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fairyysoup · 2 years ago

Text

i can see you

♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: The secret history of your long and arduous relationship with Steve Harrington.

aka: the 5 times you pined over each other, and the time you actually did something about it

words: 17.6k (we're NOT gonna talk about it lol)

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, flirting, making out, heavy petting, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fingering, marking, biting, steve harrington has a big dick, themes of infidelity/cheating (sort of), skipping out on dates, bad dates, steve steal-your-girl harrington, almost-kisses, jealous!steve, jealous!reader, possessive behavior, smoking, alcohol consumption, allusions to marriage but it's never actually mentioned, canon compliant, reader and steve are the same age, 5+1 things, songfic, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, pining, mutual crush, slow burn one shot, mild twist ending, begins in season two (1984) and ends in the 90s, high school, scoops ahoy era, family video era, waiter!steve, steve harrington (the eras tour), vignette, one instance of billy hargrove slander, original characters created for plot, inspired by i can see you by taylor swift, other taylor song inspo throughout bc i'm insane like miss swift

a/n: hi and welcome to ✨rose's mental breakdown✨ yes this song will be my number one on spotify wrapped bc i listened to it on a loop for five days straight while writing this. idk. anyways this is So Much and i'm tired of looking at it so if there are any mistakes i apologize. anyways whoever can point out the most taylor song references aside from the obvious titular one gets a doubloon

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

You brush past me in the hallway, and you don’t think I can see you, do you? I’ve been watchin’ you for ages, and I spend my time trying not to feel it…

Hawkins High, September 1984

He’s so pretty sometimes that it’s disgusting.

That’s really the only thing you think when you watch Steve Harrington sneak up on his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and swoop her off the ground in front of her locker. From across the hall, your locker hangs open, your body turned halfway toward them so that you can pretend that you’re not staring.

You stare a lot.

It’s not exactly the hair, you think- everyone shits a brick about his hair, for some reason that you don’t understand. Yeah, it’s nice… but you like everything else about him, too. You like how sweet he looks when he laughs. You like the way that he holds himself and the way that he looks when he puts his hands on his hips and stands around like he’s directing the traffic around him. You like how much of a prince charming he is, really. It would surprise you if he doesn’t win prom king at the end of the year. They already call him King Steve, it’s not too far of a stretch.

You close your locker just as Steve kisses Nancy, in front of god and everybody in the C Corridor hallway. Steve’s arms wrap around Nancy’s petite frame and he dips her, like they’re in some sort of George Peck and Audrey Hepburn movie. Not that the place is much of a cinematic setting, though. Down the hall, the science rooms are doing their dissection units, so the whole place smells like formaldehyde and disinfectant, and you sort of feel like curling up into one of those dissection pans and dying, yourself.

That should be me, your brain screams. Me!!

It’s always been like this. You’ve had a crush on Steve since freshman year- the fact that he’s dating Nancy, who’s a year younger than him, doesn’t escape your jealous mind. You’ve been in classes with him for four years, you’ve admired him quietly, you’ve hoped and prayed that he somehow noticed you noticing him.

You don’t think he knows you exist. Four years- and now you’re both seniors, about to graduate, and he still doesn’t notice you. You should really stop caring, or stop trying, or stop… pining. Or something.

You hike your bag up onto your shoulder and juggle your books in your arms. The bell rings, and quite suddenly the entire hallway erupts into pandemonium (predictable, sure, considering everyone loiters around instead of actually getting to class on time). Kids fly around you in all directions to get to their next classroom. Nancy Wheeler ducks away from Steve Harrington, avoiding yet another kiss.

God, you wish you could kiss him.

Someone slams into your shoulder from behind, muscling past you to get to science lab 5, rat central. Your binder slips out of the stack of books in your arms and clatters loudly to the ground, just as someone walks past and kicks it across the floor.

“Fuck,” you spit, chasing after it. The back of your neck feels hot. For the first time in four years, you hope to god that Steve Harrington doesn’t notice you.

You duck around people’s legs, trying to grab at your binder, while not trying to drop any more of the books in your arms. Loose papers are starting to fall out of the binder as it skitters across the floor, and this is becoming more and more of a comedy of errors by the minute.

Your fingers just brush the corner of it before someone kicks it again.

“Do you mind?” you snap as they walk away, not even looking in your direction. Crouched close to the floor, you don’t matter. Maybe you could count that as a blessing, considering you don’t want to be perceived right now.

You finally just throw away all dignity and crawl across the tile floor- disgusting and dirty and covered in sandy grit, as though it hasn’t been cleaned all year- to get to your binder.

And you come face to face with a pair of white Nike’s. Ones that you know way too well, because you’ve stared at them every time they’ve passed you in the hallway.

Nonononono- You clench your jaw and then look up, way up, to find Steve Harrington towering over you.

He looks like he was about to just step around you, but then he notices you gazing up at him from all fours, and his hazel eyes lock on yours. You blink at each other for a second before he flushes, a pink blush breaking out on his cheeks and crawling up his neck, and he looks away quickly, but crouches down to grab your binder before your hand can land on it.

“Sorry,” Steve says quietly, gathering up the couple papers that had started to slide out of the folders inside. You sit back on your heels, your blood rushing in your ears, mortified. His big hands gently poke the papers back into the folder as they should be before he hands it to you. “Looks like you’re gonna be late to class.”

You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”

Steve’s eyes find yours again, and he’s finally so close to you that you can admire the little bit of green in them. You’ve never been close enough to notice before.

He cracks a lopsided smile, one that he uses to charm people, you know- you’ve seen him use it on teachers and cute girls alike. “I’m always late to the party. But I get there, eventually.”

“I hope so.” He cocks his head at you. He doesn’t know the real meaning to your words- or, at least, you don’t think he does.

I hope you don’t stay oblivious forever, Steve Harrington. I hope you get there, eventually.

You take your binder from him, but you pull your eyes away from his a bit later than you properly should. “Thanks, Steve.”

You get up and take off toward your next class, walking quickly so that you don’t come off like you’re lingering too long. But, halfway down the hall, you look over your shoulder at him.

Steve hasn’t moved, still crouched down close to the floor, with his head bent like he’s deep in thought. With his back to you, you can still see the pink flush on the back of his neck, peeking out above his collared shirt.

‘Cause I can see you, waiting down the hall from me, and I can see you up against the wall with me. What would you do? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you…

Hawkins High, April 1985

Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will.

Maybe it was your fault for hoping that Logan Sawyer, popular prick extraordinaire, was serious about wanting to take you to prom. He seemed serious enough, stopping by your locker during passing period and leaning over you as he asked you, his mega-watt smile making you blush. You’d counted yourself lucky- you didn’t think anyone was going to ask you, and people aren’t allowed to go to prom stag.

It took Logan two weeks to find a prettier girl to go with, though. You don’t know why it hurts so much. Maybe it’s because you wanted to believe that you were someone’s first choice, but it never quite seems to turn out that way.

You wipe your tears in the mirror, scowling at your puffy, bloodshot eyes. The bathroom next to the girls’ locker room in the sports wing is completely deserted at this time- the boys’ gym class is in session now, and you’re cutting into your lunch time, but you really don’t want to have to go and cry at a lunch table, in front of a bunch of your bitchy peers, who will inevitably make fun of you for it.

Sniffling, but slightly more composed, you head out of the bathroom. The sports wing is ridiculously bigger than any other wing of the school (typical of American public schools, to prioritize sports over every other department). The wing boasts weight training rooms, dance rooms, three separate gymnasiums, and a door directly to the football field, with the locker rooms on the farthest end to allow for easy access to the field. Connecting all of these rooms is the longest corridor in the building, which seems to run for half a fucking mile.

You’ll have to walk that half mile, because in order to get to the cafeteria, you’re gonna have to traverse the entire building. You might not get to eat much today, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. Maybe Mrs. Marshall will be kind enough to let you snack on a granola bar in your next class period.

Halfway down the long hallway, you feel the angry sting of tears behind your eyes again, and your face screws up in frustration. You stop, turning halfway back toward the girls’ bathroom, wondering if you should just go back in and allow yourself to cry some more.

Suck it up, you think to yourself, smacking at your tear stained cheeks. He’s not the guy you really want to ask you to prom, anyways.

You press your fingertips into your eyes to relieve the sting of tears, taking a deep breath. Being in high school is driving you crazy. At this point in the year, the teachers have given up teaching, the students have given up learning, and you’re basically just biding your time in a glorified babysitting service until you can inevitably grab your diploma and get out of here. You can’t wait for that time to arrive.

A door opens further down the hallway, in the direction of the cafeteria. You wipe your nose once and keep moving in the direction you were going, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, standing in the middle of the hallway having a breakdown.

Moving forwards, you keep your eyes on the ground. Once you hear the door that had been opened slam shut again, you figure that whoever it was has moved on down the hallway, and you lift your eyes again.

They have not, in fact, moved on. And you suddenly have the urge to turn and fucking run back into the girls’ bathroom, because Steve Harrington is bent over at the drinking fountain, directly outside the boys’ weight room.

What the fuck, what the fuck. You suck on your teeth, trying not to falter in your stride. Maybe he hasn’t seen you, and you can just pass him up. It’s fine, he hasn’t seen you crying.

Your mind backtracks to the beginning of the year, you fumbling your binder all the way across the hallway and ending up right in front of him, crawling toward him. Looking up at him and probably, most definitely, making him really uncomfortable.

You have English class together, where you sit at the desk closest to the door. He comes in late almost every day, so he passes by you every time. Some days he looks at your desk. On good days, he meets your eye. But he hasn’t spoken to you since that day in September, and you really shouldn’t hold out hope that he will.

You definitely don’t want him to notice you when you’ve been crying, your face is a mess, your hair is limp and you look bedraggled. You just want to fade into the background of your next class with whatever snack you can get from the cafeteria snuck into your bag, so you can stress eat it without any guff from a teacher (like you aren’t 18 and capable of deciding when you are and aren’t allowed to eat).

You keep your eyes down. If you don’t look at him, he doesn’t exist.

Except, Steve Harrington always exists, in the back of your mind, and in your periphery. He is impossible not to notice, as per usual. He really just draws the eye like a magnet. Try as you might, your eyes keep flicking up to take stock of him.

He’s wearing a uniform gray P.E. shirt and gym shorts that don’t leave a lot to the imagination, and you fixate on his thighs more than you should. He has sweat dripping down his neck, wetting his hair on the sides of his face and the seam of his shirt. It shouldn’t be attractive. He shouldn’t be attractive. With his face a mess. And his hair limp, and looking bedraggled. Truly, you make a priceless pair, being the only two people in the hallway.

We’re perfect for each other, a voice says in your head. And you manage, for the first time in an hour, to crack a smile down at your shoes.

He finishes getting his drink at the fountain, and you figure that he’ll just go back into the weight room and not see you. But, of course, luck is not on your side.

Steve Harrington looks at you. And you look away, quickly, acting like you hadn’t been staring at him. And in your periphery, again, you see him stretch his arms over his head, and then turn and lean against the cinderblock wall beside the door to the weight room, with his hands on his knees as though he’s catching his breath.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

He does it so casually, and with the way he’s sweating and his face is flushed, you’re sure that he probably does just want to take a break before going in and lifting more weights. But something in the back of your mind says that the maneuver was too purposeful, immediately after he laid eyes on you.

It could just be wishful thinking on your part. You heard through the grapevine that Steve and Nancy Wheeler broke up in a nasty way just before winter break, and it doesn’t seem like he’s been interested in anyone since. He hasn’t dated anyone, hasn’t flirted with any girls or showed up at any parties. Nancy must have really broken his heart.

You know too well what that feels like, right now.

Nearing where he leans against the wall, you keep your head down and you plan on just passing by without any acknowledgement from him, same as it ever was. If he’s still carrying a torch for Nancy, you’re sure that he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’ve nearly convinced yourself of it.

But then you hear your name called quietly, and it nearly makes you jump. You look over at him, thinking you’re just hearing things, but you look directly into a pair of hazel eyes again, and you feel yourself rocketing back in time to September.

You didn’t even think he knew your name.

You slow to a stop. It would be rude not to stop, right? “Uh… hi, Steve. You good?”

Steve Harrington looks you up and down, while he leans against the wall and breathes a bit heavily, like he’s out of breath. He peers at you through long eyelashes, looking impossibly inviting despite everything; the setting, your appearances, the way that you feel like dissolving into a puddle right in front of him. “Yeah, great. You?”

He’s scrutinizing your face now. You shrug, since he’s already seen you, and there’s no way to pretend you weren’t crying thirty seconds ago. “I’m fine. Just being dramatic, don’t worry about me.”

“When people say not to worry about them, it usually means that you should,” Steve muses. He looks coy, like he’s speaking from experience.

You sigh, stepping forward to get your own drink from the drinking fountain. “Logan Sawyer called off our date for prom.”

“Oh.” Steve pauses for a few seconds, watching as you bend down and take your drink, more silent than he usually is. “I mean… that really sucks. I’m sorry. But… Logan Sawyer?”

“Yeah.” You wipe your mouth, and then wet the ends of your fingers and use the cool water to rub at your stinging eyes again. When you’re done, you lean up against the wall beside him, letting your back settle into the cinderblock.

“The guy’s a fucking douche.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, I mean it, I think it’s a good thing you’re not going to prom with him. He’s really shitty to girls.” You look up at Steve, who’s watching you with his arms crossed, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “I mean, the only guy worse than Logan is probably… I dunno…”

“Billy Hargrove?”

Steve laughs. Actually laughs. You’ve wanted to make him laugh like that for four years. His cheeks turn crimson and he grins down at his shoes, snickering like there’s way more to the joke he’s laughing at than you even know about. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s gotta be the worst.”

You chuckle, albeit with a sadder tone than he has. “Well, I’m not going to prom with either of them. So, I can count my blessings. I guess.”

Steve frowns, and he looks like he’s going to say something else, but you’re already turning away, not wanting to continue the depressing conversation about your lack of dates. Especially not from the one guy who you desperately want to go on a date with.

You get a few steps away before he takes a step after you, saying, “Wait. You, uh-”

You stop, and look back at him. He looks dumbfounded, his arm outstretched like he was going to try to grab you if you didn’t listen to him. When you frown, he steps back against the wall, bringing his hand up to run through his hair.

Oh . That’s a nervous tick. You know it, because you’ve watched him do it more than once in English, in front of the class during a presentation.

Steve looks down at his shoes, his brow scrunched in thought. He looks like he’s really trying to find the right words to say. In your head, a hopeful part of you imagines what those words could be. ‘Will you go to prom with me?’

Finally, he looks up at you resolutely. “You’ll find someone to take you to prom. I’m sure of it.” He nods a little, like he’s reassuring himself that he said the right thing.

You can’t help the smile that springs onto your face. It’s incredulous, of course, but he can’t know that. Keep trying, baby. You’ll get there, eventually.

“Thanks, Steve.” It’s the second time you thank him in the course of the year.

But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

Prom Night, May 1985

The dress you’re wearing is sleek and a lot simpler than some of the more popular styles on the dance floor, but you like it more than you care to admit. You’d just grabbed it off the rack at Macy’s, and beyond that you didn’t want to go all-out for prom. It turns out that your lab partner, Gavin Connelly, needed a date, too. So, you’re here with him, because you knew that if you missed prom, you would probably regret it.

Except, well.

Gavin, stoned out of his fucking mind, is sitting at one of the tables, nursing a cup of punch, looking like he’s two seconds from falling asleep. You’ve taken to making the rounds and saying hi to anyone you can call a ‘friend,’ because you’re tired of just loitering next to him. Something tells you he didn’t want to even be here.

The speakers are playing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ and couples are swaying on the dance floor in a Bonnie Tyler-induced haze. At a loss for people to bother, you wander back over to your date to find his head plastered to the white table cloth.

You glance to the guy sitting next to him, a kid with glasses who you don’t recognize but who seems to know your date, because he’s just patting Gavin’s back. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, no, he’s dying.” The kid shoots you a sarcastic smile.

You nod, pressing your tongue hard to the roof of your mouth. “Well, if he wakes up, tell him I’m getting some air.”

Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.

Your heels, which are killing your feet already, click loudly on the tile hallway floor as you exit the gym. The table where you can check your bag and coat are located at the other end of the hall, where everyone is supposed to enter through the door to the football field.

You can hear voices from the far end of the hall, and Bonnie Tyler’s voice fading out the further you get from the gym. You might never be able to hear that song again without thinking of your ruined slow dance opportunity.

As you pass by, someone coughs off to the left and you turn your head to see Steve Harrington, black tie and all, loitering in the shadows. You stop a few feet from him and squint into the dark.

You can’t believe it. He always seems to show up at the worst times. “What are you doing, skulking around?”

“I’m not sulking.”

You snort, stepping into the shadows with him. “No, skulk- like, sneaking around?”

“Well, I didn’t mean to sneak-” he looks over his shoulder at the gym entrance. “I’m just getting some air.”

“Funny,” you murmur. “I was just about to do the same thing.”

He eyes you, a lot like he did a few weeks ago in this same hallway, further up toward the other end of it. He takes in your hair, styled painstakingly to ‘perfection,’ or as close as you could approximate it, and your off-the-rack department store dress. You suddenly feel like you aren’t as pretty as you thought you were at the beginning of the night.

But then he meets your eye, and all those insecurities fade into the back of your mind. He’s smiling at you, and that can only be a good thing.

“So, uh…” Steve leans back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, “You found someone to take you?”

You press your lips into a tight line. You don’t really want to think about your date right now, but- “Gavin Connelly.”

“Who?”

You laugh, kicking the heel of your shoe against the ground with a soft clack. “Yeah. God, I wish I didn’t know him right now.”

“Why, what’d he do?” Steve sounds perturbed. You look up to find him scowling already.

“Oh, he just ate a pot brownie before he picked me up and passed out at one of the tables.” You finish with a tired giggle, shrugging at Steve as he peers at you with an annoyed expression. “Who did you bring?”

“Kelly Palmer.”

You know Kelly. She doesn’t say much, but she’s gotten a scholarship to a big art school. “Do you like her?”

“Yeah, she’s nice,” he says mildly. Unconvincingly.

You can understand the subtext. She’s not Nancy. When you look at his face, he seems tortured in the low light coming from down the hall.

“Guess I’m oh-for-two,” Steve adds after a pause. “Last year’s prom, Nance and I didn’t have such a good time, either.”

You nod. It seems like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry,” you offer. You don’t know the ins-and-outs of Steve and Nancy’s relationship, aside from watching them suck face in the hallway five paces from you for a year and a half. “Prom sucks. High school sucks. These can’t be the best years of our lives, trust me.”

“Yeah, I hope not.”

“I just can’t wait to get out of here, you know,” you grumble, allowing your sour mood to come out a little more than normal. It seems like Steve is just really good at getting you to let your guard down. “I’m planning to go to Chicago for college. This is all just… you know, it’s just the starting point. What about you, any big plans?”

“Dunno. I didn’t get accepted to any schools, so I’ll just be getting a job here in town until something better comes along.” Steve shifts, his heel hitting the wall behind him. He looks disappointed when he says, “I think I made too many mistakes.”

You frown, chewing on your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gives you a heavy look, like he’s gearing up to say something important, something game changing- and then his gaze softens.

“You’ve got an eyelash.” He gestures to his own eye, like it’ll make you understand exactly where the loose one is on your face.

“Oh.” You falter, lifting your manicured hands and wiping at your undereyes. “Did I get it?”

“No, uh- here, I can-” Steve tentatively reaches forward, and you step toward him to let him touch your face.

Steve Harrington is touching your face.

His fingertip brushes your cheekbone, so featherlight you would barely feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of everything that he said or did. His touch glides across your cheek and toward your temple, and then he seems to keep it there, his hand hovering just over your skin.

Reflexively, your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder. You’re inches from Steve’s face, your eyes falling to his lips.

You could kiss him. You could live your fantasy, right now.

Steve’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, and then he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. He doesn’t say that you look beautiful. He doesn’t say it conditionally, like it’s just for tonight. You are beautiful. Even when you’re crawling on all fours after your binder. Even when you’re crying, and your hair is limp, and you look bedraggled.

“Steve…” you whisper, inching closer to him.

“STEVE??!”

You jump away from him like he’s burned you, and peek around the hall corner to see Kelly Palmer standing outside the gym looking up and down the hall, searching for him. She looks lost, and sad, like he must have ditched.

She looks an awful lot like you just did, coming out of that gym.

You feel Steve’s hand where it had fallen to your wrist, dragging your attention gently back to him. You take his hand and squeeze it once, giving him a tight smile.

“You brought her here for a good time,” you say with your bravest smile. “Just don’t pass out at one of the tables on her, okay?”

Don’t be a douche. Don’t be like Logan Sawyer.

Steve swallows, and gives you a short nod. You think he finally got there.

You give a soft pat to the lapel of his suit jacket. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

He touches your arm one final time before he slips around the corner, just as Kelly turns to go back into the gym. You watch him walk away, and you think to yourself, That’s the last time I chase after Steve Harrington.

Wherever there is, it’s not with you.

Steve loops his arms around Kelly’s waist and lifts her, earning a thrilled squeal as the silver taffeta of her dress glints blue in the light from the gym. You wait until they’ve disappeared back into it before you turn and high-tail it toward the coat check table.

And we kept everything professional, but something’s changed, it’s something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it’s best if we move fast and keep quiet…

Starcourt Mall, June 1985

“Come on, it’s ridiculously hot outside,” your best friend, Shelly, groans as she pulls you along by the wrist. “I can’t believe they only have one ice cream place here.”

“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”

“Ice. Cream.” You know better than to argue with her.

Scoops Ahoy has a novelty nautical theme that makes you want to both laugh and break down in tears when you see it. The PA is playing a cutesy rendition of Drunken Sailor on accordion, and you think that if you keep looking at the striped wallpaper behind the counter, you might get literally seasick. In the mall. In landlocked Indiana.

Or… is it landlocked if it fronts Lake Michigan? It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in Chicago in two days, anyways.

You let Shelly drag you along until you look towards the front counter, and you see something that nearly makes you trip and face plant into Shelly’s fresh perm.

Even Shelly pauses. “Is that who I think it is?”

It’s something about the stupid little sailor’s cap and shorts, and that he’s so, so pretty in it, you think. It’s also something about how you have the perfect vantage point to watch him try and fail to flirt with the girl that approaches the counter to order. You’re enamored with him. There’s no other way to describe it.

You have half a mind to run away, after what you promised yourself on prom night over a month ago. You’d done good, you didn’t search for him in the halls, you ignored him in your last couple of class periods with him. You’d even been in the bathroom when his name was called at graduation.

But, here he is. Steve Harrington, absolutely obliterating his chances of getting a date with the girl ordering a sundae ahead of you.

Honestly, you don’t know what you’re waiting for. Maybe an invitation? A sign from god that today’s the day that you’ll make a move? Or maybe this is just a test of will.

You stop resisting Shelly’s attempts to drag you along, and straighten your spine. You can do this. Four years’ worth of pining won’t make a difference in whether or not you order a strawberry ice cream cone.

He’s even prettier up close, his rosy cheeks framed by sunkissed, wavy hair. When he sees you he stalls, going a bit wide-eyed and then seeming to realize he’s supposed to do his job. He leans heavily against the counter. “Ahoy, ladies! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain, Steve Harrington.”

“Uh-huh.” You stare at each other for a long moment. “How much do they pay you to recite that script?”

“Absolutely nothing, I do this for pure enjoyment.” You’re almost sure that he doesn’t. He pauses, a hand poised on his hip. “Too much?”

“I’d dial it back just a smidge. Maybe keep the ahoy and the captain thing and toss the rest.”

“Noted.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on you. “I thought you were going to Chicago?”

“I leave the day after tomorrow,” you shrug. “Still time for me to burn the place down, you know.”

“Well, I’m glad you stopped by,” Steve chuckles. “I could show you where the gas line is, then we’d all be in trouble.”

“Oookay.” Shelly gives you a curious side-eye, and then turns back to Steve. “Well, I’ll have a U.S.S. Butterscotch with a chocolate dipped waffle bowl, if you don’t mind.”

Steve tears his eyes away from you long enough to grin at Shelly. “Coming right up. And for you?”

You freeze, glancing up at the menu. It’s written in an infuriatingly cutesy code-language that you have to decipher. “Um. I’m still deciding.”

“All right, then. Just let me know, when you’re ready.”

Steve slips away to make Shelly her sundae, a heaping pile of ice cream and butterscotch syrup that looks like the fast track to a heart attack. You alternate between trying to comprehend the menu and being distracted by Steve in that stupid sailor’s uniform.

The script on the menu may as well be written in a foreign language. Blackbeard’s Delight. Treasure Island Turtle. U.S.S. Sherbet. The sizes are even harder to understand. Fathom. League. Nautical Mile. You don’t have the capacity to decipher it- your eyes are seeing the words, but your mind is traveling back to prom night, and feeling Steve’s finger on your cheek as you gear up to kiss him.

“Are you ready?”

“Mhm…” It takes you a second to zone back into the present moment, where Steve is standing in front of you, on the other side of the counter, waiting to take your order. He waits, with a patient smile on his face, while you blink dumbly at him.

What did you say? What did he say?

“I… um.” You’re sure you look completely out of it. Your eyes flick nervously up at the menu, that you still can’t fucking read. Shelly’s already gone to sit down with her sundae, the traitor.

“It’s kind of hard to understand, isn’t it?” Steve says quietly after a moment, dropping the phony customer service charade. “I hate it. I think we should just be able to say what our favorite ice cream flavor is and be done with it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still squinting up at the menu. Blackbeard’s Delight: blackberry swirl with blueberry syrup and a gold doubloon. “The fuck is a doubloon?”

Steve snorts, and reaches under the counter before bringing back a handful of gold foil-covered chocolate coins, which he dumps into your outstretched hand. “You want more? We get them wholesale.”

“I’m good,” you giggle, juggling the chocolate coins before they go cascading to the floor. “I think… I don’t… I don’t understand a thing on that menu.”

“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” He leans forward to ask you, like it's a secret. Just between the two of you. His head bent a little to peer at you closely, so close that you can count the freckles on his skin.

You glance over your shoulder. Shelly is seated by the far wall, under a painting of a kraken, giving you an indignant look. When she notices you looking, she mouths an emphatic, ‘LET’S GO!’

“Don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, and Steve affects his gravest expression as he nods. “Strawberry.”

“A classic,” he grins. “Fan of sprinkles?”

“I can dig a few sprinkles.”

“Perfect. I think we have something up your alley.” He grabs a scooper out of the bin and twirls it once, just to show off. “Sex on the Beach.”

“What?” You don’t remember seeing anything about that on the menu.

He glances up to smirk at you before shrugging. “It’s strawberry ice cream with peach syrup. You’ll see.”

You keep an eye on his hands behind the glass partition, watching them put two scoops of strawberry into a medium sized carton. Completely unable to rein in your thoughts before they get away from you, you’re thinking about how good they would feel under your shirt. You follow a treasure map of freckles trailing up his arms, disappearing under the blue sailor’s shirt he wears. You want to kiss every single one of them.

You finally reply, “I guess I have to put my faith in your professional ice cream slinging abilities.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Steve mutters sardonically as he squirts peach syrup across the two scoops of ice cream, giving it a golden sheen. “I’m the king of cream.”

You purse your lips as it takes Steve a second to realize what he just said. When he does, he snaps his head up to meet your eye in horror.

He opens his mouth to take it back, but you shake your head, holding back laughter. “Don’t ruin it.”

“I think it’s pretty much ruined already.” He turns crimson, blushing down at the half-made sundae as he rapidly shakes yellow sprinkles onto it. “I was doing so good, too.”

“Who says you aren’t still?” You give him a cute smile when he looks up through his lashes at you, still arranging toppings on the sundae. You’re not sure what happened between prom and now to change him so much, but it’s almost as if he’s… goofy. He’s less concerned with appearances, he’s more laid back and willing to make fun of himself.

You like it a lot.

You watch him plop two maraschinos onto one ice cream mound, and wedge a candied orange slice into the other, inverted, to look like a setting sun. As he passes it over the counter to you, he says, “Here you go, one Sex on the Beach. On the house.”

“What? No, I couldn’t-”

“I mean it. For overlooking my stupidity,” Steve insists. He gives you a meaningful look when he adds, “A million times over.”

“I’m not overlooking anything when it comes to you, Steve,” you tell him fondly, and drop one of the doubloons into the tip jar. It’s gaudy, gleaming artificially gold in the middle of the crumpled up dollar bills. “Hang onto that. You might be able to cash it in for a kiss someday.”

Steve blinks rapidly, leaning across the counter as you walk away. “After you come back from Chicago, right?”

You look over your shoulder, and you wink at him.

When you finally stop in front of Shelly, and you use your plastic spoon to dig into the adorable sundae that Steve crafted for you, you remember that you’d gone up to the counter with every intention of ignoring Steve and acting like you didn’t even know him.

You winked at Steve Harrington. You said you’d kiss him. You think back to the girl who was so afraid of Steve even noticing her, almost a year ago, and wonder where she went.

You look down at Shelly. She’d graduated a year before you, so she wasn’t there to witness every blunderous interaction you’d had with Steve in school. You never told her how in love you were with him.

Now, she looks up at you coyly. “So. Steve Harrington, huh?”

“Shut up,” you grunt, looking up and out at the food court outside of the Scoops Ahoy storefront. “As if you know everything.”

“Are you gonna try to make something out of that…” she gestures vaguely with her spoon toward the counter, “before school starts?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say honestly, still poking at your sundae. “Anyways, I leave too soon for anything to really happen. What- I screw him tomorrow and then fuck off forever? It’s just wishful thinking, probably.” You finally take a bite of the ice cream, just to punctuate your sentence.

“Hm. Probably. How is that?” Shelly nods at the ice cream in your hand. “Looks pretty.”

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You’re being honest. Something about the peach syrup with the strawberry base literally evokes the flavor of a sunset. “They should give him a raise.”

Humming, Shelly stands and takes her half-eaten sundae. She nudges you in the direction of the door. “C’mon. We’ve gotta eat these before the next showing of The Breakfast Club.”

Steve watches you and your friend leave, with the wistful gaze of someone who just watched their greatest opportunity walk away from them. He never knew that it was possible to hate an entire geographic location, but he really wishes Chicago would get blown off the map in the next 24 hours.

The wooden partition doors slam open, and Robin’s head appears in the window to the kitchen. “The cream king? Do you want me to actually hurl?”

“I said, ‘the king of cream,’” he groans, digging his knuckles into his eye sockets. “Kill me, Robin. Load me into the freezer. Bury me at the fairground.”

“You think you’re valuable enough to displace that much ice cream?” Robin rolls her eyes, and with another loud thwack, her white board appears in the space behind her. “We don’t make anything called Sex on the Beach. This is a family establishment.”

“I made it up.”

Robin coos, “Aww. Be still my heart. You love her to the point of invention.”

Steve whirls around. “Love? Who said anything about love?”

“I did.” Robin uncaps her dry-erase marker and draws a tally mark under the side that reads, you rule.

“Uh, Robin,” Steve snaps, pointing at the board condescendingly. “I think you put that on the wrong side. I fucked it up.”

“Dingus. Please. As much as it makes me gag- and you know I gain immense pleasure from counting how often you screw up- I could practically hear her heart eyes.” She sets the white board down, begrudgingly. “I think you found the only girl alive who’ll find all this-” she waves her hand at him, “endearing. Who was she? Some ex of yours?”

“If only,” Steve sighs, shaking his head. When he turns back to the counter, his eyes land on the single chocolate coin glinting in the tip jar.

He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.

You won’t believe half the things I see inside my head. Wait ‘til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet…

Family Video, March 1986

The air conditioning nearly blasts you backwards into the parking lot. You don’t know why they need it blasting so hard at 7pm, in the middle of March. It’s not like it’s the height of summer- your spring break takes place earlier than the local school’s, but it just means that you get to beat the crowds when you come home to visit your family.

Of course, they love to send you to run errands. You end up picking up the groceries, and the housewares, and, on this occasion, the choices for family movie night.

This Family Video’s selection isn’t necessarily as extensive as the ones in Chicago, but it’s good enough. You enter the store, and it dumps you directly in front of a cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates about to flash you. Family friendly entertainment, and all.

The TV in the corner is running the final scene of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly- Ennio Morricone’s score plays dramatically into the empty store. There’s no one behind the counter currently, so you pull the list of videos your extended family members had all requested. The Breakfast Club. Camelot. The Birds. Pretty general selections for your family, but it seems like you’ll have to hunt them up on your own.

You’re wandering down the romance aisle, since The Breakfast Club was nowhere on the new releases or comedy shelves, when someone finally emerges from the back room. You see a flash of a head moving toward the front counter from over the top of a rack, and you take it as your chance to ask for help.

“Excuse me? Do you guys have any copies of The Breakfast Club, or-”

You stop short, choking on your words. Steve Harrington turns around to look at you, carrying a stack of VHS tapes perched under his chin, and holding a folded up piece of paper between his teeth.

You stare each other down for a second, before Steve gracefully spits the paper over his shoulder and onto the counter. “Hey, um… long time, no see?”

“I’d say.” You tilt your head. Funny how quickly your eyes will hone in on his lips, like searching for a target every time. “We always seem to run into each other like this. What happened to the ice cream gig?”

“Starcourt burned down,” Steve says, plopping the stack of VHS tapes down on the counter beside the paper he spit out. “Right around the Fourth of July, last summer.”

“So, right after I last saw you?”

Steve smirks to himself before he turns back to you. “Yeah. Like, a week or so after. Did you manage to burn the place down, after all?”

“I wish.”

You pause, taking the time to size him up. It’s amazing what the better part of a year will do to someone, inside and out. With a striped shirt and green vest, he looks much more relaxed and casual than he had at Scoops Ahoy. His hair’s a little longer, his eyes a little darker as they rake over you, in return.

You’re a little bit desperate to see what’s going on in his head, if it’s anything like what’s happening in yours.

You wish you could say that you tried to seek him out when you got back to town- a year ago, maybe you would have. But you’d pretty much given up on the idea of him, moving up to dating college boys who don’t string you along, who don’t wait until the last minute to finally try their hand at flirting with you. If he ever passed through your mind, it was with the attached hope that he’d found greener pastures than Hawkins, Indiana. Foolishly, you hoped that as long as you told yourself that he’d moved on, it would be true. And then maybe what could have been wouldn’t matter anymore.

You’d stepped back into Hawkins after half a year of college, the graveyard of all hope in your happily ever after, and you hadn’t even thought of Steve Harrington. Except, seeing him now, everything comes flooding back. All the days spent pining over him. All the close brushes you’d had with finally getting the ending you wanted.

You have to be honest. “You look good, Steve. You always do.”

Steve chuckles, tilting his chin down as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his light wash jeans. “Better without the sailor costume, right?”

“Aww, I liked the sailor costume.” You step closer so you can whisper, “I thought it was sexy.”

Steve peers down his nose at you, drawing himself up to tower above you at his full height. He tries to look unaffected, but you can see his ears glowing pink beneath wisps of golden highlights. “Watch it. You’re gonna give me an ego.”

“We don’t want that, do we?” You unfold the list of movies you’re here to collect, holding it up to him between two fingers. “Got any of these movies?”

Steve reads the short list, and nods to himself. “I know we have Camelot, but I’m not sure about The Breakfast Club. Let me check in the back?”

“I’ll be here.”

“All right- don’t get up to any trouble, though. I’ve got my eye on you.” He points at you coolly, feigning an authoritative expression. He tries to hide his smile, but the creases around his eyes give him away.

“I hope you do.” You try to appear casual as you breeze past him, but you have to fiddle with your jacket collar to hide their shaking. Still, you feel the sweep of his gaze on you like rays of sun on your skin. It frightens you how easily you can fall back into the old back-and-forth routine you established in high school- how he gets you to say things you never meant to voice, but that live in your head effortlessly.

Steve watches you disappear down the drama aisle before he takes in a huge breath of air and bolts toward the back room. Any and all coolness he was performing disappears like so much smoke. Slamming open the door, he nearly shouts, “Do you have a doubloon?!”

Robin startles, swinging around in her seat, looking away from her computer screen. “A what? Why are you yelling?”

“A doubloon, a f-fucking-” Steve looks quickly over his shoulder, out the door, and starts hunching over as he whispers, “a chocolate coin. Like one of those ones we had at Scoops, remember?”

“Why do you want a chocolate coin?” Robin squints at him. “Stop crouching like that, you look like Nosferatu.”

Steve hisses through his teeth, and he’s got a frantic edge to his expression that Robin doesn’t like. “Okay- remember that girl, the one who showed up at Scoops that time, and you gave me my one and only ‘You Rule’ tally?”

“No.”

“Great. Well, she’s here, and she told me if I gave her one of those chocolate coins she’d kiss me.” Steve shoves his hands through his hair, mussing up the already disheveled style. “Please, Rob, I can’t let her get away again. I’ve done it, like, a thousand times already.”

“Okay, Romeo,” Robin humors him, turning around in her seat. “So you’re saying this babe, who I very much don’t remember because you always struck out while we worked at Scoops, told you that if you bribed her with chocolate she’d kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t think she was maybe joking?”

Steve opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Truthfully, he hadn’t. He’d overlooked the idea that, after everything that had happened between you, you might just be joking about kissing him.

“You know you could use your actual charm to get a girl to kiss you?” Robin dips her chin, shaking her head like it’s obvious.

Steve frowns. As if he hasn’t already tried that. “Do you have any chocolate coins or not?”

Robin sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those things since we worked at Scoops. Sorry, bud. You’re out of luck.”

“FUCK!” Steve’s hand smacks the door as he heads out of the back room, making Robin scowl after him. She shakes her head as she turns back to her work.

Back out on the sales floor, the credits to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly have finished, and white noise fills the empty space. Steve turns in a circle by the checkout counter, searching for you among the aisles.

Where did you disappear to, this time? A part of him dreads the answer. He was the one who fucked everything up- he shouldn’t have chickened out when he had the chance. He should have asked you to that fucking prom, but he was too scared to commit after what happened with Nancy.

If this is his last chance, he needs to make it count.

He coughs into the dead air, and says, “Looks like we’re all out of The Breakfast Club.” There’s a disconcerting amount of silence that leaves him cold, almost certain that you’ve left already, for the last time.

Then, you appear from behind the red curtain to the adult videos section.

Oh.

“Everything okay?” you ask sweetly as you approach, holding a couple tapes that you must have picked up while you shopped around. “I heard some yelling back there.”

“Oh, yeah. Just, uh… shelving issues.” Steve backs his way behind the counter. He repeats, “Sorry, I couldn’t find the movie for you.”

“I heard. I’m not worried about it.” You plop the tapes that you did find on the counter. “It was nice of you to look for me. Thanks, Steve.”

“Always.” Steve starts scanning your tapes; it looks like you managed to find the other films on your list, along with one for yourself. From the adult section.

You watch in amusement as you can see the cogs visibly turning in Steve’s head, while he stares at the front of the porn video you picked. Spring Break Sex Party II. Not that you’d ever seen the first one, but the cover of this one was suggestive enough- a bunch of drunk people naked on a beach, lying in a great big pile. Looks like fun, in your opinion.

You always love seeing Steve blush. The prettiest shade of pink colors his cheeks before he glances up at you. “Should I ask…?”

“It’s the closest thing to getting a Sex on the Beach, here.”

Steve chokes, and he scrambles for a response to that. “I- I was gonna ask for an I.D.”

“You know we’re the same age,” you deadpan.

“Y-yeah. I, uh- I know… I know that.” He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly shut.

You wonder if this is what you looked like to him, that time in the hallway when he loitered by the fountain to talk to you. “Breathe, Steve.”

A blast of laughter leaves his mouth before he can swallow it. If only you knew how hard it actually is, to act like he’s not just fucking melting right in front of you. When he hangs on every word you say, and every other thought he has is about how badly he wants to tell Robin to get lost and take you in the back room. You don’t know how much he’s fixating on your curves and how they’d feel against him, how much he wants to taste every inch of your body. He’s practically vibrating in place with all his pent up frustration, and you’re here buying porn, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Steve clears his throat, shakes his head. Christ. “Okay, well. You know that this is a sale item, it’s not for rent. You can return it within 10 days as long as the packaging hasn’t been opened.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” He’s still nodding as he puts it into the bag with the rest of your rentals.

“Are you always this affected by people buying from the adult section?” you ask mildly.

“Nah, usually I don’t care,” he replies without thinking.

“Good to know that you care about my taste in pornography,” you tell him with the most shit eating grin on your face, taking the bag from him. “I’m flattered.”

He makes a clumsy noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. He’s right back to working at Scoops Ahoy, fumbling every attempt at flirting, losing his cool at the sight of a pretty girl. It’s… humbling.

He’s sure Robin would say that he can always use more humility.

“It was good to see you again, Steve.” And just like that, you’re sand slipping through the cracks in his fingers.

Desperately, he tries to block the flow, closing his fingers around you in an attempt to keep you in his grasp. “Do you- uh-” He lurches forward, white-knuckling the counter like his life depends on it. You turn back towards him, an eyebrow raised at his sudden outburst.

You’re back in the school hallway, senior year. Crying over Logan Sawyer. Harrington is up against the wall by the drinking fountain. You want him to just say the words and ask you to prom.

“I mean… if you have the time, while you’re in town… do you want to go for a cup of coffee? With me?”

“Oh, Steve.” You sigh, and it’s the most heartbreaking noise he’s ever heard in his life. Soft sand, falling through his fingers, disappearing back the way you came. He already dreads your answer before it comes. “I wish… you know, if I had come in here and met you about a week ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I have to catch the train back to Chicago tomorrow. My break’s almost up.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I’m just glad that you didn’t completely miss me, at least.”

“Right, of course.” Steve smiles back at you, feeling more like an idiot the longer this drags on. He’s like Sisyphus rolling that rock up the fucking hill. “I… I’m glad I got to see you, too. Maybe next time.”

Oh, it hurts. It hurts way more than you thought it would, to have to turn Steve down- after all the years pining for him through high school, after the time you turned him away when he would have kissed you. You think about kissing him, now. He would let you do it- he’s asking you out, and he looks so sad that you’re saying no.

You could. But wouldn’t it make saying goodbye this time even harder than it already is?

“Yeah. Maybe next time,” you tell him. You don’t want this to hurt more than it does. You truly hope there’s a next time, another year down the line when you run into him over winter break. Maybe you’ll find him at the Radio Shack.

Steve watches you leave, once again. Fumbling his chance, again. When the door swings shut behind you, Steve bends at the waist and drops his head against the countertop.

Typical Harrington. Late to the party, miss the girl.

“Well. That was… really painful to listen to.” Robin emerges from behind one of the shelves, crossing her arms. Gently, she adds, “On the bright side, I don’t think the chocolate coin would have mattered.”

Steve picks his head up, and he thwacks his forehead back down onto the counter.

And again.

And I can see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission. Hide away, and I will start behaving myself…

Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991

You shake your umbrella out as you step into the warm foyer of, quite possibly, the most upscale restaurant you’ve ever set foot in. The carpet is deep, blood red, the walls a dark chestnut wood. The white covered tables are each spotlit within the otherwise dark dining room, and the atmosphere is flavored by soft piano and the quiet din of hushed voices.

You had been hesitant to accept Theo’s invitation to dinner- he seemed too stuck up for your taste, but when Shelly introduced you to him, you had to admit that the name of the restaurant piqued your interest. Sur La Table. Chicago’s premiere Michelin Star restaurant.

As you hand your umbrella over to the coat check clerk, you’re greeted by a smiling hostess. “What’s the name for the reservation?”

“Um… Theo Bowman. I believe he’s already here?”

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.”

Theo stands as you’re shown to the table. Tall, with dark hair and a wide smile, he reminds you of someone you knew once, but you just can’t seem to place it. Then, when he towers over you to shake your hand, standing far closer than necessary, you’re able to pick it out from the recesses of your mind.

Logan Sawyer.

“You look nice,” Theo says pleasantly, and you chalk up your initial comparison to nerves, on your part. You don’t often let friends set you up on dates, so you’re a little bit out of your element as it is.

As you go to sit down, you admit, “I was so glad when you picked this place, I’ve always wanted to eat here, since I moved to Chicago.”

“It’s not the nicest place I’ve been,” Theo shrugs, taking the seat across from you.

Your smile falters, for a second. “Oh, no?” The water has already been brought to the table, you guess while he was waiting for you. You take a long drink.

“Nah, I’ve been to Le Bernardin, in New York. That’s fine dining.” Theo waves his hand at the upscale dining room. “This is… okay.”

“I see.” You lift your menu, hoping that he’ll do the same.

“Yeah, New York is so much nicer than Chicago, in my opinion,” Theo continues, fiddling with his napkin as he talks. “There’s a lot more to do. Have you ever been?”

You hope this is just his nerves talking. “No.”

Theo keeps talking as you stare at the menu in front of you, at a loss. It’s an a la carte menu, clearly, but extensive and all in french. Salade de poires pochées. Coquilles Saint-Jacques Gratineés. Filet au poivre vert. You’re scrutinizing the fine print of what all the dishes include when your waiter steps up to the table. You know when it happens, because Theo finally stops blathering about New York.

You break your eyes away from the menu to glance at the server’s waistline, at eye level with you. He wears a crisply pressed suit and tie, his hands clasped in front of his belt.

“Good evening sir, ma’am,” the server says in a hushed tone, to keep the volume of the dining room down. “Welcome to Sur La Table. I’m Steven, I’ll be serving you this evening. Before we begin, are there any questions about the menu?”

You peer up into the darkness to try to see Steven’s face. He’s standing just outside of the spotlight over the table, only able to be dimly lit from the indirect light reflecting from the tablecloth. Once your eyes adjust, they lock onto a pair of familiar hazel ones.

Oh my fucking god.

It’s got to be fate, or kismet, or some force of nature that keeps bringing you together like this. Steve Harrington’s face hasn’t changed in five years. Maybe he looks just slightly older, a little more filled out in his suit and tie. His hair is a bit shorter at the back but still that same shade of golden brown, neatly groomed and tidy for the formal atmosphere- but you can see it being tousled on his off days, still flopping across his eyes in waves. And those are the same lips you dreamt about kissing, the same eyes you admired in the school hallway, the same nose that you always wanted to grind o-

“No, I think we’re ready to order,” Theo announces, louder than necessary. You throw your gaze at him, your eyebrows raising despite your best efforts to remain calm.

Is he really going to order for you? Just like that?

“Well, I was going to ask-” you begin, wanting to get a little more specification on how the filet is made, when Theo cuts you off.

“It’s okay, I speak French,” he insists. Not that it makes a difference to what your question was.

You press your lips together in irritation and glance at Steve, who looks back at you stoically. You wonder if he recognizes you like you do him- it’s been long enough, and you’re sure that you look a bit different than you did the last time you saw him. And then you notice the creases around his eyes.

He’s playing it off well enough, sure. But Steve is doing that same look that he did there in the Family Video five years ago, trying to pretend that he’s not affected by you, swallowing back his smile. He sends you a knowing look that says, What a fucking douchebag, am I right?

Suddenly, this date just got way more entertaining. You give Steve a minute roll of your eyes, only enough for him to notice. Tell me about it.

“We’ll start with the Bordeaux,” Theo is already reciting to Steve as you settle back in your seat. Steve pulls a little notepad out of his jacket pocket and begins writing. “For an appetizer, the coquilles. Then for the main, I’ll have the canard montmorency, and she’ll have the mignons de veau.”

You watch Steve’s hand pause as he’s writing, and he looks to you. He raises his eyebrow, saying everything he needs to with the one gesture. Is that what you really want? “The veal?”

“No,” you say, digging your thumbnail into your palm, where it rests on your lap. “Actually, I wanted to ask about the filet. What brandy is the sauce made with?”

Steve smiles, leaning a little bit closer to you. “We use Courvoisier.”

“Great. I’ll have that, please.”

Steve nods encouragingly at you. As he jots down the order, he says, “Wonderful. I’ll get this to the kitchen for you, but before I can bring you the wine, I’ll just need to see the lady’s I.D.”

“Are you serious?” Theo snaps.

“It’s all right,” you murmur, hiding your face as you dip your head to fish your I.D. out of your clutch. “He’s just doing his job. Right, Steven?”

Steve meets your eye as he takes the card from your hand. “You can never be too careful.” You watch him smirk as he looks over your I.D., his eyes lingering on your name for a second before he hands it back to you. If there was any doubt in his mind that you are who he thought, it’s gone now. “Interesting. We’re the same age.”

You laugh. Probably a little louder than is respectable, but you can’t help it. Leave it to Steve Harrington to remind you of the time you bought porn from him, while you’re on a date.

You watch Steve write something else on his notepad, and rip the page out before folding it up. He tucks his notepad into his pocket as he says, “I’ll get this started for you. I hope you enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, Steven,” you offer just as he starts to walk away.

Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your chest as you turn back to your date. Theo looks disgruntled, but he just lifts his water to his lips.

“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”

“Marketing manager,” Theo says, with a click of his tongue. “For Bowman Wine & Spirits.”

“Oh,” you nod. “No relation, I suppose?”

“My father owns the company.”

“Right.” God, help me.

Across the dining room, Steve watches you over his shoulder. His jaw sets as he sees you, the girl of his literal dreams, sitting across from some idiot who doesn’t even know that you don’t order for your date without asking her what she wants first, you fucking weasel.

That’s all right. You seem to have the situation under control, for now. Steve watches you calmly sip your water, staring at your date but not listening to a thing he’s saying.

Steve sighs. He’s never been much of a schemer, but he’ll just make sure that you won’t leave with this guy if you don’t want to.

His fingers brush the note in his pocket, and he pinches it just as he passes the front of house manager, Taryn. Without breaking stride, he slips the note into her hand, heading toward the back hallway and down to the wine cellar.

As Steve passes by, Taryn unfolds the note he slips her, and raises one eyebrow at the request he’s written.

I can see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note saying, “Meet me tonight.” Then we kissed and you know I won’t ever tell…

Overall, you enjoy Sur La Table immensely. The restaurant itself, anyways. The wine is wonderful. The atmosphere is great. The food is exquisite.

You’re about to jump the waiter’s bones.

Theo got his second wind sometime after the scallops arrived, and you think he hasn’t paused for breath since. You’ve been calmly eating your food, while Theo tells you literally everything about himself. It’s the best case scenario you can see happening on this date. You enjoy the food, mumble a non-committal acknowledgement now and then, and Theo entertains himself with his own voice the rest of the time.

You’re gonna kill Shelly for setting you up with him, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.

Right now, you’re focused on finishing your glass of wine while he talks about camping, of all things.

“So we got up into the Rockies,” he’s telling you, gesturing with his hands like it’ll make you more engaged. “We ended up freezing our keisters off. No joke, I have frostbite scars.”

“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”

“No, are you listening? I mean, it was terrible. We couldn’t move for, like, two days. And when the snow stopped we were so tired and cold, we almost died.”

You knock back the rest of your wine with one gulp, and say with a sticky voice, “Wow. A near death experience must have been really scary, I’m sorry.”

Theo frowns. “No- I mean… It wasn’t… it wasn’t near death-”

“You just said-”

“It was more like a serious inconvenience, you know. But we pulled through. I wasn’t scared. A little snow isn’t gonna kill me,” he laughs incredulously. “It was just-”

Theo stops as Steve approaches the table. You catch him giving the back of Theo’s head the most murderous look imaginable before slowing to a stop and plastering an easy customer service smile in its place. “How did you find everything this evening?”

“It was fine.”

“The food was wonderful,” you tell Steve reassuringly. Your date, on the other hand…

“Yeeeah, could we get the check, please?” Theo asks, finally looking up at Steve.

You watch Steve’s brow twitch, such a small movement you could have imagined it. “Certainly. But first-” from behind his back, he reveals two white gift boxes and places them on the table in front of you and your date, respectively. “We like to give each of our customers a signature chocolate truffle, as a token of our appreciation.”

Everything in you aches. “Oh, that’s nice. Thank you so much.” You look down at the box in adoration, thinking for a second that it might be the only time in your life that Steve Harrington gives you something similar to a ring box.

“I’ll be sure to have our hostess come through with the check,” Steve adds delicately, making a gracious exit. His finger just slightly brushes your arm as he passes by- a dangerous move, but one that nearly electrifies your entire body at the single touch. You shiver as he says, “Have a lovely night.”

You watch Steve walk away from you, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You want to chase after him. The 18 year old you, who almost kissed him on prom night, is trying to claw its way out of your skin and bolt after him.

When Steve disappears from view, you have nowhere to look but at your date. Theo opens the white box in front of him and pops a neapolitan colored truffle into his mouth. “Well, that was underwhelming.”

You don’t want to watch him chewing anymore, like a cow gnawing on grass. You sigh, running a frustrated hand across your forehead, and flip open the box in front of you. The top of it rears up like a clam shell, and you freeze, your fingertips suddenly sticking to the sweat beading on your brow.

You don’t have a neapolitan truffle- you have a single golden chocolate coin. You stare at it in shock for a second before you even notice the note pasted to the lid of the box.

Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms.

“Aren’t you gonna eat yours?” Theo asks suddenly, as the hostess approaches holding the check.

Your eyes snap up just as your heart shoots back up into your chest. “I think I’m gonna save it for later.” You flash him a smile as you close the box swiftly and shove it into your clutch. “Do you mind if I hit the bathroom real quick?”

“No, go ahead. I’ve got it.” Honestly, it’s the kindest thing he’s done for you all night. You might have to thank him some day.

Once you’re out of your seat, you chase after Steve like a shot. Around a block of tables and into a tiled corridor, you walk past the kitchen doorway just as another server comes backing out, carrying a tray of dishes.

There’s a door at the end of the hall, labeled exit. You never actually thought you’d be escaping a bad date through the back door; the notion was too clichéed, you thought that sort of thing only happened in movies. But you find yourself nearly running past the men’s and women’s bathrooms, until your hands slam down on the bar of the back door and thrust it open into the wind.

The rain has picked up, more of a downpour than a light drizzle now. In your haste, you’d left your umbrella and coat with the coat check. Not that it would have been at all discrete if you’d gone to collect it before running towards the bathrooms.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you gaze around in the dark. The alley behind the restaurant is only partially lit by a yellow street lamp, making it even more difficult to find him than it was in the dining room. “Steve?”

You catch movement in the corner of your eye, and turn in the direction of the street lamp. Steve stands up from where he’d been sitting on an overturned crate- apparently the only accommodations the restaurant staff gets during a smoke break. The rain has already soaked into his hair, messing up the tidy style and turning it stringy, falling across his forehead, shining gold in the yellow light. He takes one last puff of the cigarette in his mouth before tossing it into the gutter, and he looks at you.

He sees you. And it’s all you’ve wanted since the day he first walked into your geography class, freshman year of high school. There’s been some kind of a magnetic pull between you two for years. Something keeps bringing you together, it’s just never been the right time. Until now.

Finally, you’re running towards him, and Steve’s arms finally come around you, pulling you against his body. Your hands find the back of his neck just in time for his lips to crash against yours.

You had lost count of the amount of times you watched him kiss other girls in the hallway in high school- not just Nancy, but any and every girl he attached himself to (for a while, it seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind who he was dating at any given moment). All you knew was that it was never you, and you wanted it to be so desperately that it consumed your mind half the time. He looked like a good kisser, and you fantasized about going up to him and testing that theory for yourself.

But you never expected that his lips would slide over yours with an urgency that you could feel through to your very core, probably even more desperate for your kiss than you are for his. Steve’s fingertips press into your body through the thin fabric of your dress, holding you firmly to him like he’s afraid you might disappear on him again if he doesn’t absorb you completely. Your mouth opens with a soft gasp, and Steve’s tongue against yours tastes like tobacco.

It happens so fast that you can’t even think- and you don’t really want to. You’re tired of thinking everything through, finding reasons upon reasons why it’s not a good time, why it’s a bad idea, why it won’t work. He moans into you, grabbing the side of your face as he stumbles with you to the wall, pressing you up against the side of the brick building.

You meet his moan with a whimper of your own as his hand slides down over the curve of your ass, and he hikes up the skirt of your dress to grab at your skin with abandon. There’s a ferocity in Steve’s kiss that you don’t know what to do with, like he’s trying to stake a claim to you right there in the rain, with no one around to see it happen but the moths in the street light overhead. Not that he needs to- he’s already got you. You already chose him.

Steve gives you room to breathe with a soft sigh, his forehead resting against yours. “Been wanting to do that since high school,” he admits, just loud enough for you to hear, before pressing a featherlight kiss just beside your mouth, and again to your cheek.

“Y-you fffucking-?” you gasp when he latches his lips around a sweet spot on your neck and sucks. “I had such a huge crush on you, Steve.”

“I know. I- I should have- I should…” Steve drops his head against your shoulder and groans when your nails rake against his scalp. “Fuck.”

He grinds his hips up against yours, biting your lip as the hard length of his cock presses up against your core. “Gonna fuck me in this alleyway, Harrington?”

“I’m seriously considering it,” he growls into your ear. His lips find yours again with a passion, his hand holding your jaw still. A hot breath escapes him, pouring over your skin and making you shiver. You’re lightheaded, so close to just letting him do it, too, when the back door of the restaurant swings open.

Steve still takes a second to pull away, a little too absorbed in kissing you to really care who sees him do it. If he had his way, he’d have everyone see that you’re his- that you belong with him, and have for a long time. He finally glances over his shoulder to see one of the cooks, Liam, walking off in the direction of the employee parking lot.

“Where did you get the fucking doubloon?” you whisper into his ear, sounding so fucking adorable that Steve can’t help the lovesick look he gives you.

He brushes his nose against yours. “I sent my manager on a treasure hunt.” You giggle, pressing your forehead up against his, and he can’t help but chuckle along with you. “I wanted to give you one at Family Video, that time.”

“I know,” you say, and he pulls back to look at your face. “I heard you yelling at your coworker in the back room.”

Steve snickers and turns red with embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his rain-soaked hair, a content smile on your face as you feel him grin against your skin and shake with laughter. “Take me home, Steve.”

You don’t have to ask him twice.

What would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you make me want you even more…

The drive to Steve’s apartment downtown is made with light conversation and the heavy, heavy weight of his hand on your thigh, creeping up further with each mile. But aside from the implication of sex hanging in the air, it’s as easy as breathing, chatting about the night with him. Shitting on Theo.

“Did you notice the way he said coquilles,” Steve murmurs to you at a red light. “I thought he was gagging on something. He was just trying to impress you, you know.”

You grunt. Could’ve tried a little harder. “He didn’t even like them. He said he didn’t like shellfish,” you laugh in return as you lace your fingers through Steve’s. “Why the fuck would you order scallops, then?”

“The price.”

It’s sweet, talking to him all the way to his apartment building, just catching up like old friends. He tells you that he’s going to culinary school now, and he’s been working at the restaurant for a little over a year, just to pay the bills.

“Culinary school? Really?” you say, with a note of awe in your voice.

“Turns out I’m really fucking good at cooking,” Steve chuckles. “Who’d have thought? Maybe someday I’ll stop waiting tables and work back there in the kitchen.”

“I can see it,” you tell him softly. “I can see you being the world’s best chef. Three stars and everything.”

He scoffs, but a pink blush creeps up the back of his neck. “You have too much faith in me.”

“Those are fighting words, Harrington.” You wag your finger at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”

“You just want me to cook you something,” Steve tuts.

“Absolutely, I do.” You consider him for a moment, in the passing light of a streetlamp. “Am I that transparent?”

Steve tilts his head to eye you meaningfully, and he smirks. “Always have been, honey.” His thumb rubs a little circle on your thigh that has you squirming in your seat.

The first thing you see of Steve’s apartment is the kitchen, and beyond that the dormant living room, but you don’t get that far before you’re sidetracked. Steve throws his keys onto a drop station by the door, and pins you up against the refrigerator before you can even think to ask where to put your shoes.

Your clothes are still damp, your hair still pasted to your clammy skin. Steve’s lips are attacking yours and his hands are grabbing at everything he can touch, but it’s still not enough. He’s not able to feel all of you at once, and it’s driving him insane with every passing moment.

Steve roughly yanks his suit jacket off, throwing it onto the tile floor beside the kitchen island. “Lay down.”

“What?” you whisper to him as he kisses your neck, guiding you away from the side of the fridge. “Here?”

“Right here,” Steve states, not joking in the slightest. You wobble on your feet as you kick off your heels, but his hands on your hips keep you steady. “Been waiting too long for this- can’t wait anymore.”

“I- wwhuh-?” you gasp as Steve kneels in front of you, and your knees buckle involuntarily as he lays you down across his discarded jacket. Your hands grab his shoulders as you tumble backward, taking him with you.

He face-plants into your stomach with a noisy, “Oof.” Cackling, you run your fingers through his damp hair, as he laughs and shoves his blushing face further against your torso. Steve litters your stomach with kisses, giggling against you with a note of nervous energy. He’s adorable.

You pet your fingers down the side of his face and he leans into the touch. “Can’t even wait long enough to take me to the bedroom?”

“Well, I would have fucked you in the alley,” Steve points out as his fingers breach the hem of your skirt and find your panties. He tugs as he says, “Be thankful I even got you home.”

Your cheeks burn hot. You fidget, trying to press your thighs together to abate the throbbing ache between them. “Careful, baby. You’re starting to sound desperate.”

Steve pauses, his hazel eyes lighting up when they lock on yours. “Call me that again,” he requests, pressing a kiss to your ankle as he pulls your panties off your feet. He tosses them over his shoulder, but you don’t see where they land as he continues peppering kisses down your calf.

You hold his gaze. “Baby?” His eyes flutter, his lips parting as they drag up toward your knee. “You like when I call you that?”

“I like when you call me anything,” Steve admits. “But as long as you call me that, it means I’m yours.”

Your breath stutters in your chest. Steve Harrington is yours. It doesn’t matter if it’s just for tonight- what matters is that you have him now, and he wants you just as badly.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he murmurs quietly against your skin, his voice crackling with brimming need. He’s flushed, his cheeks pink and his hair drying in tousled waves over his forehead the longer he drags this out.

Nodding your head, you reach down to lace your fingers through his, where they’re bunching your skirt up around your hips. “Yes, Steve.” Always have been.

He turns his head and sucks a spot on your calf, just below your knee, resting your ankle over his shoulder. Still, despite your desperation, you nervously keep your thighs pinched together.

Steve tuts, “C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta spread your legs for me. You wanna let me see that pretty pussy, right?”

Still clammy and cold with rain, the air on your exposed skin makes you shiver almost as much as his sweeping hands do when they gently part your thighs. You let go, let him take control as you still and keep your eyes focused on his face, because looking anywhere else would remind you that this is real, and not a dream.

Steve sighs, “There she is. Y’gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” He bats his pretty eyes at you in a way that makes your heart stop dead in your chest. He can’t keep his mouth off of you, even for a moment, his lips and slight stubble dragging across your skin as he says, “Been wanting to forever, you won’t even believe-”

“Please, Steve,” you start to beg before he even finishes his sentence. “Please, my god, I- I just- I just want you so much-”

“Sh-sh-sh-shh.” His tongue licks wet and hot against your inner thigh before he whispers, “I’ve got you, baby. M’not going anywhere, I’m staying right here ‘til you cum.”

You’re instantly hot all over, your blood fucking boiling beneath your skin and your wet dinner dress. Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he yanks you toward his face, the fabric of his jacket beneath you audibly zipping along the kitchen floor.

Steve dips his head, and his mouth closes over your cunt right at the same moment that yours falls open with a moan that won’t come out, because you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. The noise stalls right at the beginning- your lungs stop working and you can’t seem to get them to start again, because Steve’s tongue is everywhere, dripping wet and gentle on skin that’s way too sensitive to handle it right now. Your hips try to jerk away from him in resistance, but he slams his hand down on them, holding you hard and still against the tile floor, his shoulders pushed up against the backs of your thighs to keep them open.

Steve takes a break just long enough to grin evilly up at you, because he’s been waiting for five years to tell you to, “Breathe, sweetheart.”

“Fffffuck,” you manage to spit out finally, your voice cracking on the word like it didn’t even really want to put in the work to make it happen. Your breath comes back into your lungs all at once, rapid firing with a dozen moans for punctuation. Steve’s lips quirk against you, and he rumbles a noise of satisfaction against your pussy that makes you jolt in his hold again. “Steve…”

He pulls off of you with a slow, slow stroke of his tongue over your clit, making you whimper high and tight in your throat. “That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers, his breath fanning across your slick cunt, his left hand leaving your hip so that he can drag his knuckles teasingly through your swollen folds. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so right.”

Two long fingers sink into you with ease, stirring the need in you to have him just simply destroy you. You moan loud, your hand shooting out and wrapping around the leg of a bar stool for the kitchen island beside you.

“Poor thing’s just so sensitive, huh?” Your head arches backwards against the floor, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as he curves them with practiced accuracy. Steve’s voice is a deep murmur, distant thunder rolling over your nerves, “Relax for me, honey. You’ve waited long enough, just let it happen. Let me give you what you want.”

His lips shine when you look down at him, your hand reaching to run through his hair. Stifling a whine that threatens to come out when he kisses your clit and bends his fingers within you, you stutter out, “J-just want… I- ha-ah! Just want you.”

Steve purrs. “I know.” The crisp white fabric of his shirt scrapes against your thighs, almost rough in comparison to his tongue flat on your pussy. You can hear the wet, salacious sound of his fingers pumping into you, pulling you toward the edge of oblivion. He hisses through his teeth, shaking his head slightly. “God, I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Y-you-?” you manage a laugh, scraping your nails along his scalp lightly. “You’re lucky? You have n-no… fffucking idea-” You cut off with a sob when Steve wraps his lips around your clit, sucking long and hard enough that your leg twitches, your heel dragging up the back of his pristine white blouse. Your breathing picks up just as all your muscles lock down tight. “Jesus Christ-”

“There you go,” Steve praises as your orgasm shakes your body, your hand gripping his hair so hard that he groans softly into your damp skin. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, lewd wet noises picking up and echoing through the quiet kitchen. “That’s a good girl. Mmm , felt so nice to let go, didn’t it?”

You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that- you’re still twitching, coming down from your high as he pulls his fingers from your spasming cunt and sucks them into his mouth. The pause gives you a gentle reprieve, sinking back onto his suit jacket beneath you. Then, his mouth finds your pussy again, his tongue delving deep into your entrance and laving up to your sensitive clit.

You gasp, throwing your hands down into his hair. “Steve-?!”

He moans in response. “Just needed to taste you some more, honey. Taste so fuckin’ sweet, I can’t get enough.” Steve relents, crawling up your body to hover his face over yours. “Still wanna see the bedroom?”

You nod excitedly, your hands finding his smiling face and stroking the hair away from his eyes. With a gentle kiss of his wet lips to yours, Steve gathers your still-wrecked body into his arms and carries you into his bedroom.

He’s struck by how blissful you are as he sets you down on his bed, so soft and inviting. He encourages your arms up, his hands finding the zipper of your wet dress and finally, finally, pulling it over your head so that he can see you. All your curves and edges on display for him, after all this time imagining what he couldn’t see with the naked eye.

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve repeats what he told you all those years ago at prom- he meant it then, and he means it now. Maybe even more this time, now that he’s not a stupid teenager, now that he finally has his head on his shoulders.

You shiver against him when he unclips your bra- black lace that matches the underwear sitting in his entryway. A possessive part of him rears up, knowing that you’d worn them to a date with some asshole who couldn’t treat you right, even for one hour of the guy’s miserable life. Steve dips his head and kisses your breast, so much softer now than he was before, feeling your heartbeat against his lips.

“Hey.” You gently tug him by his tie, loosening it and his collar. You look into his eyes, and his heart melts. “Where’d you go just now, sailor?”

Steve blushes, his eyes flicking down as you remove his tie and start unbuttoning his blouse. “Just thinking...” he trails off, eyeing you thoughtfully. “Just thinking I could have missed you again if I wasn’t careful.”

“Mmm,” you hum, your hands smoothing up his chest and over his shoulders to get his shirt off of him. It drops to the floor with a whisper. “I don’t think so. I think this was meant to happen, eventually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You scrunch your nose cutely, in a way that makes Steve’s pants tighten even more uncomfortably across his hips. “We’ve run into each other too many fuckin’ times, baby. Karma’s on our side.”

He laughs. “Karma.” He shakes his head as he undoes his belt.

You quirk your brow at him as your hands fiddle with the fly of his suit pants. “Don’t believe me?”

Steve grunts, shifting to lean over you. “I’ll believe anything you say when you’re taking my pants off, honey. I’m easy that way.”

Your nails rake through the hair on his chest- you can’t keep your hands off of him now that they’ve got him. You trace over two blotchy scars, one on either side of his torso that mirror each other. “What happened here?”

He blows a puff of air out of his mouth, rounding his cheeks as he shrugs. “Some… animals decided I looked really tasty, at one point. I know, they aren’t very pretty.”

Steve’s brushing over it like it’s nothing. You search his face, and you decide to do the same. “Actually, I think it’s kind of hot.” You drag your hand up to lay flat over his chest. You whisper conspiratorially, “Plus, I think you look really tasty, too.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Y’gonna bite me about it?”

“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”

Your gaze falls indiscreetly to his cock, hard and flushed, glistening with precum and curving up toward his stomach. Girls talk, especially when they’re all trying to one-up each other; you knew that he was big. You’d heard the rumors. You’d seen him wearing those tight fucking jeans all the time, and you didn’t have to have much of an imagination to figure it out.

Still. It’s… a little overwhelming. You reach out a tentative hand, lightly wrapping your fingers around his base. They barely meet. Jesus Christ.

He groans, and kisses you until you can’t speak, resting his weight on top of you until you sink gleefully into the mattress. There’s a smile on your lips that transfers onto his, happiness and ease still flowing between you even as he grinds his hips up against yours.

“Ready?” Steve murmurs softly into your mouth, stealing your breath when you feel his cock slide through your folds, hot and fat.

“Dunno,” you tell him teasingly, but there’s an edge of reason to your words. Your hips squirm and you feel him even worse, slippery with your arousal. You whine. “I think you might kill me with that thing, Harrington.”

“I’ll go slow,” he whispers, hoarse in the back of his throat, his voice already shaking. “I’ll make sure you feel every bit of it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree as you reach to line him up properly. “I’m all yours.”

Steve gives a relieved sigh as he slides into you, his head falling heavily to your shoulder. His cock aches, his torso shaking as he tries to steady himself. “Oh my god.”

“Baby,” you coo, choking on a moan when he bottoms out. He’s so thick- your nails dig into his shoulder blades as you try to remember how to breathe. It’s certainly a big stretch to try to fit him, but you can’t help wanting more just as soon as he comes to a stop. You can feel him trying to hold steady, holding himself back as though it’s the hardest thing in the world for him to do.

Because it is. You can’t see it, the way that his brow is furrowed in concentration, his eyes screwed shut. He didn’t know it would be like this- that he’d be in danger of blowing it just as soon as he started.

Your heel digs into his ass, and he doesn’t know if you do it purposefully, but he almost whimpers.

You take a shuddering breath. “Please- please move, Steve, I can’t take it.”

Oh, you can’t take it? “You know what,” Steve says with a hint of strain in his voice, picking his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours, “I think you like me.”

You snort, and kiss him lightly. “What gave you that impression?”

“Y’so fucking cute.” Steve hums and sloooowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock through your walls so deliciously that your toes curl. “Could be all those times you stared at me in class-” He watches your face as he pushes forward, until his hips are flush with yours and your head arches backwards against his sheets. “Could be when you nearly let me kiss you at prom-” Out. In. Steve runs his tongue up the length of your throat, and bites at your earlobe. He whispers, “Could be that you came on my tongue ten minutes ago.”

He picks up his pace, just a bit. Just enough to have the bed creaking under you with the rhythm, to have you moaning in tandem with him- needy and high pitched, leaping from your throat into the hot, sex-charged air.

Steve’s lips latch onto your neck, and he sucks hard. He eases up after just a couple seconds, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot, but you know what he’s just done- he’s marked you, right where you won’t be able to hide it in the morning.

You want him to do it all over your body.

Your jaw goes slack and you’re losing all integrity. He’s even better than you imagined- sleepless nights wanting, hoping endlessly that you’d find yourself here, under him, couldn’t have prepared you for how perfect it feels. His hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning it to the mattress beside your head, squeezing with every slow and purposeful thrust of his hips.

Steve’s cock finds your g-spot like it’s nothing, like he’s known your body for ages. He barely even has to try before you’re whimpering, raking your nails up his back and leaving long red trails behind.

Your teeth latch onto his shoulder and you bite, probably harder than you should, but you just can’t refuse the urge to mark him the way that he’s left his mark on you. He moans, a deep and boyish sound in your ear, as you drag your tongue along his shoulder, soothing the bite, tasting his sweat. The salt and the sweetness of his skin, mixed with the heady smell of sex in the room, have you losing yourself in him.

“Biter.” You hear him chuckle dangerously, rumbling along your skin while his nose skirts your jawline.

“You’re so good, Stevie-” you whine, hot pleasure rearing up in you like a tidal wave. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, I love- love how you feel inside me.”

Steve groans loudly into your shoulder, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You think he has a mind to bite you back- maybe he’d do it harder. You can see Steve drawing blood, when the mood suits him.

But his hand squeezes yours, his other sweeping broadly up your thigh and hitching your leg up further over his hip. “Yeah?” His voice is rough, bordering on a growl, “What’d’ya say we stay like this forever, huh? Just like this?”

His pelvis grinds up against yours, his pubes crushing against your clit making you gasp. Everything’s wet- your skin, his skin, the sheets. Sweaty bodies sticking and sliding against each other, your hips meeting his in the middle.

“Like this?” you gasp, your head reeling. His forehead presses against yours, and it’s just about the only thing bringing you back into focus. Steve doesn’t falter, keeping the same pace and rhythm while he watches you try to form a coherent reply. “Mm- I- I, hhuh-”

“C’mon, babygirl,” he breathes against your damp skin, “you can do better than that. You love my cock so much, you wanna keep it warm all the time? Wanna stay in bed with me forever, is that it?”

You nod fervently, your hands grabbing at his neck, his hair, his shoulder- anywhere you can touch. “Yes, yes. God, Steve, I- you’re gonna make me cum, shit-”

“I know it,” Steve murmurs, tugging your lip between his teeth and making you whine again. Your cunt pulses around him, and he hisses, his hand slipping on your thigh. “Love seein’ you all drunk on my cock- shit, you’re so gorgeous like this.” He pauses to kiss you, making you lightheaded, making you tug at his hair. “Y’look so pretty under me, baby. Pussy feels so good, I wanna stay here, too. I can see us doin’ this for the rest of our lives, huh? How’s that sound?”

How does it sound? You and Steve Harrington, together forever? Intertwined, knotted up with no way to lose each other, no disappearing and then reappearing years down the line?

“S’that a challenge?” you whimper shakily at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”

“I don’t think I could let you go, now,” Steve tells you firmly, his hand leaving your thigh so that he can grab your jaw possessively, his tongue darting out to trace gently across your bottom lip. “I’m never gonna let you go, baby.”

You wrap your legs around his waist. “I don’t want you to.”

“I hope so,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours.

Steve kisses you long and slow when you cum. You swallow his moans when he does.

What would you? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you, oh, I can see you…

You almost think it’s a dream. When you rouse in the morning, you feel like you imagined it. But you’re surrounded by the scent of Steve, of musky cologne and sweat and sex, and maybe just a little bit of hair gel stuck to his pillows.

You flop over and stare at the ceiling. You’re alone in a king size bed, fitted with gray sheets and a few too many pillows. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your paramour is nowhere to be found. His bedroom is fairly stark, with a few little things arranged on the dresser top and clothes thrown around the floor. It doesn’t feel like a room he spends much time in, aside from sleeping and dressing in the morning.

You immediately think about what this all means for you. Whether he really meant what he said in the heat of the moment, if he really wants this to be a long-term thing or if it was just pillow talk. It doesn’t take you long to determine which one you want it to be.

There’s commotion on the other side of the closed door. You lean over the side of the bed, searching for something to put on before you just waltz out there naked. Ultimately, you pull on his blouse from last night.

You emerge from the bedroom squinting against the light in the room. The blinds in the living room are open, casting bright sunlight across the room and into the kitchen. You find Steve in front of the stove.

“Hey, there she is!” he announces happily. “Just in time for breakfast.”

Steve looks so comfortable in the kitchen, moving around quickly and efficiently, whereas you tend to blunder about. When you wander over to the island, you notice he’s already picked up his suit jacket, and laid it across the bar stool next to the one you choose.

Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.

You grin at his back, plopping down onto the bar stool. The metal is cold against your bare ass, nearly making you squeal and jump back up. “Is it a Sex on the Beach?”

He laughs gleefully. “Nah, if only. How was that, by the way?”

“The ice cream, or the porn?”

He turns to grin at you over his shoulder. “Both.”

He’s wearing glasses. Round wire frames that complement his face perfectly, making him look distinguished in his gray sweats and black t-shirt. Just like that, you’re spiraling. Suddenly, you’re picturing yourself being here, with him cooking breakfast in his glasses and PJ’s every morning, on and on into the future. Doing domestic shit, grocery shopping, dancing around in the kitchen at 3 am, kissing in the rain- well, you’ve already done that one.

But you can see it. That future, with him by your side, it’s right there. You just don’t know if it’s the one that he wants. You don’t really know how deep this runs for him.

Funny what just an accessory can do to your train of thought.

“Um.” You swallow. What was the question? “The ice cream was great. Still the best sundae I’ve ever had, by the way. The porn was bullshit, I didn’t get through twenty minutes. I just wanted to make you blush.”

“Brat.” He spins around, and plates an omelet right in front of you. You watch his face, tracing the easy smile he wears. “I hope you like it- but if you don’t, you better not say anything. I don’t think I could handle the pain of your rejection.” He looks up at you, hazel eyes shining gold in the sunlight. “You’re staring.”

“I-” you blink at him. You don’t fucking say. You open your mouth to ask- you want to ask what this is, what he feels, did he mean it. Do you want to do this again? Is this serious for you? Because it is for me, if you want it. You just don’t get that far.

“You’ve been staring since we were fourteen,” he chuckles, sliding you a fork.

That startles you. “Well,” you click your tongue. “I didn’t realize you were looking so closely.”

“Oh,” Steve shrugs, turning to place the pan in the sink. “Just since freshman year. When you read Juliet’s monologue in English class. Remember?”

You tilt your head. Vaguely. It was just a class project, where each person had to choose a Shakespearean monologue to recite in front of the class. You thought he only even became aware of you senior year.

Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee, Take all myself.

“Are you telling me,” you say, palms flat on the counter as you peer at him incredulously, “you’ve liked me just as long as I’ve liked you?”

“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”

Your brain refuses to compute. You stare at his back, his tousled hair, and want to yank him toward you and squeeze him like one of those fucking squeaky toys that you get at the pet store. The ones the eyes pop out of.

Steve turns to you with a smirk, leaning across the counter to mirror you. He reaches forward to trace the mark he made on your neck, still tender, while mocking your pout back at you. His eyes crease at the corners, like they always do when he’s trying to be coy.

“Eat your breakfast, baby. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

(I see you, I see you, baby.)

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #roses*

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 11 months ago

Text

Golden Walkway

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader (Reader is a teacher in Jackson, has long hair.) Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: It’s your birthday, Joel takes you out to the Tipsy Bison, kisses (and does more to) you in the rain, and takes you home to give you a gift (it's sex, the gift is sex). Also, the thought of Joel spitting whiskey in someone's mouth happened and I had to write it out. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Warnings: smut, drinking, consent first, degradation second, followed by so much praise, hair pulling, spitting, Joel calls you a slut, fingering against a brick wall, F receiving oral, I watched that doggy style Narcos gif (for research) a lot, unprotected p in v, apocalypse birth control (pulling out), Joel’s canon age, Reader’s in her 30’s. Words: 4,300 A/N: Hi! Welcome to my first published fic. I'm currently working on a grander scale fic with these two, I hope to have the first chapter out within the next couple of weeks. I just really wanted to get this out there! Thanks for reading and a big thank you to @ohheypedrito for all of her help and also to our phones for not overheating when I send 40 texts at once with ideas for fics. Hope you enjoy, can't even blame the feralness of this on the full moon.

Edit: I posted the Masterlist for Elks, my work these two are included in.

***

“Was turning 21 as fun as they’d show in movies back then?” You’re cuddled in next to Joel on his couch sketching in your notebook while Joel reads a book about Native Americans that you found him. You always do this, a random question or thought to break the comfortable silence.

“Not for me, bought a 12 pack of Bud Light and split it on my porch with Tommy. Sarah was only a toddler then and I had work in the morning. Didn’t have the money or the time to go to a bar. ‘Course I don’t think a lotta people did anything the way they’d show in the movies.”

“I always wanted to have my 21st birthday at a bar, ya’ know? Wait until the clock strikes midnight and order a weird named shot.”

“Well, I reckon we could do that at the Bison tomorrow night. Might not be your 21st but I’ll get you whatever you want to drink, and the best part is you can drink before midnight.” Joel pulls you in closer and kisses your forehead, “What do you say, let me take you out for your birthday sweetheart.”

“Yes, please,” you sigh into his shoulder, “sounds amazing.”

“Wear that little blue dress I know you have hanging in your closet.”

The drinks flowing through you making you downright giddy, alcohol making you bolder, your body and your inhibitions becoming looser, your hands becoming addicted to touching Joel, first his leg, then his thigh, now his lower stomach, right at his waistband. You haven’t been this tipsy in a long time, your face feeling flushed and red more from your desire than any drink you’ve had tonight.

“You better knock that off before I take you outside in the rain and fuck you against the building, darling,” Joel huffs into your ear. His fiery warning massaging your neck causing your heart rate cooled by your inebriation to pick up.

“Sooo, keep going?” You slur back.

“If that’s what you really want,” Joel puts a forceful squeeze on your upper thigh, a layer of your dress laying between his skin and your skin. If you weren’t both sitting at the bar, and maybe in one of the more darker corners of the saloon you’d surely hike your skirt up and let him learn just how bad you want him.

It feels so good to let go with him, to giggle openly at his jokes, stare at his profile as he talks with a friend or two who stop by to say hello, or place your hand on his broad back just because you want to touch his soft blue denim shirt.

You watch as his tongue darts out and licks the leftover whiskey off his top lip, Joel’s movements becoming a little slower thanks to the amber liquid he’s been drinking all night. Some droplets glisten on his mustache, you fight every urge inside yourself to not lean over and lick them up.

“It’s what I want,” you respond as you move your hand back and forth across his waistband.

“Jesus Christ, I’m about ready to throw you over my shoulder and run home,” Joel says as he takes your hand into his and pulls it away.

“Not so fast. You told me you’d fuck me in the rain, that’s what I want for my birthday,” you whisper into his ear with a breathy giggle.

“Can’t fuck you out here in public. Small town ‘n all, but I’ll make you feel good,” Joel takes a last swig of his drink, puts the glass down and knocks his fist on the bar to let the bartender know you two are leaving. He leans forward and drawls into your ear, “Now finish your drink if you want me to show you just how happy of a birthday I can give you.”

You nod and gulp your drink down. You’re so wet, you don’t know if you’ve ever been this turned on before. Joel grabs your arm with the perfect amount of pressure, you’ve never been so happy to get outside into the pouring rain.

——

It’s absolutely storming outside, your footsteps sloshing in the puddles on the ground. The rain pelting your’s and Joel’s bodies as you walk through late night Jackson. It feels like you’re the only two people in the whole town as you make your way farther away from the bar. The bulbs of the string lights reflecting off the water gathering on the sidewalks making your path towards Joel’s house golden. You don’t rush, the two of you not scared away by the downpour, the drops cooling your burning skin. Joel turns down the street before his, pulling you behind one of the storage buildings, it’s darker back here, practically pitch black thanks to the rain clouds blocking the moon and the nearest light source being three buildings down. You’re pushed up against the brick, Joel’s hand gently cradling your head to block it from hitting the wall, he’s such a gentleman.

“Happy birthday baby, I need you to tell me you want this, ‘n you’re okay with this, I have plans for you and I need you to tell me you want it.” Joel instructs you, all you can see is his eyes and the faint lines of his facial hair, the rest of him camouflaged by the darkness surrounding the two of you.

“I want it, more than anything. Please,” your voice straining as you beg.

“Tell me you want me to have my way with you,” Joel speaks into your slack mouth as he rubs his arched nose against yours.

“I want you to have your way with me,” you moan against his wet shirt, “so bad.”

“Good girl, now, m’not gonna fuck you here, because I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop and I need to have you in my bed tonight.” Joel starts to move his hand down your body lifting the hem of your dress. “But, you are going to cum for me right here.” Joel captures your mouth with his. His hand starts to trace the outline of your panties, you mew out a cry as his fingers slip through and begin to pet you right where you ache the most. His hands are so big, his fingers so long and thick, always putting the right amount of pressure, moving the way you need him to move. Joel Miller is a capable man, everyone knows that, but nobody, except for you, knows just how capable he is.

Joel sticks a finger in you, though his finger is thick and feels so good, you need more to fill you.

“Another,” you instruct in between fevered kisses. Your pussy clenches as Joel pushes another finger in you. “Yessss,” you moan out against his lips.

“That’s my good girl, gotta get you stretched out f’me.” Joel begins to kiss his way down your chin and neck stopping at your chest, your hard nipples jutting through your wet dress. Joel takes one into his mouth, sucking the fabric and your tit deeper into his mouth. The sloppy wet sounds of Joel’s suctions making you want him more.

“Another finger,” you shudder out. “Three? You really want it tonight, don’t you?” Joel mumbles against your chest as he sticks a third finger in. It burns, it burns in the best way. You’re ready for him, it’s what you’ve been waiting for all night. You bite down on your lip as your legs begin to shake, Joel can tell you’re right on the edge and twists his fingers inside of you as he finger fucks you harder.

Your orgasm bursts forward your whole body going stiff as you try not to wail out into the night.

“That’s iiiiiit baby,” Joel pulls his fingers out of you and softly pets your pussy from hole to clit.

He removes his hand from between your legs bringing it up between the two of you resting his finger tips against your lips, you open your mouth and begin to lick. His tongue meeting yours as you both clean his thick digits covered in you. He takes his hand away leaving just your mouths to taste each other. His kiss turns tender, your kiss turns desperate.

Joel pulls away resting his forehead against yours. “My beautiful birthday girl. Let’s get you home, my gift’s not done.”

——

Your body practically chills with the promise of what is left to come. Joel grabs your hand and you take it depending on him to lead you to his home. Every step you take you feel your wet core heavy with lust, you’re soaked from the rain and from Joel, if you could drown like this, you would go down with the sinking ship. His house comes into view, your body tingling in anticipation at the site as the both of you speed your footsteps up in perfect agreement.

He throws open the gate, you’re following so close you almost trip on his heels making your way up the walkway and steps. He fumbles for his keys and unlocks the doors, you take the opportunity to run your hands all over his back and sides, rubbing the wet cloth of his shirt as it molds to his body. The door swings open and you both shuffle into his living room gasps escaping your mouths, both out of breath from your dash home and your mutual want for each other. You step out of your wet shoes and shake your hair out.

“Take your dress off, right now.” Joel huffs out as he tosses his keys on the console table and begins to kick his boots off.

You strip yourself of your baby blue frock as fast as you can. You’ve never had a reason to wear such a revealing piece of clothing. You don’t know why you held onto it, let alone grabbing it from the communal clothing rack, never thinking anything, or anyone, would be worthy enough for you to dress up for. Joel’s worthy, so worthy.

“Feel like I’m a little underdressed here…” your words grab Joel’s attention as he moves his hands up to his chest to begin to unbutton his denim shirt. He gets one button taken care of before he rips it open. Shame, it’s your favorite shirt, you'll have to fix it for him later. You watch as a button rolls underneath a table, before you can note where it lands, your attention turns back to Joel to find him stepping out of his jeans and underwear leaving him completely naked.

What a sight, what a fucking sight. There’s only a lamp on in the room, Joel’s body being cast in amber color and shadow, one side of him on full display glowing in the light, the other more difficult to discern. He moves forward stalking you. “Now I’m the underdressed one here. Take them off for me,” he says as he moves to pick up a bottle of whiskey from his shelf.

You follow his instructions shucking your underwear down your legs and leaving them pooled at your feet.

“Good girl,” Joel says as he begins to walk towards you unscrewing the lid off the bottle. He stands in front of you and takes a drink. “Open your mouth,” he orders as he grabs your hair and tips your head back. He takes another pull from the bottle, this time he raises his mouth over your mouth and begins to dribble drips of whiskey down from his mouth into yours. A moan raises from your throat, causing Joel to tighten his hold on your hair and arch your head back even more. He spits the rest of the whiskey straight into your mouth, you happily swallow his spit and liquor down. He unwinds his hands from your hair, takes another drink and kisses you, the whiskey and his tongue spilling into your mouth. Joel pulls back and takes his last swig before resting the bottle on the table. “Get upstairs.”

You don’t think you’ve ever run so fast in your life, tripping over your feet as you rush your way up, Joel’s naked form hunting you like prey up each step.

The sight of Joel’s bed brings a new wave of goosebumps to your skin.

“Bend over on the bed darlin,” Joel turns on a lamp in the corner and pulls it closer. “Need to lick and fuck you with my tongue.”

You move over to Joel’s side of the bed and bend forward, your ass sitting high in the air and your face in the sheets, you inhale the smell of Joel on his sheets. You swing your hips in giddy anticipation of what’s about to happen.

You feel his body lean over yours, his erection laying over your lumbar. “Okay baby, once again, need you to tell me you’re good with me having my way with your body,” he tempts into your ear.

“Fuck, y—yes, fuck, of course I am good. So good.”

“That’s my girl,” Joel’s heavy body lifting off of yours as he kneels between your legs. You feel his hot breaths on you where you’re aching for him the most, you widen your stance egging him on to touch you. “Look at you,” Joel licks your thigh, “so fuckin’ wet you’ve spilled out into your thighs.”

You scream a pleasured yell as Joel’s teeth bite down into the flesh of your thigh and sucks your skin into his mouth. The pain is perfect. He loosens his bite, kissing and licking the spot, the sensation making your body quiver.

“Okay baby?”

“Y-y-yessss,” you answer.

“Whaddo you need sweetheart?”

“Lick me,” you beg out, “please.”

“‘Course. Where do you want me to lick you?” Joel questions as he nuzzles his head against your ass cheek, giving it a small bite.

“My pussy. Pleeeaaase,” you’d say you sound pathetic but you couldn’t care less, your lust overshadowing any type of pride.

“Mm, you sound so needy baby, you sound like you really need my tongue on you, huh?” His teasing drawl drives you crazy, your body won’t stop moving, absolutely radiating tensity from your want.

“Please,” you implore, sobbing out.

“Alright baby,” his hands grab your cheeks and spreads them, widening his view of you. “Prettiest thing I ever seen, love your pussy.”

This act feels so depraved, everything on display for him, legs and cheeks spread wide, your pussy exhibited for him like it’s an art piece.

You literally scream into the bed, biting down on Joel’s comforter as his tongue finally meets your core. This, thiiiiiiis is what you’ve been wanting all night. Joel moans against you, not being able to hold himself back as he tastes you, his fevered licks exploring your cunt, his large tongue mapping every inch of you. He’s absolutely conquering you, the noises of his lips and tongue smacking against your wetness soundtracking his journey.

He can feel you getting close your hips beginning to cant as your orgasm begins to crest. You knew it wouldn’t take long, between the alcohol buzz and Joel’s tongue lapping up your wetness and cum from earlier, you knew you’d be a goner.

“Mmf, cum for me,” Joel speaks against you, his mouth full of you, too busy to pull away to clearly speak. You don’t think he can get any closer to you, his tongue working your orgasm up in intensity with each swirl and dash against your clit. You feel it, it’s here. Your legs instantly collapse, thankful that the rest of your body is resting on the bed. Your eyes tightly squeeze shut and then begin to rapidly blink as your orgasm shatters through you. Joel flattens his tongue against your clit as it pulses. You’re too turned on to make a noise, Joel stepping in for you and groaning as your juices seep out of you.

“Did so good baby,” Joel says leaving one last kiss on your clit before standing up behind you. You want to flip over to look at him, you haven’t seen his face since you laid down on the bed. You have no energy, you’re just a shell of a woman, the only sensations you can feel is the pool of wetness in between your legs and your light inebriation.

Your attention gets pulled to the sound of Joel spitting in his hand, followed by a hiss coming out of his mouth. When you realize exactly what he’s doing, you summon the strength needed to turn over. You flip over, your back thudding on the mattress your legs still spread wide, feet resting on the floor. And there…. there…. THERE he is, standing in the middle of his room, one large hand wrapped around his hard cock softly stroking as he watches you with hooded eyes. You know you just came, but the sight makes your pussy clench with desire.

Joel jerks himself off as his eyes roam your exhausted form. “Been thinking ‘bout this all day. You all laid out in front of me heaving for air after cummin’ all over my tongue,” slow strokes matching his lazing words. “Just about canceled our night out when you opened your door in that little blue dress, looked like you were wearing the sky, baby.”

You bite your lip as all of your senses are so overtly overwhelmed by lust. The sight of Joel’s handsome face watching you, the hazel flecks in his eyes twinkling in the golden light of the lamp. The smell of the rain on your skin mixed with the heady scent of your arousal and Joel’s sheets. The taste of Joel’s whiskey tongue still in your mouth. The sound of Joel’s fist pumping along his hard cock. The feel of the aftershocks of your orgasm still quaking your body. It’s so fucking much, you need Joel inside you. The thought of feeling him stretch you causes a whimper.

“Yeah baby? Havin’ a hard time over there?” Joel stops stroking his hard length, his hand pauses on his shaft. “You want me to fuck you now?”

“Pleeeease,” you keen out.

“Alright sweetheart.” Joel confidently strides over to you, dick still in hand. He stops right at the edge of your feet. “Turn back around ’n get on all fours in the middle of the bed f’me.”

You follow his instructions eager to please. The sooner you get this done, the sooner you can feel Joel enter you.

“Good girl,” he praises as the mattress dips lower with his weight behind you.

Your heart is pounding so loud, your whole body thrumming, you gulp down a breath of air trying to calm your need. You feel Joel’s cock brush against your ass cheek, he’s so close to fucking you.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you real good and hard now. Happy birthday baby.”

And just like that, Joel buries his cock inside of you, you’re absolutely stretched around him. Your clit already worked over by Joel’s tongue, now your hole deliciously stinging while it flutters around his cock. He begins thrusting, tender and slow full strokes. Entering and exiting, swirling the head of his cock right at the entrance before plunging back in because he knows you love the feeling. Joel’s groans and your cries join in song as he begins to pound faster, the sound of your bodies slapping together match the rhythm.

“Feel so fucking good, always so perfect for me. S’a good girl, always take it so good,” Joel grits out.

He grabs your hair and wraps it around his fist as he pounds into you. “No one knows how fucking slutty you get for me behind these walls. They think you’re one of those innocent little teachers.” Joel pulls your hair harder causing a scream of ecstasy from you. “You love this, don’t you?”

You do. It’s so rough, so different from how gentle he always is with you. It feels like a luxury to be treated this way by him.

“Y-y-y-yes, God I love it,” you whimper.

“That’s right. That’s what I like to hear. So pretty so smart. So much smarter than me, now I’m makin’ you stupid with my cock, right baby?”

Everybody knows Joel Miller as the strong, silent type, a man of few words, somebody who doesn’t do chit chat. But with you in his bed naked and wailing as he slams into you, Joel Miller won’t shut up.

“Doin’ so good for me. So pretty, so perfect f’me. So wet for me.”

“You made me so wet earlier, I was afraid I was going to leave a mark on the barstool.” Your words coming out as tortured weeps, so lost in your ecstasy you struggle with every word spoken.

“Fuuuuuck.” That got him good. He pounds you even harder, the bed frame shaking violently against his wall, your body and cunt acting as if it’s the only barrier between Joel knocking a hole in the plaster. “Had I fuckin’ known I would have made you stick your face on that chair and made you lick yourself up as I fuck you against it.”

That’s it, that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. Joel’s deep timbered accent grunting those deviant words as he grabs you and begins to roll his hips into your cunt. Your body is strung so tight and rigid in all places besides your hips and core, pumping and rolling along with Joel’s as he fucks you. You’re close again, your panting breaths letting Joel know.

“Baby, if you gotta cum, cum,” his grip on your hips pressure into you.

“Going … going.. going to,” the only words you can say as your third orgasm radiates out of your body, your pussy is the epicenter, tingles firing through your veins, your hands fisting the blankets at your detonation. Slack jawed and fucked senseless you rally the strength to not disintegrate and fall into Joel’s bed. Your world has been shattered by Joel, but your body survives for him, your legs and arms shaking under gravity and your weight as they deal with the fallout.

“C’mere baby, lemme help you.” Of course he can tell you’re struggling. He reaches his hands around, clutching your stomach and pulling you up against him. Your back up against his chest, his hand seeking out your breast, the other wrapping around your torso and clutching you to him. He holds you as he fucks into you, his nose brushing against your ear as he puffs and grunts against your neck. “Fucking. Love. You. So. Much.” Each word matching a thrust into you. Your hands find his and grip them, you’ve never felt more loved and protected. Joel Miller has got you.

You feel the familiar shudder in Joel’s movements as he edges close to his climax. His labored breaths getting louder and more fevered against your neck. You’re absolutely wrecked, but the angle of Joel’s cock inside of you mixed with the feeling of the shudder in his movements as he edges himself brings forth another orgasm. Words are gone, just sounds, whatever your throat can muster up and out of your mouth.

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it,” Joel repeats. His hands squeezing yours so tightly, his chest heaving against your back, his strong thighs straddling yours, his nose pressing into your ear. You feel his body tense as he pulls out. His release coating your pussy as his whole body surrounds you. Hot breaths huffing against the side of your face in between featherlight kisses. “Love you,” a whisper in your ear so delicate and sweet as he lets go of your hands. Your body falling forward without his support, your arms catching you before crashing down on the bed. Joel gets up with a groan as you lay yourself down on your stomach, taking the opportunity to stretch your legs out before rolling over on your side to watch Joel. He stands arms akimbo in the middle of the room. He’d look like a Greek statue if his shoulders weren’t rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. He’s gorgeous and he looks just as wrecked as you feel.

“Probably shouldn’t have gotten up as quick as I did,” he chuckles. “Damn well feel like I’m standing in the middle of a earthquake.” You love the casual banter he puts forth seconds after being deep inside you, his cum still covering your core. This is love.

You smile at him, your cheek resting on your hand as a makeshift pillow. You’re exhausted… the whole night and your four orgasms catching up with you. Eyes feeling heavy, matching your limbs you begin to drift off.

A wet sensation in between your legs jerks you awake. “Sorry baby, just want to clean you up,” a whisper just as light as Joel’s tender attention as he washes you lulls you back to sleep.

——

“Baby,” Joel’s low voice gently wakes you up along with a soft kiss to your forehead.

You groan as you stretch your sore muscles under the sheet, opening your eyes to find Joel gazing down lovingly at you. He’s backlit by the filtered morning sunlight shining in through his bedroom windows. What a way to wake up. “Happy birthday sweetheart, I’d let you sleep all day but I need to give you my present.” His face is so bright and cheerful, a boost in your confidence provided by just how happy he looks when he’s with you.

“Thought you gave me your present already last night,” you yawn.

“Sweet girl, that was a present for both of us. Now come on, get up.” You grab his offered hand and reluctantly get out of bed. Joel wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, his hands splayed across your back as you nuzzle your face in his warm chest. “Happy birthday.”

A/N: THANK YOU for reading my first ever fic. My inbox is always open. :)

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #elks #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal

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justagalwhowrites · 3 months ago

Text

Halcyon - Ch. 19: Did You Mean That?

Joel confronts your shared past and potential future. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 18, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 6.6k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Joel was frozen for longer than he was proud of, staring at the place you’d left him.

I fucking heard you.

What the fuck did that even mean? Heard what?

He looked back toward Sarah’s room. He shouldn’t just leave her here by herself but he considered it all the same. He’d just… he’d go after you, make you talk to him like he should have done all those years ago. He wasn’t going to just let you disappear again, not this time.

Instead, he called you, still standing on his front stoop, still considering chasing after you. It rang twice but then you sent him to voicemail.

“Fuck!”

His grip got tight on the phone but he resisted the urge to hurl the phone at the brick of his house.

“Dad?” Sarah peered at him from around the doorway, her eyes somehow seeming especially wide.

He sighed.

“Yes, baby girl.”

“You and Aunt Goldie were really in a fight, huh.”

He sighed again, looking at his daughter even though it only made him feel worse. She loved you so much, you were the closest thing she’d ever had to a mother and Joel had fucked that up, too.

“It’s… it’s complicated, baby girl,” he said. “C’mon, let’s go inside, it’s getting late, you should get ready for bed…”

“But,” she huffed. “Dad, it’s Goldie. You can’t just let her leave, she’s family!”

“I know,” he said, a hand on her back as he guided her back inside. “Not gonna just let her go, don’t worry. I just… need to figure out what to do first, OK?”

“Promise you’re not going to just not talk again for years?” She asked, looking up at him. “Because - sorry, Dad - that was bullshit.”

“Hey,” he said. “Language.”

“Dad.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you’re right. It was bullshit.”

He texted you while Sarah got ready for bed but you left him on read and he ground his teeth. He read his daughter a chapter from a book and resisted her begging to have him read another one before tucking her in, thankful that she still wanted him to do this at all.

“Hey Dad?” She said as he went to leave.

“Yes, baby girl?”

“You’re going to talk to her, right?”

He sighed. She sounded so hopeful.

“I’ll fix it,” he said. “Promise. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she said, sounding more relaxed.

He closed the door behind him and went to the living room, pacing for a moment.

I fucking heard you.

He tried to remember the conversation with Ricky all those years ago, not something he’d really thought about in so long.

Other things from that small window of time had dominated Joel’s memory. He remembered trying to find the words to talk to you, trying to come up with a plan for every possible outcome. If you wanted him, too, then he would figure out a way to be there for Tommy and his mom from afar and go with you. If, heaven forbid, you were pregnant, he would do everything to make sure you could still go to school and still be everything you were meant to be while he took care of the rest. If you wanted nothing to do with him… that had been the one scenario he hadn’t come up with a solution for. Of course, that had been the one he’d been left to reckon with.

He remembered how he felt then, how desperate he’d been. But he couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said to fucking Ricky, something that had apparently stuck out in your mind so much that you’d moved across the country without a fucking word. He went over it again and again but couldn’t remember it, even though it felt like his fucking life depended on it.

Eventually he tried to call you again but it only rang once before you sent him to voicemail.

He listened to your outgoing message, bright and cheery, flexing his hand again and again as he waited, impatiently, for the beep.

“Goldie,” he said when it finally let him record a message. “Not letting you walk out, I’m gonna keep calling. Just… pick up, baby. Please.”

He hung up and immediately called again. Two rings, then voicemail. He called again.

The fourth time, you finally answered, your voice sharp and harsh.

“What!” You snapped. “What more do you want from me?”

“I want to talk to you,” he said, straining to keep calm. “I don’t know what you mean, I don’t remember what the fuck you’re talking about, I…”

You laughed once, derisively.

“Of course you don’t,” you said. “You wouldn’t, would you? Because I was always just another girl to you, wasn’t I? Why would you remember…”

“No,” he cut you off. “No, that’s not…”

“I need some space, Joel,” you said.

“I’m not losing you again, Goldie,” he said, harsher than he really meant to. “Please, let me just…”

“If you don’t want to lose me then do what I’m asking you to do,” you said. “I need space, OK? I can’t just do this with you, I can’t… just don’t call me or text me or whatever, just give me some time.”

“Goldie…”

“I mean it, Joel,” you said. “I need space.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fine,” he said. “I…I can do that.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I’ll talk to later.”

“Will you?” He asked, probably rougher than he should have.

“Eventually,” you said. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice thick. “Yeah, OK.”

You hung up and he sighed, sinking onto the couch and cradling his head in his hands for a moment.

He was on the edge of losing you again, he could feel it. He couldn’t let it happen, not this time. He started thinking again, just like he had all those years ago, trying to think up contingency plans and ways to work through this without you leaving but, really, that’s what it always came back to. He’d do anything - he’d never touch you again, he’d tolerate your shitbag husband, he’d watch you live a life he was agonizingly separate from - if it just meant that you stayed.

Joel got himself a drink, which quickly became two and then three, staring at the ceiling, wondering just how long he was supposed to stay away from you this time before he passed out on the couch.

When he woke up the next day, time seemed to crawl. He couldn’t just ignore you. You were in everything, it seemed. Sarah showed him the books you’d gotten her, excited about reading them. He reviewed his business plan again and again, looking at your notes in the margins. He put on a Longhorns t-shirt and remembered you sitting at his kitchen table, building out your syllabus for the year.

Even Tommy noticed a difference when he was at work on Tuesday, seemingly short tempered and impatient.

“You gonna tell me who pissed in your Cheerios or you gonna leave that a mystery?” Tommy asked as they leaned against his truck during a coffee break.

“What do you mean?” Joel frowned, staring down at the paper cup and thinking about how you took your coffee and wondering what was he supposed to do with that knowledge if you were just gone now.

“I mean you’ve been biting people’s heads off all week,” Tommy said. “I mean, you’re always an asshole but you’ve been in rare form man.”

“Tommy…”

“Don’t feed me some bullshit, either,” he interrupted him. “Know you too well for that.”

Joel looked at Tommy for a moment before he sighed and it all came spilling out of him - prom night, what had been happening between the two of you the last few months, the moment in his kitchen, what you’d yelled at him over the weekend, all of it.

“Jesus,” Tommy said when he was done, just blinking at him, dumbfounded. “I… fuck, man. I always thought there was something between you two but… holy shit.”

“I don’t know what the fuck it is she’s talking about,” Joel said. “I talked with Ricky back then but fuck if I can remember what it was about, that was more than a decade ago, what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“I mean… do you know how she feels?” Tommy asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“Yeah,” Joel scoffed. “Yeah, I think she’s made that perfectly fuckin’ clear.”

“Has she?” Tommy said. “Because - and maybe you just didn’t mention it - but I don’t think you actually talked about it. Ever. Not once.”

Joel frowned, looking at the ground, going over everything in his mind.

That couldn’t be right, could it?

It sure seemed like you’d talked about it. Maybe not explicitly, but everything you’d said pointed to you seeing him as a friend. You said you wanted to be with someone you could love and that wasn’t him. The first time he’d slept with you again, you asked him not to call you baby and he’d all but begged you to let him. He’d had to fucking comfort you the morning after the concert, tell you that it didn’t mean anything so you didn’t panic because being with him freaked you out that much. You’d never said it, not in so many words, but you didn’t need to.

“Maybe you should ask her,” Tommy said when Joel had been quiet for too long.

“Tommy,” Joel groaned, rolling his eyes. “I can’t just…”

“Can’t you?” Tommy said. “I mean… shit, man. You already blew it all up, what else you got to lose?”

Tommy’s words were still in Joel’s mind when he left the job site that afternoon, going home to get cleaned up before going to the bank for his business loan appointment.

What did he really have to lose? He could at least tell you how he felt, a thought that made his chest tight but brought a sense of relief, too. He’d been holding this in for so long now. It seemed like loving you had become a part of him, one that he was used to keeping to himself but one he didn’t want to hide anymore.

He’d told himself for years that he’d loved you quietly because it’s what you wanted. You weren’t interested, it was unfair to put his feelings on you. Even when you were a country away and not speaking with him, he found it strangely comforting to know that while it might be because he’d caved to his baser instincts and slept with you, it wasn’t because he’d pushed his feelings on you. He had regrets - he’d have given anything to take back that night if it meant you’d just talk to him again - but at least he knew how he felt about you hadn’t been the thing that had driven you away.

Could it really be possible that not telling you had been the thing that sent you running from him? Had he really wasted years of his life not having you all because he’d been too afraid of actually fucking saying it?

He put on his best clothes - wishing he had a suit for the first time in his life - and took a deep breath, looking at himself in the mirror. It felt like his whole life was riding on this, everything he could have sitting there, just out of reach.

He’d never been worthy of you before. Back when he met you, he was barely passing his classes, going nowhere fast. Doomed to spend his life in his hometown, doing some job to get by while trying to keep his kid brother’s nose clean. He hadn’t gotten much better since, staying in the first job he could get, doing his best to raise the child he’d made by accident, trying to make something of himself as he could. It was nothing compared to you. But if he could manage this, actually do something real and tangible, maybe he’d feel worthwhile.

Joel drummed his hands on the steering wheel as he drove, one of the Taylor Swift songs from the concert he’d gone to with you and Sarah coming on the radio and he remembered looking at you that night, remembered how much he wanted to kiss you in a way that actually meant something. He had to do this. He had to.

His stomach was in knots as he sat in the bank waiting room, one foot bouncing as he tried not to crinkle his presentation and application in his hands. He wished you were here. Why was he doing this on his own? What made him think he was even fucking capable of this without you?

After what felt like a small eternity, a woman named Audrey brought him back to her office and Joel took a deep breath before walking her through his business plan.

His heart was pounding the entire time and there was something perverse about talking through a future that you weren’t somehow a part of. He walked Audrey through the financial plans, what the next five years would look like and there was the nagging thought at the back of his mind that he should have talked with you about all of this. How money would be tight for a while, how he’d be extra busy, how much he appreciated the way you’d supported him through all of this so far. He never could have done this without you pushing him, encouraging him, helping him navigate the business world. It felt like your success, too, when Audrey set his presentation down on her desk, nodding.

“Well, Joel,” she said, looking at him with a smile. “I think we have everything we need. Congratulations, you’re getting your loan!”

Joel just laughed for a second, looking next to him quickly before remembering that you weren’t by his side.

“Thank you,” he said. “This is… thank you very much.”

“Looking forward to doing business with you,” she smiled. “Give me just a minute and I’ll be back with some papers so we can get things going.”

Joel took his phone out and stared at his text message conversation with you, the last thing he sent still “I’m sorry.” He wanted to tell you that he’d done it. He was a business owner, he was going to be something, he was becoming someone that Sarah was going to be proud of and it was all because you’d come back into his life. You were who he wanted to share this with and he couldn’t.

Audrey gave him the paperwork and he went through it page by page, more than a little reminded of when he got his mortgage and felt like he was signing his life away but with more optimism about his future this time.

About halfway through the paperwork, though, the pen started skipping. He tried wetting the tip of it, scratching on a corner of the paper but he couldn’t get it to write smoothly again.

“Do you got another one of these?” Joel asked, holding the pen up. “Can’t get it to work…”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that,” Audrey said, looking around her desk, including at an empty pen cup. “Let me just…”

She opened a desk drawer and took a few things out, piling things on her desk - a purse, water bottle, a book.

Joel cocked his head at the book, the spine of it familiar. So familiar that he couldn’t help but laugh. Of course you’d be here, too.

“What?” She asked as she found a plain, white box and pulled out a handful of pens with the bank’s logo on the side. She dropped them into the pen cup and held one out to Joel.

“Oh, nothin’,” he said, taking the pen and nodding at the novel. “Just… my friend, she wrote that book. Funny seeing someone read it.”

“Wait, really?” She asked, her face lighting up as she held up your book. “You know who wrote this?”

“Yeah,” Joel nodded. “Yeah, she’s my best friend, known her since we were 15. She’s… she’s amazing. She teaches now, over at UT.”

Audrey set the book down, leaning over the desk with her arms folded in front of her like she was going to tell Joel some kind of secret.

“OK can I ask something?” She asked. “Sorry, this is probably hugely unprofessional but I am obsessed with this book, I can’t put it down and my book club is going crazy. Is any of it true? The falling in love and things ending like that? It seems like it has to be at least somewhat based on her life, I don’t see how someone could write this without knowing it, you know?”

“Oh, uh,” Joel cupped the back of his neck awkwardly. “I actually… haven’t read it?”

“Oh,” she said, sitting back a little, looking let down.

“Sorry,” Joel said. “I’ve tried and I know it’ll be amazing but it’s just too weird for me…”

“No, I’m sorry,” she laughed a little. “I overstepped, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

“I should read it,” Joel said quickly. “I got it at home, maybe I’ll give it another go now.”

“You should,” Audrey said. “It’s really, really good.”

The new pen worked and Joel finished the paperwork, staring at his signature on the last page a little too long. He handed the pen and papers back to Audrey.

“You can keep the pen,” she smiled, taking the pages. “Let me make copies of these for your records but otherwise, congratulations, owner of Miller Brothers Construction and Contracting!”

Joel had a bubble of pride in his chest as he drove home, one that seemed too big to keep contained and, against his better judgement, he called you.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected, if he thought you were going to send him to voicemail, if you were going to answer and let him actually say something to you or what.

What he didn’t expect was Gale.

“Hello?”

Joel just blinked for a second, recognizing the man’s pompous voice even from just the one word.

“Is this Joel?” Gale - fucking BRAD - said. He took his silence as a yes and laughed. “Was wondering if I’d hear from you. Don’t worry, she’s with me, back where she belongs. Thanks for looking after her while I was gone, though. Appreciate it.”

“Lemme talk to her,” Joel said through clenched teeth.

“I don’t see why that’s necessary,” he said. “Seems like she doesn’t want much to do with you these days. Think you blew it. Thanks for that, too, by the way.”

“We’re just…”

“You’re just nothing,” Gale cut him off. “You were nothing but a childish distraction for her. She went running back here when things got hard - which I take my part of the blame for - and she needed a project to keep herself busy but she doesn’t need you anymore. So go back to the little life you’re meant for and leave us be. She was always too much for you and this place, anyway.”

“No,” Joel said sharply. “No, you put her on the phone, put her on the phone right now!”

“Can’t do that,” Gale said. “But I’ll tell her you called. Take care.”

The line went dead and Joel threw his phone against the dash so hard the screen cracked.

“Fuck!” He yelled, smacking his hands against the steering wheel. He wasn’t going to lose you, not again, not like this.

He ignored Gale. Instead, he drove to your house, pounding sharply on the door, panting for breath as he did but you never answered.

So he went to Anna’s next. He only needed to knock for a minute before she opened the door, Ellie’s beaming, chubby face happy in her arms.

“Hey Joel,” Anna smiled at him. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! Here to see this one?”

Ellie squirmed in Anna’s arms, cooing and reaching for Joel and he laughed once, he couldn’t help it, before holding his arms out for her. Anna handed him her daughter and Ellie giggled, immediately reaching to tangle her tiny fingers in his curls. He smiled at her for a moment, marveling at the little girl who’d brought you and him together in the way it felt like you were always meant to be.

“Is she here?” Joel asked, bouncing a little with Ellie, watching her smile, her little body a grounding force that eased his racing heart.

“Oh,” Anna frowned, her eyebrows knitting together. “No, sorry, she’s not here too often anymore, just a few times a week… She moved back home, I thought you knew that?”

“No, I did,” Joel said quickly, looking to Anna and offering a finger to Ellie for her to gum at. “She just… wasn’t there, tried callin’ her but…”

“Oh,” Anna pulled her phone out, looking at the time. “She might still be at the school, I can call her for you…”

“No,” Joel said quickly, not wanting to get your sister involved in the mess of whatever the fuck was going on between the two of you. “Don’t… Don’t worry about it, sure I’ll talk to her eventually.”

“OK,” Anna said, still frowning. “Look… It’s not my business but… Is there something going on with you two?”

Joel just looked at Anna for a moment, wondering if he should tell her, too, because fuck it, why not just let the whole world know how much he’d fucked up with you.

But she beat him to it, going from a frown to an absolutely glowing smile in no time at all.

“Oh my God.”

“What?” He asked, adjusting his hold on Ellie.

“You love her!” She sounded practically giddy. “Oh my GOD I knew it! You LOVE her! Have you told her? Does she know? Oh my GOD, JOEL!”

“I… I haven’t exactly said it,” Joel said, his cheeks getting hot. “I don’t want to make it her problem, I don’t want to get in the way of her being happy, I just… I want to be there for it.”

Anna just looked at him for a moment before shaking her head a little.

“Is… Is she happy with him?” Joel asked, watching your sister closely. “Is he what she wants? I didn’t know her when they were really together, I just… it seems like he holds her back and that he’s bad for her and…”

“Joel, did you read her book?” Anna cut him off.

He frowned.

“What? What does that…”

“You wanted to know if he’s what she wants,” Anna said. “She’s never going to actually say it, you know that. At least not to you or to me, she’s always going to try to seem like she’s OK and handle it herself until she can’t and even then she’s not going to actually fucking say it, Joel, but she will write it. She always writes it. Read the book, Joel.”

He gave Ellie back to Anna and went home, trying to focus as he made Sarah dinner and helped her with her homework.

Read the book. Just read the fucking book. Was that all it would take? Could he even do that? If fucking Brad really was what you wanted, could he really sit and read hundreds of pages about how much better your life had been when he wasn’t in it?

He’d never been able to manage it and it wasn’t because he didn’t want to know you through your words and it wasn’t because he didn’t like your writing. It was because he didn’t know if he could stomach reading something you wrote while you were in love with someone else.

But… Anna was right. He knew that. If he wanted to know the truth of any of it, he’d have to read it. So, after he tucked Sarah into bed, he sat on the floor, staring at the box in his closet that held the two copies of your book like it was daring him to actually confront his feelings for a change. Because that had always worked out so well for him in the past, not like every fucking time he’d resolved to actually talk to you he hadn’t found you loving someone else.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, opening the box and pulling out the books. This time, though, he picked the signed copy, the one he’d never tried to read before. There was something different about holding this copy, knowing that you had once, too. He ran his hands over the cover and the spine reverently for a moment before he leaned his back against the wall of the closet and opened the book.

Joel had to force himself to read past the first few paragraphs, his stomach in knots the entire time, but, after a while, he fell into it - to the point that he almost forgot that he was reading your book.

He’d known, from what little he’d managed to read in the past, that the book started in Austin, he just hadn’t expected the story to linger there.

But it did, the narrative following a girl named Cressida. She started out as a quiet, introspective high schooler who had become unlikely friends with a football player named Eli, a friendship that felt so like his with yours. They knew each other, understood each other, their worlds seem to revolve around each other. It seemed natural that it led to them sleeping together. But instead of the immediate implosion that had ended your relationship in real life, theirs devolved over time. Cressida came back to him again and again, the two of them winding up loosely connected every time a relationship of Eli’s fizzled out, her clinging to a heart wrenching longing that hurt to read, one that her friend seemed shockingly oblivious to.

Eventually, though, things came crashing down. This was different too, though, because it ended not with her vanishing but him, a car accident claiming Eli’s life when Cressida had finally resolved to tell him how she felt. They buried him in a sunny corner of the graveyard just before graduation and Cressida, it seemed, never really moved past it.

The other three-quarters of the book followed her as she tried – desperately, devastatingly – to live again, to get over the love she’d never really had to begin with, to find some place to root herself outside of that sun-drenched grave in her hometown.

She never really managed it, the ending almost painfully unsatisfying but feeling true. She’d become something – Cressida delving into the business world instead of the creative one as you had – and she found success away from home but her mind kept going back to that place and that person. She’d had relationships but, when her last boyfriend had proposed, she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. It had felt like a lie, to tell someone she would love him above all others when she’d never love him more than the memory of the boy who had been gone for years. He’d died at the worst time, the part of her life that would always be on a pedestal no matter what she did. Nothing and no one would ever compare and she was stuck, still going back to him again and again even though he was cold in the ground.

The last chapter closed with her bringing home a man who reminded her of her friend, something charming about him that took her back to that brighter place for a while. But when he fell asleep next to her, she had to confront that hollow feeling in her chest. In the last moment of the story, she bought a plane ticket to go back to that sunny grave site, something about the calm that fell over her when she decided to go back making it seem like that grave was her resting place, too.

Joel just stared at the book when he read the final words, the last pages flopping over, revealing your picture on the inside flap of the dust jacket. That knowing smile and piercing gaze gutted him then, no longer the taunt and temptation of knowledge they had once been.

Was Anna right, was this the truth of it? Did you write out your real feelings? Had he really gotten everything this fucking wrong? Had he really spent years wishing things with you were different when they’d been different all along?

He got out his phone and ignored the fact that it was 4:30 in the morning and called you. You didn’t answer. It didn’t even go to voicemail, the phone ringing once before he got some message saying the number was unavailable.

“Fuck,” he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. He wasn’t positive but, based on his experience trying to track down Sarah’s mom years ago, that meant you’d blocked his number. It’d be just his fucking luck that he thought - hoped? - that, maybe, you felt the way he did at the same time he lost you for good.

He sat there with his eyes closed in the glow of his closet light, next to the box made up of the history of you, trying to pick through his memory from all those years ago, searching for some sort of guarantee that the book was based on what happened between the two of you back then.

At some point, when he was swallowed by his memory of you, he fell asleep. Maybe it was the book, maybe it was the fact that he’d been sifting through ancient history when exhaustion finally caught up with him, maybe it was your words still ringing in his ears, but he remembered then.

In his dream, he was back under the bleachers with Ricky, pacing to work out his nerves. He talked to his friend - the one who was more experienced, the one who wasn’t reckless, the one who would understand exactly why he was so afraid of what he might have just done to you.

But, most importantly, he remembered exactly how that conversation had ended.

It’s Goldie. I wish it were anyone else. It’d be better if it were anyone else.

“Dad!”

Joel jerked awake, the book still open in his hands, your signature there for him to see.

I fucking heard you.

Sarah pounded on his bedroom door again.

“Dad, come on!” She yelled. “I’m gonna be late!”

“Shit,” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and checked the time before calling to his daughter. “Two minutes, baby girl!”

He got up as quickly as he could, his legs tingling from his awkward sleeping position on the floor of the fucking closet.

Joel got changed quickly, barely paying attention to what he was putting on.

He’d had the answers sitting there for years, he’d just been too afraid to look it in the face but he had and now he knew. He knew how you felt - how you must have felt, why else would his misunderstood words have driven you away? - he knew how much time he’d already fucking wasted by being a coward, he knew it all now.

He just didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

Joel got Sarah out the door quickly, barely paying attention on his drive to the school. He couldn’t just give up. He already refused to lose you, not again, but now it would be impossible. You were so close, everything he’d ever wanted there in front of him but just out of reach. Even if you’d moved on now, even if you were happier with fucking Brad, he had to tell you. He owed both of you that much.

“Bye Dad!” Sarah poked her head between the two front seats and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“What was that for?” He frowned, turning to look at her.

She just shrugged and smiled.

“Just seemed like you needed it,” she said. “Love you!”

“Love you too!” He called after her as she hopped down from the truck and slammed the door behind her with a little too much force, waving behind her as she ran to the building.

“Alright,” he took a deep breath, looking at the clock on his dashboard. Just after 8 a.m. He’d start at your place because he wasn’t sure what time you went to campus this semester. But he was going to talk to you. He was going to talk to you and he was going to tell you how he felt and he was going to do it today. “I’m comin’, Goldie.”

You weren’t at your place when he got there. He tried not to think about if it was because you’d spent the night with fucking Brad, if you’d gone to his hotel and had never even been here. Instead, he went to campus. He wasn’t sure where you’d be teaching right now but he was pretty sure you wouldn’t be in your office. You always had morning classes with a break in the afternoon.

“Excuse me,” he said to a random passing college student. “I’m lookin’ for… shit, probably creative writing? Or literature? What buildings are those?”

“Oh, um,” the girl looked around quickly. “I’m a physics major but I know I had an English class in that building over there last semester? You could start there?”

She pointed to a building in the distance and Joel kept his groan to himself. He forgot how fucking huge college campuses were.

But he couldn’t just sit and wait. He needed to find you and he needed to do it now.

“Thanks,” he said, giving her a wave and already starting to jog for the building. “Appreciate it!”

But you didn’t have a class in that building. At least not at that time of day. He knew because he looked in all the lecture halls. You weren’t there.

He tried two other buildings after asking for directions - no luck - before checking his watch. If your schedule was anything like it had been the semesters before, you’d be in your office soon. That, at least, he knew how to find.

He jogged there, resisting the urge to run because that would probably make him look utterly insane, and threw his arm out to catch the elevator on its way up.

“Floor 10, please,” he said to one of the college girls looking at him funny as he panted for breath. She did as he asked, though, and he marveled, for a moment, at just how fucking young college kids seemed to him now.

He closed his eyes and focused for a second, trying to figure out exactly what to say to you, but hearing your name pulled him out of his head.

“I don’t think they’re still like… together together, though,” the girl who’d pushed the button said. “Like I know they were married but she said he was visiting. He’d live here if they were married, right? Besides, I really don’t think her husband would be asking for my number with his wife there, would he?”

“I dunno,” the other girl shrugged. “He’s just… isn’t he old? Like old old, not hot old.”

“I like them old,” the first girl giggled. “They know what they’re doing then.”

The elevator chimed and the girls got off and Joel’s heart was beating so hard he could feel the blood in his body. You’d brought fucking Brad here and he’d hit on one of your fucking students - one who looked so young Joel never would have looked twice at her if he saw her on the street. Right in front of you, from the sounds of it. That’s who you’d chosen, that’s who you’d felt like you deserved because he hadn’t opened his fucking mouth years earlier.

When the elevator made it to floor 10, he squeezed out of the doors, not willing to wait for them to open all the way, and ran to your office.

“Excuse me,” the girl behind the front desk said as he went past her. “You can’t just…”

“It’s fine,” he said, catching the door as someone came out of the hall where your office was.

“No, wait!” She called after him but he ignored her.

He ducked around other professors, dodging them and their questions until he was at your door.

It was closed but he didn’t bother to knock, throwing the door open to find you there, standing in front of your desk in the arms of your fucking husband as he kissed you.

Joel moved so fast that neither you nor Gale had noticed he was there but he couldn’t just stand there and watch that fucking guy kiss you, not like that.

Without really thinking about it, he ripped him away from you, just catching a glimpse of the shock on your face as he punched Gale in the head, sending him sprawling into your desk.

“Joel!” You yelled before grabbing his arm and pulling him back before he could hit your goddamn husband again. “What the fuck are you doing!”

“Sorry, baby,” he said, shaking the feel of the punch out of his hand, his knuckles raw. “I couldn’t just watch that fucking guy touch you like that.”

“Well, it’s really not your business how he touches me!” You snapped, shoving him back. “You don’t get to just come in here and hit people because you’re not getting your way anymore!”

“That ain’t what this is,” he said, taking you by the shoulders, something grounding in the fact that could feel you again. “Baby, I read your book…”

“Congratulations!” You snapped. “What, do you want a cookie because you finally got around to supporting me?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Did you mean that? What you wrote, was that…”

“What does it matter!” You asked, your eyes searching his face. “Why do you care! It’s ancient history, it doesn’t…”

“It does matter!” He held you tight, wanting to kiss you more than he ever had before. “It matters because I love you, I love you so much, I’ve loved you since we were fucking kids, I love you so much that I think it might kill me if you don’t let me just say that to you at least this once and if you feel that way, too…”

“You need to leave,” Gale - who Joel had all but forgotten about - said, trying to position himself between you and Joel. “And take your hands off my wife.”

“Oh I haven’t even fuckin’ started with you,” Joel said, rounding on him. “You’re a fucking predator, chasing after her fuckin’ students while you’re here with her? Doing with them what you did with her, that it? Lucky I don’t beat the shit out of you…”

“Joel, I…” you began, but you didn’t get the chance to finish, Gale pulling you back from Joel and going to hit him.

Joel didn’t give him the chance, shoving him away from you before punching him again. Gale fell, landing on your desk again with a sharp crack.

“Joel!” You yelled.

He didn’t get a chance to respond. Instead, he got pulled back, security guards dragging him into the hall and away from you before he knew if he had a shot at really having you for the first time in his life.

Next Chapter

A/N: FUCK YOU GALE!

Sorry, I've been picturing that moment since I first thought up the fic. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!

Taglist: @kaseyconnour

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #halcyon #joel miller x oc

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cookie-crumblr · 4 months ago

Note

Just thought of something,

Imagine Ezra with a reader that is like kinda disgusted with him. They give the bombastic side eye and sneer/give him an unamused look *ofc they don't say anything*. They only see him as a convenient booty call and then ghost him. (Seriously, reader will disappear at random for like 1 week or so somewhere and then come back 😂)

"That dude uhh...what's his face?....Ezra! Yeah no, he's like a walking penis to me, that's it. :/" DPNJDNPDBPB

my GOD i love this idea.

MINORS DNI!!!!

CW: G/N!Reader, reader referred to as they/them, no genitalia described for reader(just hole), SUB!Reader, p in hole, rough sex, names for reader (good slut), reader has hair(not described),

“Ezra? what? no way, we are literally just fuck buddies.” You cross your arms.

Your best friend’s eyes travel from you to something behind and very far above you, then they swallow hard with widening eyes.

“He’s right behind me isn’t he.” you ask, though you already know the answer. Who else at this college is almost seven foot?

They nod slowly. “uh huh…”

“Ezra, hey….” You roll your eyes and shift your weight lazily onto one hip once you’re turned to face him.

“I heard ya talkin about lil’ol me,” His wide smile leaks smoke between teeth, a lit cigarette is burning between his finger and thumb. “Fuck buddies ay?” He strokes his chin.

You’re all stood inside campus, the english building specifically.

“Ezra put that out, you’re indoors.” You scoff motioning with your hand to the cig, and deepening your frown. “And it’s not like I said somethin’ you didn’t already know.” You shrug.

“So you wouldn’t care if i just—” He grabs a chick from the growing crowd.

He makes the pale, brunette drop her books, his smile more than bordering on manic, making the chick back up until she’s blocked by his body against the lockers.

“Ezra you ass.” You cross your arms disapprovingly, “you’re scaring her.” you confidently stride over to the two and separate them. “Here, like this,”

You pull up her chin with you index finger, letting your thumb pull down her full lower lip gently, you place your free hand on the wall behind her, and start to open her legs by sliding your knee in between them.

Her eyes are wide like a rabbit’s caught by a snake.

“What the fuck.” Ezra stands dumbfounded. His brows knit harshly as he watches your little display.

He pulls you off of her and slams you up against the lockers yourself, the metal rattles against the bricks behind them. She squeals and runs forgetting her books all together. You can help the smile from growing wider on your face.

With an “oof” from you from the impact and the quick movement, He picks you up under your arms desperate to get you higher, you bounce as he throws you upwards to catch you this time by your ass. Your legs naturally wrap around his waist, with your back already arching into him, his erection rubs you in just the right spot through layers of clothes.

Your lips are pulled to each others wonderfully like magnets. As his tongue enters you without asking permission, he assaults your own with it aggressively, making your body glow hotly. He’s so rough, chasing his own highs using you more like an object for his own pleasure.

your back arches, lining you guys up perfectly, you grind into eachother and groan in unison.

“Y/N,” he says into your neck as his mouth follows the curve of your shoulder, biting down along the way, and tasting your skin.

His breaths cause you to release shaky little gasps and whimpers.

Your hands pull his face even closer to your body, the way you’re drawn to eachother, you can’t be close enough.

You don’t wonder why that is.

He pushes his hips forward to hold you without his hands. He needs them for a second to open his pants and get your own bottoms out of his way.

He bites the bottom of his shirt to hold it up, it must’ve been too baggy and he couldn’t see over it, but your eyes scan down the washboard, down that happy trail, and from this angle, you can admire how big he is as he grabs it by the base, his fist barely wrapping around it, he lines up with you.

You bite your lip, brows peaking and maw drooling in anticipation.

Your hips wiggle on their own unintentionally making it harder for him and he slips, his molten cock rubs up against your front instead of deliciously slotting into you.

“hhaaa, Ezraaaa!” Your aura buzzes around you, “Fuck me already! please!” you beg.

Taking hold of his hard member, he makes you think he’s finally going to enter you, but instead he slaps you with it.

You jump, looking down again.

A thin thread of his pre connects you both.

He slaps you with the meaty thing again!

“St-stop!! Just put it in! oh my gods!” You stutter as pleasure ripples through you like electricity.

Your hand is up near his face when he guides the tip to pop inside you. He takes your hand roughly pulling it away from him, for a second you’re scared he might break your wrist…

You’d of never expected what he actually did next…

Bringing it back to his mouth, he chastely kisses your palm locking his eyes with yours so he knows you watched.

Not looking away, he then bites your wrist, though not as harshly as you’re used to from him. It’s so light in fact it only tickles, and you whine and grind against him.

It feels confusingly loving…

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

You have to physically shake your head, unsure if that’s what you’ve actually just witnessed and we’re a part of.

His expression hasn’t changed from serious, to anything less as he rubs against you.

Finally though, he pulls your bodies together at the base, letting you slide down enough for him to spear you open with his hard member.

“Ffffuck~” he lets out, his eyes only closing briefly to savor the feeling of you. “S’tight” his voice comes out a deep hiss.

His grip on your ass tightens, as he pushes as far inside of you as he can burrowing his way all the way up to your still thumping heart.

It’s hard to breathe, so you’re left shallowly gasping until he pulls out, just to bull head his way back into you, slamming your body roughly against the lockers.

The crowd of gawkers have been snapping pictures and taking videos, but you don’t care, and Ezra certainly doesn’t.

With a particularly hard thrust from under you, you let out an even louder moan, your head falling back against the metal and dragging down against it as he continues to fuck you. Your toes are curled so hard.

“Hah~ Ezra~!” Your voice is music to his ears, he bites his lip and starts plowing more viscously into you. “Yes! Yes! Yes!!! Ezra!!”

“Such a good slut, always takin’ me so well!” He grabs you by the hair, pulling your head back farther, before leaning on closer to whisper, “You better be smiling for all those cameras,” he nips your ear making you yelp.

you look past Ezra and hold up a peace sign while grabbing his shoulder with your other hand for some semblance of control.

He bounces your body against the metal, but you get some headway, and start fucking him back, using all of your strength to lift yourself up, it feels like trying to lift weights when you’ve never lifted before!

But you manage to do him, and his eye twitches as he realizes what you’re doing.

It’s quickly becoming a battle to see who can get the other off first.

You squeeze him as tightly as you can, arching your back just so when you shove yourself back over him, and coming up you bend so that he can feel every spongey bump inside you.

You can feel him getting close, but you are too.

He tries to tightly hold your hips but it’s too late for him, and the second he takes control back he emo

As he holds you there, you wrestle control back and start to lift yourself against his newly sapped strength.

“Y/N!” He grunts and shudders. Arms coming around your upper body, in a tight embrace, as if…

As if he’s afraid to lose you.

You cum over him.

As he shudders and continues to squeeze you, you slip from his grasp as he catches his breath against the locker, once you’re detached you take his phone from in his pocket “Smile for the camera, baby” and take his picture.

You toss the device at his feet, and fix your clothes.

He’s still catching his breath, you’ve never seen him this winded, you don’t let your mind linger on why that might be before you return to your friend and leave him there,

his now limp dick out for everyone to laugh at.

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mosaickiwi · 2 years ago

Text

Someone In Between; Something Intertwined

Your babyboi Rendacted (from @14dayswithyou) struggles to be himself in your new-ish relationship. Gender neutral reader c:

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

You haphazardly pushed a cart full of returned books across the library. It'd been such a long day. Elanor had called in sick, so on top of desk duty, both the morning and afternoon story times fell on you. The kids were well behaved—as well behaved as elementary schoolers could be, anyway—but by the time it finished you were at your limit. The only solace was that today was Friday, so you had the whole weekend to spend at your boyfriend's apartment. A smile bloomed on your face and you couldn't help but push the cart a little faster as you thought about them, surely waiting outside already.

Ren, your tall, clingy, dark-haired-at-the-roots boyfriend. It'd been 5 months since you officially started dating, and 4 months since he'd been convinced to let go of the Haruko persona. It was agonizingly slow progress, you still didn't know him well—he came off a bit neutral sometimes, unsure how to act around you before reverting to Haruko or a blank slate to mirror you. But you were happy that small parts of the real him managed to peek through over the months, no matter how much time it took. And it was taking a long time.

As you opened the overflow room, you checked the clock on the wall. It was barely 4 minutes until the end of your shift. The cart bumped over the threshold when you pushed it in and locked the door. Once that was taken care of, you did a quick look over the computer and study areas, picking up scrap papers and trash to put in the bin before heading to the break room, then your desk to grab all your things.

You took a peek in Conan's office to bid him goodbye. "I'll see you next week! Enjoy your weekend," you said with a cheery voice and walked towards the entrance.

"You too!" he called after you.

The doors flew open and you practically skipped with relief out into the cool autumn air. You spotted Ren leaning against the brick of the building, dressed in their now-usual style of black on black on more black. His hair was partially tied up in a ponytail, most of it still a pastel pink that fell over his shoulders. From the low collar on his shirt, you could see he'd covered his tattoos with makeup, but a few of his piercings were in. He was trying, and that meant so much to you. His ocean blue eyes were focused on the phone in his hand, so he didn't notice you at first.

"Ren!" You sang out their name and bounced over to them.

He looked up in surprise before quickly smiling. "I was just texting you," he said and put his phone in his pocket. "Hey, Angel."

"Hiiii," you said as you grabbed his hand, taking gleeful notice of the light blush forming on his cheeks as your fingers laced together. At first you used to think it was only his Haruko persona when he blushed at any contact—but it turned out they really liked holding hands. It was the first thing you learned to keep in mind about the real him. So you made sure to do it as often as possible. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's only 5:01."

"And I'm sure you got here much earlier," you teased him, earning his embarrassed agreement when he flushed a deeper pink.

"Just 20 minutes," Ren mumbled and changed the subject. "Did y'want to stop anywhere? We don't have to go straight to my apartment."

"Nope! Work's got me feeling lazy. I'm all yours for the rest of the night." With that, you stood on your toes to kiss his cheek.

He kissed you back on the lips, his snake bites catching the light as he smiled. He didn't even try to hide how happy he was. "Good."

An hour later, you were sitting on his couch eating pizza, a horror movie on low in the background while you chatted. You'd gotten half the pizza with your favorite toppings and—with a lot of stubborn encouragement on your part—Ren had gotten what were supposed to be his favorites. There was some overlap with a few of them, but he swore up and down they were things he liked.

"L-Lots of people like pepperoni," he insisted. "You can't be suspicious of that one. It's basic."

"You got more than pepperoni to be suspicious about. But, true. I'll allow it," you conceded and munched away at the last of your pizza slice.

"Besides, I'm not that picky about food."

You swallowed, thinking about the age old debate about pizza toppings. "Pineapple on pizza?" Right on cue, the next victim in the movie shrieked in bloody terror.

"I'd eat it," he said after a moment of thought.

"Oh. Anchovies?" The screams continued.

He was a little more confident on this one. "Yup."

"What about the really weird toppings?" you asked. You inwardly grimaced as you vaguely remembered a weird picture Moth had sent.. "Like… corn and chocolate?"

Ren made a face between confused and disgusted. "Together? On pizza? People eat that?"

"Maybe. Probably," you said and shrugged. You grabbed a napkin from the coffee table and wiped your hands, then stood to throw away your paper plate. "People eat plenty of weirder things."

He paused the movie and quickly followed you into the kitchen with his own plate; he'd finished eating a little bit before you. As he trailed you to the trash can, then the sink, he spoke honestly, "It sounds really… out there. I don't think I'd eat it."

"Hmm," you said as you pumped the soap dispenser. You weren't sure if his answer would change if you said you'd eat it—not that you would, ew—but it was nice for him to voice his own opinions without trying to hear yours first.

You felt him trap you against the counter and rest his chin on your head. His arms came around you, but he only began washing his own hands as you were doing. It was an oddly comforting position.

An easy silence fell over the two of you, only broken by the rush of water from the tap. Eventually, the water stopped and he grabbed a paper towel, quickly drying his hands. You expected him to move, but instead he grabbed another towel and started drying your hands for you. He seemed content, even humming quietly to himself. So you simply watched. His rough fingers were steady as he delicately went over every inch of your hands until they were completely dry. He wasn't even half as thorough with himself; it was cute.

"You're really touchy," you innocently blurted out.

Ren suddenly let go, as if he'd been burned. "S-Sorry, Angel. I should've asked—" He quickly backed off, putting distance between you two and fiddling with his sleeves.

You realized your mistake and turned around, shaking your head in apology. Without the persona as a barrier, he was more on edge about your reactions sometimes. "I didn't mean it in a bad way. Here—hand, please," you demanded and held out your own to him. He cautiously took it and you smiled, closing the space to pull him into a hug. "See? No harm done. Touchy is good. Wonderful, even."

Despite the blush on his face, he seemed relieved. "Really?"

"Almost as wonderful as corn and chocolate pizza," you teased.

He laughed for a moment before squeezing you against his chest. "There's no way you'd actually eat that," he mumbled above you and got even quieter. "I'm so sorry, Angel. 'M afraid you'll push me away one day."

His arms felt so nice wrapped around you, but his words broke your heart. "I'd never do that. I care about you, Ren. Okay?" you whispered into his shirt. Your fingers curled tightly into the fabric and you pressed on. "Not Haruko, not anyone else." His real name slipped out in a quiet whisper. "You."

A rather stressful sigh left him and he started rambling, "I'm trying my best. And I get what you mean, but it's hard t’believe you'd want me as I am. I'm less than perfect for you. Why would you want that?"

"I don't need or want 'perfect' like I'm a test you studied for," you huffed in frustration and looked up at them, shocked to find hurt and loneliness in their gaze. "I'm not mad at you!" you immediately sought to reassure him. "But I want to accept you like you've accepted me, warts and all. I'm not perfect either."

"Except that you are per—" he opened his mouth to protest, but the way your eyes narrowed had him choosing his final word carefully. "Are… person?" He pulled away to fiddle with the hem of his sleeve. "I just can’t trust you’d like me when I haven’t been myself that often. You don’t know me that well.” His bangs covered his eyes as he lowered his head and looked away.

“I like the parts I’ve seen,” you stubbornly declared and crossed your arms, rapidly firing off the list you kept in your head. “You sleep like a corpse, you’re a tease and a flirt—even worse in bed. You won’t give anyone the time of day but me, you like your coffee black but somehow have a ridiculous sweet tooth.”

“Angel.” They tried to get your attention, but you didn’t hear them.

“Little things make you happy even though you’re a pessimist, a drama queen when you want to get your way, a smug, petty brat on top of that, a total fucking geek if I’m being honest—sometimes you get really excited and babble about tech I don’t understand—and the very first thing I learned—”

“Angel,” he interrupted a little louder with a touch on your shoulder and you snapped out of it. Gentle as could be, he pried your fingers away from your arm. You didn’t realize you were practically digging your nails into your skin from how riled up you were. “Okay,” he continued in a low voice, a tinge of awkwardness to it. “You know me, in some ways.”

You smiled up at him, just as self-conscious about your momentary rant. “You really, really like holding hands, too,” you quietly pointed out and wiggled your fingers in his grip. He hadn’t let go, not that you wanted him to.

“I didn’t think there was so much of me—the real me—that you cared enough to notice,” he said, idly tracing over your fingertips. The gentle touch comforted you.

“It’s all important to me. And it made me so excited when I could see those little parts of you," you admitted with a nervous laugh. “This is embarrassing, but I'd try to write down all the things I'd learn when I got home so I wouldn’t forget. But then I’d scribble and tear up the papers—I’d think to myself like ‘that’s creepy, stop it you weirdo.’ Isn’t it though? Taking notes on someone is a bit much.”

Ren seemed to piece something together in his mind before answering confidently, “Not at all, in fact it’s really cute. Who's studying for who, here?”

Heat flushed your cheeks and you blew out a silent breath from pursed lips. “I wasn’t studying. I was happy that you were being yourself! There are so many quirks or habits you don't realize that just make me fall more in… love… with you…?” You trailed off, eyes widening in tandem with theirs as you both processed what you'd just said.

The confused look on his face had you positive that his brain was malfunctioning. At least yours certainly was. “Ah—In love? Like you love me?” he asked in disbelief and repeated himself. "You love me?"

You nodded robotically, wanting to melt into the marble floor. You did love him. And all the little pieces that shined through the cracks in his act. You loved getting to know him, good and bad, bratty or sweet. Confessing to note taking already had you flustered, yet here you were, continuing to run your mouth and put it all out there. “Yeah... I love you,” you managed to say in spite of yourself.

He lifted you off the ground by your waist, drawing a weird squeaking noise you had surely never made before out of you. He didn't seem bothered as he sat you down on the counter and tenderly kissed your forehead. “I love you, Angel. More than anything,” he breathed out against your skin then pulled back. “I really love you.” His hand brushed stray hairs away from your face before he was cupping your cheek, staring at you for a long while with a shamelessly adoring smile.

Sirens started blaring in your head the longer nothing happened, so you quietly asked, “Can you kiss me before more embarrassing stuff comes out my mouth?”

“Ahh, um, I’m kind of—overstimulated? Overwhelmed? I never thought I'd hear y'say you love me," he confessed with giddiness. "I can’t decide between teasing you or crying from happiness."

“If you tease me right now I’m going to be the one crying."

That got him to choose. Not a moment sooner, he finally kissed you. The sirens in your head quieted down, only to be replaced by butterflies in your stomach as your eyes closed. He was just as affectionate as he always was, but you could tell he had trouble holding his emotions back from the way his hand gripped your thigh. There was a trembling excitement to the gentle kisses he gave. Ren was clearly on cloud nine. His lips drew a feather light trail from the corner of your mouth up to your ear, barely tickling you as he lingered.

“Angel,” he whispered softly as his thumb traced circles on your leg.

You tilted your head to look at him, feeling pure bliss from his affection. “Hmm?”

“Don’t tear up your study notes next time. ‘Wanna read ‘em.”

“Noo!"

#14dwy #14 days with you #14dwy redacted #14dwy ren #momo writing #thing that sits in my drafts mocking me as it gets longer and longer #is there fluff? angst? comfort? heck if i know #OOC? gosh probably #proofread except i will find typos later anyway #lmk if i need to tag anything #how do u use this gay little site /j

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sissylittlefeather · 2 months ago

Text

Bonded: Part 5

That's What You Get For Loving Me

A/N: Sorry this took so long! This chapter was a pain in my butt, but I think it's finally ready for public eyes. Also, there's only one more chapter of this one, so enjoy it while you can!

Special thanks to @ccab and @atleastpleasetelephone for helping me work out some kinks (not the good kind).

Get caught up: Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also they're vampires so blood, biting, blood drinking, and Lisa Marie is really ill

Word count: ~2.9k

“My baby girl is gonna die, isn't she?”

You lay together in silence and the thought hits him that at least he'll have you when it happens.

******

You stay with Elvis through the end of his Vegas engagement, splitting your time between his suite, his shows, and the hospital. After about three days, he convinces you to quit your job and move into his suite with him. Honestly, it doesn't take much convincing to get you to do it. If it weren't for Lisa Marie's illness, you would be wrapped in a blissful blanket of love together. You're both excited to have someone to feed from regularly, somehow sustaining each other without the need for any humans. And the sex is phenomenal every time, so for the most part, you're happy.

Still, you both spend a lot of time trying to research and find a way to help Lisa Marie. You pore over books about healing, trying to figure out if there's something you can do. You try several different things, but nothing works.

When his Vegas shows end, he assumes you'll accompany him to Graceland, and you do because what else would you do? One afternoon you're laying in bed together still naked from a passionate session of lovemaking when he has an idea.

“What about Mary?”

“What about her?” You're not sure where he's going with this.

“Would she know about something to help Lisa Marie?”

“Maybe, but I'm not sure.” You sit in deep thought for a while before it hits you like a ton of bricks. Why haven't you thought of it before?! “I bet my mother knows something!”

He looks at you funny, like he needs to say something but isn't sure it's okay to say. Finally, he breaks down and just asks.

“Your mother is alive?”

“No, I guess I should clarify. I call the woman who turned me my mom. She's very motherly. But she was a healer for her people before she was turned! She knows all kinds of ancient wisdom. I haven't seen her in a long time, though.” He sits up and looks at you seriously.

“If you think she can help, we should talk to her.”

“We'll have to take a trip to the mountains. She doesn't own a phone.” He lays back down and pulls you in close to him.

“I'll charter a plane. We'll go tonight.”

******

His bodyguards are reluctant to let him go anywhere without them, but he reminds them that he'll be fine by extending his fangs. Besides, it's not like you're going anywhere with a lot of people.

Once you land and get a car, you begin your journey up into the mountains. It's been a while, but you still remember how to get to her house. For the most part, you ride in silence through the tall trees, both of you nervous for how this encounter might turn out. When you pull up to the rusty old gate, Elvis shuts the car off and looks at you.

“This is the closest I'll ever get to meeting your family. Should I be nervous?” You laugh a little.

“No, you handled Mary okay. Ama is only around 400 years old, so she's much more lenient. She'll be surprised to see a male vampire, though. I know she had a hand in eradicating them.”

“Eradicating them?!”

“They had become too dangerous and out of control. They weren't all like you.” Elvis thinks of the times he's almost fully drained women unintentionally, the near-cruelty with which he's treated them at times, and nods. Maybe he would be dangerous if he wasn't himself.

At the door, you knock on the ivy-covered wood and wait for a bit. Before too long, a small brown woman with long black braids opens the door and Elvis sighs, assuming you have the wrong house. But instead, you throw yourself into her arms.

“Mother.” She holds you comfortably, despite being shorter than you. After a few seconds, you pull back and turn to introduce Elvis. He nods and smiles, secretly hoping she'll assume he's human. It's better to be considered a child than a threat. Instead, she purses her lips.

“You two better come inside.” He follows you into the cozy room with a wood-burning stove almost in the center. She gestures for you both to have a seat on a small, plush couch and then settles herself in a rocking chair. “So you've made yourself a male vampire companion.”

You shake your head vehemently. Her tone indicates that this disappoints her.

“No! I didn't make him to be my companion. I just… made him…” You’re struggling to articulate exactly why you turned Elvis into a vampire. In all honesty, other than because he asked, you don't really have a reason.

“I knew you were a risk. Always weak around human men, refusing to kill them when necessary.” She stares coldly at Elvis, who bristles defensively in response. Without thinking, you put your hand on his knee and feel him relax a little. When she catches the interaction, she inhales sharply. “And you've bonded with him!”

“No! No I didn't!” She shakes her head.

“Don't lie to me, child. I can smell it on both of you-” Something snaps inside of Elvis and he yells.

“Yes! I'm a vampire. I made her do it. And yes, we are bonded. That was my idea too. I'm evil. Can we move on?” And then he gets quiet and looks at you. “Every second you sit here talking is another second that we lose Lisa Marie.”

You nod slowly, resisting the urge to kiss him. But Ama watches the way you look at each other and softens a bit.

“Who is Lisa Marie?” Elvis turns back to her.

“She's my daughter. She's 3 and she's dying. I don't know what to do.” His voice catches on the last part and you take his hand, squeezing gently.

“I'm not sure what you think I can do.” She holds her hands up like she has nothing to offer.

“Weren't you a healer?” You ask, worried that you've come all this way for nothing.

“I was, but this is- wait.” Ama leans forward in her chair. “Were you a vampire when she was conceived?”

Elvis looks at you, almost embarrassed about the fact that he has a child with another woman, but you know he's married. It's not a shock that his child has a different mother.

“Yes.” Ama laughs and leans back with her hand on her forehead. You and Elvis look at each other perplexed. She sits up and speaks quietly.

“She’s half-vampire and will likely turn fully when she becomes a woman. She needs blood.” Elvis stands up, excitedly, dragging you with him.

“What do you mean?!” Ama rises slowly and smiles.

“She is part of you, part vampire. The reason her body hasn't healed is because it needs blood, your blood, to come back to health. Give her just a little of your blood over a series of days and she will be fine.” Elvis laughs loudly as the tears start to stream down his cheeks. For a split second, it hits you that his daughter will probably be a vampire too. He obviously hasn't realized what this might mean and you're not about to tell him right now. Instead, you push that thought away and focus on the fact that she will, in fact, survive.

“That's why she hasn't… oh my God. It's so simple.” He can hardly make words, he's so excited and relieved. Your eyes fill with tears too and it doesn't take long for him to wrap you fully in his arms and kiss you. “Oh God, honey. We can help her!”

He lets go of you just long enough to turn and hug Ama. Her eyes are wide with shock at how tender and loving he seems with you, about his daughter, and even with his arms around her.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She pats him on the back gently. When he pulls away, she grabs his face in both hands.

“You be good to her, okay? You seem different than the others. You be good to her or you'll have me to answer to.” He nods, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I love her, ma'am. I'll take care of her.” She moves her hands away, nodding.

“Good.”

******

On the plane, Elvis’s leg bounces with nervous energy. You're sitting across from him on the small private jet. There's a stewardess somewhere, but he got annoyed and compelled her to stay away. So it's just the two of you for the next hour or so.

The thought enters your mind again that Lisa Marie will probably be a vampire someday. You look at Elvis and decide this isn't the time to talk about it. You need a distraction and so does he.

“Hey, baby?” You ask quietly and he looks up at you like he's forgotten you're there.

“Yeah?”

“You wanna feed?” He seems to be considering it for a bit before he shakes his head.

“No, honey, I'm okay.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and walk over to him.

“You're really not.” He pulls you down into his lap and buries his face in your hair. You stroke the back of his head and whisper. “C’mon, baby.”

He grunts as you expose your neck to him. It's true he hasn't fed in a couple of days. The tantalizing smell of your blood is so tempting that his fangs emerge and he moans softly. His cock twitches in his pants and he feels it start to harden at the thought of having you in more ways than one. But he's flooded with guilt at the same time, thinking about his own pleasure when his daughter might die. You anticipate what he's thinking and murmur.

“Elvis, I know Lisa is still sick, but there's nothing we can do about it on this plane.” He realizes you're right and pulls your lips down to his, letting his tongue push past your fangs to explore your mouth. The kiss heats up quickly as he begins to pull at your clothes.

“Need you, honey.” He whispers in your ear as you whimper and grind your ass on him a little bit. You feel his erection and put your hand on him over his pants. He groans softly. “You wearin’ panties, honey?”

“Yes.” You moan into his mouth.

“Take ‘em off.” Without another thought, you stand up and obey, sliding your panties down your legs. He drags his hand up the inside of your thigh and runs his fingers through your folds. “Oh, baby. Feels like you need it too.”

“I do… need you so bad baby…” You whimper. He grunts again and pushes his middle finger up into you, pumping it in and out for a bit. Then, he slides it out and pats your ass.

“Bend over, baby.” You do as you're told and bend over, putting your hands on the short table that is between your chairs. He flips your skirt up over your ass and moans with the sight of your glistening wet pussy in front of him. “Goddamn, honey.”

And then he dives in tongue first, shoving it as deep inside you as it'll go. He fucks you with his tongue for a bit before he moves down, licking your clit with a fervor you've never experienced before. You moan loudly and he tries not to smile. He loves to eat you out any way he can, but you bent over like this doesn't happen often.

“Fuck, baby… that's good.” You whimper as he continues to lick and suck and tongue fuck your pussy, pushing you to the edge of an orgasm pretty quickly.

“Cum for me, honey.” He mumbles against you, sending his tongue to dart out and tease your clit. You moan and push back, losing all control. He presses his tongue inside you again and then goes back to working your clit. “Come on, baby. Just let go; I'm right here.”

You whimper and pant as your orgasm closes in on you and you almost scream as it rattles your whole body, rushing through you from your pussy right out to your fingertips and back again. He feels the way you pulse on his tongue and licks you through your climax.

When you finally come down, you hear him unzip his pants and pull his cock free. He grabs you around the waist and pulls you back down into his lap. You groan as you sink down onto him, pushing him so deep inside you.

“That's my girl.” He whispers in your ear. You moan and start to bounce on him while he guides your hips. “Fuck, baby.”

He makes some kind of noise between a moan and a grunt and holds your hips as he starts to thrust into you from underneath. Then, you take over again, grinding back against him, pushing him deeper and deeper.

“Gettin’ close. Don't stop, baby.” You bounce on his cock as fast and hard as you can and feel him start to throb inside you. Then, he moans loudly, grabs your hips in a bruising grip, and slams you one last time. “Fuck! Yeah, baby.”

When he finishes, he holds you still in his lap, pulling your body back against him as he moves your hair and bites into your neck with his dick still nestled in your pussy. You groan as he drinks you, reveling in the sensation of this highest level of intimacy. After a few seconds, he backs off, licking your puncture wounds so that they'll heal faster.

“You like it when I bite you like that? With my cock inside you?” He whispers in your ear and your pussy clenches around him. You shift a little and he groans. “Turn around and feed, baby.”

Without hesitation, you turn and straddle him. He's soft, but he uses his thumb to rub circles on your clit as he moves his head to give you access to his neck. You moan and whimper as he drags his thumb faster and faster over you. Another orgasm threatens to overwhelm you and you lean forward and graze your fangs against his skin.

“That's it, baby. I want you to cum and bite me.”

“Fuck… Elvis… ohhhh!” Just as your climax hits, you sink your teeth deeply into his neck and whimper as the sweet taste of his blood washes over your tongue. He holds your hips tightly and lets you drink your fill. When you finally come down and back off of him, he pulls you into a kiss that's all fangs and tongues and blood. He pulls back and presses his forehead to yours.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, Elvis.” The captain comes over the PA system to announce your descent into the Memphis airport. Elvis squeezes you one more time and then pats your ass. He helps you put your panties back on, but doesn't let you go sit in your own seat. Instead, he wraps his arms tightly around you. You tap on his arm. “Baby, I need my seatbelt.”

“No, you don't. I've got you.” You giggle and relax against him. The plane lands just fine and you both sigh deeply.

Back to reality.

******

Finally, you arrive at the hospital and make your way to Lisa Marie’s room. When you walk in, Elvis demands that everyone leave. They look at him like he has three heads, but he says it again and you hear his voice take on that eerie quality that it does when a vampire is compelling someone. It doesn't take much longer for them to clear the room and leave you and Elvis alone with Lisa Marie.

“How do I give her my blood?” He looks at you helplessly.

“I'm not sure. Maybe just drop some on her tongue? Ama said it didn't need to be much at all. And then once she's awake we can give her a little more until she's fully recovered.” He nods and pulls his sleeve up.

“Baby, would you bite me?” You walk over to him and take his arm.

“Why?”

“Your bites are gentler. Please?” Nodding, you lean forward and carefully sink your fangs into his flesh. “Mmm, see that hurts a lot less. When you do it it feels good.”

You have to actively stop yourself from feeding so he can get some blood for Lisa, but it's not easy to pull your mouth away from his arm. Even after feeding on the plane, he tastes so good it's hard to pull back. He strokes your hair with his other hand.

“Thank you, baby.” He dips his fingers in the small pool of blood that's gathered on his arm. Then, he takes his fingers and opens Lisa's mouth, meticulously placing a few drops on her tongue. When he's finished, he stands back and watches like she's going to wake up right away.

“It'll probably take some time to work. Come sit down.” He nods and pulls both of your chairs up to the side of the bed.

With one hand, he holds Lisa Marie’s, making soft circles on the back of hers. He leans back a little, though, to let you settle on his shoulder. His arm snakes around your waist and pulls you in close so he can kiss you on the forehead. You drift off to sleep in his arms and he looks at you and then Lisa Marie, thinking he has everything he needs right now at this moment, as long as everyone wakes up in the morning.

******

Almost the End!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

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#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you

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readerssmut · 8 months ago

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"𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦." ~ Boss Milo Manheim x reader Pt.2

Song Inspired- Boyfriend (By Dove Cameron)

Tags/Warnings-18+ only, Minors DNI, consensual, romance, dominant (Milo), cheating, smut, fluff, light bondage, rough sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (m & f receiving). Reader is an Office Siren. Grammar police can respectfully f off (:

Summary- Y/N has a shitty boyfriend and one night at an office party drunkenly confides in her hot boss. Pt 3 here

Before he could speak, she said stuttering "I'm sorry I'm like this I've been stressed lately. My boyfriend he-he cheated on me not too long ago. I thought I could move past it and forget but its only made me resent him. He told me would do better, try harder but there's been no change. I feel like we are going in circles, and I feel trapped. I have no way of dealing with it, no one to talk to about it. Now I'm rambling like an idiot to my bos...." He cut her off "Y/n I'm sorry this is happening you deserve better. I could treat you better. I could be a better boyfriend than him." This hit y/n like a brick of course she had imagined this scenario hundreds of times all in different ways, but it still shocked her. If she didn't feel sober before she sure did now. It felt like those words soaked up all the booze in her. "Mr.M.." she began, he once again stopped her "call me Milo." "Milo-" she stuttered "Isn't there rules against us being together?" He moved closer her to her until he was standing over her. "Y/n I don't care about rules, and I've seen the way you look at me. The way you bite your lip or clench your thighs when we are alone in a room. I don't think you care about rules." She thought for only a moment before grabbing his tie and pulling him down to her level. Pausing for only a moment he took this opportunity to kiss her passionately. Her fingers interlocking with his loose curls. Their tongues danced together, making strings of saliva disconnect and reconnect. She tasted the bourbon on his tongue making her want more. He stopped and stood up, looking down at her he said "y/n I've seen the books you read, and I know that boyfriend of yours doesn't satisfy you. So, you're going to do as I say and I'm going to make sure you come over and over again. Understand?" Y/n looked up at Milo with lust in her eyes, all those wet dreams of him flooded her mind. He spoke to her in the most perfect way. He hadn't even touched her, but she was practically dripping at his words. All he had to was give her a look and she knew exactly what to do but she waited for his command. He told her to remove his belt and pants slowly. Y/n did as she was told sinking to her knees beneath him. The bulge teased her she could see the outline through his boxers. Frustration built up inside her, all she could think about was having him rail her from behind. He pulled down his boxers and his dick sprung out, she immediately grabbed it, devouring it. She was a drooling mess, but she didn't care. He smelled clean and tasted fresh, unlike her boyfriend. She slobbered all up and down his shaft. He groaned and pushed her head down gently stopping every few bobs so she could breathe. Her hands worked at his dick and her mouth so warm and wet took him so well. He grunted breathy "you're so good, fuck, fuck." She could feel his dick start to twitch in her mouth but there was nothing more in this moment she wanted than to swallow his load. He came hard with a loud groan pulling her hair back gently but just enough to be able to see her pretty face and mouth being covered in his cum. He couldn't pretend he hadn't imagined this tons of times. He wanted so desperately to make her feel good. Not even getting a chance to catch her breath y/n was picked up and put onto his desk her feet hanging off. He tore her skirt and panties off. He kissed up and down her thighs leaving small purple marks. That was him claiming her and she loved every second of it. He started slow licking up and down her folds. The sensation sending chills up through her spine. His face was covered in juices in no time. He sucked on her clit alternating with his tongue doing circular motions. He inserted two fingers in her building the tension in her body. She was moaning like crazy almost forgetting where they were. She quickly covered her mouth muffling her sounds. He smiled against her pussy knowing she was close to finishing. Her thighs suffocated him, but he was determined to make her feel incredible. "Mhm darling you taste so sweet."

#Milo Manheim #Smut #Boss x Reader

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cherrycola27 · 1 year ago

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false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and full smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

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Chapter 17: Something Just Like This

Space. A place in this world to call your own. It's something you had always wanted—something you craved.

For a while, you had that here in your apartment with Hydra and Cerberus, and now Bradley. And you had loved the space you shared with them. Until she came along and contaminated it. Your home, the place that was supposed to be your safe space, had been desecrated.

Maybe that's why, when you woke up in the wee hours of the morning on Tuesday, with Bradley still fast asleep, you found yourself scrolling through real estate sights looking at houses. You hadn't lived in an actual house on earth, ever.

The thought of having one never crossed your mind. Buying a house meant staying somewhere. It was a physical representation of permanence. Something you never had before.

But now, with Bradley, your husband, you wanted a place for the two of you. A place to raise your future family because you were done running. You'd found your place in this world.

You scrolled and scrolled until you found the perfect house. It was a four bedroom colonial. Two stories, fenced in backyard, and a large front porch. It had a pool, which you weren't thrilled about, but you knew Bradley would love.

It was in a quiet neighborhood in Coronado. The house had hardwood floors throughout, and the listing said it had been newly remodeled, which was evident in the pictures.

The outside had beautiful landscaping, which complimented the lime-washed brick of the exterior. The only drawback was the price. For most, it would deter them, but for you, who'd spent over a thousand years saving and investing on earth, it was a drop in the bucket.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you filled in your information to set up a meeting to tour the house at ten in the morning. You didn't want to tell Bradley because it's not something the two of you had talked about, but it felt so right.

So, in the morning, you told him you had some errands to run and a surprise for him when you returned.

When you came back home around two that afternoon, you were giddy with excitement. "Love, pack a bag." You announced to Bradley as you came through the door.

"For?" He asked you with a raised eyebrow.

"For Virginia Beach. I figured we might as well take advantage of this time off that we have. I know you've been wanting to go home for a bit, and I'd love to see where you grew up. So, I made a few calls, worked out a few things, and I booked us two first class tickets. Our flight leaves at five. You announce proudly as you go to your bedroom and pull out some suitcases and start packing.

"Woah, babe, slow down. What about Hyrda and Cerberus?" Bradley asks as you toss clothes at him.

"Penny agreed to pet sit for us." You tell him.

"Well, what about a place to stay? I normally stay with my aunt, but I can't just spring this on her." Bradley asks you concerned.

"Bradley, it wounds me that you don't have faith in me." You mock him as you turn around to face him for the first time. "I got us a hotel. Everything is taken care of. Now start packing!" You scold him as you return to your suitcase.

Bradley exhales, knowing that it's fruitless to argue with you. So, he relents and starts packing alongside you.

An hour and a half later, the two of you are being dropped off at the airport. You decided to Uber rather than leave either of your vehicles there.

The moment you get your bags out, a young man greets both of you. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw. I can take your things for you, and then you can follow me to the lounge."

Bradley looks a little surprised but hands your luggage over. The two of you follow the steward to the first class lounge and take a seat before getting a drink.

Bradley looks around as he settles into the plush chair with a glass of expensive scotch. "This is something else." He remarks. "Have you never flown first class?" You ask him.

"Never. When I fly commercial, I always try to upgrade to business because I'm too big to fit comfortably in economy." He shrugs his shoulders and continues to look around.

"You know, I sometimes forget that you're like, wealthy from being around so long. But then you buy me fancy watches and first-class plane tickets and I remember." Bradley chuckles.

"Bradley, Love." You lean forward in your chair. "I'm not wealthy. We are wealthy. You're my husband. For better or worse, what's mine is yours." You remind him.

"If you say so—still—it's a lot to take in." He sighs as he checks the time on his aforementioned expensive watch that you bought him.

A little while later, the two of you are on the plane tucked into your first class suite with all the bells and whistles, complete with lie-flat seats and a door.

Bradley is engrossed in finding out what all the buttons do when a flight attendant comes by with two glasses of champagne as you wait for take off.

"We didn't order these." Bradley says, but you pat his shoulder and chuckle. "They are complimentary. Perks of first class." You smile at him before grabbing the glasses and toasting. Minutes later, a dinner menu appears, and Bradley marvels at all of the choices, unable to decide.

You lean back in your chair and watch him over the rim of your glass. He's like a kid in a candy store. It warms your heart that you are able to give him all of this. You thought maybe completing your quest for worthiness was your purpose in life, but looking at your husband, you realize loving him is your true purpose.

The roughly six hour flight goes smoothly. After dinner, your suite is converted to a bed so you and Bradley can get some sleep. However, the two of you decide that joining the mile-high club was a better idea. You came with Bradley's hand firmly covering your mouth and his chest pressed against your back with him whispering absolutely filthy praises in your ear about how you were such a good girl for him.

By the time the two of you made it to your hotel late that evening, you were both thoroughly exhausted. You took a quick shower together before curling up to get some much needed sleep before meeting his family tomorrow.

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

You woke up the next day extremely nervous.

Today, you would meet Carole's sister, Bradley's Aunt Marsha, her husband Tom, and their three children.

While the two of you were getting dressed, Bradley could sense that you were worried. The entire drive there in your rental car, he assured you that they would love you, and everything would be fine.

You felt nauseous as he pulled into their driveway. His aunt and uncle had a lovely home, and Bradley told you that they were great people, but this was all new to you.

You held his hand tightly as you climbed the couple of steps that led to the front door. Bradley rang the doorbell, and the two of you patiently waited for someone to answer. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze just before the door opened, and a lovely middle-aged woman with short blonde hair opened the door.

"Oh my goodness! Bradley! What are you doing here?!" The woman, who you knew had to be his aunt because she looked just like Carole, exclaimed as she pulled him in for a hug before cupping his face. She hadn't noticed you yet.

"Hey, Aunt Marsha! I had a few days off, so I thought I would fly out here and surprise you. I also wanted to introduce you to someone." Bradley said as you pulled you closer to him. "Y/N, this is my Aunt Marsha. Aunt Marsha, this is Y/N, my wife." Bradley smiled.

Bradley's aunt stood there silently for a moment before a wide grin spread across her face. You turned her head over her shoulder and called into her home. "Tom, Conner, Alyssa, Maddie, meet me in the living room. Bradley is here, and he brought his wife!"

Marsha ushers the two of you inside and directs you to her living room, where you sit down on the sofa.

"Marsha, what are you going on about?" And older gentleman, whom you assume is her husband, comes into room holding a cup of coffee before stopping in his tracks when he spies you and Bradley sitting on couch. You aren't sure what to do, so you shyly wave at him. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, Bradley's cousin burst into the room. "Mom, what do you mean Bradley brought his—" a tall boy who has blonde curls similar to Bradley's stops short when he sees the two of you. "—Wife." He finishes in a choked tone. The two girls stand there silently, each mirroring their father's shocked expression with wide eyes and mouthed slightly agape.

Marsha stands up and scolds her husband and children. "Don't just stand there, introduce yourselves!"

All at once, the four of them move toward you. You and Bradley both stand up, and you shake hands with his Uncle Tom and his cousins Conner, Alyssa, and Maddie. You a sit back down, and there is an awkward silence in the room.

"Well, Y/N, tell us about yourself, honey." Bradley's aunt breaks the silence as she brings in cups of coffee for all of you. You take the mug and take a deep breath.

"Well, I'm a pilot like Bradley is, I'm originally from North Carolina. I'm thrity-one. I'm Greek. I have a dog and a cat, my rank is Commander, I graduated from the Naval Academy, and my parents passed away when I was nineteen. Oh, and my call sign is Hades." You say, telling them what you'd practiced on the drive over here.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry to hear about your folks." Marsha says. "It's fine, Mrs. Edwards." You shrug your shoulders. Bradley's aunt shakes her head.

"Mrs. Edwards is my mother in law. I'm Marsha or Aunt Marsha, whichever you prefer. We are family now." She smiles at you coming to sit by you on the couch and resting her hands over yours.

"Aren't you just the most beautiful woman. If there's one thing those Bradshaw boys can do, it's pick a beautiful wife. My goodness Bradley, she is gorgeous." Marsha compliments you. "Thank you." You smile back at her. "And she went to the Academy and is a Commander. That means she outrank you, doesn't it?" Marsha asks him.

"She sure does." Bradley chuckles. "Beautiful and smart. No wonder you couldn't stop talking about her when you came out to Maddie's graduation!" Marsha laughs, and Bradley blushes. You turn to him a quirk an eyebrow.

"Oh, honey, you should have heard him. He wouldn't stop talking about you!" Aunt Marsha says. "So, tell me the story, how did you two meet and all that jazz?" She asks you.

"Bradley was assigned to be my wingman, and we became friends and found out by accident that we were neighbors. We kind of danced around the fact that we liked each other for a while until Bradley asked me out on a date on my birthday. We went out the next day. Dinner and the boardwalk amusement park. He won me a stuffed shark!" You cheer as you tell them.

"Then Bradley got hurt, and I convinced him to move in with me, and last week, he proposed, and we eloped on the beach." You say, leaving out some of the more supernatural details before showing her your ring.

"This was your mother's ring, wasn't it?" Marsha asks with a few tears in her eyes. "Yes, yes, it was." Bradley says to her.

"She and Nick would have loved you." Marsha smiles at you. "You know, I never met two people who were more perfect for each other than my sister and Goose. You know he proposed after four dates. I guess when you know you know. I know Carole never loved anyone else after him. I hope they found each other in the afterlife and are happy together." Marsha sighs.

"They are." You sigh, and she looks at you confused. "I mean—I'm sure they are. Bradley has told me so much about them." You recover quickly. Marsha sighs before getting up to take your coffee cups. You offer to help her and follow her dutifully into the kitchen. You set the mugs down on the counter and turn to ask Marsha if she'd like help washing them.

But as you turn, your elbow catches the handle of one, and it crashes to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. "Oh no! I'm so sorry! Let me clean it up!" You drop to your knees to grab the broken fragments of ceramic. A sharp piece catches your index finger and you wince, drawing back at the pain.

You bring your finger up to examine yourself and notice the fresh, crimson blood leaking out of the cut. Your eyes go wide with shock. This isn't supposed to happen.

"Are you okay, dear? Here, let me get the broom." Marsha says as she scoops you to your feet and sweeps up the mess. "I'm so sorry." You say to her again.

"Oh, honey, don't you worry. There's a hundred more where that came from. Do you need a bandage? Come over to the sink and grab a stool, I'll clean you up." She says.

"I'm fine." You assure her as you wash the blood from your hands.

Hours later, you and Bradley's family, well, your family now, are gathered around the dining room tabled eating. The cut and dropped mug from earlier long forgotten.

The atmosphere is warm and welcoming and it's nice to sit down and have a family dinner where everyone wants you around.

It's nice to have a real family.

That night, when the two of you leave, Marsha and Tom insist that they have enough room for the two of you to sleep over, but Bradley tells them you already have a hotel room. His aunt makes you promise to come over again before you leave so she can show you some photo albums of Bradley through the years. When you return the next day, you spend hours flipping through them with her. Bradley blushes every time Marsha shows you one that he deems embarrassing, but you love every minute of it.

The two of you spend the next few days exploring. The day before you're set to leave, Bradley takes you to the graveyard where his parents are buried.

As you drive into the cemetery in your rented car, you hold tight to Bradley's hand. Afraid of what might happen if you don't.

He drives up a hill and stops at the top, pulling the car over to the shoulder and shutting off the engine. You both unbuckle, but you reach for his arm before exiting. "Bradley, wait," you say, catching him by the elbow.

"What's wrong, Angel?" He asks you with a soft expression. "I just—I just need to do something before we go out there. C'mere." You say to him as you pull him closer.

You lean over the console of the rental car and thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of Bradley's neck before pressing your foreheads together. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths hoping that your idea works.

You break apart and look down, and a smile graces your features as you see what you were hoping to see.

"What was that about?" Bradley questions you. "I was seeing if we were tethered." You tell him. He cocks an eyebrow, still unsure.

"Graveyards and one of the places that I can easily travel back to the Underworld. When I'm in my true goddess form, I can see the portals inside them. But when I'm in my mortal form, I can't. If I would accidentally pass through one, I don't know if I would be strong enough to make it back. But if I'm tethered to you, I have something connecting me here to the mortal world. It keeps me safe." You explain to him.

"How do you know we are tethered?" Bradley asks. "Look at your ring. You should be able to see it." Bradley looks down, and there's a gold string running between the two of you. "Holy shit." He breathes out. "How—how is that possible? How can I see this?"

"Because you're the King of the Underworld. And as much as I never thought they existed, Bradley, you're my soulmate. Only soulmates can be tethered. It's how they find each other in the afterlife." You explain to him.

"But, but I thought you said we couldn't be soulmates. That our marriage could never be real?" Bradley shakes his head.

"Ancient laws are tricky. But I think you made it real, Bradley." You say as the pieces fall into place in your mind. "How?" He retorts.

"Because you made me an alter the first time we made love. You said you would worship at my hips, worship me. You made me an alter, and so when we got married—"

"We married at an alter of the Gods, an alter for you." He finishes. "Exactly." You smile. "So what does that mean, Angel?" Bradley presses further. "It means they can't take you from me. Gods can't tear apart soulmates. Looks like you're stuck with me." You chuckle.

Bradley smiles and kisses you before stepping out of the vehicle and coming to open your door. You slip your hand in his as the two of you walk to the headstone that marks his parent's resting place.

The two of you walk up, and Bradley introduces you as if they were actually standing in front of you. He starts talking about you to them, and you can't fight the tears that slip down your cheek at his one-sided conversation.

It's moving to watch him talk about your love and your marriage to his parents. He does it in such an enthusiastic manner that it makes your heart swell. Bradley wraps an arm around you and pulls you close after a few minutes and the two of you bask in the silence.

"I've met them." You say after a few long minutes. "What?" Bradley whispers as he looks down at you.

"I've met them. In the Underworld. The day your mother passed. I was in the Underworld trying to figure out a way to stay. She walked into Paradise asking about "her Goose." I thought she was talking about a pet until she explained that Goose was he husband's call sign. I got to see them reunite. It was— beautiful." You say to him.

"So they really are together. You meant it when you said that at Aunt Marsha's house?" Bradley tears up.

"They are together and happy and still in love. I'm sure you've heard this before, but you really do look so much like your father." You say as you cup his cheek. Your thumb brushes away some of his tears.

"I'm sorry I never told you before." You apologize. "It's okay. I understand why you didn't." Bradley says as he places his hand over yours. "I'm also sorry that I can't take you there to see them. If I was stronger—if I had my full powers—I could." You sigh, angry at yourself.

"It's okay, Angel. I know you could if you would." He whispers before kissing your forehead and pulling you in for a hug. The two of you stand there for a moment before you ask Bradley the question that's been on your mind. "Bradley, where do you want to be buried?"

He pulls back and thinks for a moment. "I never really thought about it. I always figured I'd either burn in, and there wouldn't be anything left of me or that I'd die alone and get boxed up and put in some military graveyard. But I think— I think I'd like to be buried here, with my parents. I'd like to have this view forever." He says as the two of you watch the hues of red and orange paint the evening sky.

"I think I can make sure that happens. Right here is going to be the perfect spot to spend eternity with you." You say. Bradley shakes his head. He doesn't say it, but he knows that he's going to die before you. But you've already promised him that you won't let him go without you. He just hopes you're both old and have lived a full life with that happens.

The two of you say goodbye to Goose and Carole with a promise to visit again soon before leaving.

Your flight home the next day is uneventful.

It's mid afternoon by the time you make it back. The two of you Uber back to your apartment before going to pick up Cerby and Hydra from Mav and Penny. You insist on driving to go get them. Bradley makes a fuss about it but ultimately gives in and hands you your keys.

"Angel, this isn't the way to Mav and Penny's." Bradley remarks as you make a turn. "I know." You hum back. You drive for a few more minutes before you pull into your final destination.

"Honey, who's house is this?" Bradley asks you as you pull in the driveway. "It's for sale. Let's go take a look." You say before hoping out of the car and bounding up the steps to the front door.

"Angel—baby—Hades, wait! We can't just go in a house that's for sale. We don't know if someone might be here!" Bradley scolds you as he follows you up the steps.

"No one is home, and we can go in if we have the key." You reply as you hold up the shiny piece of metal before unlocking the door. "How did you get that?" Bradley interrogates you as you step inside. "I have my ways." You laugh. "C'mon, Bradley, look around with me. Don't be such a kill joy." You tease him as you begin to flit throughout the space.

The bay windows along the back wall let in tons of natural like, and the floor plan is open concept with the kitchen, living room, and dining room flowing into one another. Gorgeous amber colored hardwoods run throughout the house and there is a fireplace along one wall.

The kitchen has beautiful light grey cabinets with white counter tops, and all the appliances are stainless steel. Bradley follows you up the stairs as he takes in all of the bedrooms before you lead him downstairs to the back patio and outdoor kitchen and the pool.

"Isn't this place amazing, Love?" You say to him with starry eyes.

"It's great, but—"He says hesitantly. "But what?" You ask him as you wrap your arms around his middle. "This is an expensive neighborhood and I know that you have money—"

"We have money." You correct him.

"We have money." He sighs. "But I don't want to spend so much of it. You earned that, and it's not fair."

You chuckle. "Bradley, I can't take it with me. And I've never had a reason to have a house until now. I mean, think about it. The yard would be perfect for Cerby and later on some kids. I mean, this would be the perfect home to raise our family in. You could teach them to swim in that pool while I make snacks in the outdoor kitchen. We could have our friends over. Heck, your aunt and uncle and cousins could come visit us. This place would be the perfect home for us!" You try to reason with him.

"I guess you're right. A place like this would be perfect for us to have a family. I guess we could talk to a realtor." Bradley laughs as the thought of you standing in the kitchen round and pregnant with his child while a toddler is running around the back yard with him creeps into his mind.

"We don't have to talk to a realtor, Bradley." You tell him. "I'm pretty sure we do, honey." Bradley chuckles.

"I'm pretty sure we don't. When we pulled up, you asked me whose house this was. Well, it's our house, Bradley. Welcome home." You say as you take a step back and dangle a key in front of him.

"You—you bought us a house? When? How?" He stammers, taking in your words. "The morning we left for Virginia. You'd be amazed what you can get done for the right amount of money.

"So you, you own this?" Bradley sweeps his hand around.

"We own this." You smile.

Bradley is silent for a moment before he picks you up and spins you around and carries you out the front door and onto the porch.

"Bradley? What are you doing?" You laugh. "I'm supposed to carry you across the threshold. It's tradition." He says with a matter of fact tone before doing just that. You break out into a fit of giggles as he sets you down and starts going through your home in earnest.

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

Two weeks later, the two of you are all moved in. Your furniture fills the room, your photos and decor fill the walls and shelves. Your dishes sit in the cabinets, and Hydra and Cerberus have settled in nicely.

You've just come out of your huge new shower and are doing your nighttime routine when you notice a bruise from when you hit the corner of the kitchen island when making dinner, but you shake it off. As you apply some lotion, you notice the small scar on your hand from the mug you broke in Virginia.

When you go to inspect it further, you suddenly realize just how tired you are as you let out a yawn. You don't dwell on it because Bradley is calling you to come to bed, and the idea of being wrapped up in his big strong arms is the only thing you can be bothered to think of right now.

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mayhemscorner · 2 years ago

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Rising sun

Shino x f!reader

🔞minors DNI🔞

Warnings: ⚠️familial issues/abuse⚠️ angst, SMUT, kinky slight dom Shino, swearing, violence

Summary: (this man is almost 6ft tall and I still FIRMLY believe Shino is a VERY kinky man. Prove me wrong)

Reader is struck upon for using a forbidden jutsu during a mission. Her father retaliates as they play only by the book and threatens to strip her of her shinobi status. Shino has ideas on how to distract her

The pulsating pain against my cheek as my head reels to the side, is a realization that I’ve just been struck upon in my fathers blind rage. I can only manage in my own fit of fury, to place my own hand above the quickly rising marks. If it were a nicer day, it would make me think of when we just finished pouring the foundation of our house, how I placed my much smaller hand inside the imprint he had just made with his own. The same prints I had just fallen upon from the sheer force I was knocked back with,” forbidden jutsu is to not be used so long as you are still my child.”

A kick to the stomach. If we didn’t live the life of shinobi, most would consider this abuse, to us, it’s only another lesson…. No matter how uncalled for.

“It was to save a teammates life! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing.” I spit in his direction, grasping at my ribs and trying to roll over to stand.

“Not if it would cost me my own life or my dignity that comes with using something forbidden. Your chakra is still depleted. Get up.” He replies with no emotion. After several seconds of trying, I knew he was right. My chakra was shot.

He lands one more kick as I reach for anything to pick myself up with,” come back inside when you’re ready to be a real shinobi.”

“Fuck you.” I cough out, finally managing to roll to my back and wheeze air back in to my lungs.

“Or don’t come back at all. You have siblings with the same kekkei genkai. You are replaceable.” His last words echo as the stars finally dissipate from my eyes. He couldn’t truly mean that, he’s just drunk. He had to be.

I could only ponder and force myself to believe my father was drunk as I slowly mosey to town, the forest, anywhere but here. I ignored the fact the smell of alcohol wasn’t present, maybe my senses are just off. Maybe I’d gone noseblind in a time of panic. The treeline was welcoming, silent enough to rest and gain my composure, maybe pass out from lack of chakra and a beating. I’d welcome passing out at this point, I could use the nap. The spots quickly return to my vision as my body sways,” yeah, this looks like a nice spot for a nap.”

And with that, my body buckles, swaying as gracefully as a sack of bricks to the ground.

The last conscious thing I register is a voice calling from the treetops,” Y/N, I got you.”

Coming to was almost worse than passing out, my body aches and my head isn’t fully on the ground. My body is covered in a blanket… no. A jacket. It carried the faint smell of pollen and fresh morning dew. I knew the jacket and the scent to well, as the owner of the jacket had no smell, unless the flowers were blossoming. As soon as my head turns to look up, he becomes still as the doldrums at sea.

“Shino.” I mutter, seeing the eyes behind his glasses turn down to meet mine,” Y/N.”

He exhales sharply, trying his best to not move his legs that lay under my head as a makeshift pillow.

“How long have i been out?” I mumble, reaching down to burrow further in to his green over coat and hope it engulfs my embarrassment.

“Only a few hours. What happened? You look worse than when I left after the mission.” He replies, picking a cool hand up from his side to rest against my now tender and swollen cheek. I sigh, leaning in to a usually gentle touch that now stung like a bee against the side of my face,” chakra was depleted too much. As a result, I ran in to my fathers hand.”

Shino’s hand twitches against my face as his body becomes taut.

“Word reached him that I used the forbidden jutsu before I had a chance to say it myself. Doesn’t matter if it was to save a teammate, what matters to him is that I used something forbidden.” I continue, lifting a hand to rest against his that lay on my face. He instinctively threads his fingers between mine, the closeness to Shino I’ve always craved only comes in times of pity. But I still find myself clutching to it like a newborn puppy to their mom.

“I don’t see why you haven’t just come to stay at the Aburame compound. The offer has been extended multiple times.” Shino mentions his offer once again.

“Im an adult now, I should just get my own place.” I mutter, squeezing his hand before pulling it down to rest against my chest knowing both of our arms were tiring. He only answers with placing his other hand at the top of my head, weaving his free fingers through the roots of my hair and tugging slightly. The sensation sends a jolt, awakening my senses and my body.

“Get a place in your family compound so you’re still stuck with your father. Great idea, Y/N.” He monotonously shoots back before continuing,” for saving my life with a strong forbidden jutsu… you sure are clueless in anything else.”

“I wouldn’t call it clueless. He was just drunk. I’ll go back home after dark and everything will be fine.” I defend, knowing it might not be, but at least my chakra has time to build and I have time to create a bluff for Shino. Shino drops his hand, pulling the other away,” I’ll walk you back then.”

The walk is silent, save for Shino’s long jacket flapping around my much smaller frame in the wind. His right arm drapes over me to shield the wind away. Being touch starved, my knees threaten to buckle at the multiple signs of affection tonight. It had almost gotten me to forget the quickly bruising areas on my body until a sharp pain blooms in my ribs. I hunch forward, regaining my breath from my bodies surprise attack. Shino stops walking abruptly to turn us towards each other and immediately pulls the zipper of my vest down, followed by lifting my shirt and exposing my lower midriff. Shino shakes his head and grumbles,” I knew it.”

With no further word, he scoops me up as I’m still frozen, processing he has just lifted my shirt, and going even more senseless as my upper half comes to a rest against his heaving in anger chest. His steps quicken, becoming more pronounced as he stalks closer to my house.

“Shino, slow down. I’m fine.” I plead quietly, tugging at his own leaf issued chunin vest. His face is hard as stone, refusing to give any reply until we reach the gates,” give me my jacket and stay behind me.”

“Stop it. We don’t need to start a fight at this time of night.” I murmer, yet still shrug his jacket off and watch as his arms flex to put it back on. He pushes the gate open furiously and stalks to our house that sat dead center of the compound. I dig my heels in to the dirt and tug at the back of his jacket upon seeing a figure hunched over on our porch,” I’ll just go stay at your house. There’s a jug of sake next to him. He’s drunk Shino.”

It was too late, I can barely see around Shino’s frame as my father tilts his head and sets his gaze upon the man that shields me,” the hell does an Aburame want at this time of night. Shouldn’t you be sleeping in your cave or something?”

“I was actually coming to talk to you.” Shino puffs out, the tell tale sign of half a smile frightens me. He was confident, he was ready for a fight.

“He was just dropping me off, was all.” I bluff, stepping out from behind him and being held back from walking any closer.

“Bold of you to come home with a man this late. Did you not learn earlier?” He raises his voice, stalking closer to me as Shino tries pulling me back once again. I manage to dodge the first drunken swing at my already bruised ribs but the second connects just before Shino finally succeeds to pull me forcefully to the side, grasping on to the next drunken fist and stopping it dead in the air. Shinobi are scary enough sober. But when the sake hits our veins, we become almost invincible in our own mind… scary even. For the third time tonight, the wind knocks from my lungs as I hit the ground.

“Damn these men.” I mutter, rocking back on impact and launching myself forward on to my feet, trying to charge in to the altercation. I brace myself as my father signs with one hand in an attempt to knock me back with a wind release jutsu. The wind whips around the three of us as Shino reels an arm back, and sending it flying tactfully against his opponents temple. I cringe at the sight of my dad folding in on himself and dropping to the ground, already snoring. Shino is expressionless and doesn’t move as I stomp furiously to the door trying to gather even a single thought. In an attempt to slam it shut, I feel defeated when Shino catches the flimsy door in an instant. Even behind his glasses, his eyes bore in to mine intently, unblinking. He leans against the doorframe, engulfing me with his large stature as he places an arm directly above me,” I don’t give a fuck what’s forbidden to your family, I’ll make you scream my name until even that’s forbidden.” His hands dance just above my hips as the anger rises,” Shino, what the fuck was that?” My hand instinctively shoots upwards for his throat, pinning him against the wall in an uncontrolled fit of rage, but the heat only climbs against my now flushed face at his words catching me off guard. He lets off a soft, barely even audible moan, taking his turn to lunge at me and quickly reverse our roles. My thighs were now wrapped against his torso and tangled in his long jacket as his breaths quicken so close to my throat while his hands pin my shoulders to the wall. I quickly add my other hand to his throat in case he’s gone crazy. He lets a soft chuckle out as I tug at his jacket,” that was me saving your life, would it kill you to at least say thank you before trying to tear my clothes off?”

I feel my cheeks prickle and the anger die in my throat, only to be replaced with embarrassment,

“I-I wasn’t- That’s not-! I don’t know what to do right now. I should check on my dad.” I stutter out, the anger mixing with other, stronger, emotions as I adjust my hands around his throat so I don’t lose my grip. I can feel his jaw muscle clench and vibrate down to his throat. I find my own self impulsively mimicking his muscle twitch with my thighs, half bucking against him. A smirk once again creeps to his face before swooping in to hover his lips above the side of my ear,” Calm down. I’m only looking out for my teammate. Your father will be fine. I could’ve done much worse.”

The gentle wind against my ear as he enticingly whispers makes my eyes unfocus and my body slacken until he pulls his head back as far as my arms will reach. My hands then move on their own, leaving a playful tug at his throat before trailing to the collar of his jacket and gripping tight. He nods his head, encouraging me until sense washes back in to my body,” good girl.”

Good girl. Those two words would drive almost anyone insane. And after a while of not receiving praise, it could’ve drove me feral. It did. And I could tell Shino knew too.

“S-Shino. Please say it again.” I blush, slowly droning my hands inwards and pulling him closer to me.

“Say what again?” He questions, sliding his hands from my shoulders, causing me to slightly fall forward in to him, as his hands rake slowly down my body and settle underneath my ass to balance me back against the wall.

“I think you know.” I hint, batting my eyelashes slowly and resting my thumb against his pouty lower lip, rubbing it side to side until he playfully takes it in to his mouth with a quick circular motion of his tongue and a soft nip from his teeth. I bite hard in to my own lip to catch the gasp in my throat. Catching on with satisfaction, he hums around my thumb,” take my glasses off. I want to look at you with my own eyes.”

Another jolt shocks my body to life, unfurling my balled up fist and my other hand from his mouth to de-shade him. His eyes adjust to the darkness around us fairly easily, and they shimmer with multiple emotions. It’s crazy the eyes are what give us away. All our emotions, our lust and want. They trail patiently, almost lazily from my eyes to my lips, my lower one still caught between my teeth. I’m so lost in the sight of his eyes that I don’t notice his movements. He lifts a knee to maneuver one of his hands upwards, grasping against my jaw and hovering his lips just above mine,” good girl.”

I sharply inhale as my head tilts forward in an attempt to connect our lips. I’m denied with a soft tug back at my jaw and a mischievous smile. His head dips down to my neck making my heart race and stomach flip. I was expecting a kiss, but instead receive his tongue tracing where he would sink his teeth in to soon after. My bottom lip curls back under my teeth, but the moan still escapes. I pull away slightly, pushing a hand against his chest,” what if my dad wakes up?”

“He won’t.” Shino huffs against my neck while tugging at my jaw once again, finally bringing our lips in to a lazy, drawn out kiss. One kiss becomes two. Three, then four. I’ve lost count how many times the presence of his lips graced my needy ones. His teeth draw in my lower lip, nipping slightly and letting go to catch a breath. My tongue acts on its own accord, darting in to find his. Shino doesn’t bother to hide his moan, only readjusting the hand that holds me up as my thighs grip around his torso tighter. My fingers wrestle away his hood, then tear away his forehead protector, releasing his quickly growing hair to tug to my hearts content. He groans at the sudden pull, bucking us both back in to the wall we’ve drifted from.

“We should move this somewhere else.” I huff while pulling away for another breath of air and trying to wrestle his jacket off for real this time. Shino nods, falling backwards and over the back of the couch behind us effortlessly. I find myself on top, straddling a smirking Shino. I smile, finally able to tear away his vest and jacket in a sloppy and haphazard manner before I wrestle at his tight training shirt. My hands quiver with giddiness as his tightened skin flexes under my fingers in an effort to help. When I barely manage to coax the compression shirt to his shoulders, he grasps both of my hands in one of his and finishes his shirt off, exposing his upper half. Shino leans up to a sitting position and uses his free hand to pull me down further by the nape of my neck, tugging at my now tousled hair to hungrily guide our lips together once again. I feel my hands being released, followed by my vest being tugged at and shedded away. He’s gentle while lifting my shirt over the sickening bruises, his tender fingers ghosting over the lightning strikes of purple and disconnecting our lips to throw my shirt away. My aching core reignites at every twitch I feel against my pelvis from down below.

“Fuck this.” I mutter, sliding down to grapple with the knot holding his pants at his waist. He arches slightly at the intimate touch of my hands dragging his pants downwards, then reaching up to drone lazy circles around his rising bulge.

“I never got to properly thank you, Shino.” I whisper, slowly sinking my head downwards to place a kiss on his still clothed member. He twitches slightly and his hand once again feeds its way in to my hair as I place intentionally sloppy kisses on his hips while shrugging down his boxers.

“That’s oka-“ Shino begins to talk before being cut off with his own moan at the feeling of my lips wrapping around the tip of his cock. His hand clenches deep at my roots and tries to follow the quickly erratic pace of my head. His hips soon follow, becoming a sloppy and unreadable pace until he pumps fully in to my mouth, causing me to slightly gag when I’m held there for a few seconds as he squirms beneath me. When he can’t handle the feeling anymore, I’m being thrown backwards to the other side of the couch and my pants have been effortlessly wrestled off during the process. All while I’m still trying to force myself to breathe air again. The circles being rubbed in to my thighs distract any sense I have, his head burying between my thighs going unnoticed at first. I can’t help but gasp, clawing up his back at the wet pressure kneading slowly at my clit. One finger slips in, shockingly cold against my rising body temperature. My hips try to move, but his other hand holds me down forcibly, making the pleasure even greater. I can feel him smirk against me, followed by a quick flick of his tongue to send me over the edge. My scream silences against the quick grasp at my throat from Shinoto aid him in sitting up,” if anyone ever lays their hands on you again, it better be me.”

“B-but we’re shinobi.” I stutter out as he crashes himself inside of me, pushing further and further until I squirm.

“Even in war, I’d go out of my way to be the last man to ever have his hands on you.” He grunts, thrusting quickly again and stopping. He holds inside of me for a few more seconds,” I wouldn’t just fight for you. I’d kill for you.”

Sex was an odd time for a love confession, but I wasn’t complaining. My thoughts were filled by the building pressure coming to a climax and focusing on not passing out from pleasure. The old couch was as close to breaking as my limit was. I grasp at his hand around my throat as the splotches of ecstasy bubble and obscure my vision like an old time cartoon,” Sh-Shino. Please, Fuck!”

“Y/N, shit.” Shino growls, pumping even sloppier and rougher than before. My head tilts back, brain shutting off and a scream of pleasure threatening to ring off. His hands clamp over my agape mouth, stifling what could’ve been an ear shattering, and dad waking shriek. The convulsion starts in my legs, ecstasy causing me to shake like a leaf in the wind and it was only building with every motion Shino made. With one last slam in to me with all his might, I see he’s reached his limit too. After several seconds, maybe even minutes of catching our breath, it’s a game of who will look at the other first. The walls and floor around us had suddenly become interesting, even though he was hovering directly above me. Shino takes a shaky breath, wiping away beads of sweat that threaten to spill from his forehead. I find myself fanning at my flushed face and finally looking in to his uncovered and nervous eyes,” was that… too far?”

“No. Was it too far for you?” He huffs out between gasps.

“N-no. I should probably go to bed… and you should get home. It’s getting pretty late.” I stumble out, trying to avoid the awkward after first time sex talking while fumbling around to put some clothes on and lay back down.

He hovers above me once again, then slides down, and I’m almost worried I may have to go for a round two. But he stops at my bruised ribs peeking out from my wrinkled shirt, kissing softly at the damaged skin,” I’ll leave if you come with me.”

I ponder the challenge, knowing I definitely didn’t want to be home when my father regained consciousness, let alone having the man who knocked him senseless in the house. I nervously card my fingers through Shino’s hair and wait for his eyes to look towards me,” please?”

“Okay.” I mumble, quickly tiring with fatigue. My eyelids become heavy with the weight of todays events, I could sleep for days. I feel Shino’s weight disappear and I can’t help but twist to my side and curl in on myself like a cat taking a mid day snooze in the sun. As I drift off in to the waves of sleep, I feel an arm sliding below my head and the other under my torso.

The birds were singing jovially from the open window that let in a soft breeze. The side of my face pounded with my heart at the rising anxiety. Birds never sang at our compound, not for years. I turn to the unfamiliar landscape around me, seeing it was almost like a terrarium, the massive windows lining two of the walls looking out to the countryside of the hidden leaf just before sunrise. The nightstand held my neatly folded vest and a single lily that stood proud in a vase with a beetle crawling zigzags on its outstretched leaf. The pack I usually use for missions rests on the floor, stuffed full with my clothes. In my weak attempt to stand, an arm darts lazily around my waist to pull me back against a comforting heat,” We rise with the sun here, Y/N.”

I trace his arm downwards to find his hand resting against my hip and entwine our fingers together. I force my eyes to close once again to break my family’s brutish habits, and as long as the sun droned lazily against the horizon we were both safe in each others embrace. Shino’s chest rises and falls in a melodic rhythm, coaxing me back to a sleepy serenity I could get used to feeling. All worries washed away with the excitement and anticipation of sleeping in and rising with the sun.

#shino x y/n #shino x reader #shino smut #shino aburame #shino fluff #naruto fanfiction #naruto oneshot #aburame clan #shino aburame x reader #naruto smut #This is a Shino appreciation page #Bug boy got moves #You can’t tell me this man ain’t freaky

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 2 years ago

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I FOUND THE ENTIRE LES MISERABLES MANGA BY TAKAHIRO ARAI ONLINE YESSSSSSSSS

(one day i'll make a gigantic post/full on presentation about why it's quite literally the best adaptation of Les Misérables ever because I go crayzee every time I read it)

#les misérables #les misérables manga #takahiro arai #i can't stand the les misérables fandom (DNI if you call it 'les mis' lmao) mostly because it's primarily a musical fandom #it has 0 of the mindset of the book itself (DNI if you call it 'the brick' lmao) but exactly the same energy as the hamilton fandom #(see: drawing bisexual thomas jefferson in a cutesy anime binder vs the friends of the ABC headcanons/incorrect quotes)#anyway gatekeeping is okay as long as i'm doing it and it's about les misérables #my point being: i don't like adaptations that aren't directly sucking on the very ESSENCE of victor hugo's text and the manga does that #the manga is a gift to me specifically #the manga GETS It #not any manga tho i know there are a couple of those #but arai's manga #it's so fricking good #IT GETS ALL THE SYMBOLISM AND PUTS SOME MORE IN THERE IN THE EXACT RIGHT PLACES #JEAN VALJEAN LITERALLY GETS BORN AGAIN FGHJHGFGHJHGFHJ #THE CHARACTERS' SOULS SHOW UP AS ANIMALS

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chaseadrian · 2 years ago

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laid bare beside you

prologue summary. in what could prove to be the worst year of your life so far, Eddie attempts to cheer you up with Billy Joel tickets for your 18th birthday. States away from home, childhood crushes and young adult hormones make their way to the surface, but it's never as easy as saying "I love you." [SERIES MASTERLIST]

pairing. eddie munson x f!reader tags. 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, childhood trauma, best friends to lovers, fluff with a sad ending, first times, confessions, mentions of canon events, insecure!eddie, reader doesn't know he's not graduating word count. 8.5k+ an. this can be read as a oneshot, but it ends very sadly so I hope you don't read it as a oneshot!

The year had been weird.

It started off normal enough. Syllabus on the first day. The slow rollout of homework and tests. Hellfire every other Friday, late nights in Eddie’s van parked at the 7-11 waiting for one of the town drunks to forget their six packs on the sidewalk when they decide to amble home. You lucked out about two-thirds of the time, peeling off into the night to sit on the roof and stare at the stars.

Breaking news of a boy gone missing flipped the town on its axis, and a sophomore runaway brought the electrified nerves right to your doorstep. The bars on your windows were what your parents called protection, twice weekly church visits, a curfew when you’d never had one before.

When you think about the way Hawkins changed, your previously detached parents spinning on their heads to squeeze the life out of you was just about the worst transformation of it all. On the cusp of adulthood, you wrestled with the unresolved heartbreak of a lonely childhood and the sudden suffocation of control under the guise of sanctuary.

The only sanctuary you had was at a table every other Friday with your best friend and the outcasts you’d brought under your wing.

And then, Eddie started rescheduling Hellfire. He pulled later hours at the auto shop, started skipping school without a word.

It seemed all at once your home became a sinkhole and there’d been nothing of the life you’d built outside of it to grab onto. The younger Hellfire kids themselves were afraid of the palpable shift in the town, and every senior suddenly had blinders on in the march towards graduation.

Give or take a hundred students, single minded in their main goal:

Get out.

—

Eddie pulls up just after midnight the day of your 18th birthday, a quiet tap on the wall beside your window.

You slide the window open, warm bedroom light illuminating his features.

“Hi, birthday girl.” He pushes a beer through, “For you.” And taps his own bottle against yours before popping the cap off with the bar. You do the same.

“Hm, thanks.” You take a swig and furrow your brows at him, “I’m surprised you even remembered.”

He wraps his fingers around a slat and rests his chin just next to it, nose poking through, “I know, I know.” He bobs his head back and forth, “Listen, I can make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You slit your eyes and purse your lips at him, “Interested.” The beer is warm and sweating, but you drink more anyway.

Eddie sets his bottle down on the brick sill and reaches into his back pocket, pressing two tickets up against the bars, “Got ‘em fair and square down in Indianapolis. You didn’t think I was working overtime at the garage for fun, right?” He leans his forehead up against the cool metal, a shit-eating smile spreading his lips, deepening the lines in his cheeks.

“Billy Joel?” You snatch them from his hands, chest fluttering for a moment before it falls flat, “Eddie, this is in St. Louis. On a school night!”

“Mhm,” He hums, beer once again at his lips; he tilts it up and stops just shy, “Already booked a hotel. It’s not, y’know, The Ritz or anything but, we won’t get lice.”

You cock your head at him, “My parents will never sign off on it. They’re freaked ever since that girl Barb took off.” You stare at the tickets, lungs heavy now, mumbling to yourself, “Who knew they had it in ‘em to care.”

He taps his rings on the metal to draw your attention back, “Hey, hey! As of—” He turns his wrist, shaking the sleeve of his jacket up, “Seven minutes ago, you’re an adult, baby.”

That grin again, “You’re a free woman if you so choose.”

Your fingers are pressing tight into the tickets, creases on the cardstock as you down the rest of the beer. Eddie laughs a little too loud at the burp that follows.

You nod with developing confidence and tap the bottleneck to the bars, “Alright, Munson. I’m all in.”

He cracks his bottle against yours, but footsteps down the stairs cut the celebration short. You quickly shove the tickets and empty beer back through the bars.

Eddie wiggles his fingertips against yours, “Thursday after school, I’m stealing you away from this place.”

You give him a firm nod and shut the window just as your door swings open.

“What’s all that noise?” Your father asks, his eyes following you as you crawl back into bed, flicking your eyes once more to see the distinct glint of Eddie’s wallet chain fly out of view.

“Sorry. I thought I heard a cat or a…fox…something outside.”

He crosses through your room to look for himself, “You keep this window shut at night, understand me?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Just do better next time.”

“I will.”

He reaches over your bed to flip off the lamp, and you sink further into the mattress, pulling the covers up to your neck in the darkness.

It’s silent for a moment save for the quiet breathing of your father, his silhouette carved from a sliver of light in the hallway.

“Good.” He knocks his hand against your blanketed feet and pauses at the doorway, figure now in full view.

“Goodnight.”

He shuts the door before you respond, and it’s hours before you can slip into sleep.

—

The next two days drag on.

Silent dinners at the table, after school shifts at the bookstore, coughing in class to set a precedent for feigned illness, and a blessing from the nurse to cut out early on Thursday.

Eddie, it seems, had a head start on his absences—there in the morning and gone by lunch.

Stopping you on the walk home, your boss slips you your pay a day early, and throws fifty extra bucks on top of whatever you’d legitimately earned. A birthday present, he calls it, now with the added stipulation that you at least use some of it to bring him back something small from the concert. As the one adult in your life who’d accept a hug, he sends you off with a smile and the reassurance that the bookshop would survive a single weekend without you.

You’re sitting on the porch step when Eddie pulls up, and he throws you a wrapped twinkie when you hop in.

“Birthday cake.” He says, mouth full.

You toss your case in the back and shove the cake in your face, both of you laughing at the sight of stuffed cheeks and whipped cream eeking out.

Eddie washes his down with a chocolate milk, “Parents know you’re gonna be gone?”

“They will,” You tilt your head at him, shoving your hands between your legs, “Once they read the note I left.”

He turns to you with a smile, elbowing your arm, “Thattagirl.”

You grab his milk and take a few swigs, “Yeah. They can deal with their feelings while I’m enjoying myself hundreds of miles away.” You scrunch your nose at Eddie, and he laughs at you, reaching over to wipe milk off your top lip.

“Hey, fuck their feelings.” He smashes the tape deck and peels out into the road, the two of you flipping off your house and screeching along to the music.

Driving at breakneck speeds, Eddie shaves a full hour off the drive, devouring several more twinkies and another bottle of chocolate milk. You settle into ease the further he drives from Hawkins, watching him drum on the steering wheel, making him laugh while you sing along to his tapes using a twinkie as a mic. It was easy like this, the two of you. The laughs weren’t hard to pull, and you’d never felt better about yourself than in these moments with Eddie.

The lot is full of cars donning nationwide license plates when you arrive, fans piling into the venue, and Eddie reaches over you into the glovebox.

“Here, I made these.” He drops a shirt into your lap, faded black with ‘Billy Joel’ bleached in similar lettering to the Hellfire logo.

He hops out onto the pavement and peels off his shirt, pretending he doesn’t notice your eyes on him.

It’s not a brand new attraction, it was how you became friends in the first place. Although, you were both children on the playground when he first caught your eye, not teenagers with pent up hormones and a hotel room waiting for you after the show. You’d both grown up with each other, questioning the changes to your bodies and wondering why your parents stopped letting him spend the night once high school hit.

It was an attraction that settled from schoolgirl crush to childhood best friend, but your stomach leapt at the sight of him shirtless in the parking lot, states away from home. He did his best to conceal the smile he just couldn’t help, enjoying your gaze and slowly rolling the hem of the shirt down over his abdomen.

You tug off your own tee and watch Eddie’s eyes flick over your chest through the head hole. He’s either certain you can’t see him do this, or he doesn’t care. You’re not sure which option kicks butterflies higher up in your stomach, but the little slip of his tongue over his bottom lip overrules both of them, goosebumps flocking now over your entire body.

In reality, these moments exist within a minute, but the all encompassing exhilaration that starts here doesn’t end for several hours more.

Eddie throws an arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the entrance, squeezing through bodies, pushing away scalpers, finding a little sphere of space on the floor, friendly excitement exchanged with the people beside you. You wrap your hand around his wrist, keeping his arm around you, hopping in anticipation.

He laughs and leans down to your ear, “You want a drink? I can’t do Billy Joel sober, sorry.”

“Yeah, get me some local beer if they have it, I guess. Sure your ID’s gonna fly here?”

He pulls away from you, walking backwards into the crowd, a grin on his face while he shrugs in nonchalance, “We’ll find out! Shit, ‘scuse me.” He apologizes to the girl he bumps into, and shoots you a grimace before the crowd swallows him up.

“Your boyfriend there doesn’t look the Billy Joel type,” The woman beside you says, raising her eyebrows and smiling at you. She’s far from middle aged, but carries wrinkles on her face and a self-assuredness that only comes with years behind her.

“Oh, he’s absolutely not.” You laugh, “He’s also not my boyfriend.”

She’s taken aback, but doesn’t lose the smile, “Shame! He’s cute. Reminds me of my husband before we got married, minus the hair gel.” She holds a hand out, “Josie.”

You return the handshake and offer your name, “You guys come from far?”

“Chicago! How ‘bout you?”

“Indiana. Just a small, shitty town in the northeast.”

Josie purses her lips and nods, fixing herself back into a smile, “We’re neighbors then!”

You pull your lip between your teeth, peeling a layer of chapped skin, “What’s Chicago like?” Hazarding a glance around you, looking for Eddie, you take a small step towards her and hope he doesn’t appear out of thin air, “I, um, I might move there for college.”

Her features light up in excitement, but before she can speak a man sidles up behind her, sliding an arm around her neck and pressing a kiss to her cheek. She turns her attention from you and takes the bottle he’s offering her.

She pecks his lips, “Hi.” And looks back at you, “This is my husband, Sergio.”

He straightens his posture and reaches a hand out, covering your hand with his other as you exchange greetings, dimples worn into his skin, hands calloused and adorned with a leather strapped watch.

Josie leans back into him, “She wants to know what Chicago is like, might go to college out there.”

He raises his eyebrows listening to his wife, and takes a long drink of beer. He clears his throat before he speaks, “Well, it’s not worse than wherever you’re coming from, guarantee that.”

“Indiana.” Josie says, “A small, shitty town, she says.” She gestures to you, and you catch her double-taking to look over your head.

You turn around and see Eddie waving his free arm and jumping through the crowd, bottlenecks clacking together in his other hand.

“Give her a card, Serge.” She chuckles a little at Eddie’s antics as he makes his way to you, and returns her attention to you, “You give us a call if you make it to Chicago, okay?”

Sergio pulls a black card from his pocket, “It’s a hole in the wall, but we're happy to help a future small, shitty town escapee.” He hands it to you, and the lights start to dim, darkening the figures next to you, screams blanketing the arena.

You can just make out ‘The Kindling’ in white letters, your eyes adjusting to the darkness as Eddie pops up next to you.

“What’s that?” He cranes his neck and speaks into your ear, but you slide the card into your pocket and gesture to the couple, “Oh, just for a local record store, Josie and Sergio here recommended it.”

Josie looks over at you, and you lock eyes while taking the beer Eddie offers, watching him introduce himself to the couple, your chest tight and fluttering.

“Great to meet you guys.” Eddie taps a hand to his forehead and flicks it forward in a sort of mock salute, before pulling back around to stand next to you, his arm slid again over your shoulders.

The audience roars and claps as the concert starts, Eddie even knocks his rings against his beer bottle in a staggered drum. He tugs you close to him, mimicking the screams of the people around you in a teasing pitch, but the smile on his face is genuine. He can’t play the role of elitist metalhead when he sees your excitement, the white reflection of the stage lights glinting off his dark eyes, watching you sing along, trying his best to find the lyrics too.

That exhilaration still lives in your chest, your eyes gleeful as you watch Billy Joel bang on the piano and run around onstage. The one kindness your parents afforded you was sharing their music, and you couldn’t help but yearn for some connection that would have had them standing here with you.

You look over at Josie and Sergio, watch the way he stands behind her with his arms thrown over her shoulders, holding both their beers. She holds onto his wrists, he rests his head on top of hers, and they sway together to the music.

Eddie’s arm around you all at once feels like a thick rope of metal, the hem of his shirt brushing against your hip, his lips closing around the beer bottle, head nodding to the music, gazing over to you with a smile. It’s all heavy and present and sets you firmly in your body. You lift your feet an inch above the sticky ground just to be sure you can, a ball of lead sinking in your stomach the longer you think about the closeness between you.

He leans down to your ear, and you have to force yourself to stay still with his breath hitting your skin. He shakes his beer, “Gonna grab another. Same for you?”

You nod, “I think…I think I need a breather from the crowd. I’ll come with.”

“Sure.” He drops his arm from your shoulder and grabs your wrist with his thumb and forefinger instead, letting you wrap your fingers around his as he guides you through the crowd.

Eddie wasn’t ever afraid of touch like this. Wasn’t afraid to tug at the collar of Hellfire members, or join a group hug after a session. Never shied away from patting you on the shoulder, or running his fingers over the lines in your palm. Touch was tactile, and being on the fringes of Hawkins society, you had to reach out and grab something for fear of falling away entirely if you didn’t.

Still, your linked hands in the concession line felt like something special, even if the moment didn’t register with Eddie as such.

“Hey, uh, you got an ID, right?” He whispers from the corner of his mouth.

“I—” You rifle through your wallet, “Shit, must be in my bag in the van.”

“That’s okay, that’s okay,” Eddie drops your hand, and you glance down at your wrist, a prick of loss in your throat.

“Just…go stand over there, ‘kay.” He pinches at your elbow and grins, pulling his own wallet out.

You leave the line to meander through the thin crowd, grabbing a venue program and an oversized button for your boss from some hawker standing at his trestle table covered in cheap tees. You pin the button to your shirt and slip the program into your back pocket, starting back towards the concessions, back towards Eddie.

He sees you approaching, and lifts two plastic cups, a stern frown stuck on his lips.

You take one of the cups and sip, recoiling when it touches your tongue. The taste is untraceable, but it fizzes in your mouth and you choke it down with a cough, “God, what the fuck?”

“Root beer.” Eddie takes a swig of his, “The ASSHOLE behind us couldn’t mind his own fucking business. Told the guy at the counter I was buying for someone underage.” He jerks his head towards a man standing by the trash can, a man who looks up with a self-righteous smirk.

You knit your brows together and hold a finger up to Eddie, swallowing down most of the root beer despite the burn in your throat. With about an inch left, you take a couple steps towards the trash and toss the cup in, soda spraying the man as it hits the rim and falls in.

“Shit, sorry.” You shrug, glancing at Eddie, the close-lip smile on his mouth enveloping you in pride.

“Very metal,” He grabs your hand again, and drags you back to the floor.

When you make it back, he doesn’t let go of your hand. He stands there next to you, and after a beat, lifts his arm over your head once more, your arm crossed over your chest so he can still have your hand in his.

There’s a shift in this moment, a sidestep so small it’s almost impalpable. The lead ball in your stomach is burning cold, goosebumps under your skin, Eddie’s thumb grazing over your hand back and forth and back again until it feels he’s worn away the skin entirely. Worn away muscle and nerve, down to the bone, bare and electrified to only him, no matter to the crowd around you.

In another state, a world away from the bars on your windows, free of the heavy press of your father leaning over your bed, out of the sinkhole for at least this moment, you turn to look at Eddie.

He’s smiling at you, having turned to look at you in just the same instance.

Even on the brightest day, his eyes are no lighter than the darkest honey, and in the harsh, scant light of the venue, they’re black pools you could dive into and float aimlessly forever.

You don’t know what he sees in your eyes, but you feel him closing in, his hand slipping out of yours to hold the back of your neck. He won’t push you towards him, won’t force you closer than you want to be, but the distance between you is minuscule now, and before you can take a breath, your lips are together.

This feels like something important. Like every step you’ve taken in life was with this moment in mind. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut in half the day he came to school with no lunch. Eddie uncovering the old guitar in your parent’s closet, playing rockstar before they got home. Burning your hand with the flattening iron when he showed you the cigarette mark scabbed over on his arm. Your A+ paper hung up beside his A+ math test on Wayne’s fridge at his insistence, held up by the same magnet.

All these little memories floated up into your brain while you kissed, his lips closing over yours, tongue pushing into your mouth. It’s warm and right and better than the kisses you’d had before. His hand tucks around your waist, palm flat on your lower back to bring you close. You grab fistfuls of his shirt, breathing deep through your nose, desperate for more of him, for your lips endlessly against his.

It’s the smiles that push you apart, incredulous laughter interrupting your rhythm. It’s the marriage of ‘What are we doing?’ and ‘Why haven’t we done this sooner?’ between you, happiness and disbelief and a peek into what could be without Hawkins.

He holds you to him, swaying no matter the tempo onstage, keeping you in his arms like something precious. Something that’s his, something he can also turn himself over to.

You leave the concert with his arm around your waist, waving a quick goodbye to Josie and Sergio, who were eager to get back to their room and pass out. Josie pulls you in for a quick hug and whispers to you, “Don’t forget us, understand?” She looks at you in genuine earnest, and you nod silently, a small smile on your lips.

Eddie slips past you in the parking lot, his hand grazing your back as he hops over to the passenger door and yanks it open. Before you can jump in, he grabs your wrist and pins you against the inside of the door, leaning into a softer kiss, lips just brushing yours, his knuckle faint over your jawline.

You’re certain that if he’s ever looked at you this softly, it was while you were unaware. Eddie was not one to soften for anyone, his kindnesses cut with a butter knife.

It felt almost overwhelming, but you kept your hand atop his as it rested on your thigh, unable to entirely wipe the smile from your face the entire ride to the hotel.

He was right, you wouldn’t catch lice here, but he also completely undersold the place. It isn’t anything exorbitant, but the sign on the desk says concierge and they offer to bring your bags up on a bell cart. You decline.

The man at the desk takes Eddie’s ID, cash, and types up the reservation at his computer, pausing momentarily.

Eddie looks down at you with a frown, and you squeeze his hand.

“Hm, Mr. Munson?” The man looks up at him from under his brows.

“That’d be me.” Eddie cocks his head, staying neutral.

“Yes, you have a message.” He looks at you, and the printer behind him starts whirring. He folds the paper in half and slides it over the desk, “It seems rather private so I will leave it to you. Here’s your key card, your cards, and you two have a lovely night.”

He slides over the three pieces of plastic before returning to the back office.

You both stare at the folded piece of paper, then to each other. Eddie finally grabs it, scanning the printed letters. His expression shifts into anger, and he crumples the paper in his hand.

“Eddie?” You look around at the empty lobby, “What’s it say?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He pulls you along to the elevator, silent fury crowding the air. You’ve seen him angry before, but this is seething, quiet anger, and you keep your eyes fixed on the paper, squeezed smaller and smaller in his fist.

“Eddie, come on.” You follow him out into the hallway, all the way to the hotel room, flicking on a lamp while he paces, thumb between his lips. You stand still between the beds, confused and frustrated and disappointed by the turn this night has taken.

“Eddie! Really! What the fuck did it say?”

He freezes and looks up at you, squeezing his eyes shut tight before he starts unfolding the paper. The edges rip, and his hands shake as he holds it.

Crossing the room, you place your hand over his, steadying him despite his initial jerk away from you.

“It’s from your dad.” The words are just audible, his voice grainy and tired.

“What?” You take it from him, and he lets his hands fall to his sides.

The plain courier type does little to reflect the tone in the note, but you can hear your father’s voice anyway.

You let the note drop, and not a moment passes before you’re standing there crying. You press your palms to your eyes, pushing tears away before they can crest, sobs starting to wrack your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Eddie’s arms wrap around you, a hand coming up to pet the back of your head, squishing you into his chest. You grunt and press harder into your eyes until bulbs of pale yellow light flicker behind your vision, dizzying your brain, quieting your thoughts.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t do that.” Eddie distances himself from you, grabbing your wrists and pulling them away, voice softening, “Stop.”

You blink until the obscurants are gone, until you can see all of Eddie in front of you. He grazes his hands up and down your arms, hunching down to your height. He’s still blurring from tears, but you can see him pushing away sadness and frustration in favor of concern for you.

“I just, I don’t—” You pause, biting at your bottom lip to stop yourself quivering, eyes flicking to the ceiling, unable to talk to him while meeting his gaze. The words come out choked and stuttering, “I don’t understand what I ever did for any of this. I remember crying in the driveway as a kid because I skinned my knee and, um, and I just remember thinking about how much I wanted a hug from my mom. But she just, she ran it under cold water and told me I was fine and to stop crying.”

You push tears away from your waterline again.

“And my dad, he um,” You swallowed down more tears, “He wouldn’t—wouldn’t look at me until I started growing. And at the same time he stopped looking at my mother, and I just, I don’t know why I’m in the life I’m in. It feels wrong, it…”

Eddie pulls you in again, your voice wavering now, wrapped around the lump in your throat, the words harder and harder to get out. He pets the back of your head, slow and smooth over your skull, and you latch onto the rhythm, trying to get your breathing back in order.

It stays ragged regardless, but the tears are drying and you aren’t compulsed to press that dizzying pattern of light into your vision anymore. Neither of you speak, Eddie’s breath is quiet and steady, but you can feel tension in his chest. He holds you like someone who wants, instead, to be held, but—knowing that this upset is a larger monster for you—he doesn’t ask. His grip on you is gentle, but firm enough that you know he won’t be the first one to pull away.

You back out of the hug, and watch the careful way his gaze combs over your features. Your eyes burn as they always do when you’ve smashed your palms into them, waterline red, a vessel popped and veiny in the white of your left eye, lashes crumpled as much as lashes can crumple. You feel entirely disgusting, but Eddie looks at you with nothing but concern and care.

He runs his knuckles over the dried tears on your cheek, and as the moments pass between you, tragedy befalls his features. Whatever weight he’s holding pushes his shoulders inwards, drawing further into himself until he says, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” You cross your arms over your chest, tapping the toe of your shoe on the ground, anxious and tired and awaiting some other horrible revelation that changes your life in an instant.

“What do you mean, ‘What?’” He exhales, pushing a hand through his hair, fingers shaking. He takes a moment to reorient himself, but his voice still trembles.

“This…that…” Pointing to the torn letter on the floor, he says, “It’s on me, all of it’s on me.”

The letter rings in your head, your father’s voice over and over. A cheap night. Aimless. Worthless. Criminal. Your parents watched Eddie grow up, and you’d never give them any credit for being the loving, caring parents you wanted, but you didn’t expect them to turn on the town’s prophesied lost cause, everyone waiting on bated breath for the moment Eddie lived up to his father’s legacy.

They saw the bruises, the shoes worn to soles, the headlines after Eddie’s father was put away, and as a child—powerless and scared in a family that never felt real—your only choice was to turn the other cheek, but now?

In your gut, you knew leaving like this was the end to your life in that house, the end to whatever abusive excuse for generosity your parents had sheltered you under your entire life. You knew it was an end, but standing here in front of Eddie, you see nothing but beginnings.

“No.” You swallow the lump in your throat, the one that comes with Eddie’s shifting features, fleeting calm followed by what you know to be his own father’s voice in his head. You shake your head, and place your palms on his cheeks, holding his gaze to you, “You know how fucked you gotta be to look at a situation where someone has put fucking bars on their kid’s window and think it’s your fault when the kid, inevitably, gets kicked out?”

The smile is faint, but it’s there for a flash.

“You are fucked up, Ed.” You run your thumbs over his cheekbones, “But I think I must be fucked up too, I mean, right?”

Eddie nods in your hands, pinching his nose after a sniffle, trying his best to hide how easily you’ve gotten him, “Yeah, must be.” He taps your temple, “Batshit.”

You tilt his head forward and knock your forehead against his, “Totally batshit. What are the odds, really, that out of four parents—four!—we end up with zero good ones?”

He lets out a laugh, “We’re cursed.”

You close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck, a brief kiss before you pull back, “Definitely cursed.”

The air is still heavy, still sad, but you kiss in spite of everything, sinking into each other’s mouths, tongues sloppy and your dry tears dewy on your skin. This is something to do with love and a needed distraction for you both, Eddie’s hands teasing the hem of your homemade t-shirt, your hands sliding underneath the mop of hair on his head to grab at the roots on the back of his head. He lets out a quiet hum into your mouth, those playful hands now forcing your body up against him, palms under the fabric grabbing at your skin.

There’s a sting of insecurity that hits you when he starts crawling around front, his fingers tickling your abdomen with every inch they climb. You’d seen him before with nail marks on his skin, seen girls with hickeys look at him with shame on their features. To them he was someone to love in the dark, someone who’d put his hands on them the way their boyfriends wouldn’t. All that desire and fantasy prohibited in their daily lives could be taken out on Eddie, and he would never tell a soul.

“Hey, Eddie, um,” You force yourself away from him, and he stills his hands, raising his eyebrows. Once again, you stare up at the ceiling as you speak, scared to see his expression, scared in general that you may be getting swept up too quickly in something you don’t have enough experience for.

“I’ve never slept with anyone before.” You close your eyes, feeling Eddie’s hands slide out from under your shirt.

“Come over here.” He says, pulling you to the bed with a loose grip on your wrist.

You stare down at your legs, and he ducks into your vision, grazing his knuckles along your arm.

“I haven’t either.” He finally says, and you cock your head back in surprise, staring at him as he laughs.

“Don’t lie to me.” You say, “Seriously, Eddie.”

He feigns offense, scoffing, but keeps his tone earnest, “I would never. Really.”

You pull a leg up onto the bed and turn to look at him, crossing your arms, “Really? Well, what about a—”

Eddie says your name quietly, stilling you. Whatever jovial pretense of offense he had is gone in an instant, “Never went that far. I promise.”

You swallow, falling into those cavernous eyes once more, now reflecting the sun-yellow lamp between the beds. They’re always glistening, his eyes, and you wish more than anything to know that he could also fall forever into yours.

“You’re my best friend, you know. Not like there’s all that much competition, but,” He smiles at you, reaching out to cradle your cheek with his calloused palm, “I really could just…stare at you forever. Those eyes…” He trails off, his gaze flicking back and forth between your eyes, and your heart catches in your throat the moment he starts leaning in.

This is it, really.

You were half living before, every day a slow crawl up an impossible mountain, your only respite with the boy you were now kissing. Kissing. Your saliva felt like hot, melted silver between you, tongues sliding over tongues, your lips chapped and sticking. He had no hesitation in towering over you on the bed, pushing you onto your back so he could press his body into yours.

Clothes came off as you rutted your hips up into him, the warm latch of his mouth in the pulpit of your throat and the growing bulge under his old jeans only serves to deepen the hole in your stomach.

You tug off your shirt, and your hands come fast to the hem of his, a laugh shared between you as he pulls it off, eagerness and excitement and disbelief in your smiles. He comes back down to kiss you, skin against skin now, cold sweat slicking up between your bodies with each minute that passes. Your lips feel fatter, friction numbing the chapped skin until kisses are helplessly sloppy and drenched with the anticipation of going further.

Eddie drags his lips down your torso, eyes flicking back up at you as he traces the underwire of your bra. You arch your back up, and he slides a palm flat on your back, a quick twist to unclasp the underwear. He pulls it from your chest and tosses it to the floor, his mouth closing around one nipple, thumb running over the other.

He may have been telling the truth about not sleeping with anyone, but he still wasn’t untouched.

The swipe of his tongue around your nipple, the way he sucks around your breast, over your skin, all the way down to your stomach, to the waist of your jeans. Eddie as a conduit for the unspoken desire of teenage girls at Hawkins High was no surprise, but the way he handled you now was emblematic of more than that version of Eddie. He was expected to be heavy handed, a dangerous little tryst in the back of his van, fulfilling their wants and letting them get off on getting off the scary metalhead freak.

This, though, this is just as much for him as it is for you. He wants you overwhelmed and crying out because of the way he touches you. Every little spasm of muscle, every noise you make, a catalyst for his own impending orgasm.

He looks up at you again as you arch yourself up, kisses spattered along your pelvis as he tugs your jeans off, underwear stuck with them. He brushes his hands over the sides of your legs as he comes back up, lips dragging over your skin.

You’re naked in front of him now, hands coming up instinctively to cover your breasts while he hovers over you, eyes on your figure, on his knees before you. He hops off the bed to undress, and you watch every inch of skin as it’s revealed.

None of this is as smooth or quick as you’d believed it would be, the pauses and assertions, they drag out the wanting, the anticipation. Your heart stays thumping in your chest even when Eddie isn’t touching you, when it’s just his eyes making contact with your bare body. You don’t know that it’s common to feel this good with your first partner, to feel exposed in such a way that you want to always be baring yourself to them.

Eddie pulls you over to the edge of the bed by your ankles, kneeling down on the carpet between your legs, his hands running up your thighs, along your sides. He brings you in for a kiss, and you gasp against his mouth as he brushes his fingers over your folds. The touch is a shock in more ways than one, both electrifying and surprising, his thumb pressing into your lips, over your clit, circling the bundle of nerves.

You moan into his mouth, and he breaks away from the kiss, his lips again down your body, making their way between your legs. He suckles your thigh before pressing his warm, wet mouth onto you, the tip of his tongue swirling over your clit. He flattens it over you, lapping your arousal, just nicking those nerves at the tail end of every lick. The sensation drives you backward into the bed, has your fingers knotting tight to his hair, pushing him further against you.

He laughs, voice muffled as he pulls just away, “Is that good?” He asks, pressing kisses to your skin, more laughter when you tilt your head up to look at him, eyebrows angry and a breathless, “No shit it’s good. Fuck.”

Letting your head fall back onto the bed again, Eddie hums, satisfied. He circles your clit again, and the sudden pressure of his fingers inside you arches you off the bed, desperate and wanting. The curl of his fingers and the sharp circle of his tongue swirl together in your stomach, pleasure climbing through your body, short circuits in your brain. You arch and twist and squirm underneath him, and he slides his arms under your thighs, holding you down while you lose yourself at his touch.

Eddie keeps his pace, spit and arousal and the circle of his tongue on your clit eclipsing all prior thought and feeling. To you, now, it’s just Eddie and the way he’s making you feel.

You spasm as he holds you down, a firm grunt from his lips as you tug harder at his hair, fuckfuckfuck and shityespleasepleaseplease just squeaking from your throat while you climax. Eddie stays working on you, his hands sliding up your sides, palms flat on your stomach to feel your breathing, heavy and helpless until you’re calming down.

As he darts back up to your mouth, he wipes away spit and arousal from his lips, his tongue poking out, eyes fixed on you. The calm that follows your orgasm is fleeting, your entrance throbbing, begging for fulfillment, and you slide back on the bed to lay flat, Eddie climbing on top of you with desperate kisses and his erection slick between your legs.

You spread yourself for him, breaking a kiss to beg, “Please, Eddie. I need you inside me.”

He nods against your forehead, hair stuck to the skin with sweat, “Okay, okay, fuck, let me just—” He presses one last kiss into your mouth before pulling away to rifle through his bag for a condom.

Leaning up on your elbows, you watch him slide it over his erection. If this were a normal moment, on a normal day, you’d give him shit for having a condom ready. Call him arrogant or self-assured, but now his assumption fills you with that same exhilaration you felt when you pulled up to the show. Like he was hoping for this, just the same as you.

Eddie crawls back over you, lips trembling as he kisses you.

You pull him down, thrusting your hips up just slightly to get him slick, feeling his head graze over your entrance with every grind. The kisses grow confident, and when he finally pushes inside you, there’s a solid rhythm between you broken by gasps. He thrusts in slowly, and you feel your walls flutter around him, feel that pit in your stomach filled by his erection.

Speeding up, Eddie crashes his lips once more into yours, and you wrap your legs around his back, arching up into him best you can, wanting closer and harder and more, always more. He lets you push him onto his back, eyes combing over your body as you straddle him, sinking down onto his head, your palms flat on his pecs.

He holds tight to your hips while you swivel them around, grinding back and forth slow and hesitant, but rolling with what feels good moment to moment.

After a beat of this, Eddie pulls you back down to his lips, his hands sliding over your ass, knees tucking up so he can fuck into you. There’s a harsh slap with each thrust, his skin against your ass, and you lose yourself in kisses, all that desperation and need channeled into a spattering of hickeys down his neck.

His hair tickles your nose as you bury your face in his neck, losing energy and ruining the rhythm of each kiss with moans. He pets the back of your head, holding your body flush to his, skin sliding and sticking from sweat.

“Fuck,” He whispers, kissing wherever he can reach, thrusts harder and deeper as he loses himself, “I love you.”

You slide a hand underneath his head, hugging him to you, your own I love you spoken between broken breaths and quiet curses. But it’s there, it’s out, and you had always believed that if this moment ever came to life, you would’ve been the first to break. Eddie’s admission had you burying yourself deeper into his neck, the full breadth of him inside you a dull, thick feeling that would have you in wanting once he was gone.

That moment came too soon, his thrusts arrhythmic now, mouths once more together, sloppy kisses and arms holding each other tight. He let out an incredulous laugh before he came, eyes screwed shut while you freckled his face with your lips, pulling back to watch how his features shifted into a perfect agony. His hips stuttered underneath you, and you sat up to grind against him, pulling the last dregs of his orgasm from his body, watching his expression contort further.

How anyone could think this man wasn’t worth loving in broad daylight was beyond you. Seeing him now, underneath you, all you wanted was to have his arm around you in town, feel eyes burn into you from all directions while he kissed you in the town square.

Sliding off him, you sidle up to his chest, throwing a leg over him and laying your head on his pec. He pulls you in with his arm, and you stare at each other for a moment, the same smile of disbelief and excitement playing on your lips.

You settle back down, watching him go limp, trying and failing to hold in laughter.

“Laughing at my dick?” He says, reaching up to pinch your cheek, but there’s a smile in his voice, “How…fucking…dare you.”

“I’m sorry!” You sit up, gesturing to it, “But that’s kind of ridiculous, right?”

Eddie closes his eyes, pinching between his eyebrows, his smile now halfway into a grimace. He shakes his head with a laugh, “Wow. You really know how to boost a guy’s ego, huh?” And pulls you back to his chest, “C’mere. Freak.”

You let out a quiet chuckle, and run your hand over his pecs, “If anything’s the freak—”

He covers your mouth with his hand, “Alright! Yup. Got it. You’re delirious.”

Batting his hand away, you two laugh and settle back into silence, your eyes following him as he slides out of bed and walks to the bathroom to wash up, a soft kiss shared between you before he goes.

You slip under the covers, staring up at the sparkly popcorn ceiling, blanket warmth coating the beads of sweat that had started to run cold.

“Hey, what do you think about Chicago?” You ask, and Eddie walks back out, rifling through his bag to throw on a pair of plaid pajama pants and grab an old tee.

“Uhm, violence and a lotta wind. And don’t put ketchup on your hot dogs or they’ll crucify you,” He crawls up the bed, pressing a kiss to your lips and offering you the shirt.

You sit up to tug it over your head, laughing, “No, Eddie, really.”

He flops down next to you, arm under his head, “Uh, it’s fine, I guess. Never really thought of it.” Looking up at you from under his lashes, he raises his eyebrows, “Why do you ask?”

There’s a tense moment of silence, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, peeling the skin. Eddie tilts his head towards you more, bald-faced and waiting.

You finally stand up, the shirt falling down over your ass, but you slip your underwear back on anyway as you make your way to your suitcase.

Eddie watches as you rifle through, leaning up against the headboard, his eyes following as you make your way back to the bed with an open envelope.

You hand it to him, standing beside the bed as he pulls the letter out and scans it.

“You got into DePaul?” He looks up at you from behind the paper, and you half-sit on the bed, one leg underneath you, the other hanging off the side.

“Mhm. Yeah. I got the letter in the mail yesterday.” Your leg starts bouncing, watching him. It’s not the immediate excitement you were hoping for, but there’s no sense of anger or sadness that you can detect either. He’s inscrutable, and you feel your heart thumping in your throat.

You can’t stand the silence now, no matter how small, “It’s um, it’s a full scholarship and everything. I thought we could go after graduation, visit the campus…I know you want to try getting back into the band, a—and Chicago’s a great place to do that! We can get an apartment, I don’t have to live on campus, y’know, just…just some cheap little shoebox.” He sets the letter down, and rests his arm over his lap, tongue darting out over his lips as his gaze burns into you.

“And I’m not saying that tonight means we’re going to be together forever, I don’t, don’t want to assume stuff. But it’s a start, and we’d be together, away from Hawkins. That’s what we want, right?”

He looks down, and nods, his smile a wash of relief over your body. He reaches over to grab your hand, “I’m proud of you, seriously. Just surprised. I thought you were going to state.”

You stare down at your hand in his, “I was, but Eddie…I need to get as far away from Hawkins as I can. From the people, the history…my parents. I need out.”

Another extended silence, his eyes trained on your hands as well, thumb grazing over your skin. You slide over to him, ducking into view, “So? Good idea, bad idea? Gimme something, here.”

He smiles at you, and pulls you in, arms tight around your torso, both of you fidgeting until you’re comfortable under the blankets. He looks down and tilts your head up with his knuckle, leaning in for a quick, soft kiss.

“Best idea you’ve ever had.”

He squeezes you tight, and laughs, “Maybe the only good one ever.”

You swat at his shoulder and scoff, “Least my ideas don’t have us almost arrested.”

“Well at least mine don’t leave me with a buzzed head.” His smile is cut short by a yawn, “I’m beat.”

A yawn overtakes you as well, exhaustion now settling into your bodies, “Mm, me too.” You turn over, pulling his arm around you and scooting right up against him, “I love you, Eddie.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your head, squeezing you once more, “I love you, too.”

You drift into sleep before he does, the warmth of his body on yours lulling you into a peaceful night of dreams.

—

The morning is distinctly cold when you wake up, reaching behind you for Eddie and coming up empty. Squinting in the early sunlight, you look around the room with blurred vision, wiping sleep away.

The first thing you notice is your suitcase zipped placed upright on the coffee table.

Your stomach fills with dread, looking around for Eddie’s suitcase, for his clothes on the floor, for any sign that he’s still here. He wouldn’t leave you like this, not Eddie, not your best friend. You’re racking your brain trying to find a reason he even would. Maybe Wayne had an emergency, or something happened at the prison with his dad. Maybe he just stuck his stuff in the bathroom and went to get coffee, or breakfast.

You file through all the reasons—no matter how unreasonable—to make sense of why Eddie wouldn’t be here.

The next thing you notice is the ripped, crumpled piece of paper on the other bed.

You slide out from under the covers to grab it, expecting more than what’s written.

#eddie munson/you #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #live wire #my writing #mine

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sugawarassoulmate · 3 years ago

Note

I read all your loser! kuroo posts (or at least the ones this broken site lets me see 🥲) and I love it so much!!! Then I had a thought like what if a new kid comes to town and reader is bullying them cause ofc she is. This isnt anything new but this time, the new kid likes it too! And kuroo is just??? Wtf bro?? There is only room for 1 loser and its me??? Extra drama when it seems like reader is ignoring kuroo for this new toy but really its a coincidence and reader is just a dumbass

the idea of kuroo only getting jealous when you’re mean to someone else is sending me

words: 602

cw: fem!reader, bullying, name-calling, jealousy, bully!reader, college au, like one line of smut but youngsters stay tf away, minors dni

the two of you are doing work in one of the study rooms in the library and you’re complaining about this kid that your professor partnered you with for a project

“he’s so snively and whiney, it’s annoying” you bemoan, feet stretched across kuroo’s lap while he’s writing notes

kuroo doesn’t think anything of it, you’re always complaining about someone: your classmates, the people who live on your floor, the barista at the coffee shop who messed up your order. kuroo doesn’t mind listening to all of it, he loves hearing your voice 🥺

but when you say “i swear this kid is worse than you,” kuroo gets all 🤨 but he chooses to ignore it. you must have been really annoyed and needed to vent

the thing we love about kuroo is how perceptive he is, yeah?

he notices something’s up when you’re suddenly not texting him

you’re always bombarding kuroo with text messages, telling him that you’re bored and want his attention but now it’s the middle of the day and you’ve barely sent him anything

at first he thinks maybe you’re busy with work but you do all your studying with him. then he remembers that you’re partnered up with that boy you’ve been complaining about

after that kuroo finds himself laughing. what’s he so worried about? you’re just out with some kid doing classwork

but then…..

he’s not hearing from you for days and when he finally sees you, that kid is shuffling beside you. holding your books....

that’s my job�� kuroo thinks, now noticing how the boy is staring at you—wide eyed with a pleasing smile, one that kuroo knows all too well

the boy begins to ask you multiple questions at once and kuroo can see the fire behind your eyes. rookie mistake, he thinks before you’re shoulder checking the poor kid, knocking him to the ground

“do you ever stop babbling, you fucking dork?”

and god kuroo wishes that were him

kuroo’s fine, everything’s fine… *narrator voice* everything was, in fact, not fine.

you haven’t forgotten about him, have you? he hasn’t outlived his usefulness? no, he means more to you than that. but this shiny new toy is occupying all your attention… you haven’t even talked to him other than a good morning text (if he’s lucky)

poor boy doesn’t realize that you’re not really trying to ignore him. you really have been busy working on this stupid project. thankfully you have this stupid freshman at your beck and call.

you probably don’t even notice that this child (yes, college freshman are children to me sksks) has a fat crush on you. you’ve never really interested in anyone beside kuroo (but you’d rather die than admit that you’re in love with him again)

after nearly two weeks, kuroo can’t take it anymore and corners the little shit @ god help this poor lil freshie who’s got the captain of the volleyball team towering over him on some abandoned part of campus

kuroo’s always a sweetheart—he helps old ladies cross the street and saves stray kittens from the rain :( he’d never hurt a fly but the thought of you spending time with this boy when he’s got feelings for you doesn’t sit right with him

he doesn’t threaten him….kuroo just kindly tells him that you’re already with someone and to keep your time together spent strictly working on the project 😌

this poor kid is shitting bricks and you don’t even notice it the next day sksksks

soon enough the project is done and kuroo’s celebrating your perfect grade by eating his smart girl out :(

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro smut #kuroo #kuroo imagine #kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro x reader #loser!kuroo #haikyuu headcanons #haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyu smut #haikyu headcanons #🥀#🥀kuroo

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teamconductors · 3 years ago

Text

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Lost Tracks of Time, Chapter 8

Summary: Sneasler guides Team Conductors to a certain pokemon in search of a way to recover Ingo’s and Emmet’s memories.

Author’s Note: This chapter contains one of the hardest battles to write so far, mostly due to who the opponent was. I hope you enjoy this!

Thank you @furiouskettle for Ingo and Emmet’s designs as Sneasels!

(Shippers DNI)

In the Pearl Guild’s library, Ingo, Emmet, and Sneasler gathered around a table to discuss Ingo and Emmet’s theories about their memories. Calaba kept a careful eye on Chandelure and their blue flames and mentally prepared to use Water Pulse in case something goes wrong with that pokemon.

“And what is a train?!” Ingo asked. He held a shortlist of the items from his bulletin board. “The records about pokemon trainers were familiar, but we haven’t found any books about trains! Emmet and I deduced they are for transportation, but there’s something amiss about why we know so many terms yet can’t remember trains themselves!”

“Yep. It’s verrrry weird,” Emmet said.

“Just like you guys. Alright, cool. So there’s a small number of pokemon rumored to affect and maybe recall memories, but there’s only one within our region that owes me a favor,” Sneasler said. She flipped through a book called Sinnoh’s Legends. Upon reaching the entry she was looking for, she slapped the book onto the table in front of Ingo and Emmet.

“Uxie?” Ingo read out loud. “Uxie, Uxie… Do I know that name?”

“”The Being of Knowledge”,” Emmet read. “Our memories are the ones on the ground, Sneasler, not our knowledge.”

“Don’t sass me, Emmet. Uxie has the power to erase memories, so I’m thinking they can help restore them as well.”

Ingo closed the book and slid it back to Sneasler. “So we set our destination to where Uxie resides, which is-“

“Lake Acuity,” Ingo and Sneasler said at the same time.

“Oh no, don’t do that stuff with me!” Sneasler backed up from where Ingo sat. “I don’t need to give these pokemon anymore reasons to think we’re siblings.”

“They’ve made up their minds. You should embrace it, Big Sis.” Emmet’s smile remained on his face as Sneasler gave him a venomous glare.

“Lake Acuity is our destination then. Emmet and I already conducted safety checks, so we can leave immediately for a straightforward journey,” Ingo said.

“Don’t put your cargo before the engine or whatever. Lake Acuity and the other two lakes got swallowed by mystery dungeons ages ago, and the one that got Acuity was the Snowpoint Ruins, which is like Bonechill Wastes but norther.”

“Our destination is Lake Acuity via the Snowpoint Ruins route. Got it,” Emmet said.

“Since we are entering a mystery dungeon, could we check the job board for any Snowpoint Ruins rescues? I would feel guilty of enlisting the help of a Noble without that, at least,” Ingo said.

“Never stopped you before,” Sneasler said. “But sure, whatever makes you feel better, Ingo. Let me punch your tickets and get out of here, aight?”

Sneasler, with both Sneasels in her basket with freshly punched tickets, stood in front of the job bulletin board, reading their locations: Ancient Quarry, Grueling Grove, Veilstone Cape, Deadwood Haunt, and lastly, Snowpoint Ruins.

“Oh. Oh yeah, there’s a job.” Sneasler ripped the paper from its pin. She sighed. “It’s a Distorted Floor.”

***

Snowpoint Ruins had a snowy floor like Bonechill Wastes, but while the wastes’ snow was packed into a dirt-like surface, the snow in the ruins covered the stone floors. The stone brick walls were decorated with lit torches and the occasional carvings of dots in geometric patterns. The dungeon was unusually barren of pokemon, save for the occasional Bronzong or Bronzor that would melt under Chandelure’s fire. The team breezed through the floors, allowing their minds to wander and for the Sneasels to enjoy the snow crunching beneath their feet.

Eventually, Sneasler stepped down a flight of stairs and was greeted by darkness. Snow sparkled along the ground but hardly counted as a way to see the floor. “Oh, here we go.”

“We reached our first stop. Let’s find our client Tangela first,” Ingo said as he and Emmet walked down the stairs. “Then we can get him through the terminal to outside.”

“I hate how the light beam door things always go to the outside of the dungeon.” Sneasler crossed her arms. “Why can’t it just go to the rest of the dungeon instead of making us start all over?”

Chandelure was the last one to enter, and the stairs disappeared behind them. “Chandelure, light the way please,” Ingo said. Chandelure smiled and floated down a corridor.

After walking through several corridors, the group saw their client run down a hallway towards them. “Good day, Tangela!” Ingo said. “We are Team Conductors!” Before Ingo could finish his spiel, Tangela sprinted and jumped at Ingo’s body, making him fall flat on his back.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Tangela said. After realizing he was on top of Ingo, he jumped and circled Emmet and Sneasler like a child presented with ice cream. “I haven’t been able to see anything for so long! I just wanted to run, but I kept bumping into walls! Thank you!”

“Alright, Spaghetti Legs, just get in the basket,” Sneasler said as she took off her basket and slapped open the top. She already had to deal with Ingo and Emmet; she didn’t want to keep track of a hyperactive Tangela. He hopped into the basket, nearly knocking it over. Sneasler promptly closed the lid and got her basket back on her back. “Okay, I haven’t seen any light beams yet, so keep going.”

Though the dungeon floor was completely dark, Chandelure’s flames provided enough light to show that their footprints in the snow marked where they have been. After a half-hour of walking, the group encountered footsteps from much earlier in the day.

“We made a round trip,” Emmet said.

To confirm Emmet’s suspicion, Ingo pulled out the map of the floor. Chandelure’s flames barely allowed the group to see the map. “We explored the entire floor?”

“How?! I didn’t see a single light thing!” Sneasler said. She yoinked the map from Ingo’s hands and put it up close to her face. “We actually went through the entire floor. What the heck?”

Ingo gently grabbed the map from Sneasler’s hands to look at it again. “…Oh, that’s peculiar. There is an icon for stairs!”

“There is? In a Distorted Floor??”

“Set our destination there!” Emmet said. He began walking in the direction of the stairs with his arms and legs straight and swinging wildly. The others followed behind him.

The map showed that the stairs was in the very corner of one of the rooms. When Team Conductors got to the area, Chandelure went ahead to float right on top of the stairs that would go to the floor below them. However, their light displayed a problem even from a distance.

“It’s just a hole in the ground,” Sneasler said as she got closer. “How is it stairs?”

The two Sneasels and Sneasler gathered around the hole and saw more darkness below them. Looking around the edges of the hole gave the group the answer to the burning question.

“The stairs are upside-down!” Ingo said. He pointed to what he looked at. Indeed, the stairs went away from them and faded into the darkness. Sneasler’s jaw dropped. “These Distorted Floors are getting stranger each time we visit them.”

“Verrrry strange,” Emmet said. “But this is our only route forward.”

“We don’t know how far down below it goes,” Ingo said. “Jumping down will likely result in broken legs. Chandelure, do you think you could float all three of us-“

“Four of us!” Tangela said from inside Sneasler’s basket.

“All four of us down?” Ingo asked. Chandelure frowned a little but still nodded.

“Actually, if Chandelure provides some light, I could climb down the steps,” Sneasler said.

“Very well. That should ease the load on Chandelure’s arms,” Ingo said.

“And one more thing… Ingo, I want you to go down the steps, too.”

“Pardon?”

“Listen, I can do scaling easily, but you can’t just rely on me and Chandelure to get everywhere all the time. You’re a Sneasel, for goodness’s sake! You need to learn to climb.”

“While I appreciate your encouragement, I am not sure if I can. Last time I tried to climb, my hands got stuck in a tree, do you remember?”

Sneasler pinched the bridge of her nose. “As if I could forget. I can’t believe Irida called me to help you… but that’s why you need to practice.”

“I was there on the tree. Do I need to practice climbing, too?” Emmet asked.

“Yeah I remember, and yes you do, Emmet. But I’ll deal with you later. Just… hang out on Chandelure and be encouraging or something,” Sneasler said. “Watch me.” She laid on her stomach. Tangela could be heard tumbling around in her basket as she turned around and hanged her legs off the hole. Her claws hooked onto the edge of the stair entrance as she let her body hang. Her feet swung then held onto the stairs, and she began scaling down. “Your turn, Ingo!”

“Very well… Follow the rules and drive safely.” Ingo hooked his claws on the edge of the hole and dropped down. His small body swung around, and his feet scraped at the stone stairs. After a purposeful swing, he was able to gain a footing. He took a claw out of the entrance and hooked onto one of the stairs. He did the same with his other hand and grabbed onto the next stair.

“So far, so good,” Sneasler said as she looked up as Ingo. His legs shook when he removed his hand from the stone.

“All aboard!” Emmet grabbed onto Chandelure’s arms and let himself dangle. Chandelure floated down the hole, keeping pace with Ingo’s climbing.

Each of Ingo’s movements were deliberate. The texture of his claws digging into the stone made his fur stand on ends, but he had to press on and avoid thinking about how far out their destination was. Emmet cheered him on in spirit.

Then, after several successful steps, Ingo found that he dug his left hand too far into the stairs. He tugged and tugged but couldn’t get the claws out.

“Sneasler, he’s stuck,” Emmet said.

“Damn it.” Sneasler was a couple steps below Ingo, so she had difficulty seeing him. “Don’t panic yet! Make sure your other anchor points are solid and relax your hand.”

With Ingo confident his other hand and feet were firm, he tried to allow his hand to loosen up. Of course, it was difficult to relax when thought about trying not to fall, how far down they were, how upset Emmet and Chandelure would be if he got hurt from climbing, and several other unpleasant thoughts that wanted to make Ingo’s life hell.

“Ingo, you got this.” Emmet’s words rammed through Ingo’s head.

Ingo took a breath in and, instead of relaxing his hand, dug his claw into the stone until he broke through it. The pieces of stone barely missed getting into Ingo’s eye. “Bravo! I know it’s only one victory, but I did it!”

“Good job, but we’re not on the ground yet. Keep going.” Sneasler, even at her strange angle, was able to see the shaking in Ingo’s legs worsen. His strength was giving out. “Actually, hold on.” Sneasler climbed up the steps and picked up Ingo’s body with one hand. “That’s enough for today.” She placed him on top of her basket.

“Are you certain? I can continue climbing, Lady Sneasler,” Ingo said.

“Yeaaaah no. Just stay there, please.”

After climbing down the stairs for another minute, Emmet found that Chandelure lowered him to the ground, and Sneasler let herself drop and fall a couple inches.

“Wait… why aren’t the stairs disappearing?” Sneasler asked.

“This is another Distorted Floor,” Emmet said.

Ingo took out the map. “The map reset. This really is a different floor.”

“So now we have multiple Distorted Floors in one dungeon? Seriously??” Sneasler asked.

“It appears so. Let’s hope we find our terminal this time.”

The team only needed to walk another 5 minutes before they found it.

“THERE IT IS!” Sneasler ran towards the beam of light that only she could see. Chandelure and the Sneasels could barely keep up her pace. Sneasler nearly tripped over her own feet, but she tore open the beam while running past it. “Let’s get outta here. This place gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

Team Conductors took the portal to the outside of the dungeon. It took Ingo and Emmet a moment to get used to the sunlight after being in the Distorted Floors for over an hour, but Sneasler just immediately dumped Tangela out of her basket like a tube of dough.

Tangela immediate jumped to his feet and ran around Team Conductors. “We’re outside! We’re really outside! Thank you!!”

“We’re not finished yet,” Ingo said. He took his badge off his coat, and Emmet did the same next to him. “Allow us to transport you to the Pearl Guild. All aboard!”

“Thank you! Wee!!” Tangela’s body sparkled as he teleported away in a beam of light.

“Finally! He kept shaking around in my basket. I was getting worried he’d fall out or something,” Sneasler said.

“Thank you for your assistance as usual, Lady Sneasler,” Ingo said. “The Distorted Floor should have disappeared with everyone exiting, and our journey to Lake Acuity should be much more straightforward now.”

“Hopefully,” Emmet said.

***

Indeed, the second dungeon trip of the day was much smoother without the threat of a Distorted Floor. As before, the first half of the dungeon was barren of pokemon, save for the occasional Bonzor or Bronzong. The second half of the ruins, however, was filled with psychic pokemon, forcing Emmet to stay ahead to protect his brother. Though Sneasler shared the same type weakness as Ingo, she had strength and Shadow Claw on her side.

The group arrived at the bottom of the ruins. In a large carven stood a lake so large that it seemed that only water-type pokemon could cross it. The center of a lake housed an island with an entry to another cave.

“I don’t remember the lake being underground,” Ingo said.

“That’s probably a mystery dungeon side effect,” Sneasler said. “…Wait, what?”

“So Uxie should be at the center island. How shall we cross the water?” Ingo asked.

“We could build a track,” Emmet said. “Or use Chandelure again.”

The ground rumbled beneath everyone. First it was subtle, but the tremors increased, causing rocks and dust to fall from the ceiling.

Ingo noticed Sneasler facepalming. “Lady Sneasler, do you know the cause of this?”

“I totally forgot about this bit,” Sneasler said.

Something rose from the lake in front of the landlocked group. Water rushed over it, obscuring its form but making it clear that it towered over every pokemon in the cave.

“So… Uxie likes to protect themself by making an illusion of a gigantic legendary pokemon fight anyone who comes close,” Sneasler said.

When the water completely cleared, the giant was revealed to be a white figure with yellow and black rings and three sets of eye-like gems. Dots ran down the center of its “face”. Strange foliage covered its body, especially the top of its head and along the legs.

“And this one looks like… Regigigas.”

“It’s an illusion. Can it still battle us?” Emmet asked.

“Yes, it can battle. It can hurt you.” Sneasler and her companions watched the Regigigas walk onto the ground. “…And it can kill you.”

“Good day, Regigigas illusion! My name is Ingo, the fellow next to me is Emmet, and… Huh?”

Regigigas drew its arm back. Ingo Bulked Up and watched the giant swing its arm to punch Emmet. Ingo ran to push Emmet and take the hit, but the fist just stopped short of decking Ingo’s entire body. Ingo and Emmet were understandably confused, but then the black rings around Regigigas’ arm came to life and grabbed Ingo. Before Emmet could try and rip the vines away from Ingo, the black vines lifted his body up and into Regigigas’ just-opened hand.

“Ingo!” Emmet yelled, trying to jump up as if he could personally free his brother.

With Ingo in its hand, the Regigigas copy squeezed. Regigigas’ Crush Grip made the poor Sneasel scream. He normally liked pressure on his body, but Ingo heard and felt something cracking. He couldn’t think of any possible way to escape.

Sneasler dropped from the sky and screamed as she fell claw-first and struck Regigigas’ wrist with Dire Claw. The illusion’s grip on Ingo loosened. Ingo took a sharp breath, and he went back to screaming when he realized that he was falling.

“All aboard, Ingo!” Emmet hung on Chandelure’s arms, as Sneasler had used the ghost pokemon to gain the high ground. He and Chandelure were above Regigigas and flew down.

Ingo caught Chandelure’s arm with the ends of his claws, but he pulled himself up to see Chandelure’s face. “What a last-minute stop! Bravo, Chandelure and Emmet!”

Chandelure flew around to get back about the Regigigas illusion. Sneasler used her claws to hang onto Regigigas’ arm and repeatedly struck it with Dire Claw. “Why aren’t you getting poisoned, you giant ass?!” A shadow drew over Sneasler. She looked up and saw Regigigas’ other hand coming to grab her. She ran up its arm and onto Regigigas’ head. Chandelure shot Will-O-Wisps at the giant pokemon, making its foliage burst into flames and Sneasler cuss from being so close to the fires. When his pokemon floated above Regigigas’ head, Ingo dropped and landed next to Sneasler.

“You learned Drain Punch, right?” Sneasler asked. Emmet’s Ice Shards whizzed past her head and struck Regigigas.

“I did,” Ingo said.

“Good. Get healed.” Sneasler drew her hand back. Energy swirled around her fist, and she Drain Punched the illusion on its head. Ingo mimicked the same move and found himself feeling better. Regigigas stepped forward. The movement caused Ingo to lose his balance and slip off the pokemon. Sneasler and Chandelure were both prepared to catch him, but Ingo caught his claws on one of Regigigas’ eye-like gems.

Sneasler suddenly dropped down to the ground. Wondering why, Chandelure and Emmet from above noticed pink energy surrounding the giant pokemon. “Ingo! That’s Zen Headbutt!” Emmet let go of Chandelure, making the poor ghost panic. Emmet was able to kick Ingo off Regigigas before it ran forward straight into the cave wall at a faster speed than any of the pokemon expected.

“Emmet! Are you alright?!” Ingo asked. Though Emmet’s dark-typing neutralized Zen Headbutt itself, his small brother was still crushed by a pokemon at least six times their size. Regigigas stepped backwards, revealing Emmet’s body pressed onto the wall. Emmet pulled an arm out of the wall and gave everyone else a thumbs up. Chandelure, angered that their trainer’s brother was hurt so much, unleashed Mystical Fire at Regigigas. Sneasler ran up with another Drain Punch.

Ingo ran up to Emmet, who fell out of the wall. “Emmet, how close do you believe we are to Victory?”

“Hm… Closer than you think,” Emmet said. He saw the pokemon’s black vines struggled to try and grab Sneasler. One step at a time, Regigigas turned to face Chandelure and Sneasler. “One combination of attacks should finish it. Follow the rules!” Emmet formed several small Ice Shards into one large shard in his hand.

“Drive safely!” Ingo’s hand swirled with draining energy.

“ALL ABOARD!” Ingo ran forward and jumped up, preparing to strike. Emmet threw his Ice Shard right above Ingo’s head. The Ice Shard fell in front of where Ingo’s fist would strike, allowing him to drive sharp shards of ice into Regigigas in addition to Ingo’s super-effective Drain Punch.

Ingo fell back to the ground. The Regigigas illusion stood completely still, then it tipped over. Sneasler and Chandelure ran away before the pokemon was able to get one last Heavy Slam on them before it fainted. The ground shook with the fall of the giant, knocking down Ingo and Emmet.

“Huh. Nice work,” Sneasler said. She stepped over the black vines to meet up with Ingo and Emmet. “You guys good?”

“That was a fun battle. I hope we fight like that again,” Emmet said.

“I didn’t like the Crush Grip, but I’m glad it’s over,” Ingo said as he carefully stretched to make sure his body had no broken bones.

Sneasler looked down at the illusion and kicked its arm. “…Huh. This is the part where it disappears. Why isn’t the illusion disappearing?”

“…I am not Uxie’s illusion,” Regigigas said, their voice echoing through the cave. “I… am the real Regigigas.”

Sneasler’s eyes widened as Regigigas stood back up on their feet. “What the hell??”

“…Did we just battle a legendary pokemon and win?” Ingo asked.

“We did!” Emmet flapped his arms and oversized sleeves. “I am Emmet. We battled and we won!”

“Why the hell is the real Regigigas here instead of Uxie’s illusion?!” Sneasler asked.

“…You are the Noble of the Cliffs. …I apologize for fighting you. …I was sleepwalking and attacked anyone before me. …You fully woke me up,” Regigigas said.

“Regi, you didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?” Sneasler asked.

“…I can trust you and your companions. …Follow me.” Regigigas took the three non-floating pokemon in their hand and carried them across the lake to the central island. The water came halfway up Regigigas’ body. Once the giant reached the island, the team walked inside the cave while Regigigas waited in the lake.

Inside the wet cave, a lone pokemon laid in the center. The pokemon was smaller than Ingo or Emmet and had a yellow domed head and a single red gem on their forehead. They were curled in a fetal position with twin tails wrapped around their body.

Ingo ran ahead of everyone else, immediately sensing something was wrong. Ingo placed his hand on Uxie’s body, consciously making sure he did not poison the pokemon. “…They’re alive. They’re still breathing.” Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the gem on Uzie’s head was cracked.

“What happened?” Sneasler asked from over Ingo’s shoulder.

“…I am unsure,” Regigigas said from outside. “…Uxie called to me to wake up. …By the time I found them, they were comatose.”

“Crap, this is serious. We need to get them out of here.” Sneasler took off her basket and placed it on the damp ground.

“Please hold on, Lady Sneasler. Regigigas, would you allow us to transport Uxie to the Pearl Guild for medical attention? The pokemon at the guild would be more than capable of protecting them. Does that satisfy your safety concerns?” Ingo asked.

“…The Pearl Guild is a trustworthy location. …I will allow it,” Regigigas said.

“Emmet, your badge please.” Ingo and Emmet removed their badges from their coats and presented them to Uxie. Uxie’s body glowed, and a beam of light teleported the pokemon out of the dungeon.

***

In the Pearl Guild’s infirmary, Uxie rested on a bed that, unlike the other beds in the guild, was a proper mattress with sheets. Gaeric the Glalie watched over the pokemon, waiting for a healing salve he prepared and slathered over Uxie’s gems to take effect. The infirmary was empty, but outside the entry stood several Pearl Guild members, including Irida, Chatot, and Team Conductors.

“This is concerning,” Irida said as she closed the door to the infirmary. “And you have no idea how this happened?”

“My apologies, Guildmaster Irida. Regigigas had no suspicion as to how it happened, so neither do we,” Ingo said.

“…Okay. Since Uxie is down, I want to check on the other Lake Guardians as well. I’ll inform Adaman about the situation and ask his guild to check on Azelf at Lake Valor. Lake Verity… both of our guilds are rather far from there, but I believe we are closer. I will have another team go there to visit Mespirit tomorrow morning. Did you get all that, Chatot?”

“Yes, I did,” Chatot said.

Irida turned to face Team Conductors and Sneasler. “Thank you for finding Uxie. I fear what would have happened had you not thought to visit them.”

“They would likely still be in a coma,” Emmet said. Ingo nudged him with his elbow.

“I’m still wondering how this happened… But I doubt we will get answers today. For now, you are dismissed. Again, thank you all for your service. You earned your rest.”

Team Conductors and Sneasler walked back to their tent in silence. Ingo, Emmet, and Sneasler stood around Ingo’s bulletin theory board. Chandelure floated above the group to provide light.

“Well, that mission went off the rails. Sorry, boys,” Sneasler said.

“No need to apologize, Lady Sneasler,” Ingo said. “We were able to transport Uxie to safety, which is a higher priority than our personal matters.”

“And we battled a legendary pokemon!” Emmet’s hands shook from the excitement. “I had fun.”

“Glad you’re having fun, nerds.” Sneasler crossed her arms and frowned. Her gaze drifted as she was lost in thought and settled on Ingo, who was staring at his board as though something would literally jump out at him. She smiled to herself.

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