#best friend to boyfriend

[artemiseamoon]

How about you and me

Secret Santa fic for @din-jarhead | I hope you enjoy it. This was fun to write.

Frankie Morales x Reader (f) | friends to lovers

Words: 3,840 | A03

Warnings: disappointing sexual and dating history, p in v unprotected sex scene.

About: After a bad run of dates and getting fed up with the whole thing, you vent to your best friend Frankie (who you secretly love). He has a few ideas how to improve your situation.

An: fic is from readers POV mainly and the intro is Frankie’s. As always, no one reader will fit all (example - say the things you’d say) so you can read as an Oc if you prefer.

* since this is a gift fic for secret Santa i have posted in full*

Frankie kept his feelings to himself for a list of reasons, his career being number one.

Frankie has seen too many times what this work does to relationships. He knows firsthand. He did not want that with you - he’d never forgive himself if he messed it all up with you.

It's better this way, or so he tells himself, loving you secretly while being your best friend.

But now that he’s recently retired, and seeing you face constant disappointment in love and sex, Frankie thinks it’s time to speak up and give the possibility of you and him a chance.

✨✨✨

Thursday night

Humming contently, you relax against the red cushion of the diner booth. Before the sound fully leaves your lips, Frankie is already holding back a laugh as he chews his food.

“What?” You asked once you swallowed.

“All these years later, that's still your favorite thing on the menu.” He sits up, placing his elbows on the table across from you. “You still make that sound.”

“How observant of you,” you wink at him, then grab your glass of water. “You making fun of me?”

“No, it's cute.” He replies before taking another bite of his sandwich.

You and Frankie have been coming here for years. It’s become one of your places, and the times you’ve been here without him always feel weird.

Earlier that day, Frankie texted you and asked if you were free tonight. It was a light day at the garage, and he finished all his projects early. You happened to be off, even though you usually work on Thursdays, so the two of you decided to meet up for dinner, ‘at our spot’, as Frankie calls it.

You love the garage for him. It started as a passion project in between jobs. Once he retired, Frankie spent time trying to figure things out and ended up back at a garage. Now he owns it, and he’s much more relaxed than he used to be. It gave him something to do, something he cares about, and as his best friend, it's a pleasure to see him enjoying this stage of his life.

Cars, garages - all that may not be your forte, but you do enjoy visiting him and usually hang out with him after work, sometimes helping at the counter if he and the guys are busy. Your favorite part is watching him work, and when he catches you looking, you usually wink or make a silly face that brings a smirk to his lips.

You cover up what's really happening inside of you with humor and silliness but underneath, you are still madly in love with your best friend and watching him work is like an aphrodisiac. Not that you’ll tell him that.

…

There are many reasons you and Frankie love this place, and you have endless memories here. Sitting in this booth most of the time, number 4.

Memories of you meeting after exciting life events, less-than-exciting ones; memories of you running inside to meet him once he was home after missions. That one time you nearly ran the waitress over to get to him.

After dinner, you shared a dessert and ordered some drinks. As the night goes on and groups of people leave, their seats filled once more by others, you and Frankie remained in your own little world.

At one point, you headed outside to the patio. It’s a nice night out, and once the diner filled up, you and he both eyed the doors without words. It’s another thing you adore about him, that silent language between you, it’s a rare thing.

…

An hour passes, and the second round of drinks is in your hands. You and Frankie are seated on a bench on the far left of the patio, cute led lights decorate the wooden fence as the music from outside dances in the air.

When your phone buzzed, you and he were in the middle of laughing about something. Frankie's thigh touched your own as you huddled together on the bench.

With a sign, you dig into your pocket and pull out your phone. “Sorry, this keeps going off.”

Frankie tells you it's okay without words, just using his eyes. You plug in the pin, then pull up the screen. It’s a series of texts from that asshole you hooked up with two months ago. Also, sadly, the last person you had sex with.

You must have made a face because Frankie calls your name, then asks,

“You okay?”

“Ugh, yeah,” you lower the phone and look him in the eye, “I’m just never dating or having sex again. But it’s fine. It’s okay. It's fine.” You shake your head, trying to push away memories of that night.

You were horny and lonely, so you checked out your recent matches online. You hadn't used the app in some time at that point, because every date you went on was a disaster, and the men, shit, the men just kept getting worse.

But your vibrator was no longer cutting it, and that night you decided all you needed was hot sex with a hot guy and it would hold you over for a while. When you saw his face, it was a yes, he was exactly what you were looking for, and his body was even better.

The date went okay, it was clear there was nothing there beyond sexual attraction, but that was fine. At the end of the night, you went back to his place and what started as a very hot make out led to the most disappointing sex you’ve had in a long time, and that says a lot because your recent lovers have been lackluster.

He was selfish in bed; more selfish than any man you’ve been with. He didn't go down on you but wanted you to go down on him, which you declined to do. Once you did fuck, with a condom, of course, it was over so fast you lay there stunned. The mother fucker got off on himself, you’re sure of it. You might as well have been a damn sex doll for all that.

You were sure you blocked his number and told him to never contact you again, but maybe you were too horrified at the end and forgot to do it. Either way, getting a series of texts from him telling you he wants to see you and how much fun you had together makes you want to vomit and burn your phone.

Despite your efforts to not get stuck in this memory, you do. Frankie's voice pulls you out of it and thankfully, puts the man out of your mind,

“Still not working out?”

You meet his eyes, “Yeah. I’m either cursed or there are no good men left,” when the words leave your lips, you see something in his eyes, something you can’t put a finger on, “at this point, I think I’m destined to be single and maybe never have sex again.”

Frankie chuckles, his head lowered slightly. Letting your gaze linger, you take in his profile, the way his wavy chestnut hair curls from beneath his hat. Admiring Frankie when he’s not looking is something you’ve done more times than you can count.

Your love and sex life are already a mess. The last thing you need is your secret pinning for Frankie to spill off your tongue right now. It’s a secret. You plan to keep it that way. One more disappointment with a stranger, sure, it would suck but you could handle that. One more “you up?” or ‘wyd’ text from some asshole you never want to see again, you don’t want that, but you can handle it.

But Frankie? What if you laid it all out and spilled your truth and he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he turned you down? If you try and it doesn't work out? What if you try, it’s weird, and you end up losing your best friend? - no, you can’t take that risk. Frankie means too much to you.

“Don’t give up,” when he speaks your name in between breaths, paired with his calming voice, you’re ready to just confess anyway and go in for a kiss, but you hold back, “You’ll make someone the happiest man on earth. I promise.”

You scoffed, “yeah right.”

“Don’t do that,” Frankie sits up, his expression growing serious, “you just have shitty taste in guys. You’re picking the wrong ones.” He adds a little grin at the end.

You point at him, “don’t think I can argue with you there. That or I broke a mirror at some point and didn’t realize it.”

Frankie chuckles, “or, there are good guys out there and they’re not on those fucking apps,” he observes you, then points at your phone, “those apps,” he motions to your phone, “you don’t need that.”

You sigh and drop your gaze to your phone. Then set it on the bench beside you. Your eyes meet Frankies, “no one meets organically anymore. I don’t want technology to have a decent date or get laid but here we are.”

Frankie is quietly observing you and listening. You hold his gaze for a while, too long. You feel a confession dancing on your tongue yet again. Swallowing back the words, you grab your phone and start deleting the dating apps. “Screw it. I’m getting rid of them. You’re right Cat, I don’t need them.”

Frankie sits back and crosses his arms in a relaxed way. After a few moments, he says, “I have an idea. It might be a crazy one.”

You raise a brow, “listening.”

“How about-“he pauses when your eyes meet his, “we go out on a date.”

You drop your phone. Frankie feels a jolt of panic, worrying if that was a bad idea.

The sound of your phone hitting the ground is heard by you, but you don’t care. You stare at Frankie, and a shocked smile slowly builds on your lips.

Your eyes widen, “you and me?”

“Yeah. Look,” Frankie slides his cap off and runs his hand through his hair, “you’re my best friend. You know I care about you -“he takes a beat, “I hate watching you go through all this shit with those guys. I hate seeing you unhappy…” he says your name with so much softness, it makes your heartbeat faster, “I like you; I have for years I just didn’t think -”

His words fade. You’ve always been beautiful to him. But right now, with the glint in your eye and a smile on your lips that could brighten any dark room - it renders him speechless, and any doubts he’s has start to melt away.

Frankie scoots closer to you, he attempts to continue his thoughts but can’t. Words won’t meet his lips. Instead, he does something he’s always wanted to do. He kisses you. Frankie's lips are soft and warm against your own, and your cheek heats up as he cups it with his hand.

The kiss is sweet, it makes your heart flutter and when it ends you want more. Frankie leans back just enough to gauge your reaction.

He’s a confident guy, anxious at times, sometimes a little shy, but confident. And though seconds ago he was sure you feel the same, he’s doubting himself again.

“Was that okay?” He asks softly, his beautiful soulful brown eyes locked on yours.

You smile and throw your arms around his neck, “a little short, but yeah, that’s okay.”

Frankie chuckles and pulls you closer until his lips meet yours. This time, there’s no hesitation, no worry; he kisses you like it's the last time he’ll ever kiss again, he kisses you so deeply he leaves you breathless; your head spinning as moisture pools between your thighs.

As the kiss heats up, your bodies are pressed together, and he nearly pulls you beneath him on the bench. Your fingers are in his hair now, your other hand tugging on his collar. Frankie has one hand on your thigh, the other behind your neck.

The hungry kiss doesn’t break until the beer bottle shatters on the ground, his bottle. You laugh as he reaches down to rescue your phone before it gets wet. Breathing heavily, you both continue to chuckle, and he cups your face again.

“Better?” He asks with a playful grin.

“Fuck yes.” You reply with a seductive smile.

Frankie's eyes dip to your lips, “about that date? Tomorrow?”

You poke his dimple, “Tonight?”

You’re sick of waiting.

You've wanted Frankie for years and after that kiss, you can’t wait for a second longer. Luckily, Frankie feels the same way.

“Okay, “he says confidently, “this is now a date.”

…

You can’t keep your hands off each other.

The official date portion of the night only lasted 30 minutes before you piled into Frankie's truck and ended up at his place. From the door to the living room, you make out passionately, hands exploring each other's bodies as you remove your clothes. It’s been two months since you had sex and the kiss made you feral. In the back of your mind, you wondered if you should slow down, but you don’t want to.

Every time a piece of clothing is removed, his lips are on yours again, the thud of your racing hearts pound between your bodies. As you make your way to the bedroom, he tries to navigate you in the dark, a table there, something falling over here.

“Maybe we should turn the light on?” you giggle.

He kisses your neck, his hands on your hips as you pause in the hallway, just before his bedroom. His body pressing against yours, both of you down to just your underwear now.

You wrap a leg around him, pulling him in closer, and moan as his bulge rubs against you.

“Fuck the light,” he growls, “bedroom now.”

…

In the bedroom, Frankie turns on one light, he needs to see you, to take you in, all of you. He’s seated on the edge of the bed now, admiring your form as you stand before him. He anchors one hand on your hip and kisses the soft skin of your belly.

“You’re beautiful.”

He kisses the spot again, then dips his head to kiss your thighs. Your hands are anchored on his strong broad shoulders as you watch him admiring you. There are no words, no thoughts, just the way Frankie is looking at you and speaking to you, the way his hands feel on your body; you are nearly vibrating with desire now.

Frankie stands. You slide your fingers in his hair as you kiss him, tugging at his dark brown waves. Frankie moans into the kiss and deepens it, needing more of you, his hands moving behind you and greedily cupping your ass.

You slide a hand between your bodies and palm his cock. Your hand on his cock makes Frankie moan and squeeze your ass harder. You imagine it inside of you and grow even wetter.

Frankie kisses you like no one ever has before, the way you read about in books and dreamed kisses could be. And when he slides two fingers inside of you, your knees almost buck, he demands more of your mouth as he fingers you, and you give it to him.

Pleasure rises in you as he feels you up with his other hand. You’ve always loved his hands, you stare at them all the time, you like to watch them work, and this man - he’s a fucking expert, he finds all your spots and brings you to the brink of release in minutes.

Frankie pulls his fingers out and orders you to lay on the bed on your back, knees up. Your breath catches in your throat at the command. You do it. He positions himself between your thighs and spreads them further apart,

“Perfect, just like that - “he groans, taking you in, drunk on you, kneading your thighs with his fingers as he observes you, his eyes clouded with desire.

Frankie knows how to touch you; you purr and moan to way he uses his fingers, his tongue, his mouth, the intuitive way he works your clit. You melt in his hands.

Frankie knows the right speed and pressure to bring you rushing past the edge of desire - to sweet sweet nirvana.

Frankie sits up and licks his lips. You’re seeing double and sucking air into your lungs as post-orgasm ecstasy moves in waves through your body.

He smiles, “all of that for me,” Frankie grins and dips his head again, savoring even more of your release.

Seconds later, Frankie moves up your body and hikes your leg over his hip; you bring your hands to his shoulders as he anchors himself with one hand and wraps the other around his shaft.

His eyes stay on yours as he slides into you, inch by inch, filling you and stretching you deliciously. You gasp and dig your nails into his shoulders,

“Is this too much? Should I go slower?”

He’s thicker, bigger than you’re used to, but you want all of him, every inch. You clench your walls around him and grab his ass, pulling him in deeper, needing more of him. Frankie kisses your jawline, then your lips.

“How's that for an answer?” You tease, pulling him in deeper, he moans and drops his head.

“Fucking perfect - “ he groans, thrusting his hips, sliding the rest of his cock inside your warmth.

You begin grinding your hips together, moaning with pleasure as you fuck. Your bodies move in a rhythm so synchronized it’s like you’ve done this before, and even with the extra stretch it takes to accommodate Frankie's cock, once he’s in, you fit perfectly, like your bodies were made for each other.

You grind your hips faster and faster, your hands traveling each other's bodies as he fucks you into the mattress. Frankie has imagined this so many times, and he would love to take his time with you, but right now, he's feral, the same as you, utterly consumed by red-hot passion.

Frankie changes positions, rolling on his back, you on top of him. As you ride him, you throw your head back in ecstasy. He anchors one hand on your hip and uses the other to rub your clit.

As you fuck, you become drunker and drunker on each other. You on his cock, him on the feeling of being inside of you.

You try to hold on, to keep it going a little longer, dancing at the edge of what you know will be the most exciting, most fulfilling crescendo you’ve ever had.

Frankie is so good with his hands, and his cock, you won't last much longer. Seconds later, you’re moaning his name and collapsing onto him as you come. He grunts and jerks his hips harder, faster, fucking you through your orgasm. When he kisses you again, it's almost possessive and you like it.

Frankie pins you beneath him again, he hikes your legs over his shoulders, thrusting deep into you with a shuttered groan. You cry his name and whimper at this new angle, it's intense and dizzying. The new angle does Frankie in, after a couple of pumps he comes, moaning your name in pleasure.

His body tenses, orgasmic bliss moving through him as he spills into you. A mix of moans and heightened breaths fill the room as he gently lays you on the mattress, then rolls over on his back beside you. Your body goes limp as you catch your breath.

…

Friday Morning

Frankie is up first. He’s never been able to shake his old schedule, when the sun is up, he’s up. Unless he makes an effort to sleep in.

Last night, moonlight streamed through his window and across your sleeping face, now it's the sun. He stayed up a little longer than you and watched you sleep. Same as now.

You stir awake slowly and eventually open your eyes. Squinting, your flash a tired smile at him, “hi.”

“Hi.” His voice is still groggy, and his hair is messy on his head, he looks adorable. Like you, he’s still naked beneath the sheets. Frankie leans over and kisses you.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.” You chuckle and cover your mouth,

“I don’t care, I’ll kiss you anyway.” he grabs your face and plants another kiss on your lips.

You sit up and pool the sheet at your hips, your back against the pillows like him.

“Frankie, about last night?” You raise your brows at him. “Do you think we messed this up by hooking up right away?”

“No,” his brown eyes meet yours, he turns his body to you, “you?”

You reach out and scratch the patchy part of his beard. “No. I hope not.”

Frankie looks at your thoughtfully, then takes one of your hands in his, “the way I see it, this has been building between us for some time. What happened last night was proof of that.”

You nod. Last night was amazing.

Frankie's everything you imagined and more. With one night, he’s erased all your bad sexual experiences and cleansed shitty lovers from your body memory.

He kisses you how you’ve longed to be kissed. Touches you in ways that make you wild and dizzy with lust. The way he pleases you cannot be compared to any other experience you've had; all your past lovers pale in comparison to this.

In the back of your mind, a thought picks away at you. What if starting with sex makes this a sex thing? As fun as that would be, you love him, and you’d want more than that.

Frankie caresses your arm, “hey, where’d you go?”

“Sorry, I just- it’s clear we like each other. We are obviously attracted to each other, but I’m just worried this will turn into a friends-with-benefits situation. And as fun as that could be, I don’t want -“ you trail off and try to read his expression.

Frankie takes a breath and caresses your arm, “I’ve been in love with you for years. I don’t want just a sex thing. I want you and me, together.”

A smile builds on your lips as your worries fall away, you inch closer to him, “I’m in love with you too Frankie.”

Your name is soft on his lips, his eyes full of adoration, “It's official then isn’t it, “he brushes his knuckles over your cheek, “you’re mine now.”

“And you’re mine.” You smile as you climb into his lap and draw him into a kiss.

Masterlist | Frankie | Pedro

[haroldhighballjordan]

sometimes I randomly think about the time a girl posted in this girls only Facebook group I’m in telling everyone how she broke up with her boyfriend and he lied saying that he lost the spare key she gave him, only to then break into her apartment when she wasn’t home and steal the cat they’d adopted while they were together, but then he denied having done this and she didn’t really have proof that he took the cat since he wouldn’t let her come into his place and look for it. And then another girl saw this post and knew her ex-boyfriend, and she was like “girl. I used to hook up with your mans back in xxxx and I still have his number. If you want, I’ll hit him up and get him to invite me back to his place and see if your cat’s there.” And the OP was like “bet.”

So this woman hit up homie dog, asked him out for drinks, went home with him, slept with him, and then woke up in the middle of the night and TOOK THE CAT. Like she had only said that she would confirm if the cat was there but then she took it upon herself to steal this woman’s cat back. Like she full on Trojan horsed this man and then hit up homegirl like “I got the goods. Where you wanna meet.” And then the two of them posted a photo of them together with the cat to the group.

And I just think women supporting women is so beautiful.

[sweetsweetjellybean]

Sarah!!! I'm loving this. You've built the tension so perfectly. Butterflies are dancing in my stomach. And this....

Such a beautiful description.

The Third Date

Eddie Munson x Anorgasmic!Reader

When you move back to Hawkins after graduating college, you find yourself reconnecting with an old friend in a new way. Your first two dates with Eddie Munson are everything you’d ever dreamed, but the next one has you unraveling.

Part One. Part Two.

cw: childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, fem!reader, deceased parent, mentions of poor sexual experiences, some drinking, sexual anxiety, making out, fingering, panic attack, eddie being sweet and reassuring, fluffy ending.

I was kinda in my feelings and needed Eddie to tell me all the right things. Sue me. 7k 18+, MDNI

You used to like this mirror.

It was vintage. Full length with an ornate gold frame, swirling embellishments on the top and sides. Not to mention it was a fucking steal at $10 from an estate sale. You’d liked it enough to make it one of the scant number of things you hauled all the way back to Hawkins when you moved out of your shoebox apartment in the city.

Right now, though? You kind of hated it. 

Usually, standing before it made you feel stately and elegant, even if all you had on was ratty denim shorts and a threadbare t-shirt riddled with holes and bleach stains. Yet here you were in one of your favorite outfits, hair meticulously styled, face glowing and dewy after spending an hour on it, and all you felt was ridiculous.

Not the mirror’s fault, technically. But it was the messenger. It told you at every twist of your hips, at every outfit change, at every pluck and tug of your clothes, that you were never going to look right—that you were never going to feel right. And it mocked your every failed attempt to do so.

You inhale, breath shallow and shaky as you try yet again to calm down. It’s just a date, you remind yourself. It’s just a date and he’s just a guy. There’s nothing to be worried about. 

Except it wasn’t just a date. It was the auspicious Third Date.

And it certainly wasn’t just a guy…it was Eddie.

This was something you’d been waiting for forever. For longer than forever. For longer than you could count. Eddie Munson was your oldest and dearest friend. Growing up, you were like each other’s second heads—facing the worst of what small minds in a small town in Indiana cooked up. You stood, middle fingers brandished like swords, dreaming of a wider world.

It felt strange to think this would only be your third date when you’d basically been dating since you were thirteen. You went to movies together, wasted weekday afternoons at the record store, lounged on the gravelly bank of Lover’s Lake reading well-worn paperbacks—Two Towers for him, Dorothy Parker for you. He begged you to sit in on Hellfire when he started the club your junior year and only had three members, himself included. He’d sneak you into the dive bar where his band played Tuesday nights, and you would immediately stick out among the five drunks who assembled every week. But as long as all you ordered was ginger ale and swore up and down you weren’t a cop, the bartender let you sit there all night to watch him.

Nights never ended the way “real” dates did. No hands being held as he walked you from his van to your doorstep; no kisses under flickering porch lights scored by a cricket symphony.

He never touched you too much, always quick to withdraw his hands when they lingered on your hip or back or arm. That would change, though, if he smoked or drank a bit and his cuddly side came out. Secretly, you longed for these times. You reveled in having his chin rest on your shoulder or his arms wind around your waist to hold you close. It never felt gross or crossed the line into groping like with other, lesser, guys looking for something to fondle. With Eddie, it felt more like he was showing you how he wished he could be all the time.

At least that’s what you let yourself imagine. 

He always apologized the following day, just short of castrating himself over it. It made you want to slap him. Slap him and then kiss him and slap him again. How could he not get it? How could he not see how goddamn in love with him you were? How could he not feel the same way? You waved him off, assuring him he hadn’t done anything wrong. All the while thinking, you fucking idiot, and not even knowing if you were referring to him or yourself.

Then came graduation. Or rather, your graduation and his sullen admission he wasn't eligible, which lead to the longest, most difficult conversation of your lives so far. It wasn’t even a conversation so much as it was you swinging wildly between reactions—scolding him for not telling you sooner; grasping at the straws of extra credit assignments your teachers would never assign; volunteering to stand guard while he broke into the administration office.

Eventually, though, you had to face the reality of losing him and it left a prominent break in your heart. Your acceptance letter to a school in Indianapolis that used to make you feel weightless, like you could finally fly out of here, now felt more like chains dragging you away.

You had half a mind to take him with you. You must have rehearsed the speech you wanted to make something like fifty times. Screw Hawkins, you’d say. Screw their closed minds and their disdain for anything even a little different. He could get his GED—you’d help him, happily. He could find work in the city and take community college classes or go to trade school. The two of you could live together and watch slasher movies every Friday night, falling asleep on his chest when you got tired just as you’d done all throughout high-school.

Of course those thoughts inevitably spiraled into what would happen once he started dating. A bigger city meant a bigger pool of people, all with the potential to realize the kind, sweet, caring boy who was bursting with passion for his fantasy games and music and his other rich interests was actually a massive catch and not a social pariah. In no time, it would be someone else falling asleep on his chest and you watching them be carried to his bed.

You couldn’t bear the thought of that. Maybe even moreso, you couldn't bear the thought of asking him to come with you and him saying “no.”

So, you went alone. You packed up your car with the barest necessities, you kissed your dad goodbye and said you’d see him at Christmas. But it was Eddie who saw you off, taking you into his arms and holding you there with your head tucked under his chin. You buried your face in his chest, tears leaking onto the patches you’d helped him sew on his denim vest. He told you how proud he was and how much he was gonna miss you. He said to write. To send pictures.

All you could do was sniffle.

At college, you tried expanding your horizons. You joined a couple clubs to make new friends and started going to parties. You met people like Carl. And even though he was handsome and seemed nice enough, you turned him down when he asked you to dinner. It wasn’t until much later, when your roommate scolded you for doing so, that you even felt some doubt about it. What was even the point when you knew he wasn’t what you wanted?

Except what you wanted might never be yours.

That first trip home to Hawkins was wildly unnerving. You knew it hadn’t actually been that long since you left. But why did it feel so strange that everything felt exactly the same? Had you really changed so much already that your home no longer felt like home? 

Even seeing Eddie again felt like rupturing old wounds you thought had successfully scabbed over. You withdrew from him without even realizing you were doing it. He knew something was wrong, but didn’t dare voice it. His greatest fear loomed: you were done with Hawkins. 

Done with him.

It took a while to strike the balance between the old and the new. You’d run away so fast and tried to overwrite everything in your life, returning to Hawkins felt like entering a fantasy world. And Eddie became like an apparition, a specter of everything you missed most. 

You started writing to him more, sharing stories about your classes, gossip in the dorms, drunk adventures in the city. And he wrote back, telling you all about the new members of Hellfire who also happened to play instruments and were eager to replace the members of Corroded Coffin who had graduated and moved away. Eventually, the letters became more like a diary. 

You could confess things you’d never imagined telling anyone—stuff about your mom and how you’d spent every day wondering if she’d be proud of you; how you worried about your dad and wondered if he would ever get over her; how you feared you might never find love like theirs and even if you did, how it might be taken away from you like it was from them.

And he confessed back to you. Amidst his ideas for new D&D campaigns and song lyrics, he gave you deeper insight on things you knew already—his father’s sordid criminal history and his mother’s inability to cope, which led to her dropping Eddie on his uncle’s doorstep at the ripe old age of eleven. Reading about Hawkins through his eyes made it feel more real and less like a dream you’d woken up from. It kept that connection open, a bridge between your worlds, so  you could experience college and all the new things it had to offer, but still felt connected.

Then the end of your sophomore year brought more bad news. 

Again, he wasn’t eligible. Again, he wasn’t graduating.

You’d not been able to let go of that fantasy of him joining you at school. Every time you walked across the quad, leaves crunching beneath your boots, sunlight dying as it dipped behind the old brick buildings and cast everything in a hazy golden autumn glow, you imagined a pair of clean, white sneakers next to yours and a ringed hand squeezing your fingers.

He promised you this was his year. Swore it, in fact. ‘86, baby! he’d scrawled big and messy under his signature at the end of one of his letters. And maybe it would. He said he was doing better—army crawling his way towards a D in Mrs. O'Donnell's class, already planning how he would snatch his diploma and flip the bird at the principal as he walked the stage.

He was certain enough it made you start to believe it too.

You never dared to broach the subject of what he wanted to do after graduation. He hadn’t mentioned applying to any colleges or looking for work. The rest of the band was graduating with him. Maybe they’d all move here to get more exposure. Maybe they wanted to record a demo they could pass out to record companies. Or maybe Eddie wanted to go solo.

The lack of information made you antsy. Was he being decidedly cagey about his plans? Was he hiding something? Or was he just afraid of disappointing you again?

It was nearing the end of the school year when you finally broke. You had to see him.

For once, your spring breaks were going to overlap. You blew off your classes on Friday to make the drive and managed to get to Hawkins High just as the final bell was ringing. His van still sat in the parking lot and you pulled in alongside it to wait, practically jumping out of your skin with excitement. Thirty whole minutes crawled by before you finally spotted him.

He emerged from the woods at the back of the practice sport fields, chattering with ease to maybe the last person on earth you would have expected to see.

Chrissy Cunningham was just as pretty as she’d always been. She was a couple years behind you and Eddie in school, but everyone knew of her from the moment she made the varsity cheer squad as a freshman—a staggering feat no one else had ever managed. She still had the same bouncy ponytail, the same enormous eyes and cherubic cheeks you imagined must ache at the end of each day from her constant smiling. And she was somehow smiling even wider than normal at whatever Eddie was saying as he grinned back at her.

It made your stomach churn thinking what they could have been doing to have her smiling like that. You knew he’d started dealing for Reefer Rick to earn extra money, but in what universe would the queen of Hawkins High be struck with the urge to buy a bag of skunky weed? 

Unless it wasn’t weed she was after at all.

Panic doused your body. You jammed your key back in the ignition and sped out of the lot, praying he didn’t see you. You drove straight back to school, tears streaming down your face for the entire journey, making you hate yourself more with every salty trail that stained your cheeks. Because what else did you expect? For him to pine for you like you did for him? For him to be like you and not date anyone, ever? To keep everyone who even attempted to get close at a distance? Reserving a space in your heart for someone who might not even want to fill it?

You loved him more now than you ever had. Even without seeing him every day, even without having him constantly at your side. If anything, it had gotten worse. Your feelings piled up within you just as his letters did in your room. They all lived in a box under your shitty dorm bed to be pulled out over and over and over so you could parse every line for hidden meaning. Crying at his words, so heartfelt and honest you didn’t even notice the grammatical and spelling errors.

By the time you got back to campus, you felt raw and spent. Your face was streaked with tears and you were breathless from crying. For days, you walked around campus like a ghost until you bumped into Carl, the only other soul not off on some debaucherous Spring Break trip. And when he asked you for seemingly the hundredth time if he could buy you dinner…you said yes.

It came in the mail a few months later. Your address scribbled messily on an invitation to the Hawkins High Class of 1986 graduation. Eddie had included a photocopy of his final grades and written “proof it’s not a clerical error” with a little smiley face in the corner.

You called him that night to tell him how proud of him you were. And you were proud of him. So unbelievably proud. But when he asked if you were coming, you lied. You said your boyfriend’s parents would be in town and that he wanted you to meet them. You told him how sorry you were, all the while thinking Chrissy could congratulate him enough for the both of you. 

And in spite of yourself…you let yourself pretend you heard a little dejection in his voice when you used the word “boyfriend”—fictitious as it was.

The truth was, you’d only been officially dating Carl for a couple weeks. And he was perfectly nice. He’d kissed you and it felt fine. It didn’t quite live up to what you believed it should feel like, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe what you imagined wasn’t realistic. Maybe what you thought it should be wasn’t feasible.

Maybe you just had to let that go.

And dating Carl was simple and uncomplicated. It served a purpose. It made you feel at least like you weren’t languishing in a wasteland of your unrequited feelings. It made you feel like you were trying. Sure, the sex wasn’t great. But you hardly expected it to be good for you. 

You’d hooked up with the odd guy here and there over the years. It was a pattern that began with some guy you met downtown whose assignment was to keep you occupied while his friend put the moves on your roommate. You were a little drunk and a lot lonely, so you’d gone along with it. It was quick. A little uncomfortable. It certainly didn’t make you eager to repeat the experience. But at least you could say you’d done it.

Part of you thought maybe it would get better, but it never did. 

Even guys you thought were decent at first were quick to gloss over the preamble and lead up, jumping straight to stuffing themselves inside you with no regard to your winces of discomfort. It didn’t take long before you started to assume you had to be the problem. Even by yourself, it took you ages to reach any sort of precipice. And even when you did, even when you felt your heart rate rising and your body heaving in response, the pay-off was…underwhelming.

With Carl, you thought it could be different. Maybe you needed a deeper connection; maybe you needed a few times to get comfortable with someone to properly ascend that peak. But the more you did it with him, the less attainable that seemed. Maybe you were just broken. 

You also tried not to dwell on the fact that the only times you ever got close were when you pictured a different face hovering over yours; when you imagined your fingers twisted up in dark, shaggy curls; when you visualized pale skin littered with tattoos and sinewy arms caging you in; when you lit that one candle you only bought because it reminded you of Eddie’s cologne.

The decision to move back home turned out to be less a decision and more a necessity.

A whole year out of school and you’d had truly terrible luck finding a job—at least a decent one that actually wanted to pay you. Carl, ever the charmer, wondered why you even wanted to work when you’d just wind up quitting when you got married. Really, you appreciated it. It was exactly the kind of comment you needed to jolt you out of a relationship that had been on autopilot.

You were a mess. Lost. Aimless. Barely treading water. Wishing you could call the one person you knew would cheer you up, but unsure if it would only result in more heartache. In the blink of an eye, it had been over five years since you left home and it was starting to feel like your only accomplishments were breaking up with your boyfriend and buying a mirror.

Then came the call from your dad.

He’d taken a nasty fall at his hardware store. He was fine, for the most part. But he was now significantly weaker and would have to have surgery as well as physical therapy after. And he certainly couldn’t run his store anymore. It had never run particularly smoothly to begin with and his books left something to be desired—another thing you’d be helping with once you moved back. He never outright asked you to do so, but he also didn’t have to.

The only good news was the bad news: a massive fire that disintegrated Starcourt Mall had led to an influx of renovations to the downtown area. In the wake of the mall’s destruction came a resurgence in small businesses that breathed life back into the desolation the mall caused.

It was in this newly resurrected downtown where Eddie was making his mark. He had opened a hobby shop where he still hosted his weekly D&D games with a lot of the kids who had originally been in his club. His store became like a beacon for all the kids (and even some of the adults) in Hawkins who felt there was no place for them. Eddie gave them somewhere to belong and celebrated all the things that made them targets of ridicule to everyone else.

It was also your first stop on your first day back.

The whole shop was so Eddie. As you walked inside and took in the decor, it seemed entirely possible he had just moved everything from his bedroom at Wayne’s right in here. He’d even rigged the entrance with a speaker that played the guitar riff of “Enter Sandman” when someone came through the door. 

You wished you could bottle the moment he came out front, your arrival signaled by the song.

“Holy shit…”

The box of miniatures and figurines he’d just finished pricing in the back fell to the floor with a thump and a rattle of plastic parts. He barely registered it, though. With round, unblinking eyes he stared, too stunned to move a muscle until a smile cracked his face wide open.

In just three long strides he crossed the store and swept you into his arms, lifting you up and whirling you around. “You’re here!” he gushed, arms crushing you around the middle in the most exquisite pain. “You’re really here!”

“I told you I was moving back!” 

You laughed heartily in his ear as he placed you back on the ground, telling yourself it must have been the unexpected lift making you breathless and not how the sunlight coming through the windows hit his eyes and made them shine like molten honey. He kept you close, letting his hands rest on your arms and squeezing them like he had to be sure you weren’t a mirage.

“I thought it was one of those ‘too good to be true’ things,” he said sheepishly, a pink blush creeping across his cheeks. “Had to see it to believe it.”

“Well, believe it,” you sighed.

You were already prepared for the loss of his touch, for when he would shamefully retract his hands, but he never did. He held you comfortably, his thumb lightly brushing over your skin. He let you go reluctantly, not regretfully, letting his fingertips trail softly down your arm.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, his voice coated in warmth. “I missed you so much.”

You nodded, your throat pinched as you tried not to cry. “I…I missed you too.”

Eddie’s smile grew even bigger, his eyes seeming to dance with excitement. “Well, we have to celebrate,” he said. “I close up shop at six. Meet me back here and we’ll go to the Hideout?”

You stalled, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you considered. Almost on instinct, you’d nearly agreed right away. Old habits and what not. But did you want to fall immediately back into your old patterns? Hawkins had changed so little since you left, it felt too easy to slip back into the trap. Could you really go right back to hopelessly pining for him as you’d done so long?

“Come on,” Eddie urged, flashing those doe eyes he knew you couldn’t resist. “It’s one drink.”

“Okay, okay!” you laughed. “One drink.”

One drink turned out to be three. Starting with your first legal drink together at his old haunt while a different band of hopeful kids fumbled their way through clumsy Metallica covers.

“Please tell me we were never that young,” Eddie sighed, taking a swig of his beer.

“You’ve never been young,” you teased. “You came out of the womb a crotchety old man.”

A little later, you absconded to the corner booth and tucked yourselves away from the rowdiness of the growing crowd. You were flushed from the alcohol buzzing in your bloodstream and from how close Eddie was sitting. It felt just like old times, except it was nothing like old times.

Because this time, he was flirting with you. And not being subtle.

You thought maybe you were imagining it at first, but it only became more obvious the longer the night wore on. There was a whole new confidence and intention in the way he talked to you. He’d never been shy, never had any trouble drawing people in, but there was a fire lit behind his eyes tonight you’d never seen before. And you were the sole object of that blaze.

“So…still with Carl?” He finally asked, after bolstering himself to do so for the last three hours.

You took a long sip of your drink, eyes never leaving his over the rim of your glass. The liquor made you bold, the burn at the back of your throat adding smokiness to your voice.

“No-pe,” you said, popping your lips on the final syllable. Eddie smiled wolfishly and leaned in.

“Good,” he purred. “Cos that would have made it real awkward when I asked you out.”

He took you to dinner two days later. Rang the doorbell and smiled at you as he stood on your porch wearing a black button down under a darker black velvet vest. His black jeans were a new- looking pair of the same kind he’d always worn, sans the ragged holes over his knees.

Despite the thin material of your sundress and the balmy weather outside, you were sweating with nerves. The breeze played with your skirt as he walked you to his van and the coolness of it on your clammy skin made you shiver. But when Eddie suddenly darted ahead of you to open your door and turned around with his hand held up to help you inside, it made you melt. 

The gesture filled your body with warmth, chasing away any hint of a chill.

After dinner, he suggested you walk a block or so to a bar where Eddie liked to play pool. And as you did, his hand reached for yours and he threaded your fingers together. You stared down at it, stunned. How many times had you wished he would do that? How many times did you imagine the heat of his palm against yours mixing with the coolness of his chunky silver rings on his fingers? It had always seemed so impossible and he’d just done it.

Like it was nothing. Like he’d done it a thousand times before. Easy. Natural.

He held your hand all the way into the bar, only letting go of you to accept a tray of balls from the bartender when Eddie requested a table. With a couple of beers in hand, you followed him to his favorite one that was tucked away in a little alcove, practically private.

You set down the beers and watched as he racked the balls, gaze lingering on his long frame and chuckling at the way he shimmied his hips as he leaned over the table to break. “Eyes on me,” he told you, playful smile revealing his teeth.

It was a redundant request, because it was entirely impossible to look anywhere else.

Eddie had filled out quite a bit since high-school. He was never an athlete by any means, but evidently a regime of guitar playing and dice throwing was enough to maintain decent tone. You stared at him unabashed as he walked around the table, lining up his shot. His vest now flapped open and he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves to reveal the familiar smattering of bats under his elbow and the puppetmaster etched inside his forearm. It made you wonder how many more tattoos—new ones you’d not yet seen—were hiding under the rest of his clothes. He smirked at you, smug as he leaned over the table, thoroughly enjoying the way your eyes followed him.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” he drawled before sinking a bank shot.

You rolled your eyes, trying to fein being unimpressed. “Trying to distract me, Munson?” you asked, chalking the tip of your cue in a much more sensual manner than necessary, letting your fingers lazily stroke the stick as Eddie watched transfixed. He huffed a laugh at the display.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Evidently, both of you were equally distracted. Most of your games lagged for a mutual inability to sink more than one shot in a row as the other did their best to pull focus. It was far easier for you, having only to lean forward slightly across the table from him to reveal a healthy dose of your cleavage. That, coupled with a coy smile and batting eyelashes, spelled disaster for Eddie. Everytime you did it, he’d scratch his shot and chuckle dryly at his own hubris.

He took a different approach, choosing instead to stand as close to you as he could as you lined up your shots. His musk and cologne filled your nose, a tantalizing woodsy smell that made your head spin as you struggled to keep your eyes on the ball. He rested his hip against the table, handcuff belt buckle glinting as it reflected the light from the lamp hanging overhead.

You could practically hear the childish taunt of not touching you, not touching you.

“Just take your shot, baby,” he cooed, low and husky. The sound made your heart hammer.

A couple hours of teasing and toying later, both of you were ready to explode. Your glasses sat empty on the nearby table, neither of you terribly interested in a refill. And as Eddie sunk the eight ball again, his eyes flashed to the tray for the balls rather than going to re-rack them.

“I guess I should get you home?” he asked.

A little sullen at the idea, you nodded and returned your cues to a rack on the wall while Eddie brought the balls back to the bartender and settled the tab. Only when you were walking back to the table to get your purse and passed a pair of men who reeked of tobacco did something occur to you: Eddie hadn’t taken a smoke break once.

“Did you quit?” you asked, staring at him with wide eyes. He smiled as he drew nearer to you, relishing the way your chest heaved as you reacted to his closeness.

“Took a couple years, but yeah,” he said. “Sometimes I still need a little help, though.”

He tugged his shirttail out from the waistband of his jeans, causing his belt and the chain on his wallet to jingle slightly as he lifted his shirt to flash a strip of his stomach. You’re so distracted by the action and the cut of his v-muscle it takes a few seconds to register the beige nicotine patch stuck on his hip. You stared at him and then back at it, fingers itching to reach out and touch.

He leaned in, his face the closest it had been to yours all night, his voice hushed so only you could hear. “For when I’m really nervous,” he said.

Streetlights and stars blurred as you stepped out of the bar and he whirled you into the alley. The rough brick scraped your back and snagged on your dress as you were flattened against it and you gazed up at Eddie, string lights overhead shining brightly in your eyes.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly. “Are you ready for this to start?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight his eyes trained on your face. Your hands settled lightly on his waist and you gave an impatient tug as you nodded. It was all the invitation he needed. 

His mouth met yours like the sun met the horizon. The softest kiss you’d ever had deepened gradually until you were grasping at him, fisting his shirt in your fingers. Your lips felt molded together, pliant to the other’s movements, but still insistent as they chased one another.

Control shifted subtly between you, taking turns drawing the other in and pulling back. More teasing, more toying. Yet you never denied each other long, unable to stay apart.

God, this was it. This was what it was always supposed to feel like.

It could have been hours you stood out there kissing and laughing, but you’d never have known. The only thing that alerted you to the passing of time was when the lights inside the bar shut off and the employees filed out for their final smoke break before heading home.

Giggling like terrible criminals begging to be caught, you and Eddie hugged the shadows and made your way back to his van. You rode home with your panties soaked, subtly shifting in your seat, trying not to think about the arousal pooled between your thighs. And at home, back in your room, you were so tempted to dip your fingers into the slickness as you thought about Eddie’s breath on your lips; how the ends of his curls tickled your sternum when he leaned into you; the way his scent lingered on your skin after being pressed between his body and that wall. 

But you didn’t dare risk the disappointment that would follow when your pleasure receded like waves being drawn into a riptide; when you backed down from the edge of that cliff, feeling even emptier after not reaching that peak. Again. No, you couldn’t spoil this night with all that.

You saw him more throughout the week. He started popping into your father’s store almost as soon as it opened, offering you coffee and a kiss. And he spent the first hour of the morning with you at the front counter, propped up on his elbow with his chin resting on the heel of his hand.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you asked, swatting him with a folded up newspaper after you finished doing the jumble together.

He just shrugged with all the casual ease of somebody whose own shop didn’t open until 11. Or noon if he was hungover. “What could be better than hanging out with my favorite girl?”

Favorite girl. The words lived in your brain all day. It made you positively giddy every time you thought about it, even causing you to accidentally enter a customer’s 15% discount as 51% and not even bother correcting it. The loss on a value pack of paint brushes and trays seemed a paltry fee for the smile that spread across old Mrs. Gershwin’s face when she saw her total.

Eddie started calling every night at 9:30, practically on the dot, and it didn’t take long for you to get in the habit of settling into your bed around that time so you could pick up the receiver in your room before the ringing disturbed your dad dozing in his recliner downstairs. 

“So when do I get to take you out again?” he asked, clearly not oblivious to how it made you melt on the other end of the line. 

You blushed your way through making arrangements for an early movie Saturday followed by dinner. Then, before beginning the long process of saying your goodnights, you paused to ask him the thing you’d been wondering since that night at the Hideout.

“Eddie…are we really doing this?” you asked, torn between giddiness and trepidation.

“I certainly am,” he hummed into the receiver.

He talked the whole way through the movie and still had more to say at dinner afterward. 

It didn’t bother you, though. You loved listening to him talk. Your ears had gone so long without his rambling, it was more like music than words. His feet toyed with yours under the table and after you ordered dessert, he excused himself to use the bathroom only to slide into your side of the booth when he came back. You giggled over tiramisu and cheesecake, your sides pressed together from shoulder to ankle. Later, the tastes of your desserts would mix in your mouths as he kissed you deeply in his car dropping you off.

Everything about it felt so alive. So ripe with the promise of what this could turn into, what it had already become. In two dates with Eddie, you felt more connection than you had in two years of dating Carl. Not that it was fair comparing them. Nothing and no one could ever compare to this.

It was a Wednesday when he made a new proposition. You had already crawled into bed and swathed yourself in blankets to wait for his call. And after the few customary minutes of talking about your respective days, he brought up his idea for Friday night.

“Would you want to come over here for dinner?” he asked.

“You…you mean like your place?”

“I was thinking mine, but if your heart is set on a neighbor’s, I’m sure breaking in wouldn’t be too difficult.” He’s smirking so hard you swear you can hear it over the phone. 

“I guess yours will do,” you chuckled. “Does this mean I’ll get to see The Hair in person?”

Eddie was living with Steve Harrington, which had taken a commanding lead for being the most confusing thing you’d learned since returning home. Apparently they’d been brought together by a shared friendship with Dustin Henderson, one of the kids from Hellfire Eddie had taken under his batwing during his third and final senior year. Dustin had spent months insisting both boys would get along if they only gave the other a chance until his badgering paid off.

Now, the pair shared a tiny apartment downtown, walking distance from Eddie’s shop and only a short drive to Family Video where Steve was now the manager. And Dustin evidently couldn’t go five minutes without congratulating himself for bringing the two of them together. Eddie liked to joke that they were now co-parenting the little shithead (affectionate).

“Actually, Steve is out of town this weekend,” Eddie said, struggling to contain his excitement and keep his cool. “So, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Breathe, breathe, breathe. “Oh, yeah?” you said, voice spiking just an octave too high.

“Yep. And, um…you could stay over if you wanted? If that sounds good to you?”

Stay over. You knew what that meant. There was something gut wrenchingly endearing about the way he asked—the innocent peal of his voice. But there was no doubt in your mind what he was getting at. This wasn’t going to be like crashing on his couch after a movie night or pouring yourself into his bed after a Corroded Coffin show that lasted to the wee hours.

This would be something new. Something completely different.

“That sounds great,” you said, finally.

And it did sound great. It just also sounded a little terrifying.

Admittedly, you hadn’t been on many dates in your life. But television and film had successfully indoctrinated you with knowledge of that classic Third Date milestone. And it made sense. He wasn’t some stranger. You’d known each other for so long, it stood to reason things would continue to accelerate between you. And was that such a bad thing? 

This was Eddie, after all. He was your best friend. He was your other half. You weren’t sure if  you even believed in soul mates, so to speak, but if they did exist you couldn’t imagine anyone besides him in that role. He had stoked life into the coals within you that you were certain had burnt into a lump of ash. You never felt with anyone the way you felt with him. 

So if you were gonna do this, you were gonna do it right.

You went shopping, fighting off anxious nausea as you perused the racks of lingerie in the far corner of a little boutique. Averting your eyes from the more salacious options, you settled on a matching set of midnight blue embroidered with silver thread to look like stars. It was made of thin mesh that gave the illusion of coverage, but revealed plenty through the sheer netting.

It also looked a little like something a wizard might wear. And for obvious reasons, you had a feeling Eddie might like that. 

Securing your purchase you thought might make you feel more prepared, but it only caused your thoughts to unravel further. This was the first time Eddie would be seeing your underwear and it wasn’t even your own. At least it didn’t yet feel like your own the way your drawer full of less suggestive garments did. What if he thought you looked ridiculous? What if he laughed or got turned off because your thighs were too big or the pudge of your stomach grossed him out? Worse yet, what if you failed to live up to the implications? What if he saw it and assumed you knew what you were doing, only to be woefully disappointed by your skills? Or lack thereof?

It was impossible to reconcile the two wolves fighting for dominance in your mind. On the one hand, it was wildly exciting: the thought of finally getting to be with him and touch him and have him touch you back. At the same time, though, you were overwhelmed at the prospect. What if it changed things between you? You’d always thought you wanted more than friendship with him, but what if in that pursuit you lost the person you treasured more than anything in the world?

And then of course there were the normal fears. 

After so much unfulfilling sex, you couldn’t help but be fearful your body would betray you as it always had. It was hard not to pin all your hopes on this and you didn’t want to add any more pressure to this night than you already felt. But even if you backed off that peak and failed to reach the summit, surely the ascent would feel just as nice as long as it was with him. 

Right?

This was what you tried to tell yourself as you turned one last time in front of your mirror. 

Literally everything about this night was making you uncomfortable and it hadn’t even begun yet. The lingerie that felt fine when you bought it was tight and itchy on your skin, and it felt glaringly obvious you were wearing it under your clothes—like a diaper or a straightjacket.

You’d shaved, even though it made you feel like a creepy bald Barbie, and even though you found the concept kind of disturbing. Whose brilliant idea was it anyway that to be sexy you had to look like a child between your legs? And you always wound up completely bare because you could never get it even and kept having to take more from each side until nothing was left.

Still, you did it. Because that was what everyone did, right? That’s what he would expect?

Shaking your head, trying to fling away all your thoughts, you busy yourself packing your small overnight bag. It was the same one you must have brought over to Eddie’s a hundred times over, but for the first time you found yourself doubting it. Would he think you were high maintenance for wanting your own toothbrush and a change of clothes? For bringing something comfortable to sleep in? Would he think you were a weirdo for not just sleeping naked? God, what if he saw it and figured you’d been sleeping with so many guys, you just kept it packed all the time?

Panic creeps up the back of your neck. It burns hot on your cheeks and makes your heart pound in your temples until you’re so dizzy you have to lean against the door with your head bent.

Breathe, you think. Breathe, breathe, breathe. 

Frustratingly slowly, the thrumming in your chest subsides. You managed to bring yourself down off the ledge and find your center—Eddie.

Eddie would make everything alright. 

He always did.

Part Two

[maxgicalgirl]

Being a “Fun Fact !” kind of autistic is all fun and games until you get halfway through sharing an interesting tidbit and realize that it probably wasn’t appropriate to share in polite company and now you have to deal with the consequences :(

[nemesyaaa]

a long way from the playground // rafe cameron x reader

summary ; when you met rafe on the playground of the school, he was such a crybaby but you were there for him as his most beloved (and unique) friend until that accident which happened in high school.

seven years after that argument, you met him again. and mostly, seven years after, the crybaby that you know became the big boy that everyone knows.

genre ; childhood bestfriends to strangers to lovers (literally my favorite trope of the world), slight of angst, fluff, and smut. he fell first (and alone at first lmfao...)but she fell harder trope. one-shot.

warnings ; argument, family issues, mentions of cheating, smut, miscommunication, mentions of anger issues, fear of abandonment/being alone, jealousy, first time/virginity, past/present, violence ?( reader slapping rafe), being pogue/kook is not a big deal, mentions of rafe's mother.

author's note : it's 4k. was inspired by eighteen by one direction and to build a home by the cinematic orchestra. trying myself on something soft and kinda angst (but more in a bittersweet way.)

rafe was not always being the big boy everyone knew. it had taken seven years between the two of you for him to become stronger and more mature. when you met him, he was a whiny little boy who loved to fight, but cried every time you treated his wounds. you always managed to make him smile when you placed a bandage on the bleeding bruise and promised him that if he calmed down, the injury would disappear.

you started being there for him from the moment you were just seven years old.you understood that rafe needed someone in his life, because no one was there for him. you never understood why, but people loved to say, even the teacher and his family that there was something weird about him.

you heard the others spreading rumors about it a couple times. it was so easy to criticize others rather than judge yourself. at that moment, rafe didn't scare anyone. it was not because he had the prestigious cameron name that it made his classmates fear him.

he was like everyone else, there was no kook or pogue. everyone was too young to be different, the prey could be anyone in the group, but the leader always remained the same.

the first time you and rafe cameron were really close was on mother's day. the whole class had been assigned to make a gift and in the most saddest way possible, everyone had a mother to give their present to. everyone except Rafe, but you didn't know about that before the accident.

having finished making your own gift, you surprised your friend from behind and he dropped his vase on the ground. you had never felt so sad in your entire life when you saw the broken glass on the floor. you could clearly feel your heart cracking in your ribcage, your veins freezing, and your breath dying in your throat, the hot rush of tears inside your eyes.

"rafe, i'm really sorry. I...really, I didn't mean to..."

“it’s okay, y/n. I didn’t have anyone to give it to anyway...”

his voice cracked slightly in his knotted throat as he managed to not show you how hurt he was. he was trying to be strong, and not a crybaby — that nickname that you given him every time. and his eyes had become so full and wet with tears, the blue ocean of his eyes drowning in the hot little boy whines.

rafe cameron was a broken child, not just since you broke his vase. no, always. since he no longer had his mother. and you realized it in such a cruel way that you wanted to disappear.

he had so many tears, and you felt like they could flow down his cheeks forever, that even an eternity wouldn't be enough to wipe them away. and even if you had been a siren, you would never have been able to swim in water as salty as his present sadness.

"my mother...left me..." he admitted softly between sniffles, his nose red and leaky.

you felt bad but you took him against you in a tender hug, and placed your hand on his back to start caressing him gently, until he was soothed. "but you have me. and i will not leave. you know rafe, when i love someone, it's serious. i sincerely would like to make sure that you never feel alone again."

you looked into his eyes. you couldn't be more sincere.

and maybe it was from that day that rafe cameron fell in love with you, and he had never felt so good because he never thought that love could be so heartwarming and kind.

if you thought he would be the type to hide his feelings, or run away from them, you were wrong. it was the first time he felt this comfort, this happiness and he needed to show it to you. even for his family he did not have such great affection.

he loved giving you gifts. he had seen and heard that the girls really liked those kind of things so every day since Mother's Day, you received flowers, boxes of chocolates, photos of yourself accompanied by notes, volumes of your favorite book saga, CD's of your favorite singers. rafe couldn't let go of you.

since you didn't love him back, he fed on the affection and attention you gave him.

rafe took everything you had to give him - a look, a smile, a kiss on the cheek, a hug, an earphone for the two of you to share, a day in your room watching movies, a ride on the bike of your big brother, an afternoon playing in the sea.

there was nothing strange about him, nothing like the rumors could say.

“rafe, you didn’t have to give me that.” you exclaimed when you saw a necklace with his initials.

“but I wanted to. Don’t you like it?”

"I love..."

Rafe would have loved to hear that you were talking about him saying those words but he was also so impatient. every boy his age had a girlfriend, and he wanted you to be his. he was not an exception to the eager youth.

what was the point of being rich, of being able to have everything if you weren't included among his treasures? he wanted you, his only friend and the only girl who mattered to him.

But also, he was lost because he was experiencing one-sided love, because above all, it hurt so much not to be loved in return, to be in love with someone to love them to a point where it mattered more than himself.

the first time you kissed rafe cameron on the lips was in high school. you were drunk, you hadn't done it on purpose.

you threw up right after, but he never blamed you. he knew it was the alcohol, not him. he even held your hair while you vomited everything into the bowl. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I..."

"I'm not mad. you're just drinking too much. I should have been more careful. you know i can't be angry with you."

yes, rafe had anger issues, serious problems managing his hard feelings. sometimes he even scared you. sometimes you even felt like he would be able to kill someone.

rafe’s hands could be deadly but whenever they were on you, pressed to your cheeks, against your hips, on your thighs, inside your hair, on your neck, they were always calm and gentle.

after that, you would never have guessed that the first time rafe cameron had touched himself, it was thinking about your lips on his mouth, something so small and pathetic but it was enough to make him so vulnerable and unable to think about anything else.

he imagined your pretty lips around his cock instead of his useless large hand, your wet open mouth pumping him as your tongue covered every inch of his growing girth. and he hated himself for having impure thoughts about you, because you looked like an angel. he had no desire to make you dirty but oh fuck — he had cum on his stomach, spurting the warm loads painting his flesh. and god he wished you were there to make him pure again.

after that, rafe had tried many times to get you out of his head. he thought of porn. but he imagined your body, your voice, your moans in place of all these actresses, and that was the only way he could come.

dating girls but it never worked. you were always the one he wanted out of all the ones that existed.

distance from you but he always came back, because without you it had always been like being in the dark. and how could he lives in darkness without the one who gave him light?

but above all, you were the one who understood him best, who always managed to soothe him, and above all who never judged him in his moments of weakness.

you were his home, where he took refuge when he had a problem with his father, when he could no longer stand Sarah's presence, when Rose was getting on his nerves, when Topper and Kelce were behaving like idiots. because you were the only person who couldn't make his existence even more shitty.

— now it's been over ten years since rafe cameron was in love with you, but only seven since you disappeared from his life.

you had another life now, a boyfriend who cheated on you and who was always angry with you, and pushing you under and under. you were stuck with the wrong guy.

you had always dreamed of being an artist, you had specialized in painting in college hoping to pursue your dream.

rafe had always accompanied you in that dream, volunteering as a model for all your portraits but you always ended up throwing all the drawings away because you were too perfectionist. for you, it was never good enough. but for your best friend, it was a masterpiece, the work of a true painter.

you drew in your spare time, but each time, you ended up drawing rafe's face. you had no idea why he was your only inspiration even though you had a boyfriend, why it was always him who motivated you to continue painting.

it was strange how rafe had made a huge impact in your life, the only boy you actually had.

— a year later, on a huge impulse, you offered your art to a museum that regularly held exhibitions. you had made arrangements with the director and tried to find rafe's contact two nights after.

you searched for his social media, last names in the directory, asked his friends but nothing had helped you. you had spent a week trying to find it but it felt like you had lost him forever, that it was like a flower that you should have cherished instead of letting it perish.

you had been a monster. you abandoned him...like his mother. like everyone else.

every time you thought about him, you always ended up crying. if it wasn't love because you were sure you didn't love him, why did it hurt so much? why did it kill you so much?

rafe had never been capable of hurting you, and yet you had stabbed him without even looking at him. you had let him give you his heart, and you had stepped on it. and maybe that was why he couldn't fall in love anymore because you had ruined all his chances of being with someone else.

rafe had confessed his feelings to you while you were in his room, talking about everything and nothing, the future and the past like children. he had grown up. he was no longer the little whiny child you had known but a big boy, the one who now had big arms to protect you, hands to dry your tears, body to warm you.

“i feel like you want to tell me something, big boy. so say it, don't make me wait or beg for it.” you teased him by stopping the movie you were watching under the blankets.

"If you weren't so blind and stupid, I wouldn't have to be so embarrassed. i really have to do all the work all the time. "

“Come on, confess it. Do you want me to close my eyes?”

“ close that eyes, and shut that mouth too. ” he nodded, and the minute you closed your eyes, his mouth found yours to kiss you.

“what does that mean?”

“are you being stupid on purpose?” he replied. "It wasn't a mistake for me in the club...I mean, I really liked it like now. Don't make me say it, y/n. "

you were embarrassed. you didn't like rafe. finally you loved him like a best friend. he had always been the friend you dreamed of, not the one you wanted to end up with.

In contrast, rafe always believed that a girl could never break his heart. but you had shown him today that he was wrong, because you had managed to hurt his feelings, to make them so depressing.

you had this control on him that he had exactly over everyone else.

"Am I still the crybaby I was to you? I've changed. "

"that has nothing to do with it. rafe, you can't love someone and think that they will love you back. love doesn't work like that, and sometimes it doesn't even work. "

“you love someone else, right?” his tone was now louder, becoming more aggressive.

"I...n-n..."

"you love someone? who is it? tell me who it is? or don't tell me, I'll find out eventually. do you think that guy deserves you more than me ? "

“rafe, you’re scaring me. don’t yell at me.”

"why? you have the right to reject me but I don't have the right to raise my voice with you... let me laugh...since you like joking with me now.” there was a sick smile on his face that you hated, and made you shake.

"Rafe, I'm not rejecting you..."

“oh, y/n, please don’t lie to me. you’ve never been a hypocrite, so don’t be one now. don't be mean sweetheart because i would die rather than hurting you. just admit that you have someone, that you like playing with my feelings. do you think you're superior to me ? well, don't forget that i'm the only guy that give you attention so you're not that special. i made you special.”

"you win, rafe cameron. congratulations. i'm leaving."

you stood up towards the door but he rushed toward you and blocked your way.

“rafe. move.”

"asking like that? oh no, sweetheart. I've seen you be nicer than that, so you're going to give me the pleasure of asking me with better words."

“don’t make me push you. ”

he laughed so hard that your ego had been hurt. "because you think i'm still the weak, whiny cameron from the past that you used to manipulate ? tskk tskk, wrong. it's over. i hold the power in the relationship now. "

“rafe, I don’t want us to argue.”

“ oh yea ? so why do you want to leave? give me just one good reason at least !”

“you have to let me go.”

"and if I refuse? ah yes, I forgot, my family probably loves you more than me so they will surely come and help you if you cry or scream. so, please, show me how much my family hates and doesn't care about me. ”

you felt the sadness in his voice despite the loud tone, and the condescension.

"you can't leave. what kind of girl are you? the kind who likes to break hearts?”

it was your turn to be mad at rafe so you slapped him. louder than you expected because his face had turned against the door, and a red bruise had marked his skin. you regretted your action but you didn't apologize. because rafe had to learn to respect you.

" excuse me ? I was always there for you, when you were in pain, when you were angry with the whole world, when your father was so cruel to you that I had nightmares because I was afraid that will be the reason i will lost you one day, when you were crying, when you were fighting, I was there when there was absolutely no one for you, I was there when you were the little boy that no one wanted. You have absolutely no right to blame me for anything and consider this slap at the end of my sentence because I will not apologize. I have always been nice to you. so don't make me regret this. so yes, well done rafe, you managed to ruin everything. I'm sorry that you are in love with me and unfortunately I don't have this feelings for you, but now you lost me, and all the chances you had for us to end up together so you can sequester me here if you want, but know that even if I stayed in this room until the end of my days, I would still have no feelings for you, not a fucking single one. “

he was angry, his nostrils were flaring, and his fists were clenched against his thighs. you only had to see the swelling of his veins around his temples and around his neck to feel that it was literally boiling inside his body.

"you haven't changed. you've just grown. you'll cry when my back is turned.”

— back in the present, you wore a pretty dress to your art exhibition. you chose "blue eyes" as a subject with multiple paintings representing Rafe's gaze in different expressions. you had even managed to capture his look when he was in love with you.

so, you hoped that this evening he would come, that he had accepted your invitation, that your letter had arrived safely at its destination. you had received so many compliments but none had made you happy, none had managed to really make you smile, even those from your boyfriend who you had found in the hallway kissing someone else.

you didn't even cry because you knew it. it was just more horrible to see him in real life because he looked so happy.

“get out of here.” you reacted without even shouting.

“baby wait, I can explain everything….”

"explain what to me? your explanations are stuffed in this girl's mouth right now."

"I'm not going to leave." he replied.

“ oh yes you will leave. and if I see a single tear on her face, surely not alive. but yea, dare you to stay.” a cold voice growled and warned behind your back that you recognized it by heart.

you turned to admire rafe who stood in front of you, still just as handsome, and above all taller. you wanted to be a pure and shed tears just to see your ex-boyfriend suffer but you were too busy rejoicing in rafe's presence.

“Who are you?” your ex-boyfriend replied.

"oh if I told you, I think it would break your heart but you don't seem to have one so I'll be honest. I'm definitely the only boy she likes. i'm sorry if she made you think that she has something for you. but believe me, will be nothing contrary to what i will do to you if your ass is still here in those free seconds i let you run.. "

“raf…”

he shushed you with his mouth. "You'll have your moment, but wait. this is a conversation for boys, and unless you're hiding a dick between your legs, you're not in."

you smiled at his stupidity. the two boys had gone out, and Rafe had returned a few minutes later.

“Oh my god, you didn’t cry,” you teased him gently about his whiny past, clapping your hands.

“Was I crying that much?”

“Like a baby.”

"but I have changed...and..."

you felt like the words were really struggling to come out. his voice was blocked and he didn't look you in the eye. he scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I was totally stupid."

“apology accepted.”

“does that mean I have the right to a kiss?”

When you were little, you always gave Rafe a kiss on the cheek when he apologized. the memory made you smile tenderly.

you stood on your tiptoes to reach his lips with your mouth, and he lifted you by your ass to help you.

“you were always mine, baby. even when you left, even when he was here.”

“ because it’s as much to love you as to hate you, rafe cameron.”

“Is that why you dedicated this entire exhibition to me? I’m flattered.”

“you didn’t leave my head even though you left my life.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either. and I still think of you now. "

“ah yes? and what do your thoughts say about me?”

"that I finally have the girl I've always waited for. and that I still want her just as much."

"How about you show me how much...I mean...not with your lips, big boy. It's time to show me how much you've grown.”

you had gone to his hotel room after the party. he had accompanied you during the rest of the event, never taking his eyes off you as if he was afraid of losing you again. he even felt himself tighten his arm around your waist. he didn't keep his hands in his pocket, because you were there. and above all that you finally loved him.

it was beautiful. you had been the first person rafe cameron had loved, the first person he had broken his heart, and also, the first person who had loved him. you were destined to each others.

in his room, you were surprised to see how gentle he was with you, that he had softly placed your body on his sheets like a princess. he took off his t-shirt and you salivated just seeing his muscular chest, his arms turned into huge biceps, his flat stomach turned into voluminous abs with a magnificent v-line. “ It seems like you worked hard to please me. ”

“ oh babe, don't waste your drool on yourself when you can literally splash it on my dick. but maybe my girl wanted it dry”

“ you're really big now. ”

“ wait, something bigger is coming at you. ”

you were in love with the way your boy had become a man. you were proud of him, you undid his belt, and pulled him by the leather of the accessory before sliding it down and wrapping it around his neck to push him towards you and kiss him again. rafe was so desperate for you, he was hard in his pants to the point where it was painful, and even his tongue against yours was lost in a messy burst of both of you saliva.

he had spread your legs, and removed his pants, before pulling you against him by the thighs to bring you back against his hips.

“spit.” he held out his hand to let you spit on his palm and coated his hard cock with your drool, using your saliva as some kind of lube.

he started touching himself quickly, slowing up and down, a tight grip around his veiny and rocking length. you placed your fingers against his to accompany him in his movements, while devouring him with your eyes.

“fuck, you’re too good for me.”

“so make me as bad as you.” you responded by separating the two lips of your cunt with your fingers to show him the way. “fuck me. now.”

“did you have sex with him?”

“no…” you admitted shyly. “I’m still a virgin. Does that bother you?”

“I’ve already had sex, does that bother you?”

"no, because I'm sure you've never been able to cum without thinking about me. You're so obsessed with me.”

he pushed his leaking and wet tip against your soaked folds, rubbing himself lightly on them. “can I ?”

“oh rafe, it's only if you don’t do it that we’re going to have a problem.” you laughed gently.

and it didn't take more for him to split your pussy with his throbbing dick to startly making his way inside you. he had done it gently, partly because he didn't want to hurt you, but because you were incredibly tight. he held your hands, before placing his lips on yours, and driving you crazy with slow thrusts, his hips gently bucking against yours.

his cock stretched you softly, moving back and forth and sliding inside your canal that surrounded every inch of his dick. once he felt your body relax, he fasted up the pace, your moans automatically becoming louder. you had never been fucked until now, but you understood now, why people liked it.

rafe was completely buried in you from his tip, to the pelvis which was slamming against your thighs and the mattress. he couldn’t be more in love with you. you were perfect.

he loved hearing your screams from across the room, knowing that he was the only one to make you moans like that. you were completely wet, and your dripping pussy helped him pound you quicker, and especially harder. he couldn't get enough of your face completely ruined by tears and pleasure, but especially of your walls squishing him until he felt his own stomach twitching by your trembling body sticking to his, the way your part convulsing around him as the strokes went deeper and deeper.

the bottom lip of your mouth was covered in your own saliva, your back arched against the sheets, and your entire body stimulated, spasms covering it, and forcing you to squirm in every direction.

his blue eyes were lost in your gaze. you didn’t know how but he always managed to go further, hitting every sensitive gummy and soaked spot only to ram it again.

you let out a muffled and depraved sound when his cock slammed into your insides all the way to your stomach. you threw your head back, completely losing control.

“I'm never going to stop and you never going to leave if you keep giving me those eyes. don't feel dizzy now, it's just the beginning. ” he blurted out as he continued to pound you, making your pussy dripping even more all over him, leaving him no choice but to speed up his movements to avoid any waste of your fluids. “ i really want to fuck you all the night. don't make that face, you made me wait for more than fucking ten years, it's just now so fair. ”

you had already had an orgasm, but his energy had doubled. you didn't know what time you stopped, but when you woke up, you were completely exhausted like your body had been used all night.

you wondered how different your relationship was going to be now, and if rafe was going to take responsibility for everything he did last night. you had too many questions, and not enough answers. you took a shower while waiting for him to wake up.

when you finally had the chance to have the famous conversation, you asked him. “do you regret it?”

"that you didn't let me do this way before? yes. for doing it last night? no. another question, babe?"

"yes. well, it's not a question. I don't really know how long I've loved you. I mean, you know the day you fell in love with me. whereas I realized that when I didn't stop painting your face I thought it was your absence but it was stronger than that. when we were young, we were dumb and clumsy. but thank you to let me come back because we finally found the right moment."

“you know very well that you never had to ask for anything to get everything you want from me. all is yours. ”

— tysm for reading 🫶🏿‼️

[tsukk1]

[senfrogs band au] the sillies in merch ft. two pretty bestfriends ✌🏽⭐️

[gurugirl]

Use Me Up | boyfriend's best friend!h

Originally posted on Patreon!

Summary: Harry's your boyfriend's best friend and he's very hard to resist.

Word Count: 7,072

Warning: smut, cheating, lying, alcohol consumption

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Look at him. Dark curls, soft green eyes, broad shoulders. All fit and tattooed with that dirty smirk aimed in your direction. It’d been like that all night. When no one was looking his eyes were on you.

Harry Styles. The object of desire for so many women. But the problem for you was that he was your boyfriend’s best friend. You should have been off-limits. He shouldn’t have even been taking part in your daydreams.

You rolled your eyes at him as Colin knocked his beer over.

Everyone had a couple too many drinks at that point. Your boyfriend, the worst off.

“Here,” you leaned down and righted the spilled can to halt the beer from pouring out.

Colin fell back into the couch and laughed as you got up to take the nearly empty can to the trash.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with that!”

“I actually think it’s time for a little water,” you countered.

Walking into the kitchen you took a breath and grabbed two cups for water. You needed some as well. You’d been hitting the strawberry lime seltzers kind of hard since you arrived at Ivy’s and you were feeling the alcohol.

“Need help?”

You turned to look over your shoulder as you shut off the faucet.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle this,” you laughed as you raised your hands, a cup of water in each.

Harry reached into the fridge to grab himself another beer, “All right. Was just being nice. You done drinking for the night?”

“Probably. Colin is for sure done. Gonna have to carry him home I think.”

“I’ll help you. I can tell he’s well past his limit. There’s no way you’re going to have an easy go of it with him. He’s like Gumby when he gets drunk.”

You laughed and Harry licked his lips as he watched you. You hated (but you loved it) when he licked his lips while he was looking at you. It elicited memories of the not-so-long-ago past.

. .

You arrived at Colin’s a little early but you knew Harry’d be there and he’d let you in until Colin showed up.

He got you a soda from the fridge and you both went into the living room where he showed you their new record player.

“It’s got great sound and check this out,” he pulled out an album and placed it over the turntable showing you how the tone arm lowered automatically and cycled the vinyl around to the perfect spot to begin at the first song.

“Oh, that’s cool!” You watched as he clicked a button and sound started playing through the speakers. It was an old popular 70s rock song, “The sound quality really is good.”

He snapped his fingers and began to move his hips as he grinned at you so you placed your soda down and mimicked him, swaying and laughing as you snapped your fingers.

Behind Harry’s grin, you saw something else. The way he licked his lips, his eyes traveled over your curves, and he slunk in closer as he moved to the music- it held some kind of intensity that you weren’t sure how to work out. One thing was for sure; Harry was a flirt and your boyfriend was not home.

“You’re cute,” Harry said it so flippantly as he jutted his chin up and kept his eyes on yours.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “Yeah right…”

But he did this thing that had you feeling a slurry of scorching lava under your fingertips as he bit into his bottom lip with his eyelids drooped gently, pupils winding over your hips while you continued to move and he pulled your hand into his, redirecting your flow until you were practically dancing in his arms.

“You know you’re cute. What are you doing dating Colin anyway?”

His hand wound over your hip as he kept his eyes on yours.

“I…” you laughed and shook your head. You weren’t sure what he was doing but it had you reeling. His heavy presence and deep voice, the music lulling you into surrender, his pretty bright eyes, that evil grin… It definitely wasn’t the first time he’d flirted with you in private.

“You’re too good for him, Y/n,” he spoke smoothly, his face nearing yours and his voice dripping with lusty deception.

“I doubt that, Harry,” you spoke just above a whisper as he slithered around you until his hands were holding your hips and your back was against his chest. You knew it was wrong. You knew you should have stopped but you didn’t want to.

And when you felt his breath on the back of your ear and he pressed his hips against your bum you softly gasped but made no move to stop him. He was too close and his lips were practically brushing against the shell of your ear as he kept swaying you in step with his movements, hips glued to your backside, and then he moaned. The sound vibrating off your neck and making goosebumps rise up on your skin.

You closed your eyes and settled your hands over his when he let out another graveled moan into your ear, “You like this don’t you? Need more attention from Colin than he can give you…”

It was true. You were a bit needy while Colin was a bit cold, aloof. But it’d always been that way with you two and you’d settled and gotten used to the way he was. However, that didn’t mean you didn’t miss attention. And Harry was suddenly filling in the small gaps left behind from Colin’s apathy.

But the moment you heard the keys in the door, Harry moved away from you just as deftly as he’d pulled you against his chest and acted like nothing had happened. 

. .

You forced Colin to drink his whole cup of water and by the time he’d finished he was already half asleep. It was time to go and Harry accompanied you.

“You don’t have to help,” you said as the three of you climbed into the back of a taxi together.

“Look at him, Y/n. What makes you think he’s gonna be able to walk to the door on his own? You certainly can’t carry him. Besides, I live at the same house and it was time for me to go as well. Saves us money anyway, yeah?”

You nodded. He had a point you supposed.

You were smushed between Harry and Colin in the backseat. Colin was like a limp noodle against you while Harry was warm and solid and somehow he took up so much more space than you imagined he would.

“You’re gonna stay over, right?” Harry looked down at you.

“I figured I would, yeah. It’s not a problem?”

Harry chuckled and looked out his window before putting his big palm over his thigh, knocking against your knee, “Of course it’s not a problem. I love it when you’re over.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off his pinky finger which was nudged against your jeans. You weren’t sure if he was doing it on purpose or if it was just because the space was so tight but you certainly didn’t mind it. Looking over at your boyfriend his mouth was dropped open and his eyes were closed. Out cold.

“He’s not waking up for the rest of the night,” Harry spoke quietly, his lips aimed toward your ear.

You gulped when Harry shifted the slightest, pressing his side into yours, and began moving his hand over his jeans-clad thigh, his pinky brushing over your own jeans-clad thigh.

When you arrived at the house, Harry pulled Colin out of the backseat and lifted him into his arms bridal style. You laughed at the sight and followed the men toward the door.

“Keys are in my front left pocket,” Harry said as he jutted his hips out and looked at you with a smirk.

You sighed and slid your fingers into his pocket, which was a bit tight, but you pushed in until you felt the metal and looped your finger into one of the key rings to pull at it.

Harry sucked in a breath through his teeth, “There you go, Y/n. Just like that.” Harry said it as if you were doing something naughty to him.

Unlocking the door you stepped in and held it open for Harry, who walked past you and took his best friend to his bed, laying his head on the pillow and then removed his boots. You watched from the doorway of Colin’s room as Harry took care of him, light shining into his room from the hallway.

Harry grunted when he pulled the last boot off and then got up to leave the room, closing the door behind himself.

You pointed toward the doorknob, “I’m probably just gonna call it a night actually.”

Harry pressed his lips together, hiding the grin that was trying to take over his features, “Nahh… stay up a little longer with me. Don’t go to bed yet.”

It was a terrible idea. You weren’t being forced to follow him away from Colin’s room. You weren’t being manipulated or deceived. You were curious, though. Wondered what might happen if given the chance.

You both had a bottle of water as you sat on the stool near the record player and Harry sat on the couch across from you, his legs spread apart.

“Why you all the way over there?” He licked his goddamn lips again as he looked at you with what could only be described as bedroom eyes; that half-lidded, sultry gaze.

 “I don’t know. I just sat here is all,” you shrugged and capped your water bottle before placing it on the floor by your feet.

“You got work tomorrow?” He asked as he crossed an ankle over his knee before his ring-clad fingers ran up and down his thick thighs.

“No. I don’t work Sundays. What about you?” You already knew the answer.

“Nope. Means we can stay up as late as we want. Colin won’t wake up til afternoon anyway. When he gets like this he’s a log.”

You laughed and nodded, “Yeah. I’ve seen him like this a few times. You’re right.”

“Why don’t you put a record on,” he gestured toward the turn table next to you.

You squatted down to go through the records, tracing your fingers over the dust jackets until you found one that had a mix of popular 70s songs, “You guys have a lot of 70s music.”

Harry crouched down next to you to see which album you were looking at, “S’cause these are all used and plus 70s music is pretty good, yeah?” He grinned at you, taking the record from your hands and stood up, “Want this one?”

You nodded and watched him put the vinyl on the record player and then hit the button for the music to begin. The song that started to play sounded like something instrumental at first but then you heard the first line Got a black magic woman…

Harry turned to look down at you and began bobbing his head and rolling his shoulders, moving to the music. You laughed at him. He was being a little goofy with his movements but the dimpled grin on his face was evidence that he was trying to make you laugh. You swung your arms then raised them over your head and spun around with your hips swaying.

You and Harry kept moving to the song and then he was behind you, singing the words to the song when you felt him moving in step with you, “She’s tryin’ to make a devil out of me… Don’t turn your back on me baby…”

You laughed as he sang just loud enough for you to hear his raspy voice in your ear.

“Is my singing funny to you,” you felt his hand on your arm, nudging you back toward him.

You turned to look back at him over your shoulder, “You’re just funny, Harry. You’re being goofy.”

“Oh yeah? You think I’m goofy?” He held your arm as he pressed his chest into your back and continued singing, “Stop messin’ ‘round with your tricks…Don’t turn your back on me, baby… You just might pick up my magic sticks…”

You moved with the music and couldn’t help the cheesy grin on your face as he brought a hand down to your hip while his other stayed wrapped around your upper arm.

He sang his breathy words into your ear and it made your skin to heat but the way he was holding you against his body had your resolve crumbling. Not that you had much resolve to begin with.

“Yes, you got your spell on me, baby… Turnin’ my heart into stone… I need you so bad magic woman, I can’t leave you alone…”

You moaned, the top row of your teeth jammed into your bottom lips and he squeezed at your hip as his lips grazed against your ear.

You knew this would happen. When you were looking through the albums you wondered if he’d get up and dance with you. If he’d pull you into his arms and seduce you like he nearly did that time before. Or any of the other times he flirted with you or touched your skin, or whispered compliments into your ear when Colin wasn’t paying attention. There was only so much a girl could take when a man like Harry was coming on to her.

And who would ever know?

You raised your arms and drew your hands to the back of his neck as he continued swaying you in his arms, his crotch glued to your bum and you felt every bit of him pressed into you. His hot exhale on your neck was damp on your skin just before his pink lips found your flesh.

It sent a crackle of electricity through your spine as he began to kiss your soft skin slowly and when the song changed you found yourself being turned in his arms, all blurry and hot and thirsting when you felt his mouth smeared against yours.

He cradled the back of your head as his lips pressed plush kisses to your mouth and then his tongue slid over yours.

You’d stopped moving altogether and instead just stood next to the record player as the music played and you made out with Harry. If Colin walked in you didn’t know if you’d be able to even stop then. Harry’s lips and his tongue and his hands were rewiring your brain chemistry and all you wanted was him.

A cracked moan fell from your chest as Harry pulled away, his eyes locked on yours as he tugged at you, moving you toward his bedroom.

The Bill Withers song was still playing in the background as you were led to his room.

I want to spread the news… That if it feels this good getting used… Oh, you just keep on using me… Until you use me up…

He shut his door and the sound of the song was muffled but when he put his hands on your hips and his soft lips found yours you grabbed his t-shirt and pulled at him until you were both on his bed, limbs tangled and mouths wound together.

He rolled to his back and pulled you over his legs so you were straddling his thighs on top of him as you kept kissing and groaning into his mouth.

You could feel how hard he was in his jeans as you rolled your pelvis gently down and he hissed, “Keep doing that and I’m not gonna be able to stop, Y/n.”

You laughed into his mouth and pulled away to look down at him, “What are we doing, Harry?”

He let out a breathy chuckle as he kept a hold of your hips, “We’re doing something very bad is what we’re doing.”

Biting your lip you looked at his kiss-swollen mouth and back into his eyes, “We shouldn’t though, right? This is bad.”

He licked his lips, “We shouldn’t. But who’s gonna stop us?” His big hands moved down to your thighs. “What if it’s just our little secret? No one has to know.”

You dropped your lips back down over his in an unspoken agreement. No one ever had to know. It’d be your dirty little secret. A naughty indulgence to never be spoken of again.

When you felt his fingers smooth up to the bottom hem of your shirt you felt him tugging it upward. Halting the movement of your mouth against his you sat up and shucked it from your torso. His hands immediately found your tits as you unhooked the back of your bra and the moment your nipples were bare to him he sat up, one arm winding around your low back as his hand cupped your fleshy breast and he ducked to pull it into his mouth.

Wet saliva coated each of your tits as Harry wove his mouth back and forth on your skin and your nipples. You slid your fingers into his hair and moaned as he leaned you back further until your back was on his mattress and he was hovering over you, undoing your jeans button.

You looked up at him and pulled at his t-shirt. You wanted to see more of him. You’d seen his bare chest before. You’d seen him in just running shorts a few times. The man was ungodly. Tattoos, chiseled pecs, and soft abs with masculine hair scattered over his chest. Strong arms that could crush and thighs that allowed him the sort of endurance you were sure would come in handy that very night. He was broad and dense, heavy and sexy as fuck.

When his skin was on view you ran your hands over his shoulders and down to his pecs as he began to undo his own jeans. You quickly pushed your fingers into your waistband and yanked your jeans down your legs until you were just left in stretchy red boyshorts.

Harry groaned and kicked his jeans off and then crawled back over you, carefully fitting himself between your thighs and laying his hips against yours, his hard cock, hidden by the thin layer of his boxers, rested over your pussy as he slowly rocked himself down. You lifted your hips upward to feel his girth and the heat of him between your legs.

Dry humping. You hadn’t done it since your first year of college. Guys tended to go right for getting naked and getting something wet as soon as possible.

Though, technically Harry was getting something wet. Between his tongue on your lips and your pussy secreting arousal with every nudge of his dick against your clit there was nothing dry about dry humping in that moment. Even his boxers were getting wet the longer you two went at it.

He began to move himself down your body, taking more time to lavish your breasts with his tongue and his lips before he licked into your belly button triggering a giggle to bubble out of your mouth. He placed his hands on your hips and dug his fingers under the elastic band at the top of your underwear and began to pull at them, to which you lifted your hips so he could tug them off.

Smoothing his big palms up the outside of your thighs to your hips he kept his eyes on the glistening space between your legs and puffed out a breath, “This is all mine tonight?” He looked up at you and it was dripping hedonistic lust as his thumbs slid down over the soft flesh of your pelvis.

You nodded and breathed out a yes before he slowly poked his tongue out to lick his lips and lowered his mouth to the space next to his thumb, a warm kiss smushed into your skin before it sliced a damp path inward to your mons. You were spinning and blubbering under him as he gripped onto the underside of your thigh and held you apart.

Your body was trembling before he even laid his tongue over your pussy but when he finally pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to your clit you could have just perished right then. You balled up the blanket under you in your fists as he began to run his tongue up and down your wet pussy.

You sputtered out a string of curses and rolled your hips up when he slid his fingers over your entrance and prodded in.

“Mmm…” he lifted his face to look up at you, “Y/n… you’re so wet for me. Gonna need to sneak tastes of your pussy anytime Colin isn’t around.”

You couldn’t respond other than to moan his name and thread your fingers into his hair when he reattached his lips.

There was something about the way Harry did it, the way he licked at your pussy and kissed your clit, the way he drove his fingers into your cunt and moaned over you that was so sultry and hungry… it was like he needed it, like he was desperate for it. For you.

The house was quiet. It was lucky Colin slept like the dead when he got drunk like that or you’d have to worry about him hearing. But as it was, Harry’s bedroom was filled with the sound of something lewd and wet and achy. Moans coming from you and from him, your pussy getting worked by his fingers and his mouth, the shift of bodies over blankets and the subtle creaking of his bed as he dug into your pussy with more fervor.

 And you really tried not thinking about the way Colin did it versus how Harry was doing it but you were amazed at what a little enthusiasm could feel like. Colin ate you out, sure, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t a man with a primal need to make you feel good and stake some kind of claim on you. Colin’s method was more like a means to an end. A way to get you nice and wet so he could stick his dick inside of you.

Harry’s method was an animalistic craving. He wasn’t eating you out nicely with a soft tongue and a few slurps. No. This was something else. He was devouring you. Sloppy and sopping. He dragged his tongue over you like it was his fucking job. The one arm he had wrapped around you, was anchoring you to his mouth. You couldn’t escape him if you wanted. This man wasn’t taking it easy. When he lifted you slightly, he scooted in closer and removed his fingers from your pussy and licked up the wet spots on your inner thighs and down your bum before he spread you back open with two of his fingers again and got back to ravaging your clit.

You had to release his hair and go back to gripping the blankets as you felt your body wash away into the atmosphere, floating and buzzing and melting as you lay helpless under his weight and his tongue.

You were certain it was going to be a mess when he was done with you. There wasn’t anything dry between your legs nor on his face. The heat and the moisture rose until there was nothing left for you to do but come. And come and come…

He had his fingers pressed into your front wall massaging your g-spot as he sucked and drew your clit into his mouth. You couldn’t stop shaking or crying for what felt like minutes upon minutes.

But then it was too much and you squeaked a laugh as you tried lifting and pulling away but when you pushed at his forehead he swatted you away and grunted, not letting up on the doggish way he was eating you.

“Oh my god! Fuck, Harry!” You bellowed into his room and tried closing your legs and moving to roll to your side but he had you pinned down and it seemed only to egg him on. His eyes flitted up to yours and in warning to keep still, not that you had much choice. He wasn’t budging nor letting you pull away from his mouth as he continued fucking you with those long fingers and lapping all around your hot, pulsing clit.

But then you saw the slight smirk as he lifted for air before he dove down again and slid his tongue quickly over your clit and the sensitive, too-much feeling turned into a liquid ache and then desire as you felt you second orgasm begin to prick and burst until it was forced out of you like a torture method. Come or else…

So you came again. Not against your will but not by your own accord. It was automatic. You couldn’t stop it from happening.

You were drifting into the ether when he finally, fucking finally, pulled his mouth and his fingers away. When you opened your eyes he was smirking down at you, like he was proud of the state he’d left you in.

“What?” You croaked out as your chest heaved violently.

“I’m serious. Gonna need to do that to you as often as possible. Whenever Colin’s not looking. Damn you’re hot, Y/n. Fuck…” he ran his hands over your sides and up your torso to your nipples where he circled over them with his thumbs, “Wish I’d gotten to you first.”

You pushed yourself to sit up, “You… he’s your best friend, though. I mean… I just think…” you huffed, not fully having your wits about you after what he’d just done to you, “God… I wouldn’t be able to say no, but this is bad, Harry. Don’t you think this should be a one-time thing? Like, we should never do this again, right?”

You watched him lick his lips and swallow and that’s when you noticed he had your arousal down his neck. The guy had gone in so intensely on your pussy that you dripped down his neck. You supposed he had reason to be proud.

“We’ll see, won’t we? I’m not a great friend, I’ll admit. But you’re not a great girlfriend either are you? Doing this behind his back the way we are… it’s bad, but fuck if I don’t want to steal you away from him.”

You puffed a laugh through your nose and ran a hand over your face. You couldn’t believe you were cheating in the first place. It was insane. You weren’t a cheater.

But actually… you were a cheater. You were lying in your boyfriend’s best friend’s bed completely naked and freshly zonked from two orgasms. You were absolutely a cheater.

Harry pulled at your thigh, dragging you closer to him and he cradled the back of your head with his hand and kissed you so deeply you nearly forgot Colin’s name for a moment. You could feel his erection, stiff and hot against your inner thigh and you were compelled to run your hand over his boxers to grip him and feel it in your hand.

You gasped into his mouth and parted from the kiss to look down at the monster you were holding in your palm. Looking back up at Harry with your lips parted in lust you were suddenly hyper-aware that the man you were in bed with was going to fuck you with that thing and if he was as good with his cock as he was with his mouth… you were surely doomed.

“What is it?” He asked you with hooded eyes and a syrupy, deep, lusty voice. He knew what it was. The man was more than aware of the kind of advantage he had in that area.

You squeezed around him let your palm travel up the length of it over his boxers and pressed over his tip, “Let me see it.”

He grinned at you silently as he pulled at his boxers and brought them down, his thick shaft lobbing out, heavy and stiff. You let out a moan and moved back, getting to your knees and holding him at the root against his pubic hair before tonguing over him and drawing your saliva down the length of him.

Harry hissed as he leaned back, palms flat against his mattress as he watched you suck on him for a moment, lips working over his tip and wetting him with your spit. You moaned again and pulled off of him, “God, Harry. Fuck…”

He held the back of your head as you dipped down again and took him in your mouth, wrapping your lips around him and gorging on the taste and feel of him. It was smooth and hot against your tongue. He was wide, bulbous. But you couldn’t help the way just the look and feel of his cock had your already weeping pussy flutter and clench at the thought of him driving into you with it.

“You like that, don’t you? God, you’re supposed to mine, Y/n. Oh fuck that feels good…”

Your insides were feeling too hollow, your walls straining together to feel something that would take up the empty space. You popped off of his tip, saliva dripping down your chin, “Fuck me. Please.”

Harry tilted his head to the side, “Already? You don’t need a minute to recover? You that greedy, baby?”

“I am right now,” you pulled at his boxers to get rid of them. Harry put his hands into the band of his underwear and took them off completely.

“Just right now? So tomorrow we’ll go back to normal then,” he crawled over you, making your back hit the mattress as his hand found your tit, “Pretend this never happened and never do it again, yeah?”

You panted and reached around his back to pull him down, “I don’t know…” you whined and bucked your hips up, “Just… right now is all I can think about. Please…”

“A bit cockdumb huh? You’re not thinking straight, are you?”

You scrunched your face and pouted, “What? Just fuck me, Harry!”

He grinned at you and shook his head in disbelief, “No condom then?”

You’d forgotten. You were always so good about using condoms and being the one on top of that decision with Colin. Only a few times did you ever let him fuck you without one and it was only when you were 100% sure it was not during your fertile window and he wasn’t allowed to come inside you anyway.

“Fuck…” you breathed out and whined as you raised your hips upward, pressing your wet pussy against his cock, “Just fuck me. I don’t even care right now. I’m gonna lose my mind…”

Harry grabbed your chin and his eyes pierced into you as he spoke, “Are you on birth control?”

You shook your head, “No. But… god…” you writhed under him.

Harry let out a burst of a laugh, still shaking his head, “Damn. Did I do this to you? Baby you’re gonna regret it if you let me fuck you raw. That’s asking for trouble.”

“Just… goddamnit…” you closed your eyes and groaned. You wanted him right then. You were sure you’d never acted like such a slut before but Harry’s body and his deep voice, his eyes, the way the front of his thighs were pressed into the back of yours… He could just slip right in and pound away and you’d feel all of him. Every ridge and wrinkle, hot velvet gliding through your gummy channel, drinking him in…

When you raised your hips again, your eyes on his he nudged himself down toward you, his cock sliding through your pussylips, slicking up and down and jabbing at your clit you clung to his back tight.

“You want it? Like this?” He placed his forearm down on the bed alongside your shoulder as he rocked down over you, his tip traveling over your pussy and getting drenched in your juice.

“Mmm… Harry… yes…”

He softly kissed your lips as he rutted up and slid back, “You’re gonna let me fuck you bare? In this bedroom right here, next to your boyfriend’s? You sure?”

You nodded, your nose bumping against his as you breathed out the word please.

He parted from the kiss and set his eyes on yours as he flexed his thighs and poked at your hole gently with his tip. He teased you for a bit, only gently pressing just the very tip of himself into you until suddenly and all once he forced his crown through your tight, pulsing muscle, opening you up and burying himself in until his balls were tucked against your ass.

You both let out a loud and pathetic mewl at the sensation and you could feel him shaking already. It was decadent and rude and sumptuous and unbearable. It was so wrong. So bad but so fucking delightful.

He began to slowly thrust as he kept his gaze pinned to yours, “Okay? Feel good?”

You moaned as you nodded and kept a tight grasp on his back, wrapping your legs around him so you could keep yourself grounded. So that you knew it was real. That Harry was actually fucking you with his big cock and you weren’t just dreaming it.

“Yeah? Feel all of me like this, don’t you? Needed me so bad and now you’ve got me, baby. Gonna give you my cock whenever you want it. Sneak around behind Colin’s back and keep it secret. He’ll never know. Could fuck you all night and all morning and he’ll wake up tomorrow with no idea of the filthy kind of girl you are.”

“Mmmm… fuck!” You whined as he plunged deep inside your guts. You’d never had anyone so thick and long before. And it was just a bonus that it was attached to a man like Harry. It shouldn’t have surprised you that someone with the kind of confidence he had would be so hung.

“Mmmm… fuck is right… that feels so fucking good. I had a feeling your pussy would be made for me,” he panted his words as he worked into you, thighs flexing against yours.

Your noises were uncontrollable. You had no ability to restrain yourself. You truly were intoxicated, incapacitated, obtunded. Delirious. Which Harry seemed to get a kick out of.

“You’ve never had it like this before, have you? I know what you had to deal with,” he gasped when you gripped tight around and dug your nails into his back, “Colin’s a lazy boyfriend. You need more attention and I can see that. Gonna give you all the attention you can handle if you want it, Y/n…”

Harry pulled back, making your legs fall from his back as he lowered his lips to your tits, curling himself over you as he continued fucking into you, sucking your nipples into his mouth and running his tongue over your sensitive nubs one at a time.

It was debauched gluttony. Harry was so much better in bed than Colin and it almost wasn’t fair. But you couldn’t even feel an ounce of guilt because it was the best thing you’d ever felt. Harry sucked your nipples hard as his cock wrecked your insides, running his hand along the outside of your soft breast and then to the other side, continuing the pace at which he rocked into you. His bed only creaked in time with his thrusts, slow and steady, but the sound of your sodden pussy taking his big cock was salacious and lewd.

Every stroke of his long dick through your pussy walls felt like damnation and salvation all at once. You weren’t sure you’d be the same after. Weren’t sure you wouldn’t be begging him for more every time Colin wasn’t watching. Harry had ruined you.

Harry’s gasps and pants against your tits grew more desperate and you could feel him throbbing inside of you, nudging deep into your tummy and slowly rearing back, his cock coated and sticky with you before plunging it all back inside of you again.

He steadied himself, lifting up to look down at you as he began to fuck into you a little harder, his bed bouncing a little more with the sound of skin slapping together and your punched moans filled the room.

Every time he buried himself in he ground his pelvis against your clit and it sent fireworks through your nervous system. You grabbed onto his thighs as he rutted into you, deep and desperate strokes that split you wide open and made you drool it felt so good. Harry’s chest was sweating as he held your hips down and circled his groin against you, his moans growing louder and whinier as he watched you slowly come undone.

“Give me another one, baby. Show me how good it feels when I fuck you. Better than it’s ever felt with anyone else…”

Harry had something to prove.

You could hardly think straight. The man was fucking out any logic or sense in your brain but you didn’t want to have rational thoughts that interrupted what was happening. You wanted Harry and his cock. You wanted to be fucked by him just like he was for all time. To hell with Colin and his sorry excuse for lovemaking. Harry was a real man with pleasure to give.

The breath was kicked from your lungs when the tight coil in your tummy began to unravel and the yummiest, most transcendent orgasm you’d ever experienced began to take over. The only thing you registered was Harry’s cock pounding into you and words of encouragement egging you on as the mattress squeaked violently under you. His words were unclear but you could hear the starved and whimpery moans falling from his mouth between words.

You trembled and quaked as you spasmed over him, the glide of his heavy cock through your guts squelched and ached as you gasped for air and finally began to discern what was happening when Harry frantically pulled his cock from your pussy and climbed over you, taking your face in his hand and dipped his pussy flavored dick into your lips where you felt him pumping warm, creamy come down your throat and onto your tongue. You grabbed onto his ass with both hands and pulled at him, beckoning him to stuff his whole fat cock into your esophagus.

The grunts and moans he let fall from his chest were the sexiest thing you’d ever heard from any man. Colin wasn’t vocal at all. When Colin came he’d pinch his face up like he was in pain or disgusted by the flavor of something and silently sigh with his mouth open.

But Harry… Harry wasn’t holding back. He was moaning as he thrust his cock into your mouth and slapped his hand on the headboard to steady himself, “Fuck…”

When you’d siphoned every drop from him, he gently pulled his meaty cock from your mouth and you coughed, gasping for air. Harry laid himself on the bed next to you and cupped your cheek, “You all right,” he panted.

You moaned and wiped the back of your hand over your mouth and rolled to face him, “Yeah I’m all right. Better than all right I’d say.”

Harry laughed, moving his hand from your face and fondled your breast in his palm, smushing at it and thumbing over your nipple, “You down to keep doing this with me?”

You sighed and ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek as you placed your palm on his chest, “I’m pretty sure I’ll be craving that from now on.”

He grinned, “Be craving what?”

“You. The way you do it. I…” you laughed, “I’ve never come three times in a row like that for any man.”

“So you want me to give you lots of cummies?” He snorted a laugh, “Need me to take care of you when Colin can’t.”

“When you say it like that… god it sounds so bad doesn’t it?”

“It is bad, Y/n. We are two very bad people who just did something very awful to someone. But I certainly don’t want to stop.”

“I mean… I don’t know if I can stop now. That was…”

“The best.”

You nodded. It was the best. And you knew you’d have regrets and the guilt would come at some point. But in that moment after being expertly fucked and properly taken care of you could think of nothing better than to do it again and again and again. As often as you could get away with it.

“How long do you think we can keep doing this? Like we’ll have to be lying all the time and sneaking around.”

“If we’re quiet and sneaky enough, as long as we want.”

You bit into your bottom lip and giggled, “That was a smart move. Not coming inside of me. Was gonna let you, ya know.”

Harry sat up with a smirk, “I know you were gonna. But I think fucking my best friend’s girl raw is quite enough mistakes for one night. As much as I wanted to fill you up we’ll have to save that one for a rainy day.”

You sat up with him, clothes all strewn about on the floor and at the foot of his bed, “A rainy day, huh? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Harry pinched your thigh before hopping off the bed out of your reach with a laugh, “And I think it’s only fair that you sleep in here with me tonight,” he slid his boxers up his legs, “Colin’s not gonna wake up until late so we’ll have plenty of time before he’s conscious.”

Harry tossed you his t-shirt and you pulled it over your head, “Why’s that only fair?”

Harry shrugged, “Cause I like to cuddle and Colin’s passed out so might as well let me have some since I probably won’t get to do it very often.”

You slid off his bed and pulled your arms over his shoulders, “That’s kind of sweet, Harry.”

“So you’ll stay in here with me tonight?”

“Without a doubt.”

You were both so fucked.

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[cobbbvanth]

911 season 7 + hugs

[jennaaacx3]

Ugh I just wanna .. sometimes ya know

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Laios's three Boy Best Friends. And yes, they hate him.

[neymiiie]

I just want to see him again.

[jpg-of-dorian-slay]

no bc jackie wanted to be loved so badly and she cared so much for everyone on her team, she did their face paint and misty's makeup and tried to boost morale and she loves shauna so fucking much and they exiled her and they left her outside and she froze to death. they literally froze her out. i'm genuinely never getting over her death bc she did not deserve that and all they would have had to do was ask her to come inside and if shauna was just like "hey i love you i'm sorry" she would have come inside. SHE WOULD HAVE COME INSIDE GUYS.

[thehotpilot]

“you didn’t tell me that” re: slipping and falling in pumpkin guts - buck was absolutely in the back of that ambulance like you canNOT breathe a word of how this happened to tommy. swear on your mortal life

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Question for the DP fandom:

Do you think Danny’s hair turns white when it falls out? It’s technically dead cells anyway but when it naturally falls off his head, do you think it turns white? Because I think it would be hilarious if his hairbrush just has white hair, no black strands whatsoever, and his significant other thought the worst until they know his secret.

[midnigtartist]

“Tempting. But I think we might already have the maximum number of theatrical titles.”

[ghostlyfleur]

𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡.

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: the sweet progression of steve and his pretty girl’s relationship.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, idiots in love, oblivious!reader, shy!reader, inexperienced!reader. pet names (angel, baby, flower girl, pretty girl, princess, sweet girl). 18+ mdni, smut-adjacent. world building.

word count: ~4.5k

pre-relationship—

steve’s girl friend is a soft spoken, remarkably sweet, gentle soul. she’s shy, way too anxious, so inexperienced that she comes off as innocent. her wardrobe consists of flowy skirts and flowery dresses and soft sweaters and cozy knits, puts flowers in her hairdos like interwoven in braids or tucked in a half-up half-down mess, has this ethereal vibe to the makeup she likes to wear (ie. shimmery eyeshadow in soft colors, highlighter, sparkly lipgloss, white waterline pencil, fairy wing eyeliner designs, and slightly blushy cheeks), wears silver wire-framed glasses at home when not using contacts and steve thinks it brings out her gorgeous eyes even more. she always wears pretty dangly earrings with flowers, her nails painted with glitter nail polish or neutral soft colors, and steve thinks she’s an angel.

the rest of the people in town mostly think her to be weird and unapproachable, with the way she stops mid walk to crouch down and whisper softly to a ladybug she sees on the sidewalk, or when she accidentally bumps into a street pole and yells out a panicked ‘sorry!’ as if she would hear a reply back.

when steve first met his girl, he was enchanted.

she was so soft and beautiful and kind, but also very anxious; something he noticed the first time she walked into scoops ahoy, and steve was so excited to finally talk to the pretty girl that started working at the flower shop down the block that he’s been pining for. the pretty girl’s reaction to his flirting however was of shyness, nervousness, and seemingly scared silence… so steve decided to make a fool out of himself just to see her smile. it was worth it. steve felt as if her laughter was the equivalent of the skies opening up to let sunshine peak through dark clouds. they eased their way into each other’s lives after that. his girl started seeking him out, finding comfort and safety in his presence and caregiving personality, though remaining clueless of his feelings and just how much robin teased him for being a smitten fool.

“pretty flower girl” is how steve referred to her at the beginning, all heart eyes and dreamy sighs. working at a flower shop seems to fit her so entirely, like she’s in her own little world while surrounded by flora. she’s able to tell you the meanings, both positive and negative, of any flower imaginable, of different plants too! keeps a log book and a journal to track her flora friends’ growth, pressed flowers and polaroid pictures of different bouquets, photographs each beautiful arrangement she creates in a picture album.

her home is also completely taken over by pots and plants and gardens and hanging vines, secrets whispered to them while she waters her little friends as needed, full conversations kept that seem to make all the plants bloom and flourish even more. lots of natural light comes in from the many windows of her cabin, surrounded by greenery and trees and a small pond that wild animals often visit, knowing her safe haven is also a safe haven for any animals. the place always smells like whatever she’s baking, the decor homey and filled with crystals and incense and hand painted mugs and vases. greens, yellows, oranges, and tan colors. books balanced on any available surface.

she becomes steve’s girl best friend, and he loves her so much. worships her, really. steve makes it his mission to spoil and love his pretty girl, even if he hides it behind silly flirting and the pretense of friendship.

whenever they’re together, steve and his girl are all the other sees. the gang has a little bet on who will break first, steve or his flower girl.

her sit is always his lap.

steve swears off other girls as soon as he meets her.

he is very affectionate towards her, and she loves to kiss his cheeks.

they often have sleepovers just the two of them.

they’re so close they can just exist together and be at peace.

she’s so supportive of him too, always praising him and hyping him up.

steve is overprotective of her.

whenever one goes the other sure follows.

see, steve’s girl is so sweet on him it drives robin crazy. because robin knows the feelings are reciprocated, but she also knows both steve and his girl enough to know she needs to let them figure this out by themselves. it doesn’t mean robin isn’t their number one fan, though.

steve’s pretty girl bakes him sweets often to bring to him at work to “make your day a little easier, stevie”, she brings him flowers from her job that steve learns to preserve in his room, she gives him her favorite ring that he never takes off. but steve also does little things for his sweet girl— takes care of her and buys her chocolate because it makes her so happy and giddy he falls a little more in love each time. he also reminds her to drink water, buys her favorite snacks for movie night or when she’s on her period, takes her to the movies, drives her everywhere (because she’s his pretty passenger princess) to have some extra time with her.

oh! steve’s girl also has a bunch of homemade gifts that she keeps in a small glass trunk in her home because she’s too shy to give them to her stevie— handmade bracelets, handmade wire rings, pretty things she finds at thrift stores that remind her of her pretty boy, handmade necklaces, small gifts with pressed flowers, letters she writes down because she feels so deeply for her sweet boy that she needs to let it out somehow, and a bunch of other small gifts that she hopes one day she can give to her stevie to show him how much she loves him.

she’s so lovely to her stevie without even realizing, though. she’s demiromantic, you see, and after becoming friends with steve she started to slowly fall for him. the thing is, she knew very well what was happening, she’s very in tune to her emotions, and she fell for him willingly! whereas steve fell for her fast and kept falling.

imagine his girl never had her first kiss… she’s so inexperienced and her sweet persona and gentle demeanor make her seem like the softest person ever. steve is so mesmerized by her.

he flirts with her and is sweet to her and devotes his time to her and spoils her rotten and gives her kisses and hugs and cuddles and all the love he has to give— steve quickly decided that even if they’re ‘just friends’ he’ll still treat her like his princess, give her everything he can and shower her in his adoration until she catches up. and even then, even when it’s so obvious that steve is in love with her, that he blushes and stutters and gets flustered only for her, that he shows her every day just how much he loves her, she remains oblivious.

in her pov, she knows she’s in love with her stevie so she’s going to treat him like the most precious person in her world. which he is. the thing is that she gives him all of her love without ever once considering that he might return it, even as he flirts and quite literally says he’s hers and she’s his all the time, it never even crosses her mind to actually believe it. maybe because she’s trying to protect herself from heartbreak. she just decides that her stevie deserves the world so she’s going to give him all she can.

but she’s so soft with him! holds his face between her hands when talking to him sometimes like she’s holding her whole world on her hands, presses kisses to his cheeks all the time, gives him hugs. she always compliments him, isn’t afraid of telling him exactly what’s on her mind…

“you look so pretty, stevie”

“i’m so proud of you.”

“i missed you lots today!”

“i saw this cute puppy and it reminded me of you ‘cause you’re just as cute!”

“i always prefer your company.”

flower girl is the most adorable sight steve has ever seen! she pouts so prettily whenever she doesn’t get the attention she wants from him, all soft lips and furrowed brows and plush cheeks crossed arms, and steve just wants to pepper kisses all over her face.

her love languages:

she bakes him cookies ; buys him things that remind her of her stevie ; plans these cute little “friend” outings that feel more like dates ; she’s never lacking in her affections though she’s very timid and shy when it happens ; will defend him no matter what ; makes sure to always praise him ; she gets all cranky if someone insults him even playfully ; she’s very shy so she often hides her face on his chest or neck and it makes his heart flutter ; she helps him babysit bc the kids love her ; she gave her stevie a special arrangement of flowers that she created just for him plus a little booklet of pictures of the two of them together that also had pressed flowers on it for his birthday ; she checks in with him every day even if they don’t see each other to make sure her stevie is doing okay ; will stay on the phone with him all night especially if he had a nightmare or a fight with his parents.

where steve’s best friend is all cute and pouty and sweet and clingy and loving but only to her stevie!!!!! and she’s a bit ditzy— talks to animals and plants and inanimate objects like they can answer her, her thoughts jump from one thing to another but steve always entertains her, she skips instead of waking a lot, she dresses all cute and coquette and always has glitter on her somewhere, she gives steve handmade gifts all the time with this shy little smile and blushing and sometimes when the gift is specially meaningful she’ll run away as soon as he accepts it 🥺 she trips over her own feet a lot too!!! so steve has to grip her waist to help her find her footing!!! and it makes her break out in goosebumps!!! and steve is so in love with her, with her ramblings and midnight ice cream cravings and true crime rants and the way she talks about murder and psychopath profiling and laughs at horror movies and has crystals and tarot cards and wants to befriend ghosts, how she gives her stevie little glass bottles with protection spells or anti-anxiety spells or how she always needs to hear his voice before bed.

and she’s so pretty and soft and kind and nice and laughs a lot and everyone loves her— but she never notices how so many people flirt with her, and never notices whenever steve scares possible suitors away, because really she only sees steve!!!!!! and it makes him crazy to see how she blatantly ignores anyone and everyone to focus on him!!!!!

but then one day steve’s girl starts feeling sad and heartbroken because she’s convinced herself that steve still loves nancy so she starts pulling away a little and steve doesn’t understand what he did wrong! robin has to spell it out for him that his girl thinks he still wants nancy when that couldn’t be further from the truth; steve now knows he’s never truly been in love before, not like he is with his angel, and that it was his angel that showed him he deserves someone who loves him just as much as he loves them. therefore, steve does his best to find ways to tell his girl that nancy is in the past, that she has nothing to worry about, but he has to do so while him and his angel aren’t together yet so he slowly breached the subject until he can figure out where his girl stands, if he can make a move, if she’s interested in him too, y’know? like those conversations filled with a deeper meaning and both parties trying to drop hints about their feelings but they’re still too hesitant to be more clear in their affections. for now.

imagine steve spoiling her and making her all giddy and happy and shy and giggly :( i want steve to treat his baby like royalty way before they even get together :( i wanna read about their first kiss and how it makes steve’s knees buckle and how she’s so giggly because it’s her first kiss and he tells her he wants to marry her right then and there and she tells him she never ever would consider being with anyone but her stevie :(

after they get together—

their first kiss happens in what steve considers to be the best night of his life to date.

it was halloween, and he was slightly nervous about going to the fair with not only the kids and robin and eddie, but his girl too. the year before, he stayed in with his angel and robin watching movies and eating junk, which was the perfect night ‘cause he got to cuddle his girl, but last halloween he went out to celebrate didn’t end up being very enjoyable for him… what with having your now-ex call you bulshit, bullshit, bullshit.

however, this is his girl he’s talking about. while it wasn’t a date, simply a hangout with their friend group, steve still considers his girl, well… his. and the fact she insisted on meeting them there herself had him slightly on edge.

she was dressed as a fairy.

steve has never seen anyone as pretty, as mesmerizing. and the way she treated this night, treated him, was driving steve crazy.

first, once she meets everyone at the entrance of the amusement park they agreed to go to, she insists on paying for both herself and steve. literally grabs steve’s wallet from his hand and only gives it back after she pays.

he, of course, only really allows it because she gives him her — in steve’s opinion illegal — pouty puppy eyes that she knows steve can’t say no to.

afterwards, once they all enter and the kids disperse to the various entertainment with the agreement of meeting up later to eat, steve’s girl drags him away from robin and eddie, who were both sporting knowing grins, to a shooting booth where she proceeds to win, suspiciously easily might he add, a stuffed frog for him.

and then she grabs his hand. albeit hesitantly, but she does. intertwining their fingers and everything.

the entire night was a dream for steve, and unbeknownst to him, for his girl too. she had a plan, you see. his angel was pulling out all the stops, even if she was shy and blushy the whole time— paying for the tickets for both of them was number one. followed by winning steve a stuffed animal, holding his hand, sharing fried oreos and cotton candy (again, paid by her), and going to the photobooth. the ferris wheel would be last, but it’s what happens inside the photobooth that matters.

once inside, steve made sure she was sat on his lap. she payed again. the pictures go a little something like this:

1st pic steve is laughing and she’s looking at him like he’s her dream come true which he is / 2nd pic she pushes forward not being able to wait any longer and quickly presses her lips to his a bit messily / 3rd pic is her looking all flustered and shy and doe-eyed while steve has this dazed look in his eyes and his jaw is dropped / 4th pic is steve grabbing her cheeks and kissing her fully, brows furrowed and all.

steve steals another kiss at the top of the ferris wheel, it was giggling and smiling more than kissing, though.

on the drive home, angel makes a stop at their self-assigned star gazing spot where she officially asks steve to be her boyfriend, all flustered and timid but oh so hopeful. another kiss, a resounding “yes” from her sweet boy, and dropping him off with a quick goodnight kiss ends the night, and steve has never been happier.

the fact she planned this whole night, took a chance, romanced the hell out of him, and was so genuine the whole time, looking to make him smile, just because, had steve on a high unlike any other. no one has ever taken the time to spoil him, to do romantic things for him. he’s not used to reciprocity in relationships, but here this angel is professing her love for him and not only saying it but showing him she means it. best night of his life.

and so their relationship begins.

steve harrington just worships his girl, spoils her continuously, and wants to do everything for her. he is overly affectionate and just obsessed with his baby, pictures of her and with her everywhere on his house, his car, his wallet, maybe even a locket he wears with a copy of the picture of their first kiss on it. steve took the photobooth strip and got the second picture, his angel kissing him for the first time, copied and altered to fit into the locket.

everyone in town just knows steve is entirely whipped and he does not care. he is definitely touch starved for his girl, quite a bit jealous, however, but trusts her so much that it just comes out as a sort of possessiveness that isn’t toxic but something both he and, secretly, his angel enjoy. steve always praises her and wants to take care of her because she’s his sweet little angel girl.

steve is also her first everything— first kiss, first date, first boyfriend, first time… and it drives him insane! something about knowing he’s the only one that’s ever had her and the only one she’s ever wanted just drives him up the wall and gets him so needy. so desperate. so whiney and pouty.

something else about steve as a boyfriend is that he’s his angel’s biggest fan — always praising, always encouraging, always in awe of her. will brag about his baby to anyone. randomly brings her up in conversation because she’s all he thinks about and he’s so proud to be hers.

buying her flowers whenever he can so she’ll give him this wide, square smile of hers that takes over her whole face like she can’t control it and her nose scrunches up a bit and he never wants to look at anything but her.

her stevie is really into pda too, can’t take his hands off of her, but nothing extreme; casual touches and pecks on her nose or temple or lips or cheeks, buries his face in her neck often, hand holding constantly!!!!!!, plays with her hair, is always playing with the delicate ‘s’ pendant on her neck that he gifted her and she never takes off (steve has this proud little smile whenever he messes with it).

then there’s the casual dominance— steve tucks her hair behind her ears, ties her shoelaces for her, adjusts the clasp of her necklace, puts her dainty jewelry on for her, braids her hair because she’s always clumsy with it and she prefers his braids over hers, gives her water so she stays hydrated, remembers her meds for her, adjusts her beanie on her hair when it’s cold and she’s wearing one, wipes chocolate from the corner of her mouth because his baby is a messy eater, pulls on her waist when they’re walking so she doesn’t bump into someone or something because she’s too busy talking and looking at him, spoon feeds her when she’s too tired and sleepy and pouty, brushes her teeth for her too when she’s being his cute little tired baby or is in subspace, brushing her hair and treating her like a little doll, his little doll, and loves to shower with her so he can do it for her, loves to drive her everywhere too. she’s his pretty passenger princess and they both take that role very seriously.

and whenever his pretty baby gets all glassy eyed and needy and blushy for him? he melts.

steve has a daddy kink. major one. and when he finally finds his baby, his person, he starts noticing things she might be into for the sole reason of wanting to be the absolute best he can be for his baby. the thing is, he knows she’s entirely new to this and still a bit nervous and hesitant and shy, so he starts by filing things away in his brain to make sure once she’s ready and the time comes that he can treat her perfectly, and give her everything and anything she wants.

his baby is probably a sub, she must be, with how pliable and soft she gets. for sure has an oral fixation, always giving him little kisses and little bites randomly and pressing his hand to her lips so she can softly mouth at them (but will shy away and get flustered when she notices she’s doing this) (she just loves his hands and he knows). steve’s girl also gets all flustered and her breath hitches when he jokingly calls himself ‘daddy’, so he takes that as a good sign because there’s nothing steve wants more in this world than to be her daddy. only hers. to spoil and care for and love his baby to the best of his ability.

she also loves when he manhandles her, he’s noticed— it’s just that steve really enjoys carrying his baby around, loves feeling needed and loves holding her and having her body pressed to his and have her hold on to him, but also he just wants to do things for his baby, doesn’t want her to tire herself out, ever!

she doesn’t need to walk around all the time because her stevie’s here and he won’t have his baby do unnecessary work when he’s around. whenever he grabs her waist and places her on top of a counter or something and stands between her legs? she gets all smiley. steve also absolutely loves how clearly his touch affects her; she hums and melts into him and gets a bit breathless and just tries to bury herself into him until they become one. lots of cuddles and hugs from behind and just being entirely wrapped in each other while wearing the coziest sweaters under the cuddliest blanket are common occurrences.

the main thing, though… is how steve’s shy little girlfriend quickly becomes obsessed with his bulge. loves when her stevie hugs her from behind so it presses against her, or when he has her sit between his legs with her back to his chest, or any time where her stevie is holding her close. he doesn’t even need to be hard for her to enjoy it, i mean, he shows through his jeans even when he’s soft! and she just always thinks it looks so…soft? and chubby? and she just wants it smushed against her at all times.

it takes steve a while to figure it out, but when he does? he’s relentless! pressing up against his baby all. the. fucking. time. just to see her blush and stutter and get all shy… but she also fucking sighs and relaxes whenever he does it, like it’s such a comfort for her? to feel all of him? like it’s all she’s waiting for at all times. and it drives steve crazy how his cute, shy, introverted, virgin girlfriend who giggles all the time and is always flustered by him and hiding her hot cheeks with her hands and is so… clumsy and tentative and nervous when it comes to any sort of affection (which she only accepts from her stevie) ((she definitely hates touch except his)) (((and he knows it too! was one of the things that proved to him his pretty best friend had feelings for him too when they were ‘just friends’))) can be so desperate to feel his bulge against her.

angel also loves that her stevie boy has huge hands! absolutely massive. could-wrap-one-hand-around-your-entire-neck massive, beautiful, strong, soft hands.. and yeah, both steve and his girl definitely have huge size kinks. huge. they haven’t said so out loud yet, but it shows through their actions. steve loves how obvious the size difference is when they’re holding hands, or when his hand is on her soft thighs. most of the time his baby holds his fingers instead because it hurts a little bit to intertwine their fingers for too long and steve thinks it’s fucking adorable. she’s shorter too, so 😵‍💫 her sweet boy goes crazy. teasing, best friend steve comes out sometimes too when he uses her head as an armrest to tease her, or when he full on picks her up to take her somewhere if she’s being a brat or is too lazy, too tired to move.

steve’s angel loves their size difference. so much. it shows when she hides herself against his chest when it’s cold, when she compares hand sizes because “stevie, the difference is just insane!”, when steve smushes her into the mattress when they start fucking later on. steve notices his angel blush or sigh or break out in goosebumps whenever his hands are involved— i mean, can you blame her? his hands are so pretty. she’s always holding and touching and tracing her fingertips over his palms and pressing kisses, biting softly, sucking on his fingers when she’s restless, fidgety, or sleepy.

using steve as a weighted blanket is a must; helps angel when she’s anxious or having a bad day.

to be continued…

── harmo’s footnotes:

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masterlist. steve dreams.

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