching you. He worked his way in with slow thrusts, letting you adjust to his size.

I guess they weren't lying about wingspan, you thought to yourself smugly.

With a final thrust, he seated himself into the hilt, his hips flush with yours. "Move, Az," you plead as you scrape your nails across his broad shoulders.

With a groan of pleasure, he began to fuck you. It started out passionate, with slow and deep thrusts that had your head thrown back. You wrapped your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with your own.

He leaned to kiss your neck. "Say it," he murmured against your sweat-slick skin.

You knew what he meant. "You're mine."

He pulled out and slammed in hard. The movement caused your hand to slip and brush against the arch of his beautiful wing. He groaned, biting your shoulder.

"You're mine," you say again.

He placed his forehead against yours as he said, "And I am yours." His thrusts became harder and faster, and you could hear the headboard banging against the wall.

"Fuck, you feel so good. So tight around my cock."

His filthy words caused you to clench around him and he roared, his thrusts so wild and unchecked that you struggled to keep your legs wrapped around him.

Suddenly, you felt that pull in your chest, that wonderful bond that connected you to him. It was pulling at your heart, reaching out for his. It was golden, laced with shadows and starlight. It was beautiful and perfect, better than anything else in the world.

He was your friend through trials, your lover through the dangers of this world. He was yours and you were his.

You felt that pressure begin to build again, and you pull him in for a kiss. "Cum with me, mate," you say against his lips.

Azriel slammed into the hilt and let out a roar that rattled the windows in the bedroom. His shadows wrapped around the two of you, placing you in a shadowy cocoon, away from the world. Your back arched as your climax slammed into your body, and you screamed as you rode out your waves of pleasure. He kept fucking you, filling you up with his cum, claiming you.

For a few moments, the two of you stared at each other, soft smiles on your lips. He was still buried deep inside of you, and he made no move to pull out. That bond glowed between you, and he brought his face down to kiss you softly. "My mate," he murmured. "My perfect mate."

You giggled as you nipped at his lower lip, causing him to groan. Your breath hitched as you felt him harden again inside of you. His eyes filled with a primal desire that caused you to moan softly.

"Again," you commanded, already needing him.

The frenzy had begun.

if you want to be added to a tag list for this fic, let me know!:)

#acotar #azriel #azriel smut #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel x you #azriel fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar smut #sjmaas #sjm books #mating bond

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dakotalun · 1 year

Text

"Oops" | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: Part 1--Eddie "accidentally" sends a tasteful pic to his best friend.

warnings: mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), strong language, description of naked Eddie

word count: 3.4k

Part 2

a/n: went a little crazy at 3am the other night and wrote this. Part two will be up later this week!! Luv y'all <3

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Eddie is your best friend of many years, the two of you being inseparable from the moment you met. So when you got a text from him tonight you don’t think much of it, figuring it was just a dumb meme he saw or a random thing from today.

What you didn’t expect to see was a picture of Eddie standing in his bathroom, towel slung over his shoulders with a prominent boner happening.

His hair is wet as if he just got out of the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry it yet. The long dark brown locks stick to his neck and chest in a way that can only be described as godly. The tattoos on his skin are glistening but covered by the towel around his neck and as you move your eyes downward the path of hair that leads to his dick is delicious.

And talking about his dick it is, mag-fucking-nificent! The way that it hangs there, the tip swollen and red, leaking the smallest bit of precum. It has your mouth watering.

You nearly choked on your own spit when you saw it. Never in a million years did you think that Eddie would be sending you of all people nudes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wonder what he was packing but you never really indulged in those thoughts, until now. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screen, memorizing every little detail in the photo.

Eddie sends another text but you’re too distracted to see what it is. Then a stream of texts start flooding in from him.

‘SHIT!’

‘I DID NOT NMEAN TO SNED YIU THAT!’

‘IGNORE THE PICTUREA’

‘HOW THE HELL DO I DELETE THE PIC?!?!?!’

‘GOD I AM SOSOSOSOSOSOSSOO SOORRY!!’

You giggle at his frantic typing, noting all the typos. Curiosity gets the better of you and you scroll up a little to see what he had said after he sent the picture. You’re eyes go wide at the words displayed on your screen.

‘Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. Jerked off twice while in the shower and I’m still hard. Wish you were here with me right now ;)’

You had no clue who this was really meant for but if it was meant for you you would 100 percent be on your way to him right now. The bottom half of the picture stares back at you as your eyes acan over the text again and again. You can’t deny the small hint of wetness that you feel on your underwear while looking at the two.

Twice? He came twice and is still hard. Whoever he thought about must be really hot if he can go 3 rounds without breaking a sweat. Could he go more?

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone receiving a call, from none other than Eddie himself. You sit up in bed and pull your knees towards you as you answer his call.

“Sweetheart I am so so so sorry I sent you that. It was clearly meant for someone else. If I had known it was your contact that I was on I would have never sent that at all. I want you to know that I don’t go around sending nudes to everyone or anything, I’m not a slut I was just-”

“Eddie it’s fine. No need to apologize. I figured it wasn’t meant for me anyways.” It pains you a little at the thought that someone else was supposed to receive that message from your best friend.

“I’m still sorry. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” His voice sounds smooth like spreading butter onto fresh pancakes.

“Hmm,” You fake thinking about what you want even though you know exactly what it is you want, “You’ve gotta tell me who that text was really meant for.” Silence. For a whole minute there is just silence on Eddie’s end, you’d think he was dead if it weren’t for the fast pace of his breathing.

“Sweetheart,” The nickname is not helping the situation you have going on right now, “You don’t mean that. Can’t I just take you to breakfast or buy you a new outfit?”

“Nope.” You respond popping the ‘p’ as you say it. “Either tell me who it was meant for or I send it to the groupchat.” You were bluffing. You couldn’t let the others see him like that, that was for your eyes only. Not that anyone needed to know that.

“You wouldn’t dare,” His voice turned deep and threatening.

“Try. Me.” You challenge back.

Eddie groans, “Fine. You win,” A smile spreads across your face, “It was meant for Callie. This girl in my chem class, we’ve been talking for a little bit.”

You’re a mix of emotions right now; happy that Eddie found someone he’s interested in and took his shot, confused because he never told you about it, sad because you thought he trusted you with things like that, and slightly jealous because you want to be the one Eddie sent nudes to, purposefully.

“Sweetheart? You still there?” You completely forget that you’re still on the phone with Eddie until he says something.

“Uh yeah yeah I’m here. I’m um happy for you Ed. Glad you found someone. Look I gotta go to sleep, big test tomorrow, talk later. Bye.” You hang up before he can say anything else.

Why did you feel this way about all this? You shouldn’t be thinking of Eddie in this way, he was your best friend. Best friends don’t think about going down on each other, or the way it would feel to have his cock inside you, or the moans he would release when he finally cums in you.

You shake it off and lay back down, setting your phone on your nightstand to charge. You try for half an hour to fall asleep but your mind can’t stop thinking about that damn picture. So you unlock your phone and go back to your messages with Eddie, looking to see if he deleted the picture or not. And to your luck it was the latter, the picture and text below still there for your viewing pleasure.

You’re still horny from the initial thought of him so it doesn’t take long for your hand to wander under your shorts and underwear to your clit. The thought that your fingers were his and the way he would whisper in your ear egging you on to finish.

The images of him jerking himself off in the shower flood you, his hand on the cold tiles, water hitting his back as he fists his cock, rubbing it slowly at first but becoming impatient and going faster until he cums all over the wall and his hand.

The image of his face when he does and the moans that would leave his mouth is what throws you over the edge yourself. Wishing it were him between your legs pulling it from you not your own fingers. Finally your body is tired enough to let you go to sleep, dreaming of Eddie once more.

---

You’re sitting with Eddie and the rest of Hellfire at lunch a week later. Neither of you have talked about what happened that night, both too embarrassed to say anything.

Things were normal though, Eddie would pick you up and drop you off to and from school. You’d talk on the phone every night about whatever happened that day that the other wasn’t there for. You liked the thought that the text didn’t hinder your friendship but you can’t help but be a little jealous about Eddie fucking someone else. It’s not like you were expecting him to confess his hidden undying love for you the next day but the realization that Eddie really did send you that accidentally; hurt.

The freshman are talking about some video game coming out when Eddie lean over to you.

“Whatcha’ thinking about?” There’s a smile on his face, one that you always loved seeing.

“Nothing,” You go back to eating your fruit.

“Alrighty then. Hey I was wondering what time you wanted to come over tonight?”

Your eyes grow wide, mind going back to the text, “Why?”

“Um it’s Wednesday. Horror movie marathon night, remember?” His head cocks to the side a little, his hair falling into his face. It reminds you of a dog questioning what it’s owner has in their hand.

“Oh right yeah. Um I don’t know if I can make it tonight.” That was a lie, you had nothing going on. But being in the trailer alone with Eddie after knowing what he looks like naked is not what you need right now.

“Awe come on! I rented Scream, Saw, and Halloween for tonight. You can’t make me watch them all alone,” He lowers his voice and leans closer, “What if I need protection from the bad guys?” His big doe eyes large and pleading with you.

You roll your eyes and push his face away from you, “Ugh fine. I’ll be there, how’s 8?”

“Perfect! I’ll order the pizzas, do you think you could make those amazing cookies for us?”

“You mean for you?”

“No. I mean for us, I would never eat all the cookies myself.”

“You did like 3 weeks ago! There were 30 cookies there and I had none of them.” You stare at him as he thinks back to then.

“Nope don’t remember which means it didn’t happen. So will you?” There are those puppy dog eyes again.

“Whatever but I swear if you eat all of them again I’ll castrate you.”

Eddie’s hands fly to his groin, protecting it from your threat. “Ouch, sweetheart. Didn’t know you hated my dick that much.”

I don’t. Just hate that it’s not mine. You thought, but you just rolled your eyes and continued on eating lunch until the bell rang.

---

Eddie rushed around his room looking for his favorite shirt when you showed up for movie night. You let yourself in, per usual and set the cookies down on the coffee table before heading to Eddie’s room. He was squating in front of his closet when you come in, you don’t announce yourself just stand there staring at his back.

He got a few new tattoos since last summer, two of which on his back. A skull and crossbones along with a knife wrapped in barbed wire. You haven’t seen them in person yet, it still being too cold to sit out in the sun. But looking at them now was a pleasure, the detail popping out as his muscles flex.

Eddie huffs and stands, defeated about not finding the shirt he wanted. He turns around and finds you standing in his doorway.

“Jesus! Why didn’t you say you were here?” His hand is over his heart as he catches his breath from the unintentional jump scare.

“I texted you like 20 minutes ago that I was on my way. Figured you knew I’d be here soon,” You say as you enter his room fully to sit on his bed.

“I did not see the text, I was in the shower,” The mention of this brought back memories of the photo, and what you did whilst looking at it, “Anyways pizza should be here soon and I’ve got beers and soda in the fridge.”

Eddie walks around you to his dresser, grabbing a random shirt and throwing it on. You’re sad at the loss of his bare skin but quickly shake the thought away. You get up from his bed and head to his living room, Eddie following in toe.

“So what are we watching first? I’ve seen Scream a few times but the other two I haven’t seen,” Eddie remarks as he grabs two beers from the fridge, opening them before handing you one.

You mumble a thanks before taking a sip, the bitter liquid coating your tastebuds. “I’ve seen Scream and Saw but not Halloween. Heard good things about it though, at least that’s what Robin said, Steve had other opinions.”

“Lemme guess pretty boy hated it and wished he never saw it?” Eddie laughs as he sets up Halloween on the tv.

“Yeah pretty much,” You laugh along. The thought of your friend sitting there watching the movie curled up in a blanket next to Robin bringing a smile to your face.

Eddie finishes setting up the movie and walks back the kitchen. He grabs a bag of chips and some dip before returning to your side on the couch. He opens the chips and pops one in his mouth, crunching it loudly.

You smile at the normalcy of everything right now, it’s as if nothing ever happened between the two of you. Which if we’re being honest nothing really did happen, Eddie just sent you a nude on accident. It’s not like you kissed or anything. Not that you’d hate it if you did.

You snack on the chips and dip with him while waiting for the pizza to show up, never starting the movie without it. The two of you talk about nothing in particular while you sit there. Eddie tells you about the upcoming DnD campaign he’s been working on.

His eyes lighting up and hands flying around erratically as he explains what he planned, the animation in his character brings an even bigger smile to your face.

Just as Eddie concludes his explanation, inviting you to come sit in and watch it at the end, the doorbell rings notifying the both of you that the pizza was here and it was now time for movie night to begin.

Eddie pays the guy and happily walks over to the couch and sets the food on the table in front of the two of you, he can’t even wait til the movie starts playing to begin eating. You laugh at him as he opens and closes his mouth quickly trying to cool the hot pizza in his mouth, you just hit play and start watching the movie.

The pizza is gone, same with half the bag of chips and the cookies. Eddie actually let you eat a few of them before he scarfed down the others. You’re nearing the end of Scream, the third and final movie of the night when you look at your phone for the time. 12:25 stares back at you, you groan knowing that your parents are going to kill you for coming home so late on a school night.

Eddie hears you and turns to see why you made that noise. You just wave him off and go back to watching the movie, watching as Skeet Ulrich gets shot for the final time in the head. A few minutes later the credits roll and Eddie turns off the tv, letting the trailer fade into silence.

“Wanna tell me what that groaning was about?” Eddie asks turning to face you completely.

“Nothing, just didn’t realize that it had gotten so late. Parents are gonna kill me if I go home at this hour.”

“So just stay here,” He says with no hesitation, “You still have a few clothes here after last movie night. They’re just siting in my drawer.”

You think about it for a minute. You and Eddie have had sleepovers in the past, nothing special about them, just two people sharing a bed, occasionally cuddling because of the small size of it. But now the thought of it made you nervous, having him so close to you, so near yet not being able to touch him. It killed you, but it’s better than going back home right now and having your mom and dad rip you a new one.

“Alright, I’m gonna need to shower though. Coach had us run the mile today at practice and I still feel disgusting.”

“Yeah no problem, you go ahead and shower, I’ll clean up here.” He stands and starts clearing the trash from the table. You get up too and head into his bathroom, but no matter how hot the water is or how long you stand under it you can't get the thought of the picture and the words under it out of your mind.

He was right here, jerking off to the thought of someone. You scold yourself for thinking about him like that, again. But you couldn’t help it.

Recently you’ve thought about him more and more; his smile, the dimples that show when he’s really happy, how animatedly he talks, the way his hair is always unkempt but still looks so damn soft. You thought about him in ways you never did before seeing that picture; his arms, his muscles, his hands, his rings. Everything about him turned you on and you needed it to go away.

Eddie finished up cleaning and sat down on his bed, beer in hand while he took out his metal lunchbox for a joint. You walk into his room, towel wrapped around yourself, hair dripping wet from the shower. He stops his actions to just stare at you, the same way you did earlier that night.

“Uh could I borrow some clothes? I don’t have anything to sleep in,” You say wrapping your arms under your boobs, pushing them up ever so slightly.

Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, sure.” He gets up and walks over to his dresser, rummaging through it to look for something you can wear tonight. He pulls out a pair on your underwear that you “left” there a while back and one of his Hellfire shirts. You denied his offer of some pants, saying they would be way to big on you and you’d rather just sleep in the shirt.

Eddie’s mind went straight to the gutter at that thought, you sleeping next to him, in just his Hellfire shirt and a pair of underwear he stole from you. His dick was growing hard just thinking about it. He quickly got back to looking for his joint and lighting it upon it’s appearance. He took a few hits while you changed in the bathroom, his mind slowly fogging over.

You return, hair still slightly wet with the towel in your hand. You toss it into his hamper before laying on his bed, grabbing his beer and taking a sip. You lay back and close your eyes, letting the serenity of this moment wash over you. Eddie offers you a hit but you decline, being that you don’t ever mix weed and booze together.

He finishes the joint while you finish his beer. The two of you just sitting there with the light sound of whatever record Eddie has playing. Your thoughts are quiet for the most part, just soaking in the time with your best friend, until you think of something. A question you’ve been meaning to ask for a little bit.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He responds head leaning back onto the wall where a headboard should be.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, hit me.” You reach your hand out and hit him in the thigh.

“Ouch! Not literally, I meant with the question, sweetheart.”

“I know,” You giggle.

“Brat,” He mumbles back.

“Anyways, I was gonna ask -and you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to it’s just something I’ve been thinking about- but did you really not know it was me you were sending that picture to?” The words lay heavy on your tongue as you say them aloud. You’ve been thinking about this for a while, it’s hard not to.

How did he not know it was you he was texting, your name was right there at the top of the screen. And if he was sending it to someone else how could he not double-check to make sure he wasn’t sending it to someone like Wayne or Robin.

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking about the best way to tell you that, yes he did know it was you he was sending it to. And yes he knew it was stupid but he wanted to try something to see if you felt the same way about him that he does you. Eddie’s loved you for about a year and a half now, never saying anything to anyone in fear of running your friendship.

But that night he was watching a show and one of the characters did this thing where they pretended to send a text to someone “they didn’t mean to”, to see how they’d respond. He thought that maybe this was an easy way of figuring out how you felt about him. But when you didn’t respond to his photo or texts he got scared and called you. Needing to clarify what he sent, and why.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis

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