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stevie-petey · 1 day ago

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lonely hearts club

You kiss her forehead and pull Steve up from the couch, putting your jacket on and tossing him his. “Our Valentine’s day wouldn’t be the same without someone crying or throwing up. We’re going. Dinner can wait.” Steve wraps an arm around your waist. “She’s right. This is just tradition for us. A sacred thing we look forward to every year.” “You two confuse me so much.” Nancy laughs wetly, overwhelmed by your kindness. “We get that a lot.” Steve kisses your temple. “C’mon, angelface. The lesbians need us.”

Summary: ten valentines days with steve. some years it's romantic, some years it's heartbreaking, but for better or worse, he's your forever valentine.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of vomit, pregnancy, cheating (steve doesnt cheat)

Words: 11.9k

Before you swing in: happy valentines day !! is this a day late ? sure. but we're going to ignore that ! heres a cute little fic of valentines day with steve throughout the years. joe touring really influenced this because i made steve a rockstar but honestly it fit tbh. anyways, hope you enjoy !

Somehow it’s always Steve who you spend Valentine’s day with.

In high school it’s because of academic obligations. You’re student body president and Steve is the president of the key club. Each year when February rolls around, the two of you are responsible for hanging pink streamers in the gym and selling enough tickets to afford a decent DJ.

Thanks to the infectious Valentine’s day yearning for love and potential makeouts under the bleachers, the Lonely Hearts dance always manages to draw in a crowd. That, and Steve promises that anyone who buys a ticket is guaranteed a dance with him.

It’s gross and highly exploitative. And also quite brilliant.

You never cash in your ticket, though. While Steve spends the night spinning around girls dressed in pinks and reds and whites, you’re manning the punch bowl to make sure no one spikes it.

Each year, Steve finds a way to sneak gin into the cherry liquid behind your back.

“I’d stop serving little Benny there that punch of yours.” Steve slides next to you, dressed in all black with a rose pinned to his ribbed vest. He reeks, a terrible concoction of every perfume worn by the girls he’s spent all night with.

Benny, a small, frail fourteen year old with eyes too big for his comically small glasses, hiccups. His hand is extended towards you, empty cup waiting for more. His face is flushed and he sways ever so slightly.

You sigh. “How much gin did you pour in this time, Harrington?”

“An entire bottle.”

“I hate you, you know.”

Steve laughs. “Not my fault that you never catch me.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you glare at him. “I still hate you.” Then, remembering that a severely intoxicated Benny is still waiting for his drink, you gently tap the kid’s arm. “Why don’t you go sit in a corner, buddy?”

Benny hiccups again and stumbles away. Steve snickers, but his laughter turns into a yelp of pain when you kick him in the shin. “Don’t you have girls to dance with?”

“Not if you keep kicking me like that,” he winces, rubbing his quickly bruising injury. “Jesus, are those heels made of steel?”

“Why are you still talking to me?”

“Can’t a guy talk to his most consistent girl?”

A snort masks the reddening of your cheeks. “Real flattering, Harrington.”

“I’m serious!” Steve nudges his shoulder against yours. He’s smiling wide at you, charming as ever. “You realize this is like, our third year spending Valentine’s day together, right?”

You roll your eyes. “We’re only spending it together for a school dance.”

“Still makes you my longest running Valentine, Y/N.” He winks, smug, and you want to stain his pretty face with the cherry red of the punch before you. He’s close to you now, close enough that you can smell his expensive cologne under all the perfume that taints it.

Suddenly your mouth goes dry. You look up at him and find that he’s already staring down at you. He doesn’t move, doesn’t shy away from the proximity that only seems to be growing smaller and smaller between you.

“Steve!” Heather Morgan stomps over, the ruffles of her lilac dress swishing with her forceful steps. She stops in front of you and him, though she doesn’t bother to acknowledge you. “I thought I was guaranteed a dance?”

Three Valentine’s days with Steve Harrington, countless prom committee meetings and club organization conferences, shared lunch periods and classes, all have led to the intimate knowledge of the lines of his face and how every miniscule twinge of muscle reveals everything he’s feeling.

The forced smile that he gives Heather, eyebrows drawn together and eyes dim, is nothing like the bright and overwhelming smile he gave you only moments ago.

“You’re absolutely right.” Steve holds his hand out to the girl and walks towards her. “With all the hard work Y/N put into this dance, it’d be a shame if I let it go to waste and not abide by my promise.”

Your cheeks burn at the indirect compliment and Heather simply rolls her eyes. She yanks Steve’s arm and he gives you one last weary, yet shy and gentle, smile that’s etched alongside his freckles and moles.

–

After graduating and moving to Chicago for college, you figure that maybe your first Valentine’s day in a big city will be spent with someone who doesn’t get freshmen drunk and dance with demanding girls.

Then, your first week in intro to philosophy, you meet Oliver.

He enters five minutes late, out of breath and frantic, and blindly throws himself into the first seat he finds. In his rush, he doesn’t see you until he’s thrown his jacket off and hears your quiet, “ouch.”

“Oh, my god.” His blue eyes are wide as he stares at you in horror, taking in the scene before him. He’s completely thrown his jacket on top of you. “I-I am so sorry!”

His British accent nearly sends your brain reeling. Oliver is tall, his black hair makes his skin appear almost luminescent, and there’s a dimple in his cheek that softens the harshness of his accented vowels.

“It’s fine,” you shrug the jacket off, too shy to say much else. He’s arguably the most perfect man you’ve ever met and it’s eight in the morning and you’re not quite sure if this is a dream. “Just… caught me by surprise?”

“Christ, I’m genuinely so sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I-I overslept and I only just switched into this class quite literally twelve hours ago and–”

“Top row,” your professor clears her throat, glaring at you and Oliver. “Is Aristotle really so interesting to you that you decide to interrupt my class in glee?”

You’re beet red, frozen in shame and fear, but Oliver simply laughs and ducks in head. “My apologies, Miss. Please, continue.”

Even the professor is charmed by his accent, and she shakes her head with a slight chuckle. She carries on with the lecture and Oliver is quiet next to you. You don’t speak for the rest of class, but during the last five minutes, a note slides across your desk.

Coffee?

– Oliver (the dunce who threw his jacket on you)

A second coffee date follows the first. Then a third. A fourth. A fifth and sixth until they slowly turn into dinner dates. Sneaking into each other’s apartments when your roommates aren’t home. Kissing as you lazily study together in bed.

Late January comes and you think that you’ve finally, finally, found someone to spend Valentine’s day with. Someone real and yours and lovely.

Oliver tells you to meet him at his apartment at 7:30 for dinner. He’s promised you homemade roast, a recipe from his mother. Valentine’s day will be a quiet dinner with only candlelight as your company. No streamers or spiked punch; it’s everything you could’ve ever wanted.

“The potatoes need a few more minutes, then we can eat.” Oliver kisses your forehead as he wipes his hands with a towel. The kitchen is warm, the smell of herbs and garlic infiltrate the air. On the counter the beef is resting, its aroma enough to make your mouth water.

You take a sip of wine. “Thank god.”

“Hungry, are we?”

“A home cooked meal by my hot boyfriend?” You raise your glass. “Of course I’m hungry!”

Oliver laughs, kissing you again. “Well, good thing I have all night to feed you–”

The front door slams, startling the two of you, and someone calls out, “Sorry! Sorry, please ignore me!”

Your fingers tighten around the stem of your wine glass hearing their voice.

Oliver groans, “one second, babe.” He leaves your side, but you don’t follow, too afraid to face what’s waiting for you on the other side of the wall.

“I thought I told you I had the apartment tonight?” You hear Oliver hiss at the intruder.

“You did! I just-I kinda left my guitar here and Robin will kill me if I–”

“Hurry up!”

“What, your date can’t wait five seconds?” A laugh, pleased with his own joke. You close your eyes, imagining the scrunch of his nose and tilt of his lips; you haven’t forgotten the details of his face, even after months of not seeing him.

Oliver mumbles something and you strain your ears to listen. He sounds upset, anxious, arguing with the other person in the room, and something akin to unease creeps into your stomach.

“Relax, man. Just go finish that bizarre British dinner for Bianca.”

Silence.

You set down the wineglass and finally walk into the living room. The click of your heels is the only evidence of life within the apartment. Oliver stands near the door. His eyes are closed, he doesn’t want to face you just yet.

Steve’s back is turned to you. His posture is relaxed, natural. He isn’t aware of what he’s just undone.

“Long time no see, Harrington.” Your arms are crossed, shielding yourself from what’s to come. Your voice sounds more confident than you feel. “I guess you’re the roommate I never got to meet.”

He spins around quickly, almost falling over, recognizing your voice immediately. His childish stumbling tells you that he almost doesn’t want to believe it. When Steve’s eyes land on you, they soften, warm brown filling with fondness once more.

“Y/N!”

Steve steps forward as if to hug you, but then seems to remember where he is, what he had previously been talking about with Oliver. He stops, the fondness in his eyes diminishing to confusion, then slowly to anger.

“You’re… not Bianca.”

“Evidently not.” Your laugh is bitter.

Steve narrows his eyes at Oliver. “What the hell, man? You told me you were dating some chic named Bianca.” He points a bewildered finger at you. “This is Y/N.”

“In my defense,” Oliver sighs tiredly, clapping his hands together in a defeated manner. “I didn’t think you’d know either one of them, so. This is just brilliant.”

“Are you dating them both?” Steve’s eyes bulge out of his head. If you weren’t on the brink of crying and throwing up, you’d laugh at his poor state of shock.

“That’s how cheating works, Steve.” You say weakly.

Oliver tries to say something, but he’s drowned out by Steve’s yelling. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Steve–” He tries again.

“No! I-I was unknowingly an accomplice in your cheating?”

“I did try to hide them both from you–”

“You’re such a jackass! I thought the British were supposed to be posh and all that-that bloody bullshit!”

You touch the back of Steve’s elbow. You’re mortified and embarrassed and you really want to cry right now. No words come out. Your mouth won’t open. All you can do is hope that your touch is enough.

Immediately Steve stops yelling. He tugs you against his chest, understanding everything the touch meant. He doesn’t care that it’s been six months since he’s seen you or that you were never particularly close in the first place. He wipes the tears that have started to fall from your eyes with a tenderness you didn’t know was innate within him.

“I’m taking you home,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “Go get your things, alright?”

Weak and numb, you do as you’re told.

“Y/N, wait–” Oliver tries to reach out for you.

Steve steps between you. The look on his face is violent, almost frightening. You’ve never seen him like this. “Don’t.”

Oliver stumbles back. It’s enough of a distraction for you to quickly grab your purse and keys, vision blurry from tears as your body shakes. Every nerve, every fiber of your skeletal body is screaming at you to run.

When you’re ready, Steve uses his body to prevent Oliver from looking at you. His hands are gentle as he guides you to his car. He whispers reassurances, rubs circles into your back, and allows you to cry the entire way home.

It doesn’t surprise you when Steve doesn’t leave after parking in front of your apartment. It also doesn’t surprise you when he walks you to your door and lets himself in.

“Stay here,” he all but shoves you onto the couch before making his way to your kitchen. He walks through the apartment as if he’s done so his entire life. “I’ll be right back.”

“What are you–”

“Less talking, more crying!”

You curl yourself into a small ball, too tired to argue with Steve. While you have no idea what the hell he’s doing, you’re relieved that your roommate, Jane, is out with her boyfriend for the night.

At least someone is having a happy Valentine’s day.

Steve returns with two pints of ice cream and spoons. He’s already opened one of them and hands it to you as he plops onto the couch. “Figured you’d have a stash.”

The ice cream he hands you is your favorite flavor. You don’t remember ever telling him this. “How did you–”

“This is our fourth Valentine’s day in a row, Y/N,” Steve pokes your side. “When are you gonna stop questioning my loyalty to our sacred tradition?”

Mouth cold from ice cream and face hot from crying, Steve manages to pull a laugh out of you. It’s feeble and small and more of a grimace than something joyous, but it’s more than you ever thought was possible.

Steve laughs with you, knocking his own pint of ice cream against yours. “To Valentine's day, angelface.”

“To Valentine’s day,” you sniff, laughing again. The moment is bizarre and not at all how you envisioned spending the day, but somehow it’s wonderful and reminiscent of the years before. There’s only one thing missing. “I miss the pink streamers.”

“I’ll hang some up next year.” Steve promises, winking at you as he always seems to do, falling back in familiarity.

You rest your head against the couch, warm, and hum thoughtfully. Steve always keeps his promises, and you can almost envision the messily strewn up streamers and tacky holiday decorations he would find and insist on using. The apartment would be full of light and warmth, and the thought makes you smile.

“I’d like that.”

–

Inexplicably, Steve becomes your best friend.

He all but declares Oliver dead to him and refuses to step foot in their apartment unless it’s to eat or sleep. He cuts off all contact with the guy without even blinking. You try telling Steve that he doesn’t have to jeopardize his relationship with his roommate and he scoffs at you.

“I’m giving that motherfucker the coldest shoulder known to man, Y/N. Whether you like it or not.”

And there isn’t anything else to talk about, really.

Slowly Steve starts spending all his time at your apartment to avoid his, and you find yourself actually enjoying his company. He doesn’t stray far from your room and he always brings over extra napkins from the restaurant he works at, saving you an extra five dollars a week in household supplies.

Plus, Steve introduces you to his coworker Robin, and she’s so enthralling and chaotic and vibrant that it’s only natural that when she becomes your best friend, Steve does, too.

Spring semester ends and Jane announces that she’s moving out to live with her boyfriend come summer. The first person you call is Steve. He moves in a week later.

“Have you looked over the sheet music yet?” Robin has her legs tossed over your lap as the two of you sit on the couch. Steve sits on the floor, leaning his head against the couch, his hair tickling the bare skin of your leg.

You’re watching some movie that Steve had been dying to see. It’s Valentine’s day and he’s begged you to let him watch some cheesy romance movie he saw an ad for. He claims it’s to get into the holiday spirit, but you know it’s because he has a crush on Patrick Swayze.

Robin tagged along because she has a crush on Jennifer Grey.

“Hey, doofus!” She throws popcorn at Steve’s head when he doesn’t respond to her question.

“Can you at least aim for my face?” He flicks the popcorn out of his hair, cringing. “The butter makes my hair feel gross.”

You ruffle the locks, shaking his head in the process and he swats you away, albeit without any cruelty or malice. “Could be from all that hairspray you drown it in.”

“I’m with Y/N on this one,” Robin leans forward, invading Steve’s space with ease. “Anyways, did you read the music or not? Kelly wants your opinion before our gig tonight.”

“Why does she care what I think?”

“Because you’re the lead singer?” Robin looks at you. “Do you think all that hairspray has rotted his brain?”

You shrug. “Probably.”

Steve flips the both of you off and you giggle together at his annoyance. Ever since meeting Robin, making Steve’s life as miserable as possible has become your favorite thing to do together.

Robin then asks again about the song and she and Steve fall into a conversation about Kelly and her obsession with their other bandmate Connor and whether or not the song is actually good or if it’s just another attempt for her to win him over.

You watch them talk with a lazy smile. They become so animated when they discuss music, and you admire how well they work together. It doesn’t surprise you that they formed a band together after only being friends for two days. They take music seriously, obsess over it in a way you don’t think you’ll ever quite understand, but that you will always admire.

“You’re coming to our gig tonight, right?” Steve suddenly turns to you, eyes pleading and hopeful.

“Where is it again?”

“The Vexture. We go on at ten.”

Robin has turned her hopeful eyes to you as well and you shift uncomfortably. The Vexture is a grungy club that’s always packed with people looking for someone to call their own, and given the fact that it’s currently Valentine’s day, it’ll only be worse.

The thought makes you nauseous.

Steve sees you grimace and he immediately throws himself into your lap. “No. Absolutely not. You have to come.”

“I haven’t even said anything–”

“You were going to bail!”

“I–I wasn’t!”

Robin pinches your cheek. “You’re a terrible liar, dear.”

You try to argue but Steve covers your mouth. You thrash underneath him, completely opposed to his body weight on you and his grimy hands covering your mouth, but he’s freakishly strong and Robin is a traitor who helps him hold you down.

“Look, Y/N.” Steve’s hair falls in your face. “We all know that last year was rough.”

“Fuck Oliver!” Robin shouts, wringing her hands together as if envisioning choking him.

“What she said. Anyways, you took a hard hit. It’s understandable. But I refuse to let you spend Valentine’s day all alone, alright? You haven’t dated anyone in months. You’re coming tonight.”

You want to bite him, to kick him off and pinch his skin, but you know he’s right. Deflating, you cross your arms and reluctantly nod.

Steve and Robin cheer, jostling you around, and despite the annoyance and fear you’re feeling, you can’t help but laugh at their childish joy.

“Love the enthusiasm, but can you guys get off me now?” You croak out in between laughs.

They scramble off the couch and Robin helps you up. She fixes your hair and kisses the tip of your nose. “We have three hours to make you irresistible tonight.”

“I’m not dressing up–”

“You have no free will when it comes to me.” Robin smiles wickedly and grabs your hand, pulling you to your room, having long forgotten about the movie that’s still playing in the background.

“Can I join?” Steve calls after the two of you.

Robin slams the door in his face.

The Vexture is loud and overflowing with people by the time you get there. The lights are dimmed and Robin has to hold your hand as she guides you through the crowd. Since they’re performing, they’re allowed to cut the long lines and are able to get you the best seats in the house: backstage.

“You made it!” Kelly throws her long and lithe arms around you. She smells of vanilla and honey and her hair is tied in loose knots. Glitter adorns her eyelids and pink hearts dot her cheeks.

“I’m being held against my will,” you shout into her ear, hugging her tightly. “But I’m here.”

Connor pats your back and chuckles. He’s matching Kelly’s heart theme with a pink heart painted on his own cheek. “Well, at least you’ll have a good time!”

Steve hands him a guitar and checks his hair in the mirror. Robin dressed him in a white button down and demanded that he leave the first four buttons undone. The exposed strip of skin from the base of his neck to the swell of his chest burns your lips.

“We ready?” Steve pulls you by the waist, flush against him, and winks at his bandmates.

Kelly and Robin cheer and Connor slams his drumsticks together. A cheer of your own tumbles from your lips, allowing your body to lean against Steve’s, and his fingers dig into your side as his chest rumbles with pleasure.

The crowd erupts when they get on stage. They all get into their places. Robin with her keyboard. Kelly and the bass. Connor behind his drum set. And Steve, front and center of the stage, smiling into the mic as his fingers pick at his guitar.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He’s a natural on stage. People scream his name and he plays into it with such confidence and charm. Steve smirks, knowing he has the audience in the palm of his hand. “That’s what I like to hear!”

He plays the first few notes of the song they’re starting with tonight. Easy and light. He’s setting the audience up, tempting them, leaving them wanting more.

Steve grabs the base of the microphone and tilts his head at the crowd. “Who’s here with their Valentine tonight?”

Almost everyone cheers and whistles. Hands get thrown into the air and lovers kiss the smiles off each other’s face.

“Hell yeah!” Steve laughs, high on the energy in the room. He plays a few more notes, turns his head away from the crowd as he does so. You watch him, curious, and find that he’s looking at you.

When he has your attention, Steve laughs again and goes back to the mic. He’s smiling wide, cheeks pink. “You know, I’m also here with a Valentine tonight.”

The audience gasps and cheers and claps for him. Robin wolf whistles, loud and obnoxious, teasing eyes looking only at you. Kelly snickers and Connor points one of his drum sticks at you, clutching his heart dramatically.

The apples of your cheeks pinch together a glorious red and Steve can’t take his eyes off you. His eyes, soft as they always are when he looks at you, are like molten earth. He smiles into the mic again, unable to look away from you.

“This is our fifth Valentine’s day together,” he tells the crowd, smiling so much he’s almost slurring his words. “I kinda hope that this angelface will always be my Valentine.”

Robin whistles again and the roar of the Vexture is so loud now that you can’t hear anything besides the blood rushing in your head. Steve screams along with the crowd and Connor counts the band in and there’s music all around you and dancing and Steve’s sweat drips down his chest and there’s a burning deep within your stomach.

He’s beautiful.

You hope that he’ll always be your Valentine, too.

–

Sophia enters your life early junior year. You find her in your kitchen one morning wearing one of Steve’s old t-shirts, and you make her a cup of coffee.

She’s nice. Her hair is bronzy and she has incredible green eyes and an angelic laugh. She studies English and she’s the only other person besides your classmates who has read Plato, so you’re honestly quite fond of her, and you can see how Steve falls for her hard and fast.

Robin, however, has other thoughts.

“I don’t trust her.” She says one day in January. Steve is at Sophia’s, so you invited Robin over to bake cookies and watch the latest episode of a show you both enjoy.

You frown at her. “Why not? I think Sophia is nice.”

“Ever notice how the only way we can all collectively describe her as is nice?” Robin shivers. “What kind of psycho only has one personality trait?”

Well. There isn’t a lot you can argue with there. Sure, everyone who has met Sophia has liked her, but when you think about it, Robin’s right. They’ve all described her as nice, maybe quiet, but always nice.

“I think you’re just overprotective of Steve.” You try to defend. You like Sophia. She’s become a very loose, very distant, acquaintance. “Just give her some time.”

“They’ve been dating for months now, Y/N. She creeps me out.”

“Sophia isn’t some off putting creature, Robin–”

“Guys!” Steve barrels through the front door. You and Robin both scream, but he ignores your terror and throws himself at the two of you. “How much do you guys love me?”

Robin responds with, “how much money do you want?” while you reply, “depends on the day.”

Steve breathes heavily, grasping your hand. “I need you guys to please, please do me the biggest favor.”

“Did you kill someone?” You pull your hand away, weary of the scene before you.

“What? No! I just–” Steve inhales sharply. “It’s Sophia.”

“I knew it!” Robins screeches, but you jump and cover her mouth. She tries to scream through your silencing, but her words are muffled and jumbled.

You smile at Steve awkwardly. “Don’t mind her. What’s going on with Sophia?”

“She wants to go on a double date for Valentine’s day.” You and Robin stare at him as if he’s insane, and Steve groans. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, alright? But she-uh. I guess she’s had some shitty Valentine’s days in the past and thought it’d be better if we had other people with us? As a safeguard?”

“That’s…” Concerning, you want to say, but Steve is staring at you, pleading, and you really don’t feel like dealing with his anxious monologues. “Interesting.”

He rubs his face. “It’s insane, I know, but I just… I really like this girl, you know? So if one of you could just–”

“I’m out.” Robin raises her hands and you shoot her an incredulous look. “I’m sorry, Y/N, but I actually have plans this year and I really don’t feel like spending them with Steve.”

“And you think I don’t have plans?” You ask them, offended, and Steve looks at the ground and Robin suddenly finds the tile very interesting. “Okay. At least pretend that I have some dignity.”

“I’m sure you have a lot of dignity, angelface.” Steve tries to amend. “And you’d have even more dignity if you went on a double date with me and Sophia. I’ll even find someone to be your date!”

In theory, it sounds like your worst nightmare. Spending a night with a loved up Steve and Sophia while you’re with some guy you met only hours ago. All because Steve’s girlfriend doesn’t feel comfortable enough spending Valentine’s day alone with him.

But Steve has had to hold your hand through a nasty breakup and other horrific dating exploits since then. He’s held your hair up when you’ve been sick. Makes you your favorite snacks during busy exam seasons. He cleans your room when he knows you’re exhausted.

Steve is your best friend. The least you can do is this.

“Fine,” you finally give in. “But the guy better be hot.”

The guy Steve finds you is, in fact, incredibly hot. His name is Max and he meets you and Steve outside the restaurant dressed in a well tailored suit.

“Where’d you find this guy?” You whisper to Steve while Max isn’t looking.

“He knew Connor in high school.” He whispers back. “Makes a lot of money. Works in finance.”

Your mouth drops, but you quickly cover it up when Max opens the door for you and Steve. He’s a perfect gentleman and rests his hand on the small of your back. “You guys been to this restaurant before?”

“A few times together, but I don’t think my girlfriend Sophia has been here yet.” Steve sits down and grabs a menu before checking his watch. “Actually, she should be here by now.”

Max’s face twists slightly. “Her name is Sophia?”

“Max?” Sophia, rushing towards your table, stops and gasps out his name as if she’s been stabbed.

“Oh, dear.” You set down your menu. Something tells you that there won’t be any eating tonight.

“Sophia?” Max nearly falls to his knees in front of her, eyes shining at the girl as if she’s hung all the moon and stars with her delicate fingers.

They stare at one another, neither moving, and Steve looks between them with a bitter taste in his mouth. “So… you guys know each other?”

Sophia winces and Max coughs.

You grab your purse. “Steve, why don’t we head home–”

“What’s going on here?” His voice is strained. He looks at Sophia and you see the upset he tries to suppress. The clench of his jaw and the furrow of his brow. “Soph, who is this guy?”

“He’s no one, I promise–”

Max steps forward. “We dated for a few years.”

“Years?” Steve exclaims.

“Broke up on Valentine’s day last year, actually.” He looks at Sophia with a pained expression. “I… I missed you.”

Steve falls against his seat in disbelief. Sophia holds the base of her throat in a weak attempt to soothe herself.

“You’re really not helping, Max.” You glare at him, rubbing your friend’s shoulder as he sits at the table, mourning. Steve’s mouth doesn’t seem to be able to close and he’s looking at Sophia as if trying to silently plead with her to tell him that none of this is real.

Except is it, and Sophia closes her eyes. “I-I can’t do this, Steve.”

Her apology sends the chair flying back as he stands abruptly, desperately reaching for her in the crowded restaurant while you and Max remain silent. “Wait, can’t we just–”

“I should go.” She’s crying and the green of her eyes are a startling shade of brilliance. She really is quite lovely; the beauty breaks your heart. Steve calls after her as she leaves.

You hold him back. He screams at you to let him go, but you know that this time you have to be the one to break his fall. To catch him as he caught you the year Oliver broke your heart. There are tears in his eyes and his hoarse voice begs the girl to stay, but she’s long gone.

Max stands there in the wreckage. He doesn’t know what to do or who to follow.

“Just go,” you tell him, pulling Steve back down to sit. He collapses into your side, too ashamed to cry and too exhausted to care. He’s weak against you and your arms encase him. Max doesn’t move, and your voice raises before you can stop it. “Go!”

He listens, and the other patrons in the restaurant watch as yet another person runs from your table. A waitress gives you a pitying smile that you don’t reciprocate.

Steve hides his face in your neck and you gently cup his cheek to make him look at you. “Hey,” you say when his eyes finally focus on you. “Let’s get you a drink, okay?”

He drops his head on the table with a defeated sigh. “Give me whatever liquor they got.”

“The stronger the better?”

“Yes.”

“Coming right up.” You wave a waiter down and order four shots and two beers. Steve doesn’t say anything while you order, but he does shift closer to you once the waiter is gone.

The buzz of the restaurant is low, though full of laughter and conversation. You sit with Steve, fingers stroking through his hair as his head remains on the table. He lost all sense of pride the moment he begged Sophia to stay, so he allows your nails to scratch his scalp.

Drinks get set on the table and Steve throws both of his shots back before you can even pick one of yours up. He wipes his mouth and cringes at the taste. You stare at him, slightly concerned. “Alright over there?”

“Need more liquor.”

You stroke his cheek. “How cute. You think I’m going to let you drink your sorrows away.”

He bats your hand away. “I don’t know if you’re all caught up, but I just got dumped on Valentine’s day, Y/N.”

“And?” You laugh at him. “That happened to me too, buddy. You’re officially a part of the lonely hearts club. How’s it feel?”

Steve drops his head back onto the table. “It feels like we’re fucking cursed.”

“I’ll drink to that,” you clink your beer against his. “Cheers.”

It’s quiet for a while. You finish your shots and sip slowly at your beer. Steve remains hidden away at the table, refusing to sit up and face the reality of heartbreak. You allow him to take all the time he needs, replenishing his drinks when he runs low. He’s quiet, but he knocks his knee against yours every time you squeeze his hand.

I’m here.

Thank you.

The chatter in the restaurant dies down and you pay the tab and help carry Steve home. He’s significantly more drunk than you are, and you’re relieved that you chose to eat somewhere close enough to walk. He stumbles the entire way home and you have to cling onto his hand so that he doesn’t fall.

Steve drags your body onto the couch the second you open the apartment door. He collapses on top of you. His arms hold your waist and his nose presses against your neck. You bring your hands to his hair and sync your breathing with his.

“Think it’ll always be like this?” Steve murmurs after a while. “You and me and goddamn Valentine’s day?”

Six years of sharing the holiday together. Six years of being each other’s person to spend the day with and draw cheesy cards for. Six years of laughter and tears and secret glances and inside jokes.

Six years, and yet it still doesn’t feel like enough.

“We’re best friends, Steve.” You whisper into his ear, lips brushing skin. “Of course it’ll always be like this.”

He shivers at the sensation of your lips. Alcohol burns through his system. He finds himself upset that he drank tonight. He wonders what would’ve happened had he not met Sophia. If he had taken you to the restaurant alone and left sober.

Steve wonders if he would’ve kissed you then. If you would’ve let him.

But he had met Sophia. He’d taken you to the restaurant to have dinner with her. He got drunk tonight to forget the way she tasted. You walked him home because you couldn’t trust him to take care of himself. And now he’s too afraid to kiss you because he knows it could ruin everything he’s so carefully built with you.

He falls asleep to your heartbeat.

–

“Who gets married on Valentine’s day?” Robin tugs at her dress in disgust. “I mean, that should just be illegal.”

You help her fix her dress and shrug. “I don’t know. I think it’s sweet.”

“That’s because Steve’s walking you down the aisle tonight. You’re biased.”

“He’s the best man and I’m the maid of honor,” you poke her stomach. “It’s quite literally tradition to walk down the aisle as a pair.”

Kelly, who has been fixing her makeup the entire conversation, peeks her head from behind the mirror. “To be honest, Connor and I did intentionally plan for Steve to walk you down the aisle.”

Your jaw drops. “Kelly!”

“The two of you are just so cute!” She laughs. “You’re two of our closest friends. We want what’s best for you, so Connor and I figured we’d just give you guys a little push.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Believe me. I’ve been trying to get them together for years now. What is this, your eighth year of being each other’s Valentine’s?”

Your head whips to her. “It’s only our seventh. And what do you mean you’ve been trying for years?”

“I’m practically the reason Steve moved in with you. He wanted to live with me months before you asked him to move in. Naturally, I’m a prophet, and I told him no. Now here you guys are, walking down the aisle together. Tada!”

“Oh my god.”

“I mean, it worked!” Robin frowns. “Well. Sort of.”

You’re speechless and Kelly takes pity on you. She walks over and rests a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, I love you. Connor and Robin love you. Steve loves you. You know that, right?”

“I…” You’d be a liar if you said the thought never crossed your mind. Especially after the breakup with Sophia. You’ve always been close with Steve, but in the last year there’s been this shift that you haven’t been able to describe.

There’s coffee waiting for you every morning. He holds your hand and strokes his thumb against your palm. Steve ends up falling asleep in your bed most nights now, wrapped around you as his breath warms your skin. His own room has slowly been turned into a makeshift studio for his music.

Sometimes you catch Steve staring at you, and sometimes the heat of his gaze doesn’t scare you.

But sometimes it does.

“Why are we even talking about this?” You deflect, setting your eyes on Kelly and her gorgeous veil. “You’re getting married in less than an hour. Can’t we talk about that?”

“Babe, all I’ve done for the last year is talk about this goddamn wedding. I’m the bride and right now I demand that we gossip.”

Robin laughs at you and you’re about to make up some excuse about needing to go organize the roses again when the bride’s door opens. Kelly yelps and covers her dress as you and Robin step in front of her to block the intruder’s view.

“Relax,” Steve holds his hands up. “It’s just me. Unfortunately, I’m not the groom.”

Kelly shakes his head at him fondly. “What do you want, Steve?”

“Connor sent me here because apparently I lack the ability to shut the fuck up and it was stressing him out.”

You snort and Robin hunches over as she giggles. Kelly smirks. “Yeah. I believe that.”

Steve sticks his tongue out at the three of you, and the conversation from earlier gets dropped. He helps you and Robin with the rest of Kelly’s makeup. He irons her dress, showers her with compliments, and your heart constricts every time he touches the edge of your silk dress with childlike wonder.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” He whispers when it’s just the two of you. The door to the aisle hasn’t opened yet. The rest of the wedding party stands behind you, waiting.

A blush coats your cheeks. You loop your arm through his and bask in his fondness. “Thank you,” your hand rests on his chest. “You look quite handsome yourself.”

And he does. Steve is cruelly beautiful in his suit. His tie matches the lace of your dress and you want to pull the end of it and bring his lips to yours. He stares down at your lips and you wonder if he’s thinking about yours, before the music starts.

The door opens. Down the long, carpeted length of the church stands Connor. There are flowers everywhere and Steve grabs the hand that rests against his forearm. He squeezes it, takes a deep breath, and together you walk down the aisle.

During the wedding Robin cries. The vows are exchanged and she has to cover her mouth to contain the sobs that spill from her. Steve catches your eye from across the pew and the two of you smile at your friend, your love for her forming into one.

Sometime late into the night Steve finds you. He hands you a drink before promptly dragging you to the dancefloor. You protest, shy, but he doesn’t listen.

“I told myself I’d dance with the prettiest girl at this wedding, angelface. And it just so happens that that girl is you.”

You laugh at him, following his hands as he guides you through the motions of dancing. “Don’t let Kelly hear you, otherwise she’ll strangle you.”

“Let her,” Steve spins you, eliciting more giggles to fall from your pretty lips. “I’ll die a happy man now that I’ve danced with you.”

“That was disgusting.”

“And charming. Don’t forget charming.” He spins you again before bringing your bodies even closer together. “You know what this reminds me of?”

You gaze up at Steve. “What?”

“The Lonely Hearts dance.”

Exasperated laughter follows his confession. “You’re really thinking about our high school dance right now?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Every year I was dying to dance with you.” Steve’s thumbs stroke up and down the sides of your waist. His grip on you tightens. His voice lowers and you recognize the adoration that paints his brown eyes. The air between you stills. Steve dips his head, his forehead brushes yours. “And now I finally got that dance.”

You don’t breathe. If you do, you’re afraid that the exhale would shatter the fragility of this moment.

“Was it worth it?” You don’t recognize your own voice and the breathy way it comes out. Your hands move up Steve’s chest and snake around his neck. His head knocks against yours, your noses centimeters apart, lips separated by inches.

You feel Steve’s smile more than you really see it. “You tell me.”

He kisses you, cradling your body as if it were made to fit into the crevices of his palms. Lips move against lips and your skin hums at the sensation of finally welcoming him home. His skin greets you with a soft tenderness and your lips coat his mouth with sugary sweetness.

“Get a room!” Robin throws a napkin at the two of you, forcing you apart, and when you come up for air you see the biggest smile on her face.

You hide in Steve’s neck, embarrassed, though not enough to not leave small, fluttery kisses on every mole your lips can find. You’re already addicted to feeling him shiver beneath you.

“Seems we have a wedding to plan for next year!” Connor raises his beer and points at you and Steve, cackling loudly.

Kelly is next to him and she kisses her husband’s cheek and beams at him. “It took ‘em long enough!”

“Do you guys mind?” Steve pulls you away from the dancefloor, glaring at his closest friends who all love him endlessly and whom he loves even more, and basks in your giggling as he whisks you away. “I’m trying to kiss Y/N here!”

“Use protection!” Robin calls out while Connor and Kelly whistle and cat call.

Steve finds an empty closet and no one can find you for the rest of the night. Kelly never lets you live it down, Connor commends you for the bravery, and Robin has to wipe away her tears.

–

Your first semester of senior year, Steve and Robin’s band gets signed. The record label is apparently legendary because they collapse onto the ground screaming when they get the phone call. Twenty minutes later, Connor and Kelly are at your apartment screaming alongside them.

Two weeks later they book tickets to New York and you help Steve pack his bags. Everything happens so quickly and it’s almost nauseating trying to keep up.

“We’re in the studio from nine to five every weekday, so I’ll call you every day at six.” Steve folds a pair of jeans and hands them for you to place in his suitcase. “Weekends I’ll call you at five so that we can eat dinner together.”

You give him an odd look. “Don’t you want to go explore the city while you’re there?”

“I mean, sure. But I can do that during the day. The moment the clock strikes five or six, it’s my girl’s time.”

“Steve…” You’re so stupidly in love with him sometimes. “I don’t want you worrying about me while you’re there. This is a huge opportunity for you.”

“Who said anything about worrying about you?” Steve walks up behind you and kisses your neck. “Angelface, I’m worried I might die after the first week without you.”

Your hands brush through his hair. “You’ll be fine, Stevie. I guarantee that in five days tops you’ll be having too much fun to miss me.”

“Wrong. I will be talking everyone’s ears off about you and will probably get banned from a lot of bars because of it.”

Sighing, you turn and face him, pressing a soft kiss to his brow. “Steve, it’s only for a few months. Each day we’re apart will be one day closer to being together.”

“How about no days apart and every day together?”

You kiss him, slowly and drawn out, as if time is on your side and you’re in excess of it. Steve hums against you, tightening his arms in a lazy hug, and you know that you’ll miss him forever.

The first few weeks are hard without Steve. You’ve never lived on your own before and you’ve never really spent a day without him since you were eighteen. Now you’re twenty-one and there’s no one to kiss you awake or make faces in the mirror with you as you brush your teeth.

What’s worse is that Robin is gone, too. And Kelly. And Connor.

Their absence makes you realize that you direly need other friends who aren’t in a literal band together.

Steve keeps his promise and calls you every day. He always asks about how your day has been, he tells you every detail about his. He tells you that he’s started writing all his thoughts down in a notebook that he wants to tell you so that he doesn’t forget, and it makes you ache even more.

The months pass by slowly. December drips into January and then February greets you with her winter’s kiss. There’s snow in Chicago and even more to come, and you know Steve will be excited to see it when he gets back.

Which coincidentally happens to be Valentine’s day.

And also the day you get violent food poisoning.

After months of being apart, the first time Steve sees you again is with your head in the toilet bowl, hacking up your lungs and dying.

“Oh, Jesus.” He drops his bags and comes running over, immediately gathering your hair so that you don’t get it dirty as yet another wave of nausea hits you.

“Welcome home.” you say in between bouts of bile. Truly, you think this is a new low that you’ve reached. Here you are, deathly ill and incredibly sweaty, while your lovely boyfriend has just arrived home after months of missing each other. “Sorry that you have to see this.”

Steve rubs your back and sits with you on the ground. “Don’t be ridiculous. Even spilling your guts out I think you’re hot.”

“That’s sweet,” you throw up again. “Would you be a dear and kill me now?”

He laughs, massaging your tender body, and doesn’t once leave your side. He flushes the toilet for you when needed. He gets a rag and soaks it in cold water and rubs it across your forehead to help regulate your fever. He hums to you when your stomach twists in pain.

Eventually the nausea settles enough for you to ask Steve to carry you to bed. He does, and he sets you down gently before crawling in next to you. He fits your body against his, hand on your stomach as if he himself can ease its ache.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is raspy, the acidic bile still lingering. “I’m sure this isn’t the grand reunion and Valentine’s day that you had in mind.”

“I’m laying in bed with you and you love me.” Steve kisses your overheated forehead. “That’s all I ever want for Valentine’s day.”

Your eyes fall shut and you exhale shakily. “I just… I wanted our first Valentine’s to be special. I had it all planned out. I rented your favorite movie and bought all the ingredients to make the gnocchi you love so much, and then as I was folding the laundry I just-I died.”

“Food poisoning. America’s silent killer.” Your laugh rings in Steve’s ears and he smiles, kissing your face again and again and again. He runs his nose down your chin, brushes the hair out of your face. “Besides, this isn’t our first Valentine’s. I’m counting all the ones we spent together single and lonely whether you like it or not.”

“The fifth one wasn’t so bad,” you muse. You still remember the roar of the Vexture as Steve announced that you were his Valentine. “You were annoyingly charming that night.”

“That was me declaring my love for you, you know.”

You turn to him, startled. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope.” Steve clutches his chest. “There I was, telling the love of my life that I wanted her to be my Valentine forever, and then in the end she friendzones me. Truly brutal stuff.”

“But that was years ago! We were nineteen, there’s no way in hell you were actually in love with me.”

He grabs your hand and kisses it. “Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since we were fifteen. I was just waiting for you to like me back.”

The idea of Steve being in love with you since you were kids nearly sends you back to throwing up. You’re overwhelmed by it. By the idea that someone could’ve loved you for as long as he has. That he still loves you now. For nearly a decade.

“Y/N? You got all quiet over there. You alive?” Steve pokes your cheek and it’s then that you know that there was never anyone else for you. You were his from the moment he walked into student council and demanded cleaner mirrors in the men’s bathroom.

“I love you.” You tell him. They’re the only words created for what you have.

Steve scrunches his face in an endearing manner. “I love you, too.”

“Now tell me all about New York.”

And he does.

–

Robin tells you that tour life is romanticized and that within the first week you’ll strangle her and Steve to death, but you don’t believe her. When you see the size of the bus the five of you will be staying in for months on end, you start to second guess what she’s said.

“It’s… cozy?”

Connor huffs at you. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“It’ll be fun, guys!” You try again to make light of the situation, though really you also don’t believe what you’re saying. “I mean, think about how much closer we’ll be after this.”

“Weren’t you a philosophy major?” Connor looks at you skeptically. “Isn’t the whole schtick of those old white dudes pessimism?”

Steve throws an arm around you. “She graduated top of her class, actually. And yes. Those old white dudes loved being bitter bitches.”

“I think Y/N’s right.” Kelly joins in now. “We’re a family. It can’t be that bad.”

“Famous last words.” Robin mutters.

They are, in fact, famous last words.

Connor learns that he gets car sick easily on day two. Kelly learns that she has a fear of car sickness on day three. Robin leaves her keyboard at one of the venues they play at the second week and doesn’t realize it until you’re already at the next venue an entire state away. Steve loses his voice after the sixth show and spends the entire bus ride to the next venue sulking.

You, however, are honestly having a great time. You didn’t get to travel with the band last year due to school, and now that you’ve graduated, you’re enamored with seeing places that aren’t native to Illinois or Indiana.

“Steve, if you gargle salt water in my ear one more time, I will shave your head in your sleep.” Robin threatens during week four. Her eye is twitching and you truly do believe that she has a razor hidden somewhere.

“I have to protect my voice.” He argues, pouring more warm water into a cup before mixing salt in. “I can’t lose it again!”

“That was a pretty rough show.” Connor says from his bunk. Being nearly 6’4, he barely even fits in it. His legs hang off awkwardly and he’s been complaining about his back for weeks now.

“I thought Robin sang pretty well.” Nancy, the band’s tour photographer, says quietly from the makeshift kitchenette. She joined during the third show and you think Robin’s been in love with her since the fourth one.

“Uh, thanks. I guess.” She squeaks out, hiding behind you in a not so subtle manner. You pat her hand, sympathetic.

Steve gargles and spits the water into the sink. “Robin has an incredible voice, I agree. But that’s besides the point. We’re on the clock full time, even if we don’t have a show tonight.”

“And tell me, my dear wife, why we don’t have a show tonight?” Connor sings to Kelly.

“Why, my dear husband, I do believe it’s because it’s Valentine’s day and Stevie over here demanded the night off so that he can court our beloved Y/N.”

Steve rolls his eyes at them and you laugh. “In our defense, we haven’t exactly had a normal Valentine’s day together. We’re in dire need of one normal night.”

Nancy tilts her head at you. “But aren’t you guys together?”

“Yeah, but we weren’t for a while.”

“One Valentine’s day Y/N found out her boyfriend was cheating on her, who also just so happened to be my roommate.”

Robin throws her head back and shouts, “Fuck Oliver!” And Connor and Kelly join.

“Thanks, guys.” Steve turns back to Nancy. “Another year I made Y/N go on a blind double date with me and a girl I was dating at the time. Turns out, the guy I brought for Y/N was also the ex boyfriend of my girlfriend. So that was fun.”

“One year we actually walked down the aisle together. Before we were even dating.” Nancy’s eyes widen and you shrug at her. “We were in the same wedding party.”

“Happy anniversary, babe.” Connor blows a kiss to Kelly and she catches it, blowing him one back.

“And last year I got horrendous food poisoning and Steve had to drive me to the hospital since I was so dehydrated. He cried filling out my paperwork.”

“I did.”

Nancy looks between you and Steve. “And this year, you guys will…?”

“I’m taking Y/N out to a nice, totally normal and totally romantic dinner. I’m going to wine and dine my girl and then we’re going to cuddle in our way too small bunk bed and sleep.”

You beam at everyone. “It’s a pretty good plan.”

Except you and Steve don’t even make it to your reservation. Later that night, right before you call a taxi, Nancy bursts through the bus door with a frantic look in her eyes. You drop the phone and rush to her. “Woah, hey. What’s going on?”

“Have you seen Robin?” There are tear stains on her delicate face.

Steve’s body tenses. “Last time we saw her was when she left with you guys, why?”

“I–” A broken sob prevents Nancy from telling him anything else, and you take her into your arms.

You soothe her, your own worry for your friend setting your body on edge. Steve shares a look with you, both wondering what the hell is happening. Robin left with Nancy and the others hours ago to go check out some local bar, and now here Nancy is, crying in your arms, with Robin nowhere to be found.

“Nance,” drying the girl’s tears, you try to get her to calm down enough to speak. “I need you to breathe with me, okay? Take a deep breath and then let it out slowly.”

You inhale, so does she, and after several seconds you exhale long and slow. Nancy’s breath stutters and her tears soak the white blouse she looks so delicate in, but still she breathes.

Steve stands over the two of you, arms crossed with his eyebrows pinched together in worry. He taps his foot and you know it’s taking everything within him not to tear down the entire town to find his best friend.

“What happened with Robin, Nance?” Steve gently asks her, crouching down to her eye level. “Is she okay? Are you okay?”

Nancy wipes her face and sniffs. She can’t look at you or Steve. Her eyes face only the ground as she picks at her nails. “We… We kissed.”

“That’s…” Steve looks at you, silently asking if he should be elated or concerned, and all you can do is shrug helplessly at him. “That’s-that’s great, right? I mean, you two were totally love at first sight. Like, Romeo and Juliet but without the, you know. Death. I mean, at least I hope there’s no death, but seeing as you’re currently crying I’m a little nervous–”

“What my boyfriend is trying to say is that we’re happy for you guys, but also a little concerned.” You interrupt Steve’s ramble. “What happened after the kiss?”

Nancy continues picking at her nails. Her crying has subsided but her face remains broken and anguished. Her eyebrows knit together and her mouth draws into a thin line. “I-I kissed her, and then she just… She ran.”

“Shit,” you sigh, dropping your head.

Steve throws his own head back and curses as well. “Another category five.”

“Yup.”

Nancy turns to you. “Category five? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

You wince, grabbing her hand in hopes of quelling her sudden anger. “Look, Robin is…”

“A gem.” Steve finishes for you, and you nod at him.

“She’s my best friend, and she’s incredibly brave and charismatic and bold. I’ve seen her punch men five times her size. She always speaks her mind and never takes no for an answer, but she’s also vulnerable. She hides a lot behind her humor.”

“When I first met Robin, she was going through a pretty rough breakup.” Steve sits next to you and Nancy now. “And since then she’s become the worst person imaginable when it comes to dating. She always freaks out and leaves the relationship before they can leave her. And a category five freakout is… bad.”

“We’ve only seen it once before with some girl she met at a gig a few years back. They kissed and Robin locked herself in the bathroom and refused to leave until the girl was gone.” You tuck Nancy’s hair behind her ear. “We aren’t telling you this to scare you, we’re telling you this because you clearly love Robin, and she loves you. She’s just… she’s been hurt before.”

Nancy slouches on the couch. “But I don’t want to hurt her! I didn’t even mean to kiss her, but she looked so pretty under the purple lighting and was laughing at some stupid joke I made and-and suddenly we were kissing and it was incredible and then–”

“Category five.” Steve mimes an explosion with his hands. You glare at him.

“How about this, we’ll find Robin for you and bring her back here. I think the two of you just really need to talk about this.”

Steve raises his hand. “I personally think they just need to makeout.” You elbow his side and he groans in pain. “Yeah, okay. That was fair.”

“I can’t ask you guys to do that.” Nancy sniffs. “You were so excited for your date tonight and you’ve already done enough.”

Steve wraps an arm around your waist. “She’s right. This is just tradition for us. A sacred thing we look forward to every year.”

“You two confuse me so much.” Nancy laughs wetly, overwhelmed by your kindness.

“We get that a lot.” Steve kisses your temple. “C’mon, angelface. The lesbians need us.”

Nancy nearly chokes on her laughter and you giggle as well. The bus door closes and it’s just open road before you. You’re in the middle of Wisconsin with nothing but grass and dirt for miles ahead. Wherever Robin ended up running off to, you sincerely hope it’s close.

In the end, you and Steve end up walking nearly two miles to a nearby gas station and find Robin face deep in a pint of ice cream. Her cheeks are smeared in chocolate and her puffy eyes are red. The moment you find her, Steve throws himself into her arms and you hold them both as she starts to cry.

It takes several conversations, many tissues, and a few threats before you’re able to convince Robin to walk back to the bus with you. She freaks out the entire two miles and Steve has to fully pick her up at one point to prevent her from fleeing, but eventually you’re standing in front of the bus door with Robin’s iron grip on your hand.

“I-I can’t do this.” She chokes out, short of breath as panic sets in again. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“You can,” Steve pokes her cheek, though his hand rubs her shoulder with affection. “And you will.”

“What if she hates me now?”

You hook your chin over Robin’s shoulder, butting your head with hers. “Then we’ll be here to catch you, dummy. But we won’t need to, because Nancy is currently pacing the bus waiting to kiss your pretty face again.”

Robin’s body tenses and she gets ready to run, but Steve swoops her into his arms and you yank the door open so that he can throw her inside. She screams, but you slam the door shut and Steve helps you keep it closed as her fists pound against it.

“Let me out!” Robin screeches, throwing her body against the door.

“Kiss and make up! Those are the rules!” You scream back, clenching your teeth to keep your footing.

Robin screams again and Steve has to throw his entire body weight back to keep her inside, but eventually her anger exhausts her and soon there’s only silence within the bus. You and Steve press your ears to the door, breaths held so as not to miss anything, and faintly, very faintly, you hear Nancy’s soft voice mixing with Robin’s embarrassed tears.

Stepping back, Steve holds his hand for you to high five, which you gladly accept. “God, we’re great.”

“The best matchmakers this town has ever seen.”

Steve tugs you against him and holds you close to his chest, inhaling your scent and humming in content. You melt into him and he holds you for a while, just the two of you, swaying softly together as the gentle February wind dances around you.

“I think year nine went pretty well.” You murmur into Steve’s skin.

He buries his face in your hair. “I have a feeling year ten will be even better.”

–

The band’s breakout album, Angelface, becomes an instant success. It tops every chart, critics praise it, fans scream along to all the songs, and Steve claims that you’re the reason for it.

“I name an album after you and suddenly it sells a million copies overnight.” He nips at your neck, humming when you writhe beneath him. “You’re my good luck charm, angelface.”

You want to tease him and call him crazy, but when his hand comes up to massage your breast through its thin fabric, your moans drown out the noise in your mind.

Connor and Kelly buy a house with a studio built inside of it. The band rehearses there every day in preparation for their next album. Robin brings Nancy along, the two of them always giggling quietly to themselves in between sessions. Nancy becomes the band’s official photographer. All the photos are of Robin.

Steve surprises you one day with the keys to your own home. He tells you that the second the money from Angelface was his, he went out and bought the house the next day. The home is much bigger than the apartment you once shared together, though small enough to still feel intimate. There are mahogany floors and a bay window in your bedroom and you couldn’t be more in love with it.

February comes and Steve sits you down at the kitchen table with a pen and paper in front of him.

“Alright,” he says, setting his hands on the table with an air of authority to him. “Valentine’s day is approaching. We know what that means.”

“That disaster is ahead.” You nod solemnly, following along.

“Exactly, so here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to make you a fancy dinner without anything that can possibly get you sick. No eggs. No meat. No dairy. Nothing prone to yacking.”

“Not sure what that leaves you with, but I’m listening.”

Steve writes everything down. “There will be only electric candles because I’m now terrified that the only disaster left is a house fire, and I spent a concerning amount of money on this house.”

“I fear the same.”

“Perfect. I’ll get us some wine and a movie to rent. Our landline will be turned off so that absolutely no one can contact us. We’re going AWOL here, Y/N. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

You lean forward and place your head in your hand. “What if Robin tries calling, though?”

“I love her, but we landed her a girlfriend last year. She owes us this Valentine’s day.”

“Touché.”

Steve looks down at his list. “Okay. Am I missing anything?”

You think for a moment. “No, I think that’s all, just don’t forget I have a doctor’s appointment that day so I won’t be home until a bit later.”

“Already accounted for that. I’ll be buying undisclosed decorations for the house to surprise you with.”

“Undisclosed? How many spy movies did you watch before this?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

True to his word, Steve does decorate the house while you’re gone. You get back from your appointment and your home is an explosion of pinks and reds. There are streamers everywhere and a small disco ball hangs from your living room ceiling. Music from your high school years plays softly in the background and the house smells of acidic tomato and garlic.

“Steve?” You call out, breathless as you walk towards the kitchen. He’s spared no expense. The floor is littered with roses and there’s wine waiting for you on the table with small electric candles flickering in the darkness.

“Do you like it?” You turn around and find Steve holding a bouquet of roses, dressed in a familiar tuxedo. It’s all black and his ribbed vest has the same rose pinned to it that it did back when you were in high school trying to stop him from pouring gin into the punch.

Your heart beats wildly and an overwhelming mix of emotions simmer in your stomach. “You’re…”

“The best boyfriend in the world? I know.” Steve grabs the wine and pops it open, pouring you a glass. He hands it to you with a wink, but you don’t accept the drink. He tilts his head in confusion. “I thought you loved red wine?”

“I-I do.” You’re quick to reassure him. “But after my doctor’s appointment today, I’m not so sure I should have any.”

Your heartbeat spikes again and Steve sets the glasses down immediately. He’s at your side a second later, worry for you written all over his handsome face. “You said it was just a regular checkup. Are you alright? Are you sick again? I-I can drive you to the hospital, just let me turn off the stove before we actually do have a house fire–”

“Steve,” your voice cracks with love and warmth. He looks up at you, pink lips parted in a small frown that you want to kiss better. “I can’t have wine for nine months.”

“Nine..? That’s an oddly specific number.” His lips turn downwards. “Is it like, some type of allergy now, or–?”

“No, Stevie.” You cup his face with a smile. Grabbing his hands, you bring them to your stomach. His palms lay flush against your abdomen, warm, and something in his face shifts. His eyes widen slightly, soft air escapes him, and your face burns from how wide you smile. “It isn’t an allergy.”

“You’re–?” He doesn’t want to say it, afraid that if he does, that if he’s wrong, his heart would be broken in an irrevocable way.

You nod, brushing his hair back. “I’m about ten weeks along.”

Steve sinks to his knees, dropping his head to your stomach and staring at it with an innocent gaze of love. His eyes fill with wonder, with tears. “Y/N.”

He whispers your name like a sacred prayer, lips pressing to the flesh over and over again as your fingers tangle in his hair and your joy coats his skin.

“I know we’re young, but…” You whisper down to him. “I want this. I really, really want this.”

“I want this, too.” Steve slides his hands up your body and stands, cradling you in his arms while his face buries itself into your neck. You can feel his tears wet your skin, the slight trembling of his body. “God, I want this.”

Your lips ghost the shell of his ear, down the veins in his neck, the crest of his collarbones and the lines of his jaw. Steve pulls you, closer and closer and closer, until your skin is his and his breath is yours.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Stevie.”

Steve smiles down at you. His face has changed since you first met ten years ago. The lines around his eyes have deepened slightly, his boyish smile is now more charming than endearing, and his jaw has become more defined.

His eyes, however, are the same eyes you fell in love with all those years ago. The toffee brown still reminiscent of the student council meetings you always bickered in. They’re still soft when he looks at you, open and lovely as they were at the Lonely Hearts dance.

There is still so much love that is embedded in Steve’s hand woven features for you. His hands stroke your stomach and your lips are against his. The excess of love is syrupy thick.

All it took was ten Valentine’s days.

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#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x fem #stranger things #m's writing #fluff #this is such a cheesy one #i was smiling so hard writing it my god #havent done purely fluff in so long

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helen-with-an-a · 2 days ago

Note

hi, I hope you're doing well! would you be willing to write another obi smutty fic. reader gets retroactive jealousy and lena reminds y/n that she belongs to her!

Hiiiiiiii - so I've kinda of changed it a little - there's still jealousy dw but i think this is really hot ngl ahahaha. Anyways. I hope you enjoy

Jealousy

Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Description: R gets a little jealous on a night out

Word Count: 6.7k

TW: Smut, 18+, fingering (R receiving), semi-public sex

You adored team nights out. The laughter, the music, the energy that would pulse through you was something you had yet to experience anywhere else. When you moved to Munich last season, the nights out were a chance to fully breathe and let go of the stresses of the season.

But now, with Lena here, the nights had transformed into something even more special. Having your girlfriend wrapped in your arms turned these outings from merely fun to absolutely magical. Sharing drinks, having each other close, stealing kisses ... it made your heart happy.

But there was one thing that was souring this particular night. The perky blonde with big tits who couldn't seem to keep her eyes off Lena. You'd noticed her right away – she was attractive, you could admit that much. You weren't blind. Tall and curvy, with a smile that was perfectly crafted to draw people in. Perfectly highlighted bleach blonde hair and tanned skin that clearly came from a bottle. But there was an arrogance in the way she moved, in the way she so casually tried to insert herself into your space, as if she could simply will Lena’s attention away from you. It was an arrogance that told you everything you needed to know - she was used to getting her own way.

Every few minutes, you'd catch her glancing over, her eyes lingering on Lena in a way that made your blood simmer. Not that Lena seemed to notice. Your girlfriend was exactly where you wanted her, exactly where she wanted to be, pressed up against you. Her front was moulded perfectly to your back, her hands resting on your hips as you both swayed to the music. The warmth of her body against yours, the rhythm of her movements syncing with your own – it was intoxicating. It was grounding. Lena leaned forward, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered something that was lost in the thumping bass, but the tone of her voice, low and intimate, sent a shiver down your spine. You pressed yourself back, letting your eyes slip shut as Lena pressed a couple of teasing kisses behind your ear.

“Hallo.” The unexpected voice made you jump. Your eyes snapped open to see the blonde standing way too close for comfort.

“Um, hi?” you stammered, caught off guard by her sudden appearance. She didn’t even glance in your direction; her eyes were locked solely on Lena, as if you were nothing more than a shadow in the background.

“Hallo, ich bin Anna.” Her voice was smooth, confident, and annoyingly flirtatious. She smiled at Lena, a slow, deliberate smile that felt like a challenge. You watched in irritation as Anna's gaze swept over Lena, her eyes shamelessly taking in every curve of your girlfriend's body. Was she blind or just incredibly arrogant? Of course, you knew how gorgeous Lena was – her dark hair that framed her face perfectly, her tanned skin that seemed to glow under the club lights, and that toned, athletic body that you had admired countless times. But it wasn't for Anna to appreciate. That privilege belonged to you.

You shifted around, letting your arms slide around Lena's waist in what you hoped came off as a casual hug, though the possessiveness in the gesture was unmistakable. Lena responded immediately. Her arm draped protectively over your shoulders, pulling you closer, and she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You settled against her collarbone, feeling a surge of satisfaction as you marked your territory. It was a silent but clear message: Lena was with you.

But Anna was either too cocky or too oblivious to take the hint. "Do you want a drink?" she asked, her voice sickeningly sweet, her eyes never leaving Lena’s face. It was like you weren't even there. Your annoyance flared, a hot, simmering anger that made you purse your lips in a tight line.

“She’s got one,” you interjected, nodding toward the cocktail in Lena’s hand – the same cocktail you had been stealing sips from all night. Your words, however, seemed to evaporate into thin air. Anna acted like you hadn’t spoken at all ... like you were nothing but background noise in her attempt to flirt with your girlfriend.

Lena shifted slightly, her body tensing against yours. You felt her hold you a little tighter. “Um, no, I’m okay,” Lena finally spoke up, her voice slightly strained, clearly trying to maintain politeness whilst wishing Anna would just go away. She gave Anna a tight, uncomfortable smile, her eyes briefly flicking down to you.

Anna’s smile faltered for a split second, but she quickly recovered, clearly unwilling to back down so easily.

"Are you sure?" Anna pressed on, her voice taking on a slightly pleading tone. She didn't seem to understand the concept of boundaries, or maybe she just didn't care. Her eyes flickered to Lena's nearly empty glass, a sly smile creeping onto her face as if she'd found a weak spot.

“Yeah, I'm sure” Lena replied curtly. She shifted closer to you, her body seeking the comfort and support only you could provide. You could feel the tension in her posture, the way her muscles tightened. You tightened your grip on her waist, pressing a kiss to her exposed collarbone.

Anna, however, seemed undeterred. "It looks like you're almost out," she persisted, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger in a practiced, flirtatious gesture. "Let me buy you another." Her voice dripped with forced sweetness, and the way she looked at Lena made your stomach churn. Was she really this dense, or was she just enjoying the chase? You watched in horror as she winked at Lena.

Lena hesitated, glancing at you briefly before giving Anna a tight, forced smile. "Umm, n-no thank you," she stammered, clearly trying to remain polite even though the situation had long since crossed into uncomfortable territory. Her grip on you tightened, her nails digging into your side in a silent plea for this to end.

"C'mon," Anna whined, her persistence taking on a pathetic edge. She leaned in slightly, trying to capture Lena's attention once more, her voice dipping into a whine that grated on your nerves. She reached out, clearly angling to take the glass from Lena's hand and maybe let them linger a little longer.

That was the last straw. You felt a rush of anger surge through you, hot and undeniable. Without a second thought, you pushed yourself away from Lena, closing the distance between you and Anna until you were standing chest to chest with her. Your eyes locked onto hers, your gaze cold.

"Look, babes," you said, your voice low and dangerously calm. It was the kind of calm that preceded a storm. "She said no. So back off." You could see the surprise flicker in Anna's eyes, a momentary crack in her confident facade.

"And who are you?" she shot back, her voice laced with disdain as she squared her shoulders, trying to hold her ground. It was almost laughable, this game she was trying to play.

"Her girlfriend," you declared, letting the words hang in the air between you. "So fuck off." You punctuated your words with a sarcastic wave of your hand, dismissing her like the nuisance she was. You didn't raise your voice; you didn't need to. Your tone was sharp enough to cut through the heavy beat of the music around you.

Anna's mouth opened as if to retort, but nothing came out. She stood there, blinking, clearly taken aback by your directness. For a moment, it seemed like she might try to push back again, but then something shifted in her expression. Whether it was embarrassment or just the realisation that she wasn't going to win this one, you couldn't tell. She gave a small, annoyed huff, then turned on her heel and stalked off, her confidence visibly deflated.

You exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in your body begin to unwind. Turning back to Lena, you caught the look of relief in her eyes. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around her again, pulling her close. She buried her face against your neck, her breath warm against your skin as she whispered, "Danke."

You kissed her temple, feeling the adrenaline finally start to ebb away. "Always," you murmured into her hair. You tightened your embrace, holding her close as the music pounded around you, the lights painting kaleidoscopic patterns on the floor.

Lena breathed out a soft laugh against your neck, her body relaxing into yours. The tension that had stiffened her muscles melted away, leaving her pliant and safe in your embrace. You could feel her heartbeat slowing to match the rhythm of yours. You pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her face, her eyes closed, her lips curved into a small, grateful smile.

“Now I really want another drink,” you said, breaking the silence with a lightheartedness that you knew would make her smile. You felt the corners of your mouth twitch upwards as you watched her reaction. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with that familiar spark that made your heart skip a beat.

"Sex on the Beach?" she asked, her smile growing as she playfully suggested your go-to cocktail. There was a teasing glint in her eyes, her expression instantly lighter now that the unwanted attention had been chased away. She knew exactly how to ease the tension, to bring you both back to the playful, sexy mood you'd been in before the interruption. It was one of the many things you loved about her – the way she could turn any situation around with just a few words and that dazzling smile.

You pretended to ponder for a moment, pursing your lips as if deep in thought. "Hmm," you mused, letting the pause linger just long enough for her to start wondering. You leaned in closer, lowering your voice so that only she could hear. “I was thinking more, sex in a nightclub,” you whispered, your words laced with a suggestiveness that made her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

She blinked, her eyebrows furrowing as she processed what you had just said. Her lips parted, and for a split second, you could see the confusion in her eyes. Did she mishear you? Was she overthinking? You relished that brief moment of bewilderment before leaning in, closing the distance between you. You tilted your head, your lips finding hers with a sense of urgency and desire that left no room for doubt.

The kiss was electric, igniting a fire that made your skin tingle. It was a different kind of adrenaline this time, one of pure, unfiltered passion. Her body melted against yours as you kissed her, the world around you blurring into insignificance.

Lena responded immediately, her initial surprise dissolving into eagerness. Her hands moved up to cup your face, fingers threading through your hair as she pulled you even closer. You could feel her smile against your lips, a silent acknowledgement that she was very much on board with where this was going. You deepened the kiss, your hands sliding across back, pressing her body flush against yours as heat pooled in your stomach.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and grinning, her eyes were darker, filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. She looked up at you, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly swollen. "Well," she breathed out, a laugh bubbling up in her throat. "I guess I could be persuaded."

You chuckled, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the way she was looking at you, like you were the only person in the room. In that moment, nothing else mattered. It was just you and Lena, the two of you wrapped up in a moment that felt both thrilling and absolutely right.

"Then what are we waiting for?" you murmured, your voice husky as you traced the waistline of her trousers. Her breath hitched slightly, her eyes never leaving yours. With a mischievous smile, she took your hand, lacing her fingers with yours, and led you toward the back of the club where the shadows beckoned.

The bathroom was surprisingly decent, definitely better than some of the dingy, cramped ones you'd encountered in other clubs. Here, the lighting was dim but the floors were relatively clean, and the air, while not exactly fresh, lacked that overpowering stench of sweat and spilt alcohol that often clung to nightclub toilets. Most importantly, the stalls were designed for privacy. They were floor-to-ceiling doors, more like small, private rooms than the usual flimsy partitions that left too much to the imagination. The doors even had locks that looked like they might actually work.

Lena's hand was warm and insistent in yours as she led you toward one of the stalls, her eyes flicking around the room with a mix of urgency and caution. She paused just outside one of the stalls, hesitating for a split second, her gaze sweeping over the bathroom one last time to make sure you were somewhat alone. The music from the club was muffled, just a distant thumping bass that vibrated through the walls.

Satisfied that no one else was in the bathroom, Lena pushed open the stall door and pulled you inside with a quick, fluid motion. The door clicked shut behind you, the lock sliding into place with a solidness that made you feel unexpectedly secure. It was a small space, barely enough room for the two of you to stand comfortably, but that only added to the thrill of it all. The walls were painted a dark colour, and the dim light filtering from the ceiling created an oddly intimate vibe.

Lena turned to face you, her eyes dark and intense in the half-light. There was a glimmer in her gaze, a mixture of desire and mischief that sent a shiver down your spine. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath coming out in short, eager bursts. You could see the slight flush on her cheeks, the way her pupils were dilated, and it sent a rush of heat straight through you. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension crackling in the air between you like a live wire.

Lena's eyes searched yours, looking for something – reassurance, consent, the same wild hunger she knew was mirrored in her own. You felt her hand tighten around yours, a silent question that needed no words. In response, you pressed your body against hers, backing her up against the wall of the stall. Her breath hitched as her back made contact with the cool surface, and a soft, almost inaudible gasp escaped her lips. You took a moment to relish the feeling of her body against yours, the way her curves fit perfectly with the angles of your own.

You brought your free hand up to cup her cheek, your thumb brushing lightly across her skin. Lena leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for just a second, a soft sigh escaping her as the tension between you coiled tighter. When she opened her eyes again, there was no hesitation, only an intense focus on you, like you were the only thing that existed in her world at that moment.

She surged forward, closing the distance between you, her lips crashing into yours with a force that took your breath away. It was a kiss that was hungry and raw, filled with urgency. Her hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer.

Your mind spun with the sensation of her – her taste, her scent, the warmth of her body against yours. It was intoxicating, all-consuming. You moaned as she dominated the kiss, slowly walking you backwards and spinning you around.

She pressed you back against the stall wall with a deliberate force that sent a jolt of excitement through your entire body. The cool, solid surface contrasted sharply with the heat radiating from her, every sensation magnified as her hips pinned you in place. Her thumbs dug into your sides, rubbing maddening circles on your waist. The touch was firm yet teasing, sending shivers of electricity through you, making it almost impossible to think clearly. Even through the thin fabric of your skirt, you could feel the warmth of her hands burning into your skin.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your chest heaving as you tried to regain control of your breathing. For a split second, the only sounds were the frantic thudding of your heart and the distant bass of the music outside. But Lena didn’t waste a moment. As soon as your lips parted, she moved lower, trailing her mouth along your jaw with a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made your head tilt back against the wall. You were completely at her mercy, the desire coursing through you leaving you pliant and trembling beneath her touch.

Her lips found your neck, and a strangled gasp escaped your mouth as she began to suck on the sensitive skin just below your ear. It was a perfect mixture of pleasure and pain, her teeth grazing your flesh before her tongue soothed the slight sting. Each gentle bite was followed by the soft pressure of her lips, her movements precise and intentional. Lena knew exactly how to unravel you piece by piece. She worked slowly, her mouth mapping out a trail of sensations that left your skin tingling and hot. When she finally began to suck in earnest, you could feel the blood rushing to the surface, a bruise forming as she worked.

Your hands flew to her hair instinctively, fingers threading through the soft strands as you gripped tightly, pulling her closer. You needed to feel her, to keep her pressed against you, to let her know that you were completely hers. Your nails scraped lightly against her scalp, and you felt her shudder against you, a low, satisfied hum vibrating from her lips and into your skin. She took the encouragement with a hunger that left you breathless, her teeth nipping at the tender spot where your neck met your shoulder.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you let yourself drown in the sensation of her mouth on you, each kiss, each bite sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins. Her hands had moved lower, fingers now tracing the hem of your dress, skimming the bare skin of your thighs. The contrast between her rough, possessive kisses and the light, teasing touch of her hands was driving you wild, a constant push and pull that left you teetering on the edge of control.

She shifted her hips slightly, pressing even closer to you, and you could feel the hard lines of her body against yours, the way she moved with a fluidity that had you melting into her. The stall around you seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with the scent of her perfume and desire. You arched against her, seeking more contact, more of the delicious friction that made your head spin. You could hear her breath hitch against your neck, the slight falter in her movements as she responded to your need with a fervour that matched your own.

Lena finally pulled back, her eyes dark and glazed with lust as she looked at you. Her breathing was ragged, her lips swollen from the kisses, and she looked at you like she was on the brink of losing herself completely. You held her gaze, your own chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to steady yourself, but the fire in her eyes only made you want her more.

“You gonna be my good girl?” Lena whispered in your ear, her voice low and sultry, dripping with a promise that sent a wave of heat rushing through you. Her lips brushed the shell of your ear as she spoke, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Her breath was hot against your skin, making your legs weak. You could only nod in response, your throat too tight with desire to form coherent words. The anticipation curled inside you, coiling like a spring ready to snap, leaving you acutely aware of every inch of her pressed against you.

Lena's lips moved down to your neck again, grazing the sensitive skin there before she continued, her voice now a husky murmur. “You gonna let me have my way with you?” The question was almost a growl, laced with a dangerous edge that made your heart race. You couldn't help the needy sound that escaped your throat, a half-gasp, half-moan that only seemed to spur her on. She shifted her hips against yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off her, the way her body moved with a predatory grace that made you feel utterly and deliciously at her mercy.

Her hands trailed up your sides, her fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they moved beneath the hem of your dress. She pushed the fabric higher, exposing more of your skin to the cool air, and you gasped as her fingertips skimmed along the edge of your underwear, teasing but not yet giving you what you so desperately craved. "You gonna let me fuck you?" she whispered, her voice growing darker, more possessive. Your back arched instinctively, pressing yourself closer to her, trying to chase the sensation, to force her hand.

You moaned at her words, your mind reeling. Lena's lips curved into a wicked smile against your skin, her teeth grazing your collarbone as she took your reaction as the permission she needed to push you further. "Right here?" she continued, her voice a seductive purr. "In this nightclub bathroom?" Her teeth nipped at the delicate skin of your shoulder, and you felt your knees threaten to give way.

Her hand slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, and you bit down on your lip to stifle the cry that rose in your throat. The bathroom stall suddenly felt even smaller, the walls pressing in around you, intensifying the heat and the scent of your arousal hung in the air. "Where anyone could walk in?" she went on, her voice dropping to a near-growl as her fingers dipped lower, hovering right where you needed her most.

"Where our team could hear us?" she pressed, her voice filled with a dark glee that sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing over you. Her fingers teased at your entrance, slick with your desire, and you choked on a moan, your hands flying to her shoulders, clutching at her for support as your body shuddered. You could barely think, your mind fogged with the intoxicating mix of excitement and raw lust. You were on the edge, teetering in that space between pleasure and the thrill of getting caught. The thought of someone hearing you, knowing exactly what was happening, made you burn hotter.

"Where Anna could hear us?" Lena's voice was a whisper now, her lips brushing against the tender skin just below your ear as she spoke. The mention of Anna sent a surge of possessiveness through you, mingling with the desire already flooding your system. The idea of the blonde hearing you, knowing that Lena was yours and only yours, made something primal flare up inside you. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling against hers as you nodded frantically, unable to find your voice to answer.

Lena didn't need to hear your words; she could feel your answer in the way your body responded to her. In the way you clung to her, the way your hips moved involuntarily, seeking the friction that would drive you over the edge. She chuckled softly, a low, dangerous sound that sent another wave of heat crashing through you. Her fingers finally slid inside you, and you cried out, your head falling back against the stall wall with a thud. Your body arched against her, your nails digging into her shoulders as you lost yourself in the sensation of her touch.

"That's it," Lena murmured, her voice a dark caress against your skin. "Be my good girl. Let them hear you." Her pace quickened, her thumb circling where you needed it most, and you felt your control slipping, the world around you blurring into a haze of pleasure. The risk, the thrill of being caught, only heightened everything. You were hers ... you would give her everything she asked for.

You let your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the waves of pleasure crashing through you. Your mouth hung open in a silent gasp, your breath hitching with every skilful movement of Lena’s fingers. She knew your body so well, every spot that made you quiver, every place that made you lose control. Each stroke sent jolts of ecstasy surging through your veins, building an almost unbearable tension within you. "Lift your leg, baby. Open up for me." She nudged one of your legs with her knee, knocking it out to the side. You did as she asked, propping your foot up on the edge of the toilet as you moaned loudly.

The new position granted her deeper access, and you felt a fresh surge of heat as she pushed inside you with a relentless rhythm. You could feel yourself clenching around her fingers, your body reacting to every movement, every twist of her wrist. Your breath came out in ragged pants, mixing with the soft, wet sounds of her fingers working you over. You could hear yourself moaning, loud and uninhibited, the sound echoing off the stall walls. But you were far beyond embarrassment now; the pleasure was are too good for you to concentrate on anything else.

Lena's free hand moved to your mouth, her fingers pressing against your lips, demanding entrance. You parted your lips without hesitation, your mouth opening for her. She pushed her fingers inside, rough and insistent, pressing down on your tongue. You sucked on them instinctively, tasting the spilt drink from earlier, feeling the pressure of her fingers against the roof of your mouth. Her eyes bore into yours, watching every reaction, every shudder that coursed through your body. You barely keep your eyes open, everything feeling far too much yet not enough all at the same time.

Her thumb found your clit, brushing it with a firm, circular motion that had you screaming around her fingers. Your back arched, your body straining against the pleasure that was quickly becoming too much to bear. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, the world around you narrowing down to the points of contact where her skin met yours. She leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, "That's it, baby. Tell them who makes you feel this good." Her voice was low and commanding, each word sinking into your mind and taking root.

You moaned her name, the sound muffled and garbled around the fingers in your mouth. It didn’t matter that it came out unintelligible, slurred and desperate – anyone who heard you would know exactly who was making you come undone. "Lena," you whimpered again, the word falling from your lips like a prayer, an invocation of the woman who was pushing you past the limits of control. The combination of her fingers inside you, the thumb on your clit, and the ones pressing down on your tongue was overwhelming, your head spinning as bolts of electricity soared through your body.

Her thumb moved faster, circling in time with the thrusts of her fingers, and you felt the tension in your core tighten almost unbearably. Your eyes rolled back, your body beginning to tremble as you edged closer and closer to release. Lena's fingers pressed deeper into your mouth, her palm cupping your chin, holding you in place as you writhed against her. You could feel her watching you, her eyes dark with lust, her expression one of pure dominance. She wanted you to fall apart, to let go completely, and you knew you were about to give her exactly what she wanted.

You screamed around Lena’s fingers, your entire body seizing up as the orgasm ripped through you with a force that left you gasping for air. Your muscles tightened, your hips bucking against her hand as the pleasure surged through every nerve ending, leaving you shaking and crying out her name. The world around you blurred, dissolving into nothing but the sensation of Lena's touch and the sounds of your own pleasure filling the small stall.

She didn’t stop, riding you through it, drawing every last bit of sensation from your body until you were a trembling, boneless mess against the wall. You could barely think, barely breathe, as the aftershocks rippled through you. She slowly withdrew her fingers from your mouth, your lips releasing them with a soft, wet pop. She cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing gently across your bottom lip as she watched you come down, her eyes filled with a mixture of satisfaction and possessive pride.

"That's my good girl," she murmured, her voice tender now, a stark contrast to the raw dominance she’d wielded moments before. You melted into her touch, your body still quivering as you leaned into her, craving the comfort and safety of her embrace after the intensity of what had just transpired.

She withdrew her fingers slowly, deliberately, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. There was something undeniably sexy about the way she maintained that eye contact, a silent communication that spoke of ownership and desire. She brought her glistening fingers to her lips, her gaze never wavering as she slipped them into her mouth, her tongue swirling around them sensuously. "Mmmm," she hummed with obvious satisfaction, her eyes darkening as she tasted you. "Taste so good, baby." Her voice was a husky murmur, the sound of it sending another shiver down your spine.

Her hands moved to your waist, her fingers drawing soothing, lazy patterns across your skin. You felt the warmth of her palms seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. Your legs were still trembling, your body spent from the sheer force of your orgasm, but her touch, as always, had the power to both calm and ignite you at the same time.

You looked up at her, your eyes wide and hazy with lingering desire. She leaned down, closing the small distance between you, her lips finding yours in a kiss that was gentle yet insistent. Her lips were soft against yours, moving with a tenderness that made your heart swell. You melted into her kiss, your arms wrapping around her neck to pull her closer, craving something only she could give you.

She pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours as she spoke, her breath warm on your lips. "What do you think about ditching the night out and just heading home?"

You raised an eyebrow at her, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. "And what would we do at home?" you teased, your voice light despite the way your heart pounded.

Lena pretended to consider her options, her lips pursed. "Hmmm," she mused, drawing the sound out as she traced her fingers idly along your waist. "Well," she began slowly, her eyes glinting with mischief, "we could go home, have a nice, warm shower, get into bed, and have a relatively early night." She paused, letting the words hang in the air.

"Or..." She let the word trail off, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. "We could go home, and I could absolutely rail you with the strap." Her voice was husky, each word dripping with promise. "I could make you feel so good," she continued, her hand sliding down to squeeze your ass, pulling you flush against her. "I could stretch you out," she whispered, her breath hot against your skin, "make you forget all about Anna." You felt a fresh wave of arousal pooling low in your belly. "Make you forget your own name." You swallowed. "I could fuck you so good that you can't walk tomorrow, that the only thing you know is who is making you feel so, so god."

You stood there, utterly stunned by her confidence, your mind reeling at the vivid images her words conjured. You blinked at her, your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish as you struggled to form a coherent response. The idea of her taking you home, of the things she was promising to do to you, left you dizzy with desire. You could feel your cheeks flush, heat spreading through your body as you absorbed the full impact of what she was offering.

"T-two," you stammered, your voice barely a whisper. You swallowed hard, your mouth dry as you tried again. "Two. I pick option two."

Lena chuckled softly, the sound rich and sultry as it reverberated through the small stall. She pulled back slightly, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she took in your flustered state. "Gute Wahl," she purred, her lips quirking into a wicked smile. She placed a lingering kiss on your lips, her teeth nipping at your bottom lip before she pulled away. "Let's get out of here, then," she said, her voice carrying a note of authority that made you shiver in excitement.

She opened the stall door, peeking out to make sure the coast was clear before taking your hand and leading you out. She guided you through the crowd, her grip on your hand firm and possessive. You felt a rush of adrenaline as you moved toward the exit, barely waving at the girls as you walked past.

Your heart raced with a mixture of nerves and excitement as you followed her outside, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin as you stepped onto the street. Lena flagged down a cab with a quick wave, opening the door and ushering you inside. She slid in beside you, her hand immediately finding its place on your thigh, squeezing lightly. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "You have no idea what you're in for tonight."

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lucimaaie · 2 days ago

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valentine ✧.* tlou

summary - you convince your girlfriend to celebrate valentine's day with you.

a/n - first time writing abby so bare with me, so maybe ooc abby, like 600 wc for both, was supposed to be a headcanon but turned into whatever this is, fluffiest fluff, actually edited and proofread this time, lemme know if you want me to write more for abby or headcanon-like stuff, anyway enjoy, happy valentine's!

The concept of holidays were obviously nonexistent in the midst of an apocalypse, especially Valentine’s Day. There were remnants of it in run down convenience and grocery stores—Shitty flowers left for dead and chocolate boxes rummaged in a hope for some sustenance— but nobody cared enough to set aside time to acknowledge the old holiday. They were too busy fighting to survive.

So when you brought it up, you weren’t expecting a completely receptive reaction or even a positive one. It was indeed one of those seemingly meaningless holidays that even then people forgot about. Yet it wormed its way into your mind after recently learning about it. Imagining a day where you could just appreciate your girlfriend was no doubt sappy, but now was the chance to test out your curiosity, right?

“I just don’t get why it’s important,” Abby would say when you brought it up. Her brows furrowed as she pushed the sticks and uneven longs around in the fireplace. The fire was small but much needed to combat the cold air that seeped through the walls come night.

Your lips pursed as you thought of a way to put it that didn’t make you sound insane. The idea very much was. There were some days when you were worried the cold would freeze your fingers off and draw away all the game, and now you were concerned with celebrating. “It’s about..love and appreciation, but not like the one with the big dinners..uh, thanksgiving? Yeah, it’s different than that.”

“I do know what Valentine’s day is.” She commented dryly, sitting back next to you at the foot of your shared bed, wrapping her arm around you.

“How was I supposed to know?” You poked her cheek.

Abby swatted your hand away playfully, chuckling as she pulled her head back. “I never said I didn’t know about it. I just don’t get it.” She grabbed your hand from her cheek and intertwined your fingers. Her face soon grew serious as she took in the combined warmth of your body and the fire. How nice it felt to have someone to be so close to. “I appreciate you already.” She said genuinely.

Her words made your brain blank and your heart beat faster. Everything about this moment was making you feel like some kind of sap.

“I don’t need flowers to show you how I feel.” Quite honestly, she wouldn’t know what to do if you presented her with flowers and a bed of rose petals, if you could even find those in the freezing winter. She wouldn’t hate it..but it sounded like too much.

“What if I just wanna give you flowers or not even flowers— If I just wanna do something special?” Your voice was quiet against the crackling of the fire, like it was a secret for just the two of you. It partly was. Only you got this softer side of Abby. You turned to look up at her, taking in the light blush on her cheeks and dilated eyes. “Just something different from every other day.”

“I..won’t stop you.” She mumbled with a bashful smile, not knowing what to do with the attention. She took in the awe in your eyes, inwardly cursing herself for letting you talk her into yet another pre-outbreak tradition “for the sake of normalcy,” Truth be told, this life with you was the closest she’d ever gotten to normalcy, not having a mission or some type of assignment. She’ll admit it drove her crazy at first: That need to commit every day to something other than surviving. But you helped.

“Good,” You pressed your lips against hers softly, both hands cupping her jaw, smiling as you took in her satisfied hum. “Cause you couldn’t have anyway.”

“I—shut up. This better be worth your hassling,” She grabbed your jaw when you pulled away, swiping her thumb against the apple of your cheek. Her hair fell over her shoulder and created some type of curtain around your faces. “Ugh, you did it again.” She groaned, glancing down at your lips. “C’mere.”

Bringing it up to Ellie on the other hand send her into an internal frenzy. You’d have talked about it in a feigned off handed manner, laying on the edge of her bed as you watched her doodle mindlessly. “The stupid holiday with the chocolates and cards?” She mumbled, not thinking much of it. You had probably heard about it from Maria or somebody else who was alive before the outbreak.

You chuckled in response, mentally getting ready for the jokes. “Yeah, that.”

“What about it?” Her brows furrowed as she thought about it some more. Why would you be mentioning it– Oh. “You..wanna celebrate it?” Her hand would stop, hovering over the paper as she was pulled out of her focus. How the hell would she find anything to give you in what was mostly ruins? What would you even want?

“Do you?” You thought you were being subtle in your line of questioning but she caught the deflection.

“I asked first.” She turned around in her chair to face you, dropping her pencil and leaning forward to grab your hand from under your head. “Do you wanna celebrate Valentine’s Day? The whole love letter and rose’s thing?” She ran her fingertips over your knuckles as she spoke, using you to fidget as she often did hoping you’d just pass it off as affection. She could write you a letter--nah, she’s done that before. Or a song? She already had so many.

“I mean, it’s not realistic, but—“ You sat and scooted off the bed to take a seat on the edge of her desk. She immediately took to looking up at you as you tried to explain “It’d be sweet.” You blurted. The words still felt inadequate. “We already do birthdays and Christmas, but it’d just be about us. So..maybe I wanna celebrate it in our own way.”

Ellie waited for you to finish before placing a hand on your thigh, assuring you as if she wasn’t troubleshooting ideas in her head right now. It wasn’t— It was stupid, she had to admit, but it was sweet that you wanted to celebrate being together. It had taken her so long just to realize how much she liked you and then to finally tell you. She couldn’t imagine taking you for granted now. She hummed, thinking about it. “Our own way..how?”

“Anything. We can..go to that cabin we found a few weeks ago..have alone time..I don’t know.”

“Mm, abandoned cabin. Sounds romantic.” She said dryly, picking up her pencil to resume doodling, but the inspiration didn’t come. She found herself too distracted by ideas. So instead a messy, unorganized list of ideas made it to the paper. She inwardly rolled her eyes at how quickly she subscribed to the idea.

“You know what I mean,”

“I’m messing with you. If you want, we can do it.” She insisted with a nonchalant downturn of her lips. The bounce of her leg gave away her true emotions: the weird mix of nervousness and excitement the thought had given her. Her mind being both her gift and curse was already ripping through the possibilities of your reactions based on what she did for you.

“Really?” You perked up, back straightening almost comically. Ellie had tried not to laugh and the best she could do was a small smile. “You don't think I’m being sappy?”

“I absolutely think you’re being sappy.” She teased, scooting so that she was closer to you. She wrapped her arms around your waist, fidgeting fingers now preoccupied with the stray strings of your hoodie. “But I’ll go along with it because I love doing stupid things with you.” She admitted earnestly, pulling you to be closer.

“That’s the sappiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You wrapped your arms around her neck, fingers messing with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck. “And I love it,”

“Nope. It’s all you, you’re rubbing off on me.”

thank you for reading!

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florencebirdsong · 2 days ago

Note

Happy Valentine’s Day!

I just saw you’ve opened your requests for this day, so I have a request ;)

Witch!agatha x innocent!human!fem!reader, after AAA, Agatha falls in love with an ordinary human and for the first time in her life she is clumsy when flirting and approaching reader - that's how special her crush on this human is-

I ADORE your writing

Happy Valentine's Day! Thank you so much for the request!!

This is less clumsy and more awkward and stiff but I hope you still enjoy. She's just a silly billy who doesn't know how to handle her emotions :)

And thank you!!! That means so much <3

Valentine’s Day Event 2025

Tags: very slight angst, hint of dominating Agatha, ficlet

Agatha’s presence fills a room. Her eyes see through everyone she meets. She skilfully navigates everyone that’s thrown at her. There isn’t a person who’s properly met her who hasn’t been left with a strong impression. Except you. She barely looks at you. You’ve only ever managed to catch her in the corner of your eye, but even then it could just be in your direction.

You can’t figure out why and any one you’ve been brave enough to ask hasn’t either. Some have even said that it’s a good thing. You don’t understand how. You ache with longing every time you see her sharp smile directed at someone else.

It takes the sixth social gathering in a row where she has interacted with every one but you to find the courage to ask. It’s one of the rare occasions where it’s held at her place and you take advantage of the fact that everyone seems to leave all at once.

It feels strange to linger when the host doesn’t acknowledge you but you draw on every bit of courage you have to stay.

“Not rushing out?” Agatha says from behind you.

You jump in surprise and whirl around. Her face is emotionless. Not even the usual amusement from scaring someone displayed.

“I wanted to talk to you,” you say, gaze stuck firmly on the floor.

There’s a very long pause before she says,

“Alright,” and gestures at the purple lounge.

Instead of choosing another chair she sits next to you. You sit ramrod straight in your nervousness and you can’t help casting a quick glance at her every few seconds. She’s so close.

She has been before, technically. When talking in or group or accidentally brushing up against you but that never lasts long and it’s never been just the two of you.

Her gaze has wandered over to the window. A curtain has curled back just enough for a peak at the moon.

“Agatha?” you ask, valiantly trying to hide how nervous you are. She hums vaguely, eyes still looking out the window. Swallowing hard, you make yourself continue. “Why don’t you like me?”

Her head snaps towards you. “Excuse me?”

You try not to cringe. You knew it had been a stupid question and yet you asked anyway. Now you have to try and survive her sharp words. One of the few times she looks directly at you and you can’t even meet her eyes. It’s a major loss, especially with what’s about to happen, but you don’t think you’d be able to survive seeing the annoyance or hate in her eyes when she insults you.

You flinch in surprise when she grips your chin and forces your gaze to meet hers.

“Me liking you isn’t the problem,” she says. Her voice is low and you try to brace yourself. “The problem is that I like you too much.”

Her nails dig slightly into your skin and your eyes widen in surprise. You don’t even get a chance to think of a response before her lips are against yours. It’s not a feeling you’re familiar with but you lean into her warmth eagerly. Agatha makes an encouraging sound that has you melting. It’s not long until her hands go from supporting to pushing and you find yourself being slowly lowered to lay down on the couch. You follow happily until you realise where this is going. You put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She pulls back with a raised eyebrows.

“Have a different position in mind?” she asks with the hint of a smirk.

“Yes- I mean no- I- ,” you force yourself to take breath. She’s overwhelming enough from across the room. Having her so intensely focused on you is disorientating. “I haven’t…done anything like that before.”

You swear her eyes darken.

“That’s alright,” she murmurs as she leans closer. Your eyes drop to her lips. “I’ve waited this long for you. I can wait a bit longer.” She moves her hands again but instead of pushing you to lay down she pulls you into her. “I’ll take of you,” she promises.

#birdsong writes #valentines day event 2025 #anon answered #request fulfilled #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha x reader #agatha x you #x reader #gn!reader #agatha Harkness fanfiction #Agatha all along fanfiction #agatha fanfiction #agatha h.#agatha harkness #agatha all along

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erraticalart · 2 days ago

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May I Have This Seat?

Hey, guys, I'm back again. At least for now. Would you believe me if I told you that this comic took me around half a year to finish this? Procrastination will be the death of me... I made this as an excuse to have Heavy and Medic sit on each other's laps.

(Pray for Medic's lap, though he might enjoy the sensational pressure he's experiencing.)

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I also made this to practice on backgrounds again, specifically indoors.

And yes, there's inconsistencies here and there like how the second scene has no lineart because I was testing if I should have my backgrounds with/without lineart (very pretty and cozy scene to look at but hell to choose and blend colors together, but hey, it was worth it), and how near the end of the last scene the atmosphere becomes more pinkish purple to get that dreamy romantic feel.

Also, I totally did not just trace the respawn room because I got lazy meanwhile, I used perspective rulers for the other scenes and making blueprints for the room and building to practice with architecture, and ironically the first scene is the last scene I worked on.

And I'd rather suffer than draw Heavy's bandolier over and over and OVER again...

And I finally gave them nails because their bare feet looked odd in the end, so I gave them toenails and it helped, but now I have to give them fingernails because that's just weird to have toenails and not fingernails. I wanted to experiment and I'm not sure if I should keep it to update my art style.

Sorry if I posted it late today because I literally just finished making this after finally working on it again for a couple of sleepless weeks.

That's what I get for being lazy while working on other art projects.

(Psst. Hey, ScoutPauling fans, I also have something for you guys as well, but you'll have to wait a bit as I'm currently finishing up some details. Also, this art I'm finishing is one of the reasons why I procrastinated with the HeavyMedic comic even though the comic is 2 months older than the pic. I was mostly focused on ScoutPauling more than this. But trust me, it looks good and cute, just wait...)

I need to make a better schedule...

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this comic and Happy Valentine's Day!

#tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #heavymedic #red oktoberfest #TF2 #Team Fortress 2 #TF2 Fanart #TF2 Art #TF2 Fancomic #TF2 Comic

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aerynwrites · 3 days ago

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Cards and Flowers

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

A/N: you all voted for Simon for the Valentines Day fic so I;m here to deliver! Hope you all enjoy this soft Simon goodness. Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, simon being a big softie (probably OOC lol), angst, fluff, so much fluff.

*apologies for any spelling errors this was quickly proofread*

The note showed up a few days before Valentine's Day, slid beneath the door of your room in a simple red envelope. You were confused at first, but curious enough to pick it up the moment you saw it and carefully open the small envelope to pull out the card inside.

Will you be my Valentine?

Brevard’s, Friday at 6 pm.

- Your Secret Admirer

Immediately your skepticism reared its ugly head. You’ve never been asked out for Valentine's day, never been asked out period. What if this is some sick joke?

But then, all the memories of the little things that have been happening over the past week come to the forefront of your mind. The simple bouquet of daisies in the common room with your name on them. The singular candy bar with a sweet note resting on front of your door. a simple take out meal addressed to you one night when you were up late doing reports.

Maybe…maybe it was real.

Maybe, finally, you had piqued someone’s interest enough for them to go for it.

And, unbidden, the faint image of an all too familiar skull balaclava popped into your mind.

You smile, tucking the note away in your pocket before heading to the rec room.

Maybe valentines day won’t suck so much this year after all.

——

Ghost watches as you bounce into the commons area, eyes bright and an unusual pep in your step as you approach where he, Soap and Gaz sit around a small table playing cards. Your changed mood doesn’t go unnoticed by the other men either apparently, Soap looking up from the game to glance at you.

“What’s got you in such a good mood, lass?” He asks, drawing a card.

You smile brightly, and Ghost doesn’t miss the way your eyes dart to him as a flush creeps up your neck.

“Guess who has a secret admirer,” you say excitedly, pulling out the card and placing it on the table.

Gaz is the first to grab the card, brows rising as he reads it. “Brevard’s?” He asks, impressed, “That’s a fancy place, the guy must be well smitten to go in on a place like that.”

You nod, clearly thinking the same thing. “So I take it, you’re not my admirer then?” You ask, not all that seriously.

Gaz smiles, shaking his head, “Brevards’ above my pay grade,” he claps you on the shoulder as you move to take a seat at the table, “you deserve the best though. Glad someone finally caught on.”

“Garrick’s right, lass,” Soap chimes in, reaching over to take the card, “Whoever this is, must be heelster-gowdie for ya…” he trails off for a moment. “Any idea who it is?”

Ghost watches, always watching - observing. It’s why he catches the way you look at him again before dropping your gaze back down to the card as you shake your head.

“No, not yet, anyways. Guess we’ll find out Friday, huh?”

It’s also why he doesn’t miss the amused over the shoulder glances a group of officers send their table, almost silent chuckles meeting his ears.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you’re up almost as fast as you got here when you check the notification. You mumble something about Price needing reports you hadn’t finished before rushing off, Gaz and Soap wolf whistling after you - earning them a loud laugh from you.

They return to their game, but don’t get far before Soap pipes up.

“So, finally decided to make your move L.t.?” he asks, a knowing smirk on his lips.

Ghost shakes his head, readjusting in his seat. “Wasn’t me.”

Both his sergeants look confused at his revelation, and Ghost internally curses himself for being so apparently obvious with his feelings towards you. Obvious to everyone except you it seems.

He sees Gaz preparing another question, a rebuttal, probably some snarky comment - so he’s up and out of his seat before he can speak, muttering something about getting more tea.

Mug in hand he approaches the small kitchen area, now well in earshot of the group of officers from earlier - all of them still sniggering about something.

“Ah, I don’t know, Jennings - Don’t you think it’s kind of cruel-”

The man is cut off by Jennings, as Ghost approaches turning the electric kettle back on.

“It’s just a little joke, Davies, quit being a buzz kill-”

Ghost watches from his peripheral as Davis shifts uncomfortably.

“I just think it’s a little much. I mean - standing her up, really? on valentines day no less-”

The pieces click into place for Ghost in an instant, and red fills his vision. Jennings set you up. Plied you with fake gifts and cards all in order to play some cruel joke on you - the final act leaving you sitting at a restaurant by yourself on valentines day.

He grips the handle of the kettle so tight, he hears the plastic creak beneath his fingers. His initial reaction is to toss the now scalding water right at the other officers face or at the very least step in and tell him what a terrible fucking mistake it would be to mess with someone on his team.

But he stops himself as an idea curtails his rage. It’s a terrible idea - a selfish, horrible, will probably blow up in his face, kind of idea. But it takes root before he can stop it, and almost immediately he’s stalking from the commons area - Brevard's number dialed into his phone and kettle and card game long forgotten.

——

Friday - Valentine’s Day - came quicker than Ghost expected. And even though he had done everything he could to prepare, he couldn’t snuff out the nerves boiling his blood. He’d called the restaurant the day you got the card to make a reservation - not too shocked to hear that they didn’t have anything available. But he wasn’t taking no for an answer, and after having a rather vague conversation with Price that left the captain more confused than anything - he was able to have some strings pulled. And now, there was a reservation for two under your name at a restaurant Ghost probably would never have stepped foot in otherwise.

He stands outside the restaurant now, dressed in his nicest civvies, a simple bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand, paper crinkling in his sweat damp palms. You got here near half an hour ago, he can see you sitting at the window side table for two, nervously glancing around, checking your phone as the minutes pass by.

He’s giving Jennings the benefit of the doubt, he tells himself, maybe he started to feel bad and would actually show up.

But Ghost knows better. He knows Jennings is probably out wining and dining some other poor woman, completely unbothered that you sit at a table alone, the waiter’s pitying gaze getting worse and worse each time they come by to check on you.

He finally shoves past his own insecurities, his own nerves when he sees you wipe at your eyes and start to fumble with your purse. He’s stepping through the restaurant doors, muttering to the hostess that he’s meeting someone and knows where to go. He just barely makes it to your table before you get up, tears bubbling up in your eyes as they land on him.

He’s sure he’s a sight - a hulking man you’re so used to seeing in tactical gear and a skull mask - now dressed in dress pants and a plain black button down, sleeves rolled up, black surgical mask replacing the usual balaclava. Ghost isn’t even ashamed to admit he tried to style his hair, Soap helping him when he failed miserably the first time.

You stare at him for a moment, eyes wide and mouth agape as you take in your Lieutenant standing before you with…flowers in his hand?

“Sorry ‘m late,” he says, pushing the flowers towards you, “took longer at the florist than expected.”

The lie is easy, just another one to add onto the calamity that is this evening. But when he sees the way your eyes fall down to the bundle - so much simpler than the extravagant roses typical of the holiday - your eyes light up, and a smile replaces the tearful frown that was present just moments ago. And Ghost knows he could give less of a fuck about little white lie.

He slides into the empty seat at the table, the dainty wooden chair groaning under the bulk of him, while he watches you try to take stock of the situation. Only after staring at the flowers for an unusually long time do you finally turn to sit back in your chair, eyes flitting up to meet his as you set the bouquet to the side.

“You’re...You’re the one who gave me the card?” You ask, voice soft.

And god…if he could put that bashful look on your face everyday, he would.

He responds with a soft hum, not quite a confirmation, but not quite a denial either. You take it as an affirmative, splaying manicured fingers out over the menu as the tension leaves your shoulders.

“I…” you trail off, eyes falling down to the menu as you pick at the edges of it with your nails. “I was starting to think I’d been stood up. Some cruel joke or something -”

Ghost reaches out across the white table cloth, taking your hand in his as easy as breathing.

“No joke,” he says, clearing his throat. “Not from me.”

You smile at him then, ducking your head down to hide your nervousness.

“I was…” you bite your lip, and Ghost squeezes your hand to encourage you to continue. “I was hoping it was you, Ghost,” you finally whisper, words almost lost to the din of the restaurant.

But Ghost hears them, and they spark a warmth in his chest he hasn’t felt in decades. A warmth that has him clutching your hand tighter in his own, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Simon,” he says in return, reaching up to tug at the elastic around his ears, setting his mask aside. “No need for callsigns here, love.”

You smile again, this time the small action staying put on your lips instead of slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

“Okay, Simon,” you say, picking up the menu, “What’s good here?”

Simon can’t stop the chuckle from slipping past his lips, picking up his own menu in turn. “Hell if I know,” he grunts, “Never been to a place this fancy.”

You laugh then, and it’s in that moment that Simon realizes he never wants to let you go.

——

You and Simon exit out into the cool evening air, a slight breeze nipping at your cheeks as you tug your coat on with Simon's help.

Dinner went well - amazing - actually. You thought for sure you’d been taken for a fool when you were sitting in that restaurant alone, half an hour past the supposed meeting time. But then the one man you were hoping would show up, finally did. Blond hair styled just so, black button up neatly pressed, and a subtle tinge of red on his cheeks that you never expected to see from your unflappable Lieutenant.

You were nervous at first, of course you were, but it dissipated quickly as dinner went on. The waiter came over, relief on his face at the sight of your date finally showing, and you almost laughed at how happy he looked for you. Wine was served shortly - bourbon for Simon, naturally - with dinner courses shortly after that.

And Simon didn’t deny you a thing - he saw the way you wavered between ordering a steak and a salad, telling the waiter to bring both. Was in tune with the way you seemed to want dessert but hesitated at the prices. You both got what you wanted, you with a decadent chocolate mousse and Simon a simple piece of cheesecake drizzled with strawberry glaze.

“That’s all?” You’d asked, slightly teasing.

Simon smiled, fork sliding into the dessert like a knife through butter. “I’m a simple man, love.”

You smiled then, heart fuzzy with warmth as you take in the man before you.

“I highly doubt that, Simon Riley.”

You adjusted the bouquet in your hands, moving to cradle it in the crook of your elbow as Simon takes your free hand in his own - an action done so naturally you don’t even think to question it. But you do relish in it - in the warmth of his rough hand in yours, palm calloused with years of military work. You can’t help but lean into him as you both walk down the sidewalk towards the carpark, your eyes drifting to the bundle of flowers in your arms.

You only find the courage to speak when you reach your destination, Simon stopping when you both reach your car. The words linger on your tongue, afraid to voice your suspicions and ruin the one thing you’ve longed after for the past year.

You turn, resting back against the driver’s side door as you look up at Simon, neither of you saying anything for a long comfortable moment. You squeeze his hand, tugging him closer, smiling wryly as he obeys the silent request instantly.

“You didn’t give me the card…did you, Simon?” You finally ask, voice soft, unable to keep the disappointment from your words.

The silence that follows is answer enough, but Simon was never one to leave things unsaid. Not between you.

“No. I didn’t.”

Three simple words.

That’s all it took to make your heart sink to the floor, chest aching so fiercely it makes your eyes sting.

“So...” You sniffle, “You just -”

Did it out of pity? did it to make me feel better about being stood up on valentines date? Couldn’t let poor little me be looked over again-

“Hey.”

A hand cups your cheek, rough palms sliding against soft skin as Simon’s fingers move to tangle gently in your hair, tilting your head up to look at him once more.

“Don’t do that,” he says softly, brown eyes swimming in an emotion you’ve never quite seen from him before. “I…” he pauses, fingers twitching against your scalp as he struggles to find the words.

And he must not find them - or at the very least decides they won’t convey what he really feels. Because, before you can react his free hand reaches up, tearing the medical mask from his face before he’s leaning in and claiming your lips with his own.

You’d imagined kissing Simon more than you’d care to admit, but - as usual - he surprises you. It’s both gentle and all consuming. His lips moving against yours like he needs you to breathe. He releases your hand in order to take your face in both of his hands, pulling you towards him at the same time he leans forward to press into you, his warmth seeping in through your coat a stark contrast to the chill against your back from the car.

You only pull away when his tongue presses against the seam of your lips, afraid that if you give in you’ll never be able to let go, and right now there’s still so many questions despite most of them being answered by that kiss.

Simon doesn’t press, although he does chase you slightly when you pull away, instead shifting course to press a featherlight kiss to the corner of your lips.

“How did you know?” He asks, breath warm against your cheek.

“The card,” you admit gently, looking up into his eyes, “it wasn’t your hand writing.”

You continue when he doesn’t speak. “And the flowers. I…I hate daisies. I remember telling you that on a mission once. And what my actual favorite flowers were instead,” you rustle the bouquet in your arms. “You remembered.”

Your words are like a punch to the gut, stealing the very breath from his lungs at the knowledge that you know him on a level deep enough to remember his handwriting. To know that he’s the type of person to remember something as trivial as your favorite flowers.

“I didn’t send the card,” he confirms again, pulling away just enough so his lips are brushing yours once more. “But I’m glad that fucker did,” he practically growls, “Gave me the push to finally take what I’ve wanted.”

And then he’s kissing you again, this one just slightly hungrier than the last, both of you devouring the other, finally - finally - taking the plunge you both were too terrified to take before tonight.

And as Simon pulls you closer to him, one hand slipping beneath your coat to get just that much closer…You can’t help but be thankful for that damned card.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, love.” Simon murmurs against your lips.

You smile.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Simon.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader

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kiyoshi-02 · 3 days ago

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And here's the second KakaIru request!! This time with a full un/censored version available on both AO3 and Bluesky so y'all can choose whichever you use 😚 thank you to everyone who helped me out on that last post about an alt place to post!! 🫶

Hope y'all like it anyway, I'm a bit rusty on full body drawings, it's been a while lol so hopefully nothing here looks too janky 😅

Until the next request 🫡

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63065461

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanart #kakashi hatake #iruka umino #kakairu #kkir #kakashi x iruka #artists on tumblr #digital art #my art

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benz12313 · 2 days ago

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Love's Surprise Pt. 2 - Ridoc x Reader 🌶️

{Images are not my own}

Summary: You and Ridoc have been dating for months now, and it's your first Valentine's Day together? What does he think about the gifts you have prepared for him? Will you two enjoy yourselves?

Warnings: ‼️(MDNI) 18+ explicit content‼️, smut, oral female receiving, oral male recieving, p in v, smut with feelings, swearing, fem!reader, drug use/smoking churum, aphrodisiac chocolate consumption, established relationship, mating press (but no breeding kink usage), slight dom behavior, use of 'good girl', unprotected sex,

Part 1/2

Authors Note: This took me waaaay too long to write but goddamn was it worth it in the end. I just couldn't stop writing. I could've kept going but nearly 4,000 words is a lot man! I hope you all enjoyed this fic and had a great Valentine's Day! :)

Word Count: 3,917

I hastily locked the door to my room behind us, and Ridoc’s hands squeezed my waist from where he stood between me and my bed, where the remainder of his gifts still laid. At least the ones I wasn’t wearing. I turned in his arms and his mouth was suddenly on mine, as he gently backed me up into my door. His hand moved between my back and the door, making sure it was barely a caress, and effectively caring for my sore back.

My sore back that I’d forgotten was even there, but he hadn’t. No, he never forgot shit like that. Always acutely aware of how I was doing, what injuries I’d sustained. Even minor ones like bruises. My gods, I love this man. I love him. I love him. I love him.

Ever since we’d said it, the thought had consumed me, like I was finally allowed to talk about this grand secret I’d been keeping firmly locked away, even from myself.

He tugged my face closer as he wound a hand through my hair, and slipped his tongue into my mouth. I moaned as he deepened the kiss, and pulled him in, my arms wrapping around his neck as I arched closer. Always closer. I could never seem to be close enough to Ridoc.

“Love,” He panted, voice deeper than before, making my body warm. He detached himself from my mouth, though reluctantly. “Before I totally lose sight of the point of coming up here…” He grinned cockily. “And before I really get my hands on you…what exactly did you want to show me?”

“Well, two go together, and then I have a fourth…more permanent item for you.” I said, suddenly a bit bashful. The first two, I knew he would like, but the fourth? The fourth was definitely more…sentimental. And the fourth was the one I’d have to give him first.

“I’m a little confused but I think I like where this is going.” He chuckled, face softening. “Whatever you’ve got, I’m sure that I’ll like. No need to be nervous Y/N.”

Sometimes I hate that he knows me so well. I sighed before taking his hand and leading him to the bed. Gesturing for him to sit before sliding onto the bed myself and gripping the package box. I took a deep breath and opened it, quickly scanning the items left. The dozen little chocolates, the two churam joints, and then the item I was truly afraid of in this box. The little compass necklace I’d had Violet commission for me.

I delicately took it out, and handed it to him, face quickly turning crimson. He locked eyes with me, a smile creeping onto his face before he opened it, and his jaw went slack. On the inside was us, a remarkable drawing of us anyway, him holding me in his arms. I’d done the picture myself, and it had nearly brought me to tears as I’d seen it in its entirety for the first time. The words ‘To always be able to find your way back home’ were carved in the metal in scrawling cursive.

He let his fingertips gently skim the etching in the metal, and tears formed in the corners of his eyes for a moment, though never spilling out as he just stared. And stared. And stared. My heart began to thump wildly in my chest by the time his eyes met mine again; warmth and love and just happiness oozing from them. “I love you.” His voice cracked, and he fisted the compass, chain dangling, before he surged forward and wrapped me in his arms.

“It’s perfect. I don’t care about whatever else you’ve got in that magic box of yours. This?” He pulled back, gesturing to the compass. “This is perfect. I love how cheesy-“

“Hey!” I protested and he put his finger on my lips, shushing me.

“It is, but it’s so fucking perfect Y/N. But that’s us. I wouldn’t want anything different.” He whispered, before taking it and pulling it over his head, letting it fall onto his chest, a smile pulling at my lips. “Thank you.” He whispered.

“Your welcome Love,” I teased a small bit, using his new nickname. While his cheeks tinted (leaving me smirking), his eyes darkened, narrowing in on me.

“Say that again, and you won’t get to finish giving me your gifts, love.” I bit my lip, trying to fight back the smirk growing on my face. Something he easily clocked, eyes jumping from the box to me. “What else is in there Y/N? Anything good?”

“A few little things.” I said, playing coy, fluttering my eyelashes at him innocently. Something I knew would drive him nuts. “Nothing too special.”

He licked his lips, eyes trained on my mouth, before snapping back up to my own. “Oh?” He asked.

“Just a few aphrodisiac chocolates and some churam, you know, to help us ease into my last gift. After all,” I paused, sending him a quick wink, “I’m feeling very appreciative for your gift, Ridoc.”

“And this last gift you keep mentioning?” He asked, leaning in. I leaned back, out of his reach though, moving off the bed completely as I gathered my courage. The locket was the hard part. This? Giving in to my carnal desires for Ridoc? This was easy compared to baring my soul to him.

I positioned myself in front of him and his hands reached for me, but I swatted them away. “Patience.” He looked ready to argue, but I continued, making him pause. “Give me a minute to undress first, jeez. Gotta let me show you your present after all.”

I didn’t wait for him to respond before I unzipped my flight jacket. Revealing the baby blue lacy bra underneath, with the see-through white top over it, gently sitting on my skin in that delicate way that I knew would drive him mad. He licked his lips hungrily, eyes following my hands as I unzipped my pants before slowly pulling them down my legs, bending over in front of him. Suddenly his eyes were on my breasts, and I tilted my head at him questioningly, teasingly. My lacy panties were the same baby blue color, and nearly as see through as my top was. Once I’d forgone all unnecessary clothes, I stepped forward again, reveling in the quickness in which his hands found my ass and pulled me forward into him.

“Gods, love,” This time was a choked groan as he roughly palmed my ass. I could get used to this nickname, I really could. Every time he said it my core just ached in the most delicious way. “This color, this fabric-“ He kissed across my stomach, the fabric catching between his mouth and my skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through me that I hadn’t expected. “Fuck…it looks so good on you Princess.”

“You like it?” I asked and he smiled widely at me, taking my hand and putting it on his crotch, where his cock jolted with my touch, already more than halfway hard.

“I love it.” He said, “All of it. All of you. Good luck leaving this room for the weekend, because you aren’t going anywhere now.”

I whined. Fucking whined, at his words. Then, without thinking, dropped to my knees between his legs. His mouth fell slack for a split second before his mouth curved into a cocky grin.

“Oh, is that what you want? Me to fuck you senseless this entire weekend? Smoke and play with that pretty pussy you’ve wrapped up so fucking nicely for me? Feed each other chocolates until you’re begging for me to let you cum, over and over and over again?” He gently pushed back my hair out of my face, his thumbs lingering and stroking over my cheeks. “And you wanna kick it all off by shoving my fat cock down your pretty little throat?”

“Yes please.” I whined, rubbing my thighs together for friction, failingly trying to release the tension built there.

“Hands on my thighs please love.” My hands moved quickly, grounding myself in him as he leaned back, grabbing the box, and pulling out the joints and the bag of chocolate before tossing the box on the floor again. His eyes met mine, the dominating side of him shimmering just below the surface of his irises. The side of him I only got to see when it was just the two of us, alone and locked in our room together.

“Colors, you know them right?” He asked and I nodded, but his eyes narrowed. “Words sweet girl. I know you can use them.”

“Green, Orange, Red.” He nodded, but raised his eyebrow, urging me to continue. “Green for good, orange for checking in, and red for stop.”

“Good girl. Now, stick out your tongue. Don’t close your mouth until I tell you to.” He said and I obliged as he pulled a chocolate out of the bag, biting off half and eating it before setting it on my tongue. The chocolate let out a burst of flavor on my tongue, even more so than the s’mores had earlier.

He watched as the chocolate melted, dripping down the sides of my tongue slowly before dripping onto the tops of my breasts. He licked his lips then met my eyes again. “Eat it.” He commanded before leaning down and pulling me close, licking off the chocolate on my boobs as I ate what was left, moans tumbling out of my throat. His arms wrapped around my back, caging me in before letting me go again just as quickly, grateful for my hands still on his thighs steadying me.

He tossed the candy onto the bed and put one of the joints on the side table before pulling a lighter out of his pocket, and sparking it up. Three puffs in and he motioned me forwards, before tapping his finger on my mouth. Shotgunning. We didn’t smoke often, normally just special occasions, but when I showed him this on Christmas Eve he’d gone insane for it.

I pressed my mouth to his, gladly accepting the earthy smoke, letting it fill my lungs as he kissed me. I pulled back when I couldn’t hold it any longer, letting out the now stale remnants of the hit he’d taken. My body went fuzzy, a haze lightly slipping over me as that first wave of calm hit. He pressed the joint to my lips and I sucked in; this hit was more substantial, more raw, and suddenly my mouth was back on Ridoc’s as he gladly accepted my smokey offering. But when he pulled back I wanted more, the aching in my thighs coming back to the forefront of my mind as my attention was brought back to his cock, which looked like it was straining against the fabric of his pants.

“One more hit pretty girl, and a full chocolate, then you can have it, promise.” He teased, and my eyes snapped back up to his to see the playful look he was giving me, though his eyes were lidded now, and his smirk was lazy. Churam always hit him faster than me. He took his hit before passing the joint back to me, and leaning back to retrieve the chocolates again.

I took my hit, savoring it as he got two chocolates and plopped one in his mouth before trading me the other one for the joint. I ate mine as I watched him use his signet to turn the red hot end of the joint go black in an instant, and then swallowed, humming when done. He grinned as I lolled my tongue out, letting him see I’d eaten it. Then his hands moved in a flash, and the next second his pants were at his ankles, his hard shaft resting on his stomach, unable to stand on its own with the weight of him.

“Hands on my thighs Y/N, mouth only this time. Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” He assured, his hands making my hair into a makeshift ponytail, before consolidating it all to his left hand. He leaned back, resting on his right hand before nodding at me. “Go on now, ya’ wanted to suck it so fucking bad? Suck it then Princess.”

I dipped my head, kitten licking the tip, licking a few stripes up the side of him, letting all the drool I’d been swallowing back lube him up. And then I let lose, taking all of him to the back of my throat and gagging around him, and I moaned at the guttural groan he’d released. Then I was bobbing my head up and down, eating up every moan, groan and gasp he gave me, my fingertips eating into his thighs as I lost myself on his cock.

He tasted so good; salty, musky and that little bit that was just Ridoc, in the most delicious way. The way praise just dripped off his tongue with every bob of my head. The way his dick would jump every time I’d take him as deep as I could, itching to just get a little bit deeper. Gods, I would crawl to just lick this mans dick, which is more than I can say for any other before him. Much more. I’m lost in the way he tastes, sounds, and feels beneath me, practically writhing in pleasure as he struggles to stay still. I know he’s holding back, desperately trying to let me lead even though he wants to thrust up into me.

When I looked up I realized he had taken his shirt off, abs glistening in the low light and frost built up on the ends of the curls threatening to block his gorgeous eyes. Good, I’m not the only one losing myself here. His breath was coming out in pants, clouding in front of him before it’d dissipate just as fast. Then, his eyes met mine, and his control slipped as the grip on my hair tightened and he slammed me down, making me take his dick into my mouth in full tears springing to the corners of my eyes as I gagged.

Then he was thrusting up into me, the babble dripping off his tongue letting me know he was close.

“Fuck babe, how is that mouth of yours so fucking good?” Thrust. “Just as good as your pussy, I fucking swear.” Thrust. “Want me to cum down that pretty throat huh?” Thrust. “Fuck, love, you suck me so good.” Thrust. “So good’f’me, letting me fuck you how I please.” Thrust. “Fuck…babe…m’close.” Thrust. “Gods, don’t look at me like that, givin’ me doe eyes like I don’t have my cock down your throat, and giving me those pretty little tears.” Thrust. “Shit- I’m- FUCK!“

He hissed, thrust twice more and stilled as he painted the back of my throat, holding me to the base of him by my hair until he finished cumming and felt me finish swallowing around him, and then pulling me back off his dick hastily. He looked absolutely debauched, chest heaving, hair sticking to his skin and his fingertips were freezing where they’d started lazily stroking my cheeks again. It felt good on my too-hot skin, the aphrodisiac having hit me in full force now, leaving me aching and needing his touch. He licked his lips as he looked down at me, pleasure awash over his features as he scanned me with too-black eyes. He was already completely hard again.

“Fuck, Y/N, get on this bed now,” It was a growled order, not a request, “I need my mouth on you.” He wasn’t waiting though, already pulling me to my feet before him, and I hastily crawled over him and onto the bed, barely laying on my back before his mouth attached to mine. He easily gained dominance, tongue slipping into my mouth as his hands wandered my body, cooling everywhere they touched and sending my pleasure skyrocketing. Perks of being an ice user I guess, you’ve got built in ice fingers when you lose a large amount of control. I definitely wasn’t complaining as his fingers began rubbing over my clothed clit, pulling a gasp from me as his mouth pulled from mine and he looked down to his hand.

“Fuck babe, you’re fucking soaked.” He was right of course, but I was still about to complain, until he kissed down my neck and groaned when he reached my collarbone. “Gods, how are you this wet already?”

“Ridoc please…” I whined through the pleasure he was giving me, which felt so good yet not enough.

“Use your words Princess,” He chided, mouth nipping at my neck.

“Please, I need your-“ I let out a moan when he added pressure, “F-fingers, mouth, anything, just please, it hurts.” I whined again and he leaned back onto his knees, stopping all movement, making me pout.

“You asked so nicely, so good’f’me, always huh?” He mused before settling his head between my thighs and pulling my panties to the side. “My pretty girl asks for what she wants, so well, always such a good girl.” He mused before licking up what slick had collected from his words. He moaned and licked again, the vibrations making the pleasure heighten and leaving me gasping, hands threading into his soft locks as he kitten licked my cunt. “Fingers or tongue beautiful?”

“Both," I gasped and he chuckled darkly, making me clench around nothing.

“That’s my girl. Always so greedy f’me.” He sucked on my clit suddenly and harshly, making me cry out. “Ask and you shall receive Y/N.”

And receive I did. It was all I could do as he descended upon me. Mouth alternating between harshly sucking on my clit and then barely licking, while two of his ice cold fingers pumped into me, starting a punishing pace as he curled and prodded with his fingers, a harsh contrast to the overwhelming warmth of my dripping pussy. It felt so euphoric though, the only thing keeping me here and not on cloud nine were his eyes, dutifully holding my own in their gaze, and watching me absolutely unravel before him.

Between the aphrodisiac setting every nerve alright within me, the churam heightening my pleasure, and then just everything that was Ridoc, absolutely devouring me; the knot of pleasure in my core wound tighter with every second. Everything building, building, building, until I was right on that precipice, waiting for the fall, but never quite tumbling over.

Ridoc knew it too. In fact, the bastard was orchestrating it. Bringing me right there and then cleverly shifting focus, right when he knew I was nearly there, prolonging my pleasure and denying me it in the same breath. He was too skilled, and much too acquainted with my body at this point, not to know exactly what he was doing.

“Ridoc.” I warned, or moaned, not really sure. He hummed, acknowledging my plight but continuing to do as he pleased, bringing me right to the edge before denying me again. “Ridoc, please! Please let me cum, I can’t take anymore!”

“Almost love, you can take a few more.” He said, voice soothing but words near torture. There was no way, I was shaking now, and ready to continue begging for release some more. His eyes softened as they quickly scanned mine. “If you really need it, use your colors.” He reminded me. “Until then though, just a few more.” I nodded but whined anyway when he denied my next three orgasms.

He wrapped an arm around the back of my thigh and pressed down on my stomach, then curled his fingers and sucked harshly on my clit, and then I was cumming. Without warning, so sudden, and making the heat in my body skyrocket until all I could feel was white-hot pleasure as I cried out Ridoc’s name. The only word I could form was his, all I knew was him.

I’d barely come down when he sat up, looking over my body as he sucked his fingers clean. Then he grabbed my hips, and used one of his hands to scoop up my release and pump it over his length, before pulling my underwear to the side again and aligning it with my entrance. He looked as feral as I felt; despite both of us having found release once already, all I could think was more, more, more.

His cheeks were pink, and eyes lidded as he watched himself push inside me before they snapped up to mine when I let out a breathy sigh as the first few inches of him sunk inside me. Loving that first delicious stretch as he slowly, lazily, thrust in and out, sinking in a bit deeper each time, until he’d stilled and completely bottomed out within me.

Full. Complete. Whole. Thats all I could feel beyond pleasure.

Ridoc must’ve too because he rested one hand on my cheek as the other hand wrapped around my back, cradling me. “Fuck Princess, this never gets old.” He whispered against my lips as he began lazily thrusting again, pace slow and savoring. “You’re so tight, and soft, and warm. Fuck, I love you.” He groaned before picking up the pace, slow and lazy thrusts turning hard and punishing. Causing me to cry out and wrap my arms and legs around his back, bringing us closer. Bringing him deeper.

I wanted to say it back, I really did, but I couldn’t with his relentless pace, never giving me a second to breath. With the way he pushed deeper, reaching places only he had ever delved. Taking parts of me only he had ever possessed. Pleasure built until I was gasping, and maybe begging?

I didn’t know what was leaving my mouth exactly, but Ridoc was sweetly smoothing my hair and cooing out something soothing as he continued to fuck me into my mattress without reprieve. Words no longer registered in my brain, just him and this bottomless hunger for pleasure that never seemed to be satisfied.

Not until he’d had enough nonsense and he folded me into the meanest mating press nearly folded in on myself, still thrusting harshly, barely missing a beat, even though I could tell by his shaking hips that he was close. Five thrusts and then I was sent flying over that edge again screaming something I couldn’t understand, absolutely ripped apart by pleasure, tears streaming down my face the moment I came. A few more thrusts and he stilled inside me, warmth filling me as the pleasure dulled into oversensitivity. He released me, but stayed inside as he leaned down and kissed me, before wiping my tears away.

“How are you feeling beautiful?” His voice was soft, like it always was when I began crying from the overwhelm that came with that intense level of pleasure.

“Green.” I gasped out. “But….need….a….break.”

“Me too. Smoke, have some refreshments, then go again?” He asked, before quickly pecking my lips before I could answer.

I nodded. “Yeah. I love you.”

He grinned like the Cheshire Cat, ear to ear and entirely too smug. “I know, you screamed it when you came around my cock. Good thing I love you too, cause that would’ve been embarrassing otherwise.” He gave me another kiss to pacify me. “Now lets refuel, because I’m not nearly done with you yet."

~ Want to be added to the tag list? Just comment or message me! :)

@xadenswhore @littlemissmelodie @jobroho @worldsanna @uneducatedraccoon @nicksolemnlyswears @binksbrewcrew

#fanfic #fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn #ridoc x reader #iron flame #onyx storm #ridoc fourth wing #ridoc smut #ridoc #ridoc gamlyn x reader #smut #smut with feelings #ridoc gamlyn smut

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zexapher · 2 days ago

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Stupid Cupid

Started this edit almost an entire year ago, right when RWBY Beyond dropped the boba episode. I immediately caught onto the idea of chibi Ruby being a little cherub to use for shipping characters. Of course, I immediately distracted myself with other creative projects and the Ship Wars 8 (which White Knight won in spectacular fashion btw) and life got in the way. But I came back around to it this past month. Perfect timing really, since it means I got it out for Valentine’s Day.

I just think it’s lovely how CRWBY have nurtured this ship subtly in the background, until they finally decided to get right up in our faces about it with Volume 9. That’s kind of what I wanted to portray here, with Cruby on a mission to make White Knight a reality, but Jaune and Weiss had already grown close without that final brazen intervention.

It’s really something special to start this meme essentially right as Rooster Teeth and RWBY closed down, only to come back and finish it with the news that Rooster Teeth was bought by Burnie and RWBY’s now moved on to VIZ. Both of them continuing on in their way. Kind of heartwarming to be honest, like a message of perseverance, keep on trying even if circumstances bring you down.

I can still see a few influences from my early work on the edit, was playing a little Republic Commando at the time, so we get Ruby’s comment about her skills with a bow confusing and frightening CRWBY. Speaking of, I think we can all see why I chose Cruby as Ruby’s cherub name. Perfect for someone tasked with building up White Knight. And, come on, the shipping rock is a perfect replacement for a bow. You may have noticed me sneak in the Golden Oreos or Rooster Teeth’s logo to celebrate the recent news (Jaune’s put a little sticker on the pummel of his sword).

With editing, I still run into trouble every now and then as I learn and familiarize myself with my software. Even now after a year of practicing it, and a decent chunk on gimp in particular. On this edit I ran into a weird issue with the color picker tool, where when I sampled a color, the brush would only apply a pastel or grayer version of that color. Wasn’t sure how I enabled that, if it was a glitch or I accidentally enabled some key shortcut or something. I worked my way around it though, in the most obtuse manner.

Pretty cool to be learning something new as I go through these edits. Like all the color correcting for my Vacuan Nights meme. Or even small quality of life things like how I decided to start making thicker outlines for the text about halfway through. That’s something that helps making the words pop, the outlines were a bit too thin before. And at the end I can really pump out some of the more complicated edits that used to take me a long time a year ago.

Redrawing Jaune for panel 9 was a ton of tedious busywork. The screenshot I pulled that from had bad lighting from the portal behind Jaune, so I needed to fill in colors for proper lighting. I think it came out pretty spectacularly.

And I just really like the premise for this meme. CRWBY helping push White Knight along, but the relationship was already well on its way in the background. That little bag of ‘cupid’ rocks just seems really cute to me, too. Fun, cheap little drawing.

Chibi Ruby is cute as can be; so happy they gave us this version of her in Beyond. Especially like that devious look I gave her. Yang looks great too, really enjoy Beyond’s style, and the exasperated palm to the face. And, of course, I loved writing and drawing up the cute interaction between Jaune and Weiss. She needs to see those shark pups! :)

Anyway, hope you all enjoy your Valentine’s Day, and this fun little meme I drew up.

#rwby #jaune arc #weiss schnee #rwby white knight #white knight #whiteknight #shipping #yang xiao long #ruby rose #crwby #memes #valentines day #holiday #my edit #comics

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gloomweed · 3 days ago

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Eddie Loved Valentine's Day (eddie munson x bestfriend!reader)

a/n: I got the idea for this story last valentine's day, but I didn't finish it until today and I'm still not quite satisfied with it but I had to just get this out there already. This fic is more angsty than romantic, but it didn't feel right trying to shoehorn in some romance, so this is just how it's going to be.

summary: Eddie deals with some bad childhood memories on a valentine's day he spends with you.

w/c: 3.7k

Eddie loved Valentine’s day. Loved, as in, he used to. Specifically, when he was still in elementary school. Back then, the class would spend the whole day creating little mailboxes to hold all their cards. Decorating the recycled shoebox with stickers and markers, writing his name in big scrawling letters over the top. His mom would help him the night before, preparing the cards he was going to hand out. She would tell him how to spell each name, going one letter at a time. When she would ask if he needed help spelling his name, Eddie would hold out his little hand saying very confidently, “No, I know how.” Her voice was always gentle when reminding him ‘Eddie’ has a second ‘D’ after the first one.

Although there was little variety in the pack his mom bought from the store, Eddie made an effort to pick the card he thinks the recipient would like best. A Garfield card for Sindy, since she is always borrowing his orange marker. It’s her favorite color. An Odie card for Josh, since he spends recess digging with sticks and rocks. Something about wanting to find dinosaur bones. It would go like that until all the cards were signed, folded, and held together with little heart stickers.

The following day, Eddie would pass out all his cards and return to his seat to find his makeshift mailbox stuffed. In those days, he would get a card from every single classmate. He’d be filled with excitement as he opened each one. The puns and characters on the cards were fun to see, but really Eddie just enjoyed the thought that someone made him something. Some cards even came with a little candy. It was a fun day all around, and doing less school work was also a big plus.

After his mom passed, Valentine’s day kind of lost its charm. His dad said buying Valentine’s cards that kids were only gonna look at once and throw away afterwards was a waste of money and effort; however, that didn’t stop Eddie from participating anyways. He spent the night making his own cards out of notebook paper, drawing hearts and smiling faces on each one. Despite all the care he put into them, the finished product looked pretty messy. The cards weren’t all the same size, there were some misspelled words, marker ink bleeding through the paper, and since he didn’t have stickers, they were held together with regular translucent tape. Give him a break, he was nine. It wasn’t much, but Eddie put his heart and soul into it.

Once all the cards were passed out, everyone began digging into their boxes, reading cards and opening candy. “What even is this?” Eddie looked up from his pile of valentines to see one of his classmates holding up one he homemade, a disgusted look on their face. Another kid laughed. “Why does it look like that?” Eddie felt red, hot shame fill his cheeks as others began to join in the laughter. He sank further into his seat, wishing to disappear completely. Seeing Eddie’s name on the card gave the boy a target. “What’s the deal, Eddie? Couldn’t afford real valentine’s this year?”

Eddie shot up from his seat. “No! My dad just forgot to buy them, is all,” he lied. “I just thought, you know, something is better than nothing, right?” His eyes darted between his classmates, hoping they bought it.

“Next time, don’t even bother. It’d save us the time of throwing them away,” they laughed. It was then that the teacher made the announcement to return to their seats to resume the rest of the learning day. As Eddie sat back down he could feel the sting of tears behind his eyes. He put a lot of effort into those cards, only for his classmates to laugh at him and throw them away. His dad was right. What a waste.

That was the last time Eddie ever participated in Valentine’s day. Ever since then, he would spend the day doing anything else besides celebrating it. This year, he was at your house helping you get a head start on spring cleaning. You wanted to turn your life around, starting with a more organized living space. February 14th is as good a day as any to get started, and it wasn’t like you had any big plans. Which is totally fine and doesn’t depress you at all.

Although he never told you exactly why, you knew Eddie didn’t particularly like the Hallmark holiday. You assumed it was because of how commercialized it had become since its inception. Of course it could be the matter of keeping up with his image. Soft petalled roses and candy hearts are pretty far from ‘metal.’ Whatever the reason may be, you hated the idea of your friend being alone on a day celebrating love, so inviting him to clean was the next best thing. While it took some convincing, eventually you coaxed him into it with the promise of beer and snacks.

You were both currently working in your bedroom. Eddie would hold something up and ask if you wanted to keep it or throw it away. Meanwhile, you sit on the hardwood floor creating piles all around you as you sift through the contents of your room. He did most of his work while sitting on your bed, a beer in his hand.

Sometimes he would try on clothes you were feeling unsure of, saying that having someone model it would make it easier to decide its fate. Of course, this theory might have been successful if they actually fit him. The mental image of him in your too small knitted red cardigan is something that will bring a smile to your face for years to come.

Running out of things to hold up to you, he looked in his direct vicinity and noticed a round tin by his feet, mostly under your bed. When you heard him gasp you turned to see what he had found. “Oh, that’s just my-”

“Cookies!” he shouted as he opened the blue butter cookie tin only for his face to fall in a confused frown.

You laughed. “Yeah, sorry. I reused that old cookie tin for my sentimental crap.”

Instead of delicious cookies, the tin was full of old birthday cards and handwritten messages left by people who cared about you. A letter from your now deceased grandmother, movie stubs from big releases, and Polaroid pictures of some childhood friends. Eddie smiled to himself. It was cute how you would keep stuff like this. From the outside, you didn’t look like the type of person to hold on to birthday cards from your 5th birthday. He looked at you with a playful pout, his eyebrows pulled together. “Aww. You do have a heart.”

Your offended face only made Eddie grin wider. “Shut up,” you laugh before grabbing the nearest stuffed animal and throwing it at him.

Laughing as he dodged your attack, he couldn’t stop some of the cards from jostling out. As he was gathering them back into the tin, he took a closer look at the one made of notebook paper. ‘From Eddie’ was written on the back in big messy letters.

Noticing his sudden silence, you stand to get a better look at what’s in his hands. You peek over his shoulder to see the valentine he hand made in the 4th grade. Immediately you become overwhelmed with embarrassment thinking Eddie was completely freaked out by the fact you kept the card so long, like some kind of stalker weirdo. Words vomit out of your mouth as you try to save your dignity. “Oh! That's- that's so weird! I can't believe I still have that. I thought I threw that out years ago. I’ll just take that back-”

Eddie instinctually snatches the card against his chest, his chin tucked in as he searches your eyes. When it's clear to you he isn't going to give it up, your hand falls limp at your side. Glancing at the card once more, he tries his best to keep his voice steady. “You kept this?”

The change in demeanor feels unsettling. “Yeah, of course I did.” You look at your feet shyly. “It, uh, means a lot to me.” When you look back up, you see Eddie staring back with confusion.

You’ve gone through this scenarios hundreds of times in the late hours of the night when your brain just couldn’t stop running. How would Eddie react if he found out you kept something he made you when you were kids? The scoff that slips past his taunting lips was the last thing you expected from Eddie. He stands from the bed, looking down on you with a humorless smile. “This shitty scrap of paper means a lot to you?” The sudden scrutiny feels harsh and full of malice. You’ve never had the displeasure to be on the receiving end of Eddie’s anger, and from what little you’ve seen thus far, you hope to never face it again.

Shrugging like it was no big deal, you try your best to downplay your defensiveness. “Well, yeah. I thought it was really sweet of you.” You can’t stop yourself from squinting at him in confusion. “I’m sorry, are you mad at me for keeping it?” Why is he upset with you over this? It was given to you as a gift. You should be able to decide what you do with it without his approval.

Despite being the one who asked the question, Eddie doesn’t really hear your answer, nor the following question. As he stares down at the messy writing on old, yellowed notebook paper, he feels his chest tighten in an overwhelming stifled rage. Having to be face to face with a reminder of his failure fills Eddie with so much self-hatred that he can’t think straight. It’s a reminder of his shitty dad. A reminder of his shitty childhood. It wasn’t fair. Every imperfect line and patch of bleeding ink stared back at him, mocking him. It all congeals to a point of no return in his gloomy head.

Eddie stares in silence for a moment too long and you can see the emotions shift in his face into something darker. “What are you-” You are cut off by the sound of a quick and quiet crunch, the paper crumpling in his first. It’s a knee jerk reaction that has you gasping at the sight, and Eddie immediately regretting. A piece of his heart shatters at the sound of yours doing the same. “Eddie!” Your high pitched squeal of anguish around the syllables of his own name has him filling with that same sinking heat of shame he felt all those years ago.

Your hands dart at him, taking the paper from his grip as fast as it was destroyed. You do your best to smooth the paper back into some semblance of its former glory, but the creases on the old, thin paper still remain. It makes it difficult to see the handwritten words on the page, especially since your eyes are welling up with tears. You turn away from Eddie, too angry to face him. Too hurt to let him see you cry over this. Instead you kneel on the floor, slumping over the valentine you hold with the same delicacy as you would hold a baby bird with a broken wing.

Eddie feels his heart racing with anxiety. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to make you cry. He didn’t mean to. All he wanted was to get rid of the stupid reminder, not ruin your priceless keepsake. Eddie stands there for a moment, unsure what to do with himself. He fucked up, he knows that, but he doesn’t know how to make it right. Your name falls from his lips in a stuttering mess. “I- I didn’t mean-”

Whipping your head back to shoot him a teary eyed glare, you cut him off. “Don’t.” A sad shake of your head, “Just don’t, Eddie.” You didn’t want to hear how he was just trying to make some kind of joke. It wasn’t funny. It was just cruel. You turn back to stare at the ruined item in your cupped hands.

Eddie backs up towards the door, eyes wide and voice small. “Sorry.” You don’t say anything, but of course he doesn’t really expect you to forgive him. He leaves you be, silently making his way out of your house.

On the drive home, he’s mentally kicking himself the entire time. Why did I do that? What is wrong with me? Why do I have to find a way to ruin everything? When he pulls into the gravel driveway of his uncle’s trailer, he cuts the engine and contemplates in silence.

He has to make this right. That valentine meant something to you. You kept that shitty scrap of paper for years while the rest of the class threw it in the trash where it belongs. That has to mean something, right? You wouldn’t keep trash for this long unless it was important, right?

Eddie runs a hand down his face as he belatedly processed what you said about him. I thought it was really sweet of you. You thought he was sweet? The tiny compliment is enough to bring a flush to his cheeks, and it only makes him feel worse about the whole situation. It’s going to take more than an apology to make it up to you.

It’s a few hours after the incident when you hear a knock at the door. “Coming!” You yell down the hall as you race to answer it. Seeing your kind smile fall when you realize it’s him, Eddie feels like you twisted a knife in his chest. He’s holding a modest bouquet of flowers towards you, gaze struggling to meet your own. “Well, look who it is.” You lean against the door frame, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’ve got some nerve, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie huffs a sigh, his breath visible in the frosty February evening. “I know. I know I don’t deserve to see you, but you deserve an apology. I came back to explain myself. Not that I had any right to do what I did.” He looks up at you from under his lashes. “Can I come in so we can talk?”

There’s a pout on your lips as you consider. The flowers do look very pretty, and he was thoughtful enough to have your favorite color as the centerpiece. Getting flowers last minute, on Valentine’s Day no less, was likely no easy feat, making the gesture more grand than usual. You hum in thought a moment before finally taking pity on the man practically groveling on your doorstep. “Fine.” You step aside to let him in, looking reluctant to do so.

Relief washes over him as you make room. The warmth of your home felt like a welcoming embrace upon his bone chilled body. Once the door is closed, Eddie outstretches the bouquet towards you again. “Uh, these are for you.”

Doing your best not to show how pleased you are, you take the flowers from him wordlessly. Eddie turns to walk towards your living room, and you take the moment to smell the sweetness of them while he isn’t watching. You sit on the couch, laying the bouquet on the coffee table for the time being.

Eddie continues to stand, feeling unworthy of your comforts. It feels reminiscent of when he first visited your home. The awkwardness of being new friends was evident as he stood in the corner, waiting for permission to sit on the couch or even enter the room. Now it’s like he wouldn’t sit even if you asked him to. Eddie preferred to pace while he talked. He has too much energy to expel to be still.

You give him your attention finally, arms crossed again, waiting for the apology he owes you. He clears his throat, hands nervously wringing together. “So first of all, I’m sorry for ruining your valentine. And your Valentine's day, for that matter. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” He chuckles dryly, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “Shit, I wasn’t thinking at all. I just got caught up in my stupid bullshit. But I swear, I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. It was just-” You raise an eyebrow, not quite believing him yet. Eddie releases a breath like it was struggling to get out. “Seeing that valentine I made that everyone gave me shit for…” he sighs again, struggling to find the words. “It just brought it all back. I was a kid again being pointed and laughed at in front of everyone.”

As he says this, your features soften when you recall what he’s talking about. You heard what some of the other kids were saying about Eddie’s valentines, but at the time you didn’t think he cared what they thought. He was always unapologetically himself to the point that the thought of Eddie being embarrassed or ashamed never even crossed your mind.

Eddie looks at you with a sad tilt of his head, wild curls bunching at his shoulder. “That doesn’t make it right, but I thought you ought to know why I did what I did.” He shakes his head dismissively. “It had nothing to do with you and I’m sorry I couldn’t control myself. I’m a fuckin’ idiot, sweetheart.” He smiles ruefully, “but you already knew that.” His eyes dim a little at his self-deprecation.

You nod in understanding, a small smile on your face. “I appreciate your apology.” You weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive him just yet, and you wanted to be sure he realized that.

Although Eddie knew it wouldn’t be easy, he can’t help but feel disappointed he hadn’t earned your forgiveness yet. Regardless, he nods with a tight lipped smile in acceptance before reaching a hand into the inner pocket of his leather jacket. “I wanted to make it up to you,” he pulls an envelope out, “with this.”

You blink owlishly at Eddie’s outstretched hand, surprised he brought more than flowers. Standing from the couch, you gingerly take the card from him, watching him for any signs of what it might be.

As you open the package, Eddie is already explaining his reasoning. “Now, I know it’s not the same, and it doesn’t hold the same meaning as the original, but I tried my best to remake it for you.”

Pulling the card from the envelope, you gasp at what you find. The writing is much neater, the drawings more detailed, and even the paper feels like it’s made of thicker material, but there is no doubt that this is Eddie’s reconstruction of the card he destroyed.

The premise of the card was the same. A penguin (your favorite animal at the time) wearing sunglasses, surrounded by icebergs with bubble letters saying ‘U R COOL’ after your name. The sketches are much more sophisticated than any nine year old could make. It was clear that Eddie had honed his art skills over the years by doodling in the margins of all his school work instead of paying attention in class. But it wasn’t what the card looked like that made it special. It was the thoughtful gesture itself.

When you look back up at Eddie, he shifts on his feet uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. He’s unsure what to make of your expression. “So, uh. Do you like it?” Before you can answer, he’s already speaking for you with a defeated slump of his shoulders. “You hate it, don’t you? I’m sorry, I know it’s not-”

“I love it.”

His eyes go wide, genuinely surprised. “Yeah?” He perks up when he sees your beaming face. “Really?” Eddie lets out a small ‘oof’ when you crash into him with an enthusiastic hug. His chuckling rumbles against your ear as you hold him tightly. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

Parting from the hug, you admire the valentine some more. “And I do forgive you, Eddie. I just wish you would have told me what Valentine’s Day really means to you sooner.” You search his dark chocolate eyes. “We’re friends, right? You know I would never make fun of you like that.”

And Eddie did know that, but in that moment, he couldn’t rationalize his intrusive thoughts away. It’s easier to hear that you’re loved versus actually believing it. All he can muster is a shrug, unable to put his inability to trust into words. “Yeah I know.”

With his unconvincing answer, you try a different approach to get him to understand what he means to you. Wordlessly, you leave the room leaving Eddie standing there wondering what you’re up to. You’re back before he gets the chance to overthink your departure, a picture frame in hand. As you fiddle with the tiny metal prongs holding the backing in place, you begin to explain. “From now on, I’m gonna make sure everyone sees this.” You slot the valentine into the frame before securing the backing once more.

You hang your trophy in the center of your living room wall. Once you’re satisfied with the results, you take a step back and admire it with your hands on your hips. “There. Now, anytime someone visits me, I can brag to them about the personal valentine you made me.” Looking back over your shoulder, you see Eddie smirking bashfully.

“Oh come on. No one’s gonna want to see that.” He gestures to the hand drawn image, but you’re already shaking your head defiantly.

“Too bad. They’re gonna have to. Matter of fact, I’m gonna require they marvel at it for no less than 60 seconds before they can even enter my home.” Your arms are crossed with a playful smile on your face.

Eddie chuckles and there’s a small pause as he appreciates you. “You’re such a dork,” is his mumbled response.

You point up at the framed doodled penguin adorned in shades behind you with an astonishing amount of confidence. “Not according to my best friend.”

He huffs an exasperated sigh. “That’s it. I’m taking it back.” Eddie starts towards the wall, reaching above you. “You’re not cool anymore.”

Instinctually, you put your hands on his chest in an attempt to stop him, but Eddie isn’t one to back down. “No! You can’t!” Giggles bubble out of you as you try your best to stand your ground. “I am cool!”

#eddie munson fic #fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #bestfriend!eddie munson #gloomweed writes #stranger things #eddie munson #valentines day #angst with a happy ending

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