#fancy lawn dresses

[mattsangel]

𝒉𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅│𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉… your stalker is tormenting you at a party, almost revealing his identity in the process. 

stalker!matt x goodgirl!reader, party scene (mention of alcohol use), cursing, smut (no actual sex), dirty talk, pet names

3k words

loud bass is blaring through the dark neighborhood, the annual start of the year party being held at one of the school’s rich kid’s mansion. in this part of town, the houses are enormous, almost looking like castles, and modern, with multiple luxury cars parked in the driveways, the selection varying between porches and audis leaving the streets vacant for guests to park their cars. just like every year, there are cars parked everywhere, the front lawn of the house is full of teens and red plastic cups. the fall air is crisp, but it’s not cold just yet.

your friends walk up the stairs to the beautiful white and grey house, giggling to themselves while you take your time, trailing behind and observing your surroundings. you’re wearing a beautiful short, open-back black dress with a pink bow in the back and some matching pink heels. your long hair is in loose curls, pulled back by a bow, leaving only the front pieces out to catch in your glittery lip gloss when the wind hits your face. 

as you’re observing the people around you, most are students you’ve run into in the hallways, some are from other schools, just there for booze and a good time, you notice a dark form next to the garage doors. it’s too dark for you to be able to make up a face, or any trait, but from their build you can tell that it’s a male. he’s definitely wearing dark clothes, but before you can observe him some more, he’s vanished towards the wooded area behind the house. shaking your head slightly, you make your way towards the open front door to find your friends.

the house is packed, the walls are shaking from how loud the music is. there is a beer pong tournament in one room and people dancing in another. drinks are being left on various surfaces of the house, confettis are on the floor and you can even spot discarded shoes and purses. you make your way to the kitchen, where you assume you will find a drink and your friends. after almost getting lost in the big house, you finally find a beautiful kitchen, with marble counters and gold accents. alongside bottles of various alcohols, a bowl of fruit punch that people spiked with god knows what and some cans of soda are a few chips bags half eaten. pushing those to the side, you grab a red solo cup and fill it with rum and coke, not being much of a drinker but wanting to loosen up a little bit for once. 

cup in hand, you make your way to the dance floor, where you finally find your friends dancing and laughing with what seems to be the guys of the football team. as you try to make your way to them, mumbling sorry’s to the people around and pushing your way across the dance floor, the arm of a drunk guy slaps your drink all over your dress, making the black fabric stick to your skin. without even looking your way, the guy walks away, not even bothering to say sorry or help you out. 

giving up on your friends, you beeline for the staircase leading up fancy, white and gold stairs to try and find a bathroom. you reek of alcohol, the smell so strong it is almost making you nauseous. the upstairs area is just as beautiful as the rest of the house, the ceilings high, walls decorated by art pieces that must be worth millions, although for the owners it must be only a dime in their pockets. there are many doors, you push them open one by one, in hopes that the next one might be a bathroom. 

it is much quieter in this part of the house, and it takes you a few minutes to realize that you aren’t alone upstairs. at first, you assume that it must be some drunken kid looking for some place to crash in or even a horny couple trying to make their way to a bed but soon enough, you notice that the footsteps are going in the same direction as you are. your heart racing, you don’t want to turn around to face them so you open the next door in front of you and go in, realizing that it is a big library, only illuminated by the street lights from outside. forgetting about the mysterious footsteps, you walk in further, looking to find a light switch and admire the beauty that is this place.

there are at least 20 aisle of books all the way down to a beautiful red velvet couch against the wall. the carpeted floors are making it a bit hard for you to walk in your heels so you carefully step out of them and walk around the shelfs, admiring the endless copies of books, going from encyclopedias to fictions and memoirs. as you run your fingers against the dusty book covers, you suddenly hear a door close and someone walk in. you look through the shelves, but it is too dark for you to make out much.

“who’s in here?�� you say softly, hoping that it is someone you might know.

you get no answer, only hearing soft footsteps against the carpet making it’s way closer to you. as you try to walk away and closer to the door, you notice a black doc marten boot from the other side of the shelf you were hiding behind, as your eyes go up the form of the man, he turns around and walks to the other side of the room. he is wearing black pants and a black hoodie, making it impossible for you to know who he is.

your heart rate is spiking up, your face is hot but somehow, you refuse to leave without knowing who he is. pushing your curled hair behind your shoulder, you slowly walk in the same direction as the dark figure.

you take a deep breath before addressing him again, “do i know you?”

he leans back against the wall next to the couch, his hood covering the upper half of his face, “maybe”, the raspy, dark voice says.

a shudder goes through your body after hearing his voice, which you don’t recognize. you walk closer, intrigued and somewhat feeling brave. as you get closer to him, you can see that the lower half of his face is adorning some stubble, his pink lips glistening as he licks them.

“it would help if i could see your face, don’t you think?” you lean your hip against the shelf closest to you, as you speak.

the mysterious figure let’s out a dry laugh, “it’s more fun if you don’t.”

he makes his way to the couch, sitting down and spreading his legs slightly, his lap almost inviting, “liking what you see, princess?”

you bite your lip to stop the tiny smile making it’s way onto your lips. you’ve always loved the unknown, being intrigued by things you couldn’t decipher, “maybe, but i’d like to know who you are, mr. darkness.”

you see a dark smirk coming onto his lips at the nickname, “let’s play a game, then maybe you’ll get to know who i am.”

“what kind of game?” in a very concerning way, this turned you on. it shouldn’t. you should be scared, although you could admit you were a little. but after being sheltered and watched over your whole life, the word innocence being automatically attached to your name by everyone, you needed an escape. 

an escape in a sick and twisted game with a stranger that looked impossibly dangerous but oh so captivating.

he pushed his hips up a bit, getting more comfortable in the soft couch before rubbing a hand across his jaw, “i’m going to ask you ten questions and if you answer all of them truthfully, i’ll answer your questions. don’t try to lie to me.”

your breathing picks up, “and if i don’t tell the truth?”

“believe me, you don’t want to go there,” he says, his voice low, “i know everything, sweetheart.”

your pride and curiosity takes the best of you and suddenly, you find yourself standing closer to him, ready for his game to begin.

it can’t be that bad.

he clears his throat, “question number one,” he pauses for a second, “what perfume are you wearing?”

you frowned, not understanding what kind of questions he’s asking. and for what?, “chanel number 5. always has, always will.”

“good,” he nods slowly, “question two, what shade of lipstick do you have on right now?”

“charlotte tilbury pillowtalk,” you continue, “how do you know i’m not lying?”

“i told you,” a dark smiles appear on his lips, “i know everything about you.”

you feel his gaze on your body, but his hood is still a bit too low for you to see much of his face.

“question three, what chapter of your favorite book do you keep rereading?”

his questions are getting weirder, “chapter twenty three.”

he hums, “it is a very good chapter,” he clears his throat, “question four, what color of underwear are you currently wearing?”

your eyebrows shoot up, not expecting such an intrusive question, and you choose to mess with him a little, “they’re purple.”

a sinister laugh comes out of his mouth as he gets up and walks towards you, “i thought you were a smart girl, y/n.”

you start to walk backwards, your back hitting the bookshelf behind you, trapping you, “i am smart.”

he tsk, using his two fingers to lift your jaw, “smart girls don’t lie,” he says, “and you don’t own a pair of purple underwear, you hate that color.”

shock takes over you as you realize that this man knows a lot more than you could imagine, “how would you even know that?”

“stupid question,” he answers, “you’re wearing pink lace panties.”

as you try to answer, he surprises you by grabbing your lower half, and swinging you over his shoulders, walking towards the couch. the alcohol on your dress now dry, only leaving the smell of rum lingering on you.

as he throws you down, your dress lifts up, revealing your light pink panties, “beautiful,” he says as sits next to you.

you pull down the hem of your dress, sitting down straight as you study the man, who is now very close to you. you can smell his cologne, and notice that his left sleeve has moved, revealing dark tattoos.

“what happens now?” you whisper in the silent room, now noticing that it started raining outside.

his right hand comes up, and he caresses your bare shoulder, gently removing your hair from there, “i’m going to have to punish you.”

his words make the pit of your stomach burn with excitement, arousal pooling in your now soaked panties, making you squeeze your legs together. 

this doesn’t go unnoticed as he looks down and licks his lips, letting out a small laugh, “but you won’t make this too hard for me, now will you, honey.”

you shake your head, “no, i won’t.”

“good,” he spreads his legs and pats his lap, “be a good girl and lay across my thighs. on your belly.”

you do as you are told, climbing over his lip and settling on your stomach, your head laying on the armrest. you feel his hands travel up your legs, stopping at your thighs before he roughly pulls the skirt of your dress over your ass, bunching it up on your hips. 

a low grunt comes out of him, as he caresses your now pantie-clad ass, “you know what happens to liars, right, y/n?”

you nod and he slaps your ass hard, “i need words, baby.”

“yes,” you whisper.

“what happens to liars, uh?” he smooths his hands over your ass before landing another hard slap.

you let out a hiss, “they get p-punished.”

the mystery man hums, slapping your ass again, “that’s right, honey,” he runs a hand up your back, grabbing a fistful of your hair, making the ribbon fall out, “but you’re a good girl aren’t you? you’ll take it well for me.”

as you squeak out a yes, he grabs both of your arms, crossing them behind your back and using the pink ribbon to tie them up, “that’s better.”

“count them with me, baby,” he says as he slaps your left ass cheek this time, harder. 

“one,” you say softly, your eyes watering from the pain.

he lands another one, “two.”

and another one, “three.”

once he gets to ten, you let out a sob that you’ve been holding for too long. the pain is making your ass cheeks burn, but your now soaked underwear is telling him that you secretly love it.

just as you think that he is about to slap your ass an eleventh time, he starts rubbing it in an almost tender way, “good girl, you did so good for me.”

“i think you deserve a reward,” he says moving his hand in between your thighs, pressing it onto your aching pussy, “what do you think?”

you nod vigorously, needing some sort of relief, “yes, please.” you whine out.

he starts to rub circles on to your covered clit, “you’re so wet, honey, is it all for me?”

“yes,” you try to muffle your moan by biting your lip.

he slaps your pussy lightly, “i want to hear you, don’t do that.”

he finally grabs the top of your soaked, lace panties and removes them, shoving them into his hoodie pocket, before running his fingers through your folds, “making a mess on my fingers already.”

he pushes his thick, middle finger inside of you, making your back arch into him and a high pitches moan come out of your mouth, “never had something so big inside of you before uh?”

he picks up his pace, as you start grinding onto his leg, looking for some more friction, “look at you, being so desperate for someone you don’t even know,” his other hand comes to grab at your neck from the side, squeezing it just the right amount, “i know you’ve been longing for this, baby, i know this is what you’ve always wanted.”

his words could make you think that he did know everything. like he knew that at night, you would watch videos of girls getting spanked and fucked by masked men, to get off. like he knew that you always secretly dreamed of being choked and tied up. like he knew that from the moment you saw him, all mysterious and dark , you weren’t instantly attracted to him.

as you get closer to your release, a familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach, his fingers pick up their speed, his breath hot on your back, “you look so pretty like this, all tied up and soaking my fingers.”

this is enough for you to come undone onto his fingers, your release coating your inner thighs and his hand, he removes his fingers and let out a satisfied hum before his other hand comes to grab at your hair, making your head turn towards his still hidden face. 

“look at that mess you’ve made on me, sweetheart,” you see his glistening fingers as he brings them to his mouth and suck on them, making your jaw hang slightly, “taste so good.”

after removing his fingers from his mouth, the brings them to yours, “taste yourself.”

you let out a moan as you suck on his fingers like your life depends on it. he takes them out of your mouth with a ‘pop’ and starts untying the ribbon lacing your arms together. when your arms are finally free, he sits you up straight against the couch, letting you catch your breah for a minute.

just when you’re about to open your mouth to speak again, he gets up and walks towards the door, your pink and still wet panties still hanging out of his hoodie pocket.

just when he is about to grap the knob and open the door he turns slightly towards you and says, “see you around, pretty girl. next time, don’t lie to me.”

he closes the door behind him, and just like that, you are left completely on your own, the sticky mess still in between your thighs, your hair disheveled and absolutely confused as to what just happened.

when you finally get yourself together and go to put on your shoes, a small piece of paper falls down from the strap of your dress onto the floor. you pick it up and open it.

i’ll be watching you, darling. keep being a good girl and you might find me again.

and it’s signed; mr. darkness.

a few days later, as you get home from school, you find a bouquet of pink roses on your bed with a small note attached to it. you look around before opening it.

meet me at the abandoned house on main street friday at ten o’clock.

you smile down at the note, carefully putting it in your bedside table drawer, alongside all the other ones your stalker has been leaving around for you. 

© 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆; i’m thinking of maybe making a series out of this one since you guys are just as obsessed with stalker!matt as i am… i love writing him, let me know if you’d want more! i love you guys x

[austinbutlerslovers]

But Daddy I Love Him

Label Mature 18+

Summary You are a well mannered socialite with a life carefully planned. Until you meet a reckless biker with a devil-may-care charm.

Drawn to his freedom and fire, you abandon the rules that once defined you, leaving behind a gilded life for one that finally feels real.

-Based on the Lyrics But Daddy I love him

💝Romantic Smut 💝 Secret romance • opposites attract• socially unaccepted• private affair• running away from home• lover to boyfriend• sweet talk •praising •body worship • P in V • multiple orgasms •creampies 🔗 Masterlist

But Daddy I Love Him

The New Year’s Eve gala is in full swing. Chandeliers hang from the large elaborate white tent spread across the sprawling lawn of an elegant estate, the lights glimmering above a sea of glittering gowns and tailored tuxedos on the dance floor

The clinking of champagne glasses blends seamlessly with the soft hum of the live orchestra. It’s like a scene straight out of a movie—one you’re desperately trying to escape.

You’re tired of the rules, the polite smiles, and the suffocating weight of “perfection.”

You’re fleeing to the only one who gives you solace—the only one who makes you feel alive.

Ducking back into the mansion through a side door, you move quickly and quietly, the lavish decor of the halls passing in a blur.

The sound of laughter and music fades behind you as you make your way toward the servants exit, the place you told him to meet when you called earlier, desperate to break out of this gilded cage.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you approach the door feeling the anticipation and the thrill. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. If your parents caught wind of who you were sneaking off to see, the fallout would be explosive. But that only makes you more determined.

As you push open the heavy wooden door, the night air greets you once more, crisp and biting against your bare shoulders. And then you see him-

Benny Cross

He leans casually against his motorcycle, his leather jacket catching the moonlight. His sandy brown hair is tousled perfectly, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with mischief as he watches you approach. A slow grin spreads across his face, the cigarette dangling from his lips long forgotten, crushed under his boot as his attention locks entirely on you.

“You look real fancy in that dress,” he says, his voice low and teasing. “Doesn’t look like it belongs on someone sneaking out the back.”

You grin as you saunter toward him. “And that bike doesn’t look like it belongs at a New Years Eve Gala,” you quip, slipping your arms around his neck.

“Guess we’re both out of place, huh?” he teases, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer.

Without another word, you kiss him, pouring all your frustration, your rebellion, and your longing into it. His lips are warm and soft, his hands gripping you like he never wants to let go.

You know your parents would lose their minds if they knew, but right now, you couldn’t care less. Benny is your secret, your escape, your freedom.

“Take me,” you whisper in his ear between kisses. “Take me to my parents’ estate. No one’s home—they’re too busy with their little party.”

His eyes darken with desire, and without a word, he shrugs off his leather jacket, draping it over your shoulders, the warm, worn leather carrying his familiar scent. He swings over his bike smoothly and pulls you up behind him without hesitation.

The roar of the engine echoes through the quiet night as he speeds through the residential streets, the cold wind whipping through your hair. You cling to him, your heart racing—not just from the speed, but from the thrill of being with him.

Your estate is eerily quiet when you arrive, the grand house dark as you lead Benny upstairs. When you reach your bedroom, you barely get the door shut before he’s on you.

His hands are rough pulling his leather from your body and sliding up your back to the zipper of your dress. “This thing’s way too fancy for you,” he teases, his voice low and gravelly against your neck.

With one fluid motion, he pulls the zipper down, his fingers brushing your bare skin as he lets the fabric fall.

Without wasting a second, his hands find the clasp of your bra, and with a practiced flick, he unhooks it, letting it fall to the floor.

He slips his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down swiftly, leaving you bare before him.

Stepping back, he takes his time, his eyes raking over you like a man starved. His expression hungry and raw. “Standing there, looking like that… you’re gonna ruin me, sweetheart.” He says his tone longing.

His hands go to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one quick motion, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the tight ridges of his abs.

Then, his fingers work at the button of his jeans, the rough material sliding down his hips with ease before hitting the floor with a dull thud. Your eyes trail downward, catching on the sight of him—heavy and hard, the impressive size of his cock making you bite your lip.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes linger, a proud grin tugging at his lips.

You reach for him, desperate to feel him against you and pull him down into a kiss, your lips crashing together in a fiery collision of need and longing.

His hands find your waist, gripping firmly as he walks you backward toward the bed, lowering you down with enough force to make you gasp against his lips.

He settles on top of you, his weight pressing you into the plush mattress, his broad shoulders framing you as he pushes your thighs apart beneath him, claiming the space between them as his own.

His lips are rough and unrelenting as they trail down to your neck. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp, and he takes full advantage of the sound, pressing his mouth to the sensitive hollow of your throat as he flicks his tongue.

His hands explore you, leaving no inch of skin untouched. The calluses on his fingers drag over your soft curves, teasing and torturing until you’re panting and writhing beneath him.

“Benny,” you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, needing more.

“Patience sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice filled with promise. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He grips your hips, his strength overpowering as he pulls you closer, positioning you exactly where he wants you. His hand slides between your thighs, his rough fingers testing and teasing you as they glide through your slickness. A low hum of satisfaction escapes his throat, the feeling of how wet you are driving him wild.

“I can feel how much you need me,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire. “I’ll give you everything, sweetheart. Every last bit of me.”

His fingers slip away, leaving you aching for him and before you can catch your breath, he lines himself up, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a promise only he can satisfy. He pushes the thick unyielding length of his cock into you, stretching you wide, filling you in a way that steals your breath.

His size is overwhelming—the heat of it, the weight of it—and as he sinks in deeper, your head falls back, a moan spilling from your lips as his name escapes you in a broken cry.

His low groan follows, rough and guttural, vibrating against your chest as his body presses firmly against yours, leaving no space between you.

You clutch at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he pauses for the briefest moment, letting you adjust to the sheer size of him.

“I know just what you need, sweetheart,” he promises, his breath warm against your skin and he rolls his hips forward with a force that sends you arching against him, each powerful thrust driving you into a haze of pleasure as the world around you dissolves.

Your broken cries fill the room, each one more desperate than the last as his muscles flex beneath your touch determined to claim every part of you.

His hands grip your shoulders, holding you firmly in place as he pushes deeper, his pace relentless, every stroke of his cock sending shockwaves through your body, leaving you spiraling, completely lost in the raw, consuming heat of him.

You moan loudly, your nails digging into his back as the tension in your body builds to an unbearable peak. He leans down, his lips finding yours again in a messy, desperate kiss as his pace quickens.

Your breaths grow frantic, your heart pounding as your walls tighten around his cock pulling him deeper with every thrust.

“Benny!” you moan, his name spilling from your lips in broken cries as your orgasm crashes over you.

He groans in response finding his own release with one final thrust. He buries his cock deep, holding still as he comes, his cock filling you with warmth as he breathes heavily against your neck.

For a moment, neither of you move as the pleasure subsides, leaving only the sound of your ragged breaths and the feel of his steady heartbeat against your chest.

His hands slide up your sides, his touch tender as he strokes your skin, his fingers tracing soothing patterns. “I’ve never felt this way before,” he reveals, his lips pressing a soft lingering kiss on your shoulder then on curve of your neck.

“Me neither,” you whisper, your voice soft and steady, your fingers trailing along his back as you both linger in the moment.

The way he touches you, the way he takes you—is nothing you’ve ever experienced before. 

Benny is raw, he’s real, and he’s entirely yours.

Right before midnight, you return to the New Year’s Eve Gala, together on his bike, just as the first fireworks begin to explode across the sky.

The colorful lights cast you both in vibrant reds, blues, and golds as he helps you climb off his bike, your gaze drawn upward, mesmerized by the bursts of light painting the night sky.

His wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding your back to his chest as you both watch the fireworks in silence. It’s a perfect moment, fleeting but beautiful. You turn to look back at him, and he’s already watching you, his eyes filled with something you can’t quite name but feel entirely the same.

“Happy New Year Benny,” you say softly.

He pulls you closer, his arms tightening around you as his lips brush your ear. “Happy New Year,” he whispers, his voice low and full of longing.

Before you can say anything more, he turns you fully and captures your lips in a deeply passionate kiss filled with everything words could never convey.

Above you, the fireworks burst across the sky in a riot of colors, but all you can feel is him and the way he holds you, the way he kisses you, and it’s as if time has stopped in a moment where nothing else matters.

As the kiss ends, his hands cradle your face, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. “Next year,” he says his eyes searching yours with a mix of determination and longing “let’s make it so we don’t have to sneak around to be together.”

You softly smile, your heart full despite the knowledge that the morning will bring new challenges. Still, you meet his gaze with quiet resolve. “I’d like that Benny,” you whisper back.

As the fireworks fade, you know this is the beginning of something neither of you can, or wants to, walk away from.

As weeks turn into months, you secretly become Benny’s girl. You learn about his world—his biker crew, their late-night rides, and a freedom you’d only dreamed of.

He, in turn, is fascinated by your wit, your intelligence, and the quiet fire he sees growing behind your polished exterior whenever you’re with him. It’s a fire he knows only he can stoke, and it makes him fall for you even harder.

But the secrecy begins to weigh on you both. Your parents start to notice your frequent absences and your growing disinterest in their meticulously laid out plans for your future. Their questions start to surface, sharp and invasive, pressing against the fragile haven you and Benny have created.

Benny encourages you to tell them the truth but you always hesitate.

As Benny picks you up late in the evening, he leans against his bike, watching with an amused grin as you carefully climb down the lattice outside your window.

The pale moonlight highlights your outfit a simple leather jacket borrowed from him, thrown over a fitted black tank top and denim skirt, your feet in new leather boots for the escape. It’s a far cry from the polished dresses and heels your parents expect, but it’s undeniably you.

You cross the lawn to him quickly, your heart racing with both adrenaline and anticipation.

“We can’t keep sneaking around forever,” he says his voice low as you approach, “We’re not doing anything wrong. You deserve to live your life.” He confirms.

You roll your eyes as you throw your leg over the bike. “And what, Benny? You think my parents will suddenly roll out the welcome mat for the guy who picks me up in the dead of night on his motorcycle?” you retort, settling behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. “Let’s be real—they’d lose their minds.”

He glances over his shoulder at you, his expression serious before you see the teasing curve of his lips. “Doesn’t mean we’re wrong,” he grins before revving the engine.

The clubhouse is quiet, the others long gone for a weekend rally leaving the space eerily still. Benny pulls his bike into the lot, parking near the entrance as you climb off, brushing your hair back from your face.

Inside, the air smells like leather, smoke, and the faint tang of whiskey—a stark contrast to the world you’ve left behind for the night at your father’s weekend tennis matches with all his influential friends.

Benny leans against the pool table, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with his piercing blue eyes in a way that makes your pulse race.

His arms look even bigger with his muscle tee revealing the taut, hard defined muscles of his biceps. The tension between you is unusually heavy, the air charged with unspoken words until he finally breaks the silence.

“How long are we gonna do this?” he asks, his voice tinged with frustration. “Sneaking around like I’m some dirty secret?”

You take a step closer, realizing how much he’s been hurting, and your gaze drops, unable to meet his eyes. “You don’t understand,” you plead softly. “They’ll try to destroy us, Benny. They’ll say you’re not good enough, that you’re a bad influence—“

Benny cuts you off. “And what do you say?”

The question hangs in the air, the weight of it pressing down on you, and as you lift your eyes to meet his the raw emotion in your gaze says everything. “I say I love you, Benny,” you whisper.

For a moment, Benny’s eyes soften, brimming with everything he’s been holding back. Then he closes the distance in an instant, his hands finding your waist as his lips crash into yours, his kiss hungry and unyielding as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

You clutch at his shoulders, your fingers tangling in his hair as the world around you dissolves. He lifts you effortlessly, setting you down on the edge of the pool table. His rough hands slide down your thighs, hitching up the hem of your skirt as he steps between your legs, his body pressing hard against yours.

“I love you so much ,” he whispers against your lips, his voice trembling with need. “You drive me absolutely insane.”

He tilts your head back, giving him full access to your neck as he trails kisses down your skin, his stubble leaving a delicious burn in its wake. Your breaths come in quick, shallow pants, the air charged with everything you’ve both been holding back.

He unbuttons and unzips his jeans, then his hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him, his rough fingers slipping between your thighs and pulling your panties aside.

He hitches your leg around his waist, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he thrusts into you hard, taking you right there on the edge of the pool table.

His movements are rough, relentless, each powerful stroke sending a jolt of pleasure through you as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as he drives into you with raw, consuming desperation.

The sound of your gasps and his low grunts fill the air, mingling with the slick, wet sounds of his hips thrusting between yours, driving into you hard and fast on the pool table.

“You’re all I want ” he whispers against your neck, his voice strained and raw with emotion .”You’re everything I need” he says breathlessly, his lips trailing rough kisses along your jaw as his thrusts render you senseless. The way he snaps his hips pushes you to the brink, your cries echoing off the walls as he takes you apart piece by piece.

The rhythm of your bodies moving together becomes frantic, urgent, as if this is all that matters. His hands hold you in place, his fingers digging into your hips as his body claims yours on the table with unrelenting force.

The intensity of him—his strength, his touch, his heat—sends you spiraling into a place where nothing else exists. Nothing else matters—only him, only this.

As you orgasm, your body trembles, your walls clenching tightly around his cock, drawing a deep, guttural groan from him as his movements falter.

With a final thrust, he buries himself deep, his warmth spilling into you in surges, then his hands tighten on your hips as he pulls back entirely, the sensation sending a shudder through you both.

The room grows quiet again, the only sounds your heavy breathing and the faint noise of the city outside filtering through the walls.

He pulls you into his arms, holding you close to rest your head on his shoulder. He presses a soft kiss to your temple as he strokes your hair back, his voice gentle but serious. “We have to tell them baby.” He confesses. “I don’t want to hide like this forever.”

You lift your head to look at him, your fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. “I’m scared,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he says firmly, his blue eyes locking onto yours with unwavering resolve. “You don’t have to go back. You could stay with me.”

Your heart aches at his words, the sincerity in his tone making it even harder as you look at him. “I wish I could,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “But they’d come looking for me. I need them to believe I’m still playing by their rules—for now.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans down and kisses you again, slow and lingering, to remind you that he’s yours, that this is real, and you feel it—the certainty that no matter what Benny is where you belong.

Benny drives up the familiar path to your estate, the low rumble of his motorcycle softening as he slows to a stop near the driveway fountain. As you climb off the back, you turn to him with a soft smile, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, your fingers brushing his cheek.

“I love you too,” he says in return, his voice low and steady. His hand lingers on your waist, reluctant to let go. “Good night.” He whispers.

“Good night,” you reply softly, your heart full as you step back.

You dart toward the lattice outside your bedroom window, moving quickly to sneak back inside unnoticed.

But just as you climb the first rung, the front door flies open, spilling golden light across the lawn.

Your heart freezes as your father storms out, his voice thunderous. “You stay away from her!” he roars, pointing a finger directly at Benny.

Behind him, your mother and his influential friends with their wives file out, their presence an intentional show of force.

The women clutch their pearl necklaces and cross pendants, one muttering loud enough for you to hear, “What a mess,” her disdain cutting through the tension.

Benny, who had been idling the motorcycle shifts his weight slightly, planting one boot on the ground as he watches the group come toward him taunting and scorning.

His hand tightens on the handlebar as his piercing blue eyes flick to you, to see if you’re okay, but he doesn’t budge, ready to face whatever comes next.

You glance back at the lattice, your mind racing, but instead of climbing up, you drop to the ground, running toward Benny as the lump in your throat swells almost unbearably. “But Daddy, I love him!” you scream, your voice cutting through the night.

Gasps travel through the group. Your mother’s hand flies to her chest, and your father’s face twists with fury. You know what they’re thinking—this isn’t how their polished, perfect daughter is supposed to behave.

The disdain on their faces, the whispers of the scandal-hungry wives—it all fuels your next move. With the entire crowd watching, you look your father dead in the eyes and yell, “I’m having his baby!”

A stunned silence follows. Your father’s face goes pale, his mouth opening and closing like he’s searching for words that won’t come

The tension is suffocating, but you don’t give anyone time to react. You climb onto the back of Benny’s motorcycle, holding him tightly, your heart pounding as he shifts into gear, the engine roaring to life.

He glances back at you as you ride off, his voice low and urgent. “Are you really pregnant?” he asks.

“No,” you admit quickly, your voice shaking. “But you should’ve seen their faces.”

A grin breaks across Benny’s face as he shakes his head impressed by your wit, and the roar of the engine drowns out everything else as you ride away, leaving the estate and your parents expectations in the dust.

For the next month, you and Benny lay low in the clubhouse. The two of you live upstairs in a loft, savoring the freedom of being together without judgment. The loft is small and rough around the edges, but it feels like a haven —your sanctuary.

Days blur into nights filled with moments of joy, laughter, and quiet intimacy. Benny wakes you with slow kisses along your neck, his lips soft and lingering, pulling you into his arms as sunlight filters through the worn curtains. The warmth of his touch and the way he says your name to wake you feels like a dream.

Morning are spent laying with him in bed, his hands exploring you lazily, tracing soft patterns on your skin as if he has all the time in the world. He teases you with gentle kisses, and mischievously grins when he pulls you closer, whispering how much he loves having you with him.

Afternoons are carefree. He teaches you how to shoot pool downstairs in the clubhouse, laughing when you miss your shot and teasing you mercilessly. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says with a grin, leaning in to steal a kiss as you try to focus.

Often, the two of you take his bike out for long rides, the wind whipping through your hair as you hold him tightly, feeling the freedom of the open road.

Evenings are spent wrapped in each other’s arms after a dash to the diner, your bodies entwined in the bed of the quiet loft. Most nights are passionate, Benny’s touch both tender and possessive, as he makes love to you with an intensity that leaves you senseless, his kisses stealing your breath as he whispers how much he loves you.

“You’re all I need,” he says at times when the moment is just right, the weight of his words flowing from deep within his heart.

He says it when he watches you laugh, carefree and unguarded, in a way you never could before him. He says it when he sees you curled up in his oversized white shirt, a little piece of his world wrapped around you.

He says it when you make him feel like he’s worth something more than the rough edges of his life. You see past the chaos, and the rebellion, and you love him.

As you bask in your new life with Benny, you still can’t ignore the ache that lingers at the edges of your heart. As much as you’ve rebelled against them, you do miss your parents at times.

Then one morning, everything changes.

You’re in bed with Benny, tangled together in the soft light of dawn, when the shrill ring of the phone downstairs at the club’s bar breaks the stillness. Benny groans, burying his face into the crook of your neck as if trying to block it out.

But a moment later, there’s a knock at the loft door. Benny sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and pulls on a pair of jeans, his movements slow, before cracking the door open.

“Your girl’s mom is on the line,” one of the guys says, his voice casual but laced with curiosity. “Guess they figured it all out.”

The words jolt you awake. Quickly, you pull a robe over the shirt Benny gave you to wear to bed, your heart pounding as you follow him downstairs to the bar. The phone sits on the counter, the receiver waiting for you. You hesitate for a moment, nerves swirling, before picking it up.

“Hello?”

Your mother’s voice comes through the line, soft and hesitant but full of emotion. “Your father wants to see you,” she says. “We miss you so much, sweetheart. Please come home —please just come home, we need to speak with you urgently.”

You glance at Benny, his steady gaze on you, offering silent support. You nod, and he returns it, understanding without a word— if you have to go he’s coming with you.

Later that day, you and Benny stand in the grand living room of your parents’ estate, the tension heavy as your father sits across from you.

His demeanor is far from the fiery man who yelled on the lawn that night. He looks tired, even defeated as he finishes his speech “We’ll hold a wedding,” he says, his hands folded tightly in front of him. “You shouldn’t have to live this way—especially if there is a baby coming. We will do what is right.”

You almost laugh at the misunderstanding, but before you can speak, Benny rests his hand on your lower back. “With or without a baby,” he says firmly, his voice steady and unwavering, “I want to marry her.”

You look over at Benny, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, the depth of his love and devotion leaves you speechless.

Your father stares at Benny for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as if weighing every word. Finally he exhales heavily as he nods, silently agreeing to anything to keep you in his life.

Three months later, the sun shines brightly over the estate as you dance in your wedding dress, the layers of white tulle catching the light. Benny’s hands are on your waist, his grin as wide as you’ve ever seen it.

Around you, the guests smile warmly, not just your parents’ influential friends, but Benny’s biker family as well. The unlikely mix of guests creates a vibrant, joyful atmosphere that you never thought possible.

Even your father, once disapproving, watches with a small smile as you and Benny share your first dance.

Your mother watches, her eyes never dry as she dabs back her tears with a handkerchief, unable to hide her emotions as she watches you and Benny make your way through the crowd, hand in hand, husband and wife.

The gossipers and scandal-lovers—the ones who sneered and whispered at your rebellion—are nowhere to be seen; requested off the guest list entirely.

When the sun dips lower in the sky, you take Benny’s hands, feeling the weight of everything you’ve overcome together. You’re his lady now, his wife, and as you glance at your parents, they smile, their expressions warm and accepting of your choice.

As you turn back to Benny, your heart swells with love as you look into his eyes, knowing you made the right one.

Overcome with emotion you lean in and kiss each other, pouring everything you feel into the moment. His hands tighten around your waist, steady and sure, as your arms wrap around his neck, embracing each other in the love you fought so hard to hold onto—finally living life the way you deserve.

END 🏍️

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[taojjang]

ִ ࣪𖤐 riize spending halloween with you .ᐟ

pairing: bf!riize x fem!reader, genre: fluff + crack, warnings: spooky themes! haunted houses, fake blood, scary clowns, fake blades, a lil spooky might make u dookie pink text > reader blue text > riize

��⸝⸝ spooky day with your silly bf

shotaro passing out candy!

since the day you and shotaro moved into your shared apartment, you always loved how festive your neighborhood was during halloween. everything was so festive with the spooky orange lights, the scary skeleton statues, the fake spiderwebs in the trees. that's why you'd never imagine spending halloween anywhere else but your home.

though you love halloween so dearly, it's clear who loves it more between the both of you. on october 1st, taro buys loads and loads of spooky decorations. he'd come home with huge bags cheering, "honey! look what i bought! do you want to help me put these up?" you could never turn down requests as adorable as his :( even if it's cold, you would be outside for hours hanging up fancy string lights and constructing little pumpkin lanterns to leave on the front lawn. you'd take a break and watch shotaro excitedly hanging cute ghosts from a tree, giggling and showing off his work. he was so serious about making your house extra festive </3

on halloween day, you and taro would sit on your front porch in matching costumes and pass out candy to the trick-or-treaters. you absolutely adore how cute taro is with kids, getting a little too generous with his grants because of how adorable they are. every time a kid would walk away, he'd turn to you and gush, “wasn't she so adorable?! ahh i can't take it!!” once the trick-or-treaters stop coming, the two of you head inside to cuddle and eat the leftover candy. “babies are so cute, don't you think? i can't wait to dress up our little one!” "you're the cutest thing, taro :("

eunseok baking spooky treats!

ever since eunseok made the cute gesture of cooking pumpkin-shaped dumplings for halloween one year, cooking has been a halloween tradition. maybe because of how delicious eunseok's pastries are, the two of you often ditch halloween parties to eat cream puffs instead >.< you'd truly leave anything behind just to enjoy a comforting meal cooked by your sweet boyfriend. once the month of october begins, you're already counting down the days until your cooking date with seok. of course, he's excited as well. but he can't help feeling a bit anxious. though you love baking with him, he tries to take the lead most times because of how clumsy you are.

this year, the two of you decided on a two-course meal; ghost-shaped dumplings and pumpkin cream puffs! the date began, the two of you looking for recipes and hunting for the ingredients in his cabinets. eunseok tried to lend you some of his trust while you cooked, but it didn't take long for your clumsiness to spike his anxiety. "darling, this looks like a bit too much flour. how much did you put?" "two cups!" "the recipe called for half." long story short, you were switched to observation duty!

you watched eunseok read the instructions and add all the ingredients to a bowl while clinging to his waist, peeking over his shoulder. here and there, he'll look back at you and allow you to mix the ingredients together (which he shouldn't have cus you ended up splashing flour all over your halloween pajamas </3). eunseok was working overtime steaming the dumplings and mixing the pastry dough, all while keeping a close eye on you so you wouldn't explode the house or something. once the pastries were in the oven, you went to the living room to pick a spooky show to watch while your chef boyfriend prepared dinner. "here darling, all done." your eyes lit up at the sight of the prettily plated food, eunseok placing it in front of you with a bunch of side dishes. "this looks good, love! thank you!" the two of you sat beside each other, indulging in the cute little dumplings. your eyes were glued on the show in front of you, but eunseok's eyes were scanning your face for signs of enjoyment. he relaxes into a soft smile when he sees your eyes light up with your cheeks stuffed with food. "how is it?" "so good! extra points cus you're cute ;3" all of his stress from looking after you melted away once he was rewarded with that sweet smile of yours.

sungchan carving pumpkins!

sungchan is probably as excited for halloween as a sugar-deficit toddler. chan has been so determined to prepare everything early for halloween, picking out costumes and little candies since the beginning of october. he’d been looking forward to wearing your matching fbi agent costumes to his friend’s costume party. but you fell ill the day before the party, not being able to completely enjoy your halloween :(

sungchan was worried sick about you, leaving everything behind to come take care of you. what you didn’t expect was him to open your bedroom door with two large pumpkins. “what the hell babe..? i thought you were buying medicine?” “oh, i forgot… but they had pumpkins on sale! buy one get one free!” you laughed at your smiling dork and mustered up the strength to go carve pumpkins in the living room, right in front of the display of spooky festivities outside of your window <3

“let’s make matching pumpkins! i can make spiderman and you can make uh… baby yoda!” “that doesn’t match but sure!” the two of you carved pumpkins together while watching peanuts, your favorite cartoon. though you felt like shit due to the lack of medication, you didn't have much time to focus on your discomfort due to your dramatic boyfriend's reaction to the gross feeling of the pumpkin guts. gosh, did you absolutely love that stupid face of his. though he was fooling around and trying to lift your spirits, sungchan remained hyperalert watching your every move, staying wary of your weak hands holding the carving knife. “let me do it for you, princess. you’re gonna get hurt.” sure enough, the both of you got hurt :) but at least the pumpkins were cute! sungchan put candles in the pumpkins and left the botched-looking jack o’lanterns by your front door. “all done! i should probably go buy your medicine now, huh…” “just come inside and cuddle me..!”

wonbin watching scary films!

you’ve been dying to go to a haunted house with wonbin for months now. but due to reasons unbeknown to you, he’s always turned you down. he comes up with a different excuse every time, like “it’s too expensive” or  “it’s too cold that day” but once he agreed to watch scary movies with you, you finally figured out why he didn’t want to go.

the two of you decided to watch paranormal movies, all about ghosts and hauntings. throughout the movie, you notice wonbin kept scooting closer and closer to you until his head was hiding behind your shoulder. “no way bbin, are you scared?” “no, i’m just cold.” but whenever ominous music played, his grip on your arm would tighten and he’d hold his breath, just barely peeking over your shoulder. once the movie grew silent, you smirked before letting out a low growl, scaring the jumpy cat. “ah don’t do that, baby!!” you laughed before pulling him down to cuddle against your chest, ruffling his hair and apologizing through giggles. during the climax, wonbin was tightly squeezing your waist and hiding with the blanket pressed tightly against his face. you sneakily pulled out your phone and recorded your boyfriend's cute demeanor, all tensed up on top of you with his big, shaky eyes hesitantly glued to the screen. once the jumpscare popped up, he dropped the ineffective nonchalant act and screamed, springing backward to hug you by the shoulders, hiding his head into your neck. you laughed and held him against your body, kissing his temple to calm him down. “ah, this must be why you didn't wanna go to the haunted house, hm?” “shut up!”

the movie ended at 11pm and you had to go back home. you put your jacket on and grabbed your keys, but wonbin stood in front of the door and stared at you with that pitiful sullen glint in his eyes. “can you sleep over tonight? i’m… gonna be cold again later.” you laughed and tossed your keys back onto the counter running to hug your frightened baby. you cupped his cheeks in your hands and planted hundreds of kisses all over his flustered cheeks. “i won't make fun of you if you're scared, baby. should we cuddle?” wonbin’s fear melted away and he nodded, holding your hand and running off to his room. the two of you cuddled while staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. “we shouldn't have watched that… did you know you could manifest hauntings by watching scary stuff?” “the ghosts can't kill you, baby. shush, just sleep.”

seunghan on a pokemon hunt!

as silly as it sounds, the two of you decided instead of passing out candy or going to costume parties, you would go on a pokémon hunt late at night. seunghan proposed a challenge of whoever could catch the most pokémon would pay for dinner that night. you and your competitive poké-fiend boyfriend put on your coziest jackets and ran outside.

you stayed on facetime with hani while running opposite ways to catch some pokémon. you were doing pretty good, catching a few ratatas and even a diglett. but after 10 minutes of hunting, you noticed seunghan was frantically looking around and commenting on his surroundings. "oh wow it's dark... i should try to stay around the other people here. there wouldn't be ghosts, right? ghosts aren't a thing, haha..." you couldn't hold back your laughter as you realized seunghan was more afraid of the ghosts catching him than having to pay for dinner. "what are you laughing at..?" "are you scared, love?" "of course not! i'm just in a weird environment!" you closed out of the pokémon go app and watched your boyfriend's flustered expression on the screen. "hold on, i'll come find you." "no! you're gonna scare off my pokémon!" "I'LL SAVE YOU, MY PRINCESS!"

long story short, you got to enjoy your fried chicken without a single penny being taken from you (winner winner chicken dinner!). as you ran over to seunghan, he whined, "i give up, it's too dark. can we go inside yet?" once he saw you running towards him, his eyes lit up and he ran to cling to your side. "come on, love, let's go hide from the ghosts." the two of you held hands and ran back home where seunghan ordered a fried chicken delivery. you and the sulky boy ate together while watching shin chan, you occasionally pausing to tease your silly boyfriend for being scared of ghosts. "do you mind taking out the trash after this? hopefully there aren't any ghosts out there~" "STOP ANGEL I'M SO SERIOUS RN"

sohee in a haunted corn maze!

the two of you were browsing the store for cool halloween costumes when you saw a flier for a haunted corn maze at the nearby farm. “we should do it!” sohee cheered, taking a picture of the flier. you tilted your head and asked, “are you sure? you won’t be scared?” sohee scoffs and shakes his head, “of course not! i’m sohee!” you scoff at the silly guy who's grinning and flexing his tiny muscles.

contrary to your initial belief, sohee wasn't afraid. you were. the two of you arrived at the farm and you couldn't help but feel uneasy. you keep subconsciously squeezing sohee's arm and pressing yourself against him. your heart was beginning to palpitate meanwhile sohee was laughing and gasping, "wow... the props seem to be good quality!" your clueless boyfriend was too busy admiring the fake knives on the hay barrels instead of the terrifying killer clown standing by the maze entrance. you enter the maze and you’re immediately hit with the eeriness of the space; the tall hedges, the dark path ahead, the fake blood on the ground, the scary backtrack. your stomach began to turn, yet sohee excitedly treaded forward. “let��s go! should we go left or right?” you hummed trying to brainstorm an answer but as you looked both ways, you spotted scary props in both directions. the terrified screams of the other people in the maze didn’t help your sense of impending doom. “maybe… left?”  sohee looked down at you and noticed the uncertainty in your voice. he found it cute how you were so concerned about him being afraid yet now you're stuck to his arm, seemingly about to cry. “are you sure? we can still leave if you'd like.” you shook your head and held onto his arm tighter. “no, let's go!” sohee chucked adoringly at your sudden courage and began following your lead.

your fear soon dissipated as the fun of the escape settled in. as you turned left, a bloodied clown emerged from the dense bushes. you immediately tugged sohee towards you, earning an amused laugh from him. but now that it was over, you weren’t as scared. the escape was now on. “i think we should go left.” “nonono there's a killer over there!” “are you scared?” “no let’s go” the two of you worked tirelessly (screaming almost every 4 minutes) and finally saw the glow of the exit lights. sohee’s eyes lit up as he saw the red sign, turning to you and taking your hand in his. “y/n, there it is! come on!” the two of you ran out of the maze with huge smiles. sohee turned to you with the widest gleam on his face, high-fiving your hands and intertwining his fingers with yours. “we did it!” the fear-induced adrenaline all melted away once your hands were in his. you fell into his hug, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and resting against him. sohee held you by the waist and nuzzled his head onto your shoulder. “were you scared, pretty girl?” you shook your head and huffed, “not at all!” sohee laughed and left a small kiss on your cheek. “you did a good job getting us out of there! let’s do more things like this!”

anton in a haunted house! (oh dear...)

anton had been dreading this day for ages. your boyfriend had always been a scaredy cat, not being too good at hiding his fear especially when watching scary movies with you. “i really can’t do it love, i’m gonna DIE.” “you’re being dramatic, anton.” he’d been trying his best to convince you not to go, but he couldn’t stand the idea of you going alone. he couldn’t keep fighting your little pout and those pleading doe eyes :( so of course, you went!

you were skipping towards the spooky house while anton was pulling you back by the arm, taking baby steps. “ah, wait! i can’t do this!!” with enough consoling, anton finally followed you inside the house. but once the red lights flashed, he ran behind you and planted his hands under your jacket. you laughed hearing anton’s terrified whines so soon, only being in the house for 20 seconds. you rested your hands over his gripping your waist. “i’m gonna start walking, okay?” “no!” the two of you still haven’t made it three steps into the house without him sticking to you, hiding his head in the side of your neck. once you began progressing, you were shocked at how high quality the set was; fake dead bodies, blood splattered all over the walls, eerie smoke emanating from the doorways. everything you found fascinating was only driving anton even closer to you, hiding against you and holding you with a trembling grip. you wanted to immerse yourself in the horror of the scene, but you couldn’t feel any sense of fear with your dumb boyfriend whining against your neck. “baby, hiding won’t help.” “no, i’m not looking! hurry, i wanna get out!” you laughed and held onto his hands tighter, treading through the scary rooms. with every slight noise, anton would flinch against your shoulder, his grip on your shirt growing tighter. “ah, move faster love!” “i’m trying!”

the entire time, anton was pathetically shrieking with his head buried into your neck, not allowing himself to see any of the scary scenes. he was so focused on keeping his eyes shut that he didn't realize you'd successfully exited the house. "open your eyes." "no!" "baby trust me, open your eyes." toni hesitantly lifted his head only to be met with the sight of trees and soft moonlight. "oh... it's done." you laughed and turned to face him, cupping his face in your hands and lifting the corners of his lips into a smile. "you made it out alive! see? it wasn't bad!" "you don't know what i went through..." though he'd finally escaped like he'd been praying for, he was still sulking during the entire trip back home. you couldn't hold back your laughs, finding his pouty lips so adorable. "i'm sorry my love, i won't make you go to another one again. do you wanna cuddle?" "whatever, sure." you sighed at his sassy remark and turned him to face you, pressing your lips against his. that moody look on his face was soon replaced with his flustered, blushing cheeks and a content smile creeping onto his lips.

[nialls-golf-putt]

So Tell Me Baby... (Feelin' The Love I'm Feelin' Lately?)

Insecure reader x Boy next door! Niall

Basically 4k of Niall worshipping reader ;)

A/N: Hiii so this is based off a request by @pansexualdarling! Hope you like it!

C/W absolute filth, a bit of dirty talk and mentions of self-hatred and body negativity. Keep your mental health first, lovies. You are loved and you are perfect just the way you are. <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You honestly couldn't believe it. Even as you sat in front of your mirror, already dressed for the date, you couldn't believe it.

Your neighbourhood was an old one, close knit families that tended to look down on you even though you'd been living there almost as long as them. None of that mattered to you, though.

You had your daughter, the job you'd been dreaming of since you had her in high school- You needed nothing else.

The day he'd moved in, you'd gone over with a huge box of homemade cookies, your daughter in tow, thinking it would be another family- But when the door had swung open to reveal the most devastatingly handsome man you'd seen, with the bluest eyes, and smile radiant enough it had made you go weak in the knees- you knew you had it bad.

You'd initially assumed there must be a family in the picture, at least a wife, a husband- a significant someone, but it had stayed that way, just him alone in the big old house.

You'd allowed yourself to vaguely daydream about it then, staring out of your kitchen window as he mowed his lawn, playing with your daughter on weekends in your yard as he washed his car across the street.

Not that you'd ever admit it to anyone- Or that you ever thought anything would come of it. Guys that looked like him did not date people like you. And they sure as hell didn't stick around.

So when he'd casually asked you, at one of the neighbourhood meetings, no less, if you'd like to go for dinner with him, you had blanked, to say the least.

Still, you'd gathered enough of your wits to give a halfway coherent answer, and he seemed endeared if anything- Which is why you were sitting here, ready an hour early than you'd decided, with your daughter already at your parents, waiting for him.

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Dinner had been perfect.

You still couldn't believe how easy it seemed to talk to him, playful, teasing- It all felt so easy, so comfortable, so... dare you even think it, domestic.

The place had been fancy enough to feel like he'd made an effort without it feeling cloyingly snobbish, the food had been great- and so had the wine.

Which is how you'd found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of his car, watching his profile in the strobing streetlights as he drove. You'd been talking on and off, the silence comfortable, the radio playing softly.

He'd rounded along the cul de sac when you arrived at your street and you couldn't help but give him a small quizzical look.

"I'm dropping you at yours, love." He stated, as if it was the most obvious thing.

"I live across the street from you, Niall." You laughed softly.

He shrugged as though that changed nothing.

"And they say chivalry is dead." You said with a small amused smile as he pulled into your driveway.

"Oh, trust me, my intentions are anything but chivalrous," He said jokingly, flashing you his signature charming smile.

"Oh yeah?" You smiled back, grateful for the dim lighting at the end of the street. You were certain with how red you were flushing, though, he'd be able to see it anyway.

He simply nodded back, his eyes seeming like they were riveted to your face, and you could see him drinking in every feature and- God, you couldn't believe it.

"D'you wanna come on in for a drink?" You blurted out.

Niall laughed the same warm chuckle that had already made you start daydreaming like you were a teenage girl with your first crush. "No beatin' around the bush, I like it- Yeah, I'd love to. I mean, if-"

"She's not home." You'd said, biting your cheek as soon as you said it. Goddamit, you probably seemed desperate, now.

He didn't seem like he minded, though, laughing again as he nodded, quickly rushing out of the car to open your gate for you. You could've sworn he sounded slightly breathless.

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He was all you could think about.

He was everywhere.

You could smell his cologne, woody, spicy, faintly floral- His hands were everywhere, no sooner had you gotten accustomed to the feel of his calloused fingers against one part, he moved on to the next leaving you just as breathless, even through the layers of cloth.

You could still taste the wine you'd shared on your lips- On his.

His fingers brushed against your skin as he slowly pulled the chain down your back, and you couldn't help but gasp sharply.

You felt almost light-headed, like you were going to faint in the best way possible. His lips were on yours, then on your jaw, moving down the side of your throat with a gentleness that made you even more woozy, but the sheer desire behind his touch wasn't concealed.

You lifted your arms, letting him pull the dress off, biting your lip as you stepped out of the pool of satin, leaving it on the floor as you let him back you against the bed slowly and-

This couldn't be happening. You tried to tamp down the thoughts as he let his hands roam over the newly exposed skin. He took his hands off just long enough to let you clamber backwards until you were against the pillows, his hands restarting their exploration instantly and as you felt his thumbs brush the sides of your breasts through your bra you let out another gasp, sharper this time.

He instantly pulled away from where he'd been kissing along your shoulder, searching your face, concerned. "You alright?" He asked softly, lifting his hands till they were just hovering above your skin. "We don't have to-"

You didn't let him finish, lifting slightly to press your lips to his. "I want to." You said simply as you pulled back, placing your hands over his, his palms warm against your waist.

And you did. Every cell in your body screamed to, longed to- needed to. But you couldn't help but keep overthinking, even as you felt yourself melt into his touch.

His hands drifted to unclip your bra, and you arched your back slightly, letting him pull it off, and you were aware of his thumbs brushing against your nipples, making them pebble, and you were aware of how good it felt, but somehow. you were more aware of how he must be feeling the raised ridges of your stretch marks.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, doing everything to not go down that path. His mouth was on your breast now, trailing along the sides, leaving sloppy open-mouthed kisses, biting down lightly, but his hands were back on your waist, rubbing up and down your sides and- He had to be feeling the rolls.

You bit the inside of your cheek harder, closing your eyes shut, hoping he didn't notice how you'd stiffened against him, hoping your mind would let you have this one moment without feeling the way you always did.

And suddenly, he was off you, his hands weren't on your waist, you couldn't feel his warm breath on your skin and- Yeah. Maybe he just couldn't get over it, and you didn't blame him, but-

And amid the torrent of thoughts, you felt him slowly brush his thumbs against your eyelids and- You hadn't even realised you'd been crying. Fuck.

"Darlin'?" He said softly, and you hesitantly opened your eyes, looking up at him. This is the part where they'd say they couldn't do this. Maybe he had somewhere to be. Maybe he did actually have a partner maybe they weren't together maybe-

"Love, please, talk to me."

You hadn't even realised he'd been talking to you. You cleared your throat, blinking up at him as you exhaled shakily. "'M sorry"

"What for?" He asked, with a tenderness that almost broke your heart.

You shrugged, vaguely gesturing down towards your body, and you could see the realisation in his eyes.

You'd expected him to say something. Some half-assed explanation, something meant to be reassuring, but you had not expected him to press his lips to yours almost hungrily before he pulled back, trailing kisses back down your chest, intentionally following the patterns of your stretch marks and was he-?

His eyes were on your face the whole time, kissing along your sides to your hips, where the marks were so much worse but-

"You have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?" Niall murmured, his hands still tracing patterns into your skin, leaving behind goosebumps. "So, so fuckin' gorgeous. You have no idea how much I wanted this- Wanted you."

He kept talking as he moved to your thighs, gently pushing them apart, still kissing along your skin. Trailing up your calves, along your thighs, your hipbone- All the while mumbling into your skin, sweet, soft words that would've sounded like sweet nothings to anyone else, but it was the way he said them, the way he looked at you, the way he touched you.

He meant it.

He wanted this. He wanted... you.

And for the first time in god knows how many years, you felt like you could do this without spiralling. It wouldn't just get fixed in one go, with just words, but you somehow knew Niall knew that.

It was a good first step, though. One you wanted to take.

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You couldn't get enough of how he touched you- of how he treated you. Somehow like you were delicate enough to be touched with reverence and care but with an edge of possession and dominance that made your breath hitch with every firm touch, every word of guidance.

"Darlin', just... Look at me, okay? Just feel- Don't think." He murmured against your skin, and God.

You couldn't get over the sight. Of how he looked crouched between your legs, his hair all over the place, the soft arch of his back in the dim lighting- and for once you didn't even care about how your own thighs looked, or the curve of your stomach.

Something about the way he kept his eyes on yours, his lips leaving fluttering almost-not-there kisses along the crook of your thigh, never quite touching you where you wanted him to. He drew back slightly, licking his lips once before he slowly pressed a soft kiss to the very top of your slit, lips not quite leaving your skin as he moved down, eliciting gasps from you every time he touched a sensitive spot.

He dragged his hand up your thigh, pausing at the very top, his thumbs splayed out over your skin as he pulled you open, eyes blown wide with lust as he took you in, swearing under his breath.

You barely had time to register the look on his face before he leaned down, his tongue laving a wide stripe up, tip catching perfectly on your clit and you couldn't care about how pathetic your moan sounded as you arched off the bed.

"Mm, jesus."

He kept up the movements, humming slightly at the sweet, salty tang and- Your fingers flew to his hair on their own accord as he latched onto your clit, suckling at it with the perfect amount of pressure and Jesus.

"You're so fuckin' sweet. Got the sweetest little cunt, baby."

His hands never stopped moving, tracing patterns onto your thighs, gripping you firmly when you squirmed to much- Pulling and pushing and positioning how he liked.

He pulled back, his chin already glistening, staring up at you for a few seconds. "Absolutely gorgeous" he murmured under his breath, low enough that you could barely make it out before he dived back in, his tongue seeking out your entrance, grip tightening in his hair as you felt him plunge straight into you, his nose brushing against your clit, sending bolts of pleasure through you.

You had no idea how long he was down there- It could have been minutes or days for all you were concerned. The only thing that mattered was the feel of his tongue, his hands, his warm breath every time he pulled away.

He pulled back for breath, looking up at you again but this time his fingers slipped into you without warning, the tip of his tongue drawing quick, tight circles around your sensitive nub and the combined sensations were almost too much for you as you tried not to pull his hair to hard, hips bucking up of their own accord.

He curled his fingers slightly, hooking them perfectly into that spot that always sent you reeling with pleasure, pressing against it repeatedly, and his eyes were on you- And the sight did it for you.

You didn't even have time to warn him as you felt your orgasm hurtling towards you, clenching down on his fingers, hips lifting off the bed as you held on to his hair, the only thing grounding you.

He never stopped his movements, letting you ride out the aftershocks, watching you with a look in his eyes you couldn't quite decipher as he finally slowed down, pulling his fingers out slowly as he sat back on his heels, wiping his chin on his hand as he sucked his fingers clean.

You felt light headed, thighs shaking slightly with the force of it. You'd never come that fast before- that easily before, for anyone.

"I could eat that cunt all day every day, I'm not even fuckin' with ya, princess. How d'you taste so fucking good-"

And God, the mouth on this boy. You were thinking of what to say- of how to even form words as he slowly climbed onto you, pressing his lips against your gently.

And you could feel the slight stickiness of your arousal on his lips.

It was the hottest thing you'd ever felt.

You deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth as you tasted yourself on him and your legs wrapped around him almost on their own accord. You needed him. Now.

"God, darlin' you're so fuckin' hot when you're eager you have no idea,"

Oh. You'd said that out loud.

For some reason you couldn't even find it in yourself to feel ashamed. Something about the way he'd treated you so far just made you feel comfortable in your skin like no one had. As comfortable as you could be, but you didn't allow yourself to dwell on it.

Right now, all you needed was to feel him in you.

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"Sweet jesus, it's like this cunt was made for me"

His breath was warm against your ear, his stubble scratching ever so slightly at your shoulder. You could feel every inch of him- pressed up against you and in you.

He paused, his breathing ragged against your ear as he let you adjust to his size. You'd almost drooled when he'd finally gotten his boxers off- He was a perfect shade of pink, so fucking thick and slightly curved and you could see the veins running over him- hell, you could almost feel them on your tongue.

You'd watched, transfixed as he gave himself a few slow pumps, spreading the glistening precum around and you hadn't even realised it yourself as you'd reached for him, absolutely dying to taste him on your tongue but he'd placed his hand on your wrist, hissing as he felt your fingers wrap around him, shaking his head.

"Later" He'd murmured roughly. "Plenty of time later. Need to be in you first."

And the tone of his voice when he said that, the look in his eyes, the blatancy of his words- You weren't even ashamed of the way you had whimpered.

You'd simply let him move you back up against the pillows, watching him go through his wallet with slightly shaky hands as he pulled out the foil square, smoothing the condom down over his cock- standing proudly at full mast- with one quick movement that was almost pornographic in its ease.

He had caged you down carefully, holding most of his weight on one hand as he had held onto your thigh firmly, bringing it over his hip, letting out a soft contented him as you had obediently wrapped your leg around him.

"M-move, Niall, please-" You whispered. He was stretching you out perfectly, and as much as you appreciated him wanting to be gentle the need to feel him pounding into you was overtaking all sense of rationale.

He didn't reply, teeth gently biting down on your earlobe as he rolled his hips experimentally, letting out a small grunt of satisfaction as you whimpered when you felt his tip press against your g-spot.

He gave a few slow thrusts, gentle enough for it to not hurt but still have your eyes closing as you bit your lip in ecstasy.

"God, you've got the tightest little cunt, you're squeezin' me so good, darlin'" He murmured roughly before he drew back almost completely, your eyes flying open at the sudden emptiness. He raised himself back up on his arms, his eyes on yours as he thrust back in, hard and without warning.

You felt him against your cervix, your eyes rolling back, your hands flying to his back, nails digging in as he repeated the motion, just as fast, just as hard- before setting a smooth pace.

"Jesus- Fuck, oh God."

He was so vocal. There was constantly a stream of something filthy coming from his mouth, exclamations, swears- praises. And god, when coupled with his accent, the way he rasped it out against your skin, the vibrations seemed to heighten everything so much more

Every once in a while, he'd slow down, rolling his hips against yours as he ground his pelvis against your clit and you were certain your eyes would get stuck that way if he kept doing this- kept making you feel this good.

He pulled the same move once more, this time, his lips seeking yours out, tongues sliding against each other messily, his hips moving with abandon now, pounding into you and you can hear the obscene slapping sounds, the squelches, the bed creaking- his heavy breaths in your ear as he pulled away, the sight of his lips, kiss bitten, so red- His pupils blown wide and-

His fingers were on your clit as he sat up a little, rubbing tight, urgent circles, his own face scrunched up with pleasure.

"Come on, princess. God, I need to feel your pretty little pussy squeezing me-"

You could tell he was holding back, wanting you to come first. It was all too much for you as you felt the knot in your stomach twisting and tightening, your toes tingling in that familiar way as you threw your head back against the pillow, hips jerking up helplessly into his touch as you felt your orgasm absolutely ripping through you, each wave making you see stars, your mouth dry from panting.

He never stopped for even a second, his hips moving jerkily as he rode out his orgasm, catching you at a sensitive spot every so often. sending aftershocks buzzing through your body.

"Bloody hell," He murmured roughly, dropping back down on you gently, not yet pulling out as he tried to catch his breath.

That was about right. You couldn't even think straight, let alone think up a sentence.

He just lay there, pressing his lips to your shoulder once in a while, both of you just basking in it.

"Stay" You murmured after a few more minutes. finally having gotten enough of your brain back to atleast say the one word that going through your mind. You wanted him to stay. You needed his warmth next to you and maybe you were being to too forward, hell, it had only been the first date.

But before you could overthink it any further, you felt Niall's stubble gently scratching your shoulder again as he nodded. "I'd love that, yeah" He whispered, his voice still raspy as he gently pulled out, sitting up between your legs.

"I'm gonna go get somethin' to clean you up, alright? Don't move, gorgeous." He said softly, brushing your hair off your sweat sticky forehead as he pressed a gentle kiss to it.

You exhaled softly, watching him get off the bed and into your bathroom. You didn't feel like pulling up your blankets, you didn't feel like hiding. Maybe it was too early to be thinking about it. Well, it most definitely was, but just maybe, this time it would all be okay. You could get used to that.

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A/n: Send an ask if you wanna be on my taglist <3 reblogs and comments hugely loveddd and here's my masterlist!

[thornsnvultures]

the big bad wolf

wolfman!steve harrington x plus size!fem!reader

summary: when your boyfriend ditches you at steve harrington's halloween party for another girl, you go to leave, only to run into the man himself. steve's costume doesn't look like much but you're about to find out there's more to him than meets the eye. <3k words

cw: 18+ NSFT, a shitty boyfriend, flirty!steve, making out, oral sex (fem rec), pussy slapping, nipple play, super hairy!steve, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, knotting, mid sex transformation, bad little red riding hood jokes (steve calls her little red)

a/n: moodboard by me, divider by @/saradika

"What are you supposed to be?"

Your sniffling is cut short and you jump in surprise, not realizing you weren't alone. Steve Harrington stands in the shadows, leaning up against the side of his house, the lit end of his cigarette the only thing just barely illuminating his face. You brush at the rumpled edges of your costume, straightening out the many layers of fabric as you try to pull yourself together and not look so pathetic in front of Hawkins royalty.

"Can't you tell?" You huff, not in the mood to be toyed with.

"Red dress, red cape, basket of goodies," Steve smirks, his eyes catching on your exposed legs and staying there as he takes another drag. "What brings you to my neck of the woods, Little Red?" Steve steps closer, inching his way towards you as he drops his cig and stomps it out. "On your way to grandma's? I think you might be lost, Little Red."

The smirk on Steve's face makes your insides boil. You've already been put through enough tonight, you don't need any more from him.

"I'm not lost. Just needed some fresh air."

"I like the getup," Steve smirks, circling you, fingers lightly toying with the ends of your skirt.

You pull yourself away from Steve's curious fingers, backing away from him even as he advances on you. Like he's getting a kick out of fucking with you.

"What are you supposed to be anyway?" You ask, waving your hands in confusion at his costume, or lack there of. He's mostly shirtless, his surprisingly hairy chest is exposed behind an open denim vest. Your stomach flipped taking in his sweaty, well defined torso and thick arms. It was strange that he looked this sweaty at the end of October, maybe he oiled himself up? Or ran a few laps around his fancy pool before his party guests came over? You stifled a laugh, biting your lips.

"You can't tell?" Steve lifted his arms and did a little spin. You might've checked out his ass in his perfectly fitted jeans when he did. "I'm the big bad wolf."

His grin at least was wolfish, he looked at you like he wanted to eat you up. Steve laughed when you didn't say anything, just quirking a brow at him, clearly not amused by his teasing.

"Yeah okay, Steve." His smile dropped when you rolled your eyes but you were past caring. You needed to get out of here, away from this stupid party and the idiot you came here with. Not that he cared if you left or not. You felt your throat close up and willed yourself to stop, to not fall apart now, especially not in front of Steve who would only tease you more.

You looked back inside one more time only to catch a glimpse of your date, who had ditched you halfway through the night for some other girl. His hands were around said girl, swaying to the heavy, pulsing music blasting inside.

Steve was watching you watch them. You knew he figured out your little dilemma when his wolfish grin returned. That was it. You're walking home. Maybe not the best idea, walking that far on your own on Halloween night in this silly getup, but anything would be better than hanging around here.

"Hey! Wait up, Little Red!" You heard Steve follow you as you stormed through the crunching fallen leaves that the chilly autumn air had left strewn across Steve's lawn.

"Go bother someone else," you snapped, spinning around to face him. Steve was much closer than you anticipated when you stopped. You were face to face with his solid chest, nearly colliding with him if you hadn't pulled back at the last second.

"You're not walking home, are you?" Steve's hands were on your arms now. Big and warm and firm, holding you in place so you couldn't bolt.

"It's none of your business," you still tried to tug out of his grasp but it was no use, a fact that terrified and excited you in ways you didn't want to think to hard about.

"Oh I know," Steve nodded his head, pouting in a patronizing way that made you want to slap him. "But I can't bear to watch you stray from the path," he nodded to the woods behind his house, pitch black but for the full moon shining through the leaves of the trees. "There's monsters on these woods, little girl," Steve tugged you closer until his lips were by your ear. "You'll get eaten right up."

His words, and the heat of his breath on your skin, sent a shiver down your spine. A bird flew by just then with a screech making you jump in his grasp. Steve chuckled and let you go

"If you want to walk home, Red, be my guest. Or...," Steve dragged out that small word, tugging at one of the bows on your dress, one right by your breast. Your chest heaved with the shaking breath you took as you b watched him, inadvertently pressing your flesh into his hand more. Steve smirked and tugged at it again. "I can make sure you get home safe and sound."

"But it's your party-"

"Nobody in there gives a fuck about me," Steve growled. You suddenly felt like his declaration was true, maybe he was the big bad wolf. His mood had soured significantly, but he still looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

"Okay. Sure. Thank-," you began to whisper, looking down at your feet.

Steve grabbed your chin, cutting you off and forcing you to look up at him. "You can thank me later. Let's get you to grandma's house."

Steve grabbed his keys and hopped in his Beemer with you. He was right. No one stopped him to ask where he was going, when he'd be back. You guessed a guy with parents constantly out of town, the rules for house parties were a bit more relaxed.

Steve, it seemed like, was anything but relaxed. Even after he lit up another cigarette in the car, he was wound tight.

His hand never left yours either. He held it as he dragged you to his car and for most of the car ride he kept his right hand on your thigh. Occasionally he would rub circles on your skin with his thumb or give your plush thigh a squeeze. Almost like he was grounding himself with your presence. His hands were burning hot on your skin.

When he finally pulled up to your building, he stopped you with his hand on your arm before you could open the door to get out.

"Steve?"

"You haven't said thank you yet."

"Thank you." You moved to get out again but Steve was still holding your arm.

"Uh-uh, Little Red. Try again. You have something I want."

You swallowed tightly at the hungry look in his eye. "The goody basket is empty," you shook it around, trying for a laugh to break the tension. Steve couldn't be implying what you thought he was. This was Steve Harrington, he could have any girl in Hawkins he wanted. Apparently, at least for tonight, that girl was you.

"Very funny," Steve grabbed your chin again, this time pulling you close until his lips were on yours. And you were letting him. God his lips were soft. Plush and smooth. He tasted so good you found that one kiss wasn't enough. Neither were two or three.

"You taste so good, Little Red," Steve groaned into your mouth. "Bet you taste good all over."

A whine spilled from your lips that shocked you with how needy it sounded. Steve was an asshole, sure, but he had already done more for you tonight than your boyfriend. Sorry, ex-boyfriend.

"Let me taste you, baby. Give me what I want."

"Do you always get what you want, Steve?" Your question is said before you realize you're saying it. You knew the answer already.

Steve chuckled and stroked your cheek with his thumb. "More or less. Are you going to be a good girl for me and give me what I want? I'll warn you, I do bite." Steve nips at your jaw and you shudder and paw at his bare arms.

"Yes. Take it, take me."

Steve rushes the both of you into your apartment, helping you when you fumble with your keys. Your roommate isn't home, out at some party of her own. So you don't feel so bad about the noises you make when Steve finally gets you inside.

You move to unzip your dress but Steve bats your hands away. "Leave it on. For now." He does, however, tear your tights off, shredding the thin white fabric off like it's made of tissue paper. "Steve," you whine as he spreads your legs up and open.

"Hold these for me," he grabs your hands and puts them on your thighs, making sure you're holding yourself open just the way he wants as he sheds off his denim vest. "So pretty, baby." Steve brings his hand down with a harsh slap down your clothed pussy. His thumb works over the wet spot already growing in the center and he kneels in front of you at the edge of your bed.

Steve tugs your underwear up your spread thighs and off of you. You don't see where they go after, but you don't hear them hit the floor.

Steve bites and licks at your thighs, his teeth sharp like pin pricks, ones that send shivers down your spine and make your pussy weep even more. He sucks marks into your thick thighs, taking you apart before he's even got his mouth on your cunt. But once he does, holy fuck, it feels like heaven.

His mouth descends on your pussy and you bother holding back your scream. Steve's tongue is long and deliciously thick, wrapping around your clit and sucking the soul out of you, filling you with his tongue until you're seeing stars.

"That's it, baby, that's it. Come all over my face. Tastes so fucking good." Steve adds one thick finger after another until you feel so full like you're about to burst. And with a few more licks you do, tugging on Steve's hair, your thighs squeezing his head as you ride out your orgasm on his tongue.

Steve gently kisses your bruised thighs, your soft belly. His face looks... different, harsher. You can't quite explain it, especially not in your post-orgasm haze.

"My, my what big teeth you have," you laugh as Steve nibbles up your belly, finally tugging you free of your silly costume. You lift up so he can slip it all the way off and admire your breasts, aching and waiting for his mouth.

"All the better to eat you with, my dear." Steve's words are a little slurred and you can't help but wonder just how pussy drunk he is. You know he wasn't drunk drunk, or if he was he hid it well until now.

Steve licked and sucked at your nipples, taking his time to pay attention to each one, plucking and pulling at them until you were keening, writhing on your bed and begging for more.

You gripped his forearms as his fingers worked deftly over your body. Were they always this...hairy? Not that you had a problem with hair, you loved a guy with body hair and Steve seemed to have plenty of it. Just, more than you remember.

"Steve, please," you whined, feeling yourself inching closer to the edge from the attention he was paying to your breasts. His leg wedged between yours and you found yourself unable to stop from grinding against his muscular thigh, greedy for more.

"Please what? What do you need, Little Red?" Steve's voice was deep, almost like a growl, the sound shooting straight to your pussy.

"Need you. Need you inside. Fuck me," you begged, not caring how pathetic you sounded. It had been so long since you felt this good. If your ex was getting this kind of action with someone else, fuck it, you would to. Steve wasn't playing around anymore. He was giving you what you needed, taking from you what he wanted. And you wanted to give it to him, to give him everything.

You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest when Steve bent down to kiss you, a deep, blistering kiss that made your mind go numb even as you questioned again if his chest hair was this thick earlier.

Steve pulled away with a growl and quickly tore off his jeans, chucking them across the room.

"Oh fuck," you groaned at the sight of Steve's cock before he flipped you over on the bed. Part of you was concerned about him fitting, but that part was quickly squashed when you felt him rub the tip through your folds.

"You on birth control?"

"Yes," you gasped, the word barely leaving your lips before he was pushing inside, bare. "Oh my god, Steve."

Steve pulled out again to lift your hips more, adjusting you to the angle he needed before slamming back inside. You screamed into your pillow, clawing at your sheets as Steve worked his cock inside, fucking deeper into your cunt with every thrust. You could feel every ridge and vein rubbing deliciously against your walls.

"That's it, baby. Doing so good for me." Steve kissed down your spine and his lips felt... different. You could barely focus on anything but the delicious stretch of his cock, but that mouth. It felt like... fangs, like he could barely fit his sharp teeth in his mouth.

Steve nuzzled into your hair, your neck, breathing you in a he rutted into you at a brutal pace. If his big hands weren't wrapped around your waist, pulling you back to meet his heavy strokes, your head would've broken through your headboard by now. You could feel his chest hair rubbing across your back, feel his heart hammering, breathing hard.

"Steve," you whined, overwhelmed by all these confusing, amazing sensations.

"Shh, I got you, baby." Steve reached under you, squeezing your belly before dipping between your thighs to rub your swollen, achy clit. Your mind was racing with unanswered questions, but they were pushed to the back of your mind until the pleasure was all you could think about. You felt so fucking full from his cock, pounding into you over and over, so deep in your guts you could feel him in your throat.

"Feels so good, baby. Taking my cock so well. Think you can handle more?"

"More?" You didn't know what more was or if you could even handle it but you wanted it, you were already nodding your head saying, "yes yes yes".

Just as you felt a pressure in your pussy begin to swell, like a balloon expanding inside your pussy, pushing at your walls like nothing you'd ever felt before, you turned your head and locked eyes in your vanity mirror with... something.

It was Steve, but it wasn't. He looked like a Wolfman straight out of the movies. Something horrible with giant fangs and fur along his jaw, torso and arms, but something so... Steve. It was Steve, but it wasn't.

Steve looked shocked, not realizing the damn mirror was there, but he was already coming. His monstrous yellow eyes softening at the sight of your blissed out face. He exploded inside you, filling your cunt with a shout, a long low growl, as he filled you more than you've ever been filled. His fingers on your clit pushed you over the edge with him and you came, clenched down on the protrusion on his cock that was keeping his cum locked inside you.

Steve removed his hand from between your legs and you saw it, the claws at the ends of his fingers.

"Steve," you gasped

"I'm sorry. I tried to warn you," you scoff, "I shouldn't have- I thought I could control it," he clenched his fist as he spoke, hiding his claws from you.

You could barely wrap your head around it, how the man you knew had suddenly become a beast. But you've also never been fucked so good in your life. It was a lot to take in.

Your mind reeled as Steve turned you on your side, still locked inside your pussy, which felt bizarre but oddly comforting, and snuggled up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you.

"You really are the big bad wolf."

"I told you so."

"I thought you were fucking with me," you smack Steve's arm and he chuckles behind you, the low sound vibrating through your chest. "Why would I believe you?"

"Your right, I should've said something. I thought I could control it, but with the full moon and how fucking sexy you looked in the costume-"

"I looked ridiculous."

"You looked so hot. It's just my luck that your boyfriend's a piece of shit."

"Lucky me," you laugh, leaning back into Steve's chest. "So what's up with your dick?"

"Oh yeah." You're sure Steve's blushing under his fur. "It's my knot. We might be stuck together like this for a while."

"Hmm. Fine. You can show me what other weird stuff you've got going on tomorrow then."

You close your eyes, relaxing into Steve's hold on you. For a moment he think you've fallen asleep until you speak again.

"Oh my, what a big cock you have," you mumble, already half asleep.

Steve laughs, being careful not to jostle you too much. "All the better to fuck you with, Little Red."

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I have this very lovely post-canon idea in my head of like. Some famous pirate hunters show up looking for Ed, real tough types

And when they get there, they're expecting The Blackbeard, right? Smoke for a head and nine guns and legends so big you'd half-think he can bend the tides to his will?

So they roll up, cautious and wary but looking forward to the massive reward, and Blackbeard's just sitting on the porch all dressed up in a fluffy robe sipping from a dainty little teacup. And he sees them and calls for someone

And this frilly little fancy guy comes trotting out, all smiles, and he tells Blackbeard "don't worry, I won't imagine this'll take long." And Blackbeard's like "just don't go nuts. the people down at the village still think this place is haunted. all the screaming, y'know." and the fancy guy will say something like "might go after the larynx first this time then" or whatever

And you know the pirate hunters are already GONE. Because if The Blackbeard is deferring to this guy...how bad must he be? How crazy is this guy if he's already starting towards them across the lawn with a big smile, all dressed up like he's just going out for a dinner on the town?

[corrodedcoughin]

This might be the second worst thing that’s ever happened to Gareth while wearing these stupid shorts, or in general he guesses. The first being when he was in gym class and the got caught on the fence he tried to hop in order to skip said class, successfully exposing his lemon yellow carebear boxers, the only pair he had left because everything else was in the wash. Luckily it was only the gym teacher, Mr Carrey, and Linda Stern, a girl that kept to herself so unlikely to share such scandal. Neither brought it up again but that doesn’t mean Gareth was free of the memory, or free of reliving it whenever he opened his drawer to pull out some underwear.

But it’s not just the shorts that tie Gareth’s ‘most embarrassing and traumatising events of my life so far’ memories together. No, the instigator of both of these events also keeps them joined in Gareth’s mind. Edward Munson. It was Eddie who insisted that skipping class while in said class would be the smartest move to make ‘think of it Gareth, imagine it, skipping right under Mr Carrey's nose? He'd never expect it! High class rogue moves for sure!’

So of course Gareth was convinced by Eddie’s manic eyes and excitement and successfully flashed his gym teacher while the mastermind was laughing and pulling him down off the fence. Mr Carrey must have felt sorry enough for Gareth to let him run and isn’t that a fun addition to an already horrific memory?

Anyway, back to Eddie Munson; worst person to enter Gareth’s life. Because now? Now Gareth is stood outside a stupidly big and stupidly fancy house, in the offensive (now repaired, thanks Granny) gym shorts, and a pair of plastic and bent out of shape fairy wings. Originally he was supposed to be in a white vest too but he drew the line there, adamant he’d be wearing his Iron Maiden shirt to save some sort of dignity. And to top it all off it’s a beautiful day so of course people are out mowing their lawns, families are walking their dogs, children are playing in the streets and just enjoying the surprisingly mild february weather. All of them staring, quite obviously, at what they see as a strange teenager in wings being shouted at by an equally strange kid hiding behind a, not nearly big enouhg, bush for ‘stealth reasons’ apparently. 

‘RING THE DOORBELL MAN, COME ON!’

Gareth slowly turns to look over his shoulder to glare at Eddie who is peaking around the shrubbery. 

‘YOU RING THE FUCKING DOORBELL!’

‘GARETH YOU PROMISED! DON’T BE A DICK’

‘YEAH, BECAUSE YOU TRICKED ME!’

‘NO I DIDN’T, YOU SAID YES NOW RING TH-’

Of course that’s exactly when the door to the stupid house opens and the reason Gareth is here steps into the doorway. 

Gareth grits his teeth and begins to recite his lines ‘Steve, o steve. You are beauty that has to be seen to be believed. Wont you be mine until the end of time?’ He finishes and stands glaring over Steve fucking Harrington’s shoulder

‘DO THE FUCKING REST GARETH’ Eddie’s voice emanates from somewhere to the back of Gareth, probably still hiding behind the stupid bush. So Gareth ‘does the rest’ he does a very slow and deliberate 360 spin before crouching down to one knee and shooting a plastic bow and arrow at Steve’s chest. Of course the arrow just rattles to the floor, sad and pathetic, just like it’s shooter Gareth thinks to himself. 

‘Gareth? Why…umm, are you okay?’ Steve is obviously trying to hold back laughter and doing a terrible job of it. His face is convulsing like he’s just eaten a whole lemon, rind and all. And well, who knows, maybe he has, maybe it's a secret trick for keeping his hair so big, Gareth isn’t here to judge, he just wants to leave. 

‘Dude please just answer the question and put me out of my misery’ He’s still half on the ground and his knee hurts and it’s hot and he’s kneeling at Steve Harrington’s fucking door dressed as a fucking cupid because he couldn’t say no to his fucking stupid fucking best friend. Gareth pulls himself away from thoughts of despair when he sees Steve’s mouth open to speak. He’s got one hand on the door frame, the other on the back of his neck

‘Oh, uh, yeah? I mean, yes? This is for Eddie right?’ Gareth stopped listening after the initial ‘yeah’, instead standing and turning to the, very small, hedge Eddie was doing an awful job of concealing himself behind 

‘HE SAID YES. CAN I GO HOME NOW?’

Suddenly there's a whoop and an air punching Eddie Munson who realises he’s exposed his ‘perfect’ (shitty) hiding spot and is in full view of Steve. The idiot even tries to play off the air punch by combing his hand through his hair which obviously gets stuck on his rings and then tries to play that off by just keeping his hand in his hair while waving with the other, not trapped hand. With a violent yank he manages to free the entangled fingers with only a small whine.

‘Uhh…Hi Steve’ Eddie says with a dopey smile and somehow, somehow he’s got an equally lovesick looking Steve smiling right back at him ‘Hi Eddie’. At this point, Gareth has quite frankly had enough, Eddie and Steve are slowly walking towards each other like some romcom end of the movie scene and he’ll be dammed if he’s watching those two tragically flirt at each other. So he grabs the van keys out of Eddie’s pocket as he passes, resigning himself to an hour of shooting Eddie’s empty cans in the back of the van while he waits. Gareth is almost off the lawn when Eddie must get brave

‘NICE SHORTS BY THE WAY CUPID’

‘FUCK YOU!’ Gareth snaps the arrow in two trudges off, wings flapping behind him.

—---

Three weeks ago

Gareth was at his desk, he was trying to practice some drum rhythms when Eddie flounced in and dramatically dropped onto his bed. For the past half hour Gareth had been regaled with yet more ‘reasons why Steve Harrington is my dream man’ from Eddie 

‘You don’t understand man. He was just driving and the Eagles came on. Don’t look at me like that, I know it’s the eagles, but it was life in the fast lane and he was singing along to it dude. The line! You know the one! I swear it was an instant hard on, thought I’d came by the end’

‘DUDE STOP. STOP. I’ll do whatever you want just please never talk to me about your Steve related dick events again’ Listen, Gareth loved Eddie, he did. But there's only so much a man can withstand and Eddie could monolgue for hours if given the chance.

‘Whatever I want?’ There was no obvious devious tone here but Gareth still should have known better than to agree. If he had clocked Eddie's face he would have seen an expression so devious that he'd be running out the door.

‘Yes! Fuck, just no more. My ears are never going to feel clean again’

[after-the-end-times]

Shaken, not Stirred

For @steddieholidaydrabbles Prompt: Formal 🤵🏻‍♂️ Rating: T 🤵🏻‍♀️ Words: 1000 Tags: Established Relationship, Suggestive Language, Light D/s themes, Men's corsets should be more well known and popular, Steve and Eddie never leave their honeymoon phase, flirting through playing and teasing Ao3

“So, can you feel the upper middle class poshness creeping out of the shadows of your DNA? Dripping and oozing through your veins? Just waiting to take over? Go on, baby. Tell me to get off the lawn. You know you want to.” Eddie stands behind Steve, dragging his fingers down his arms as if following something spreading through his limbs.

Steve flashes him a flat look, lips quirking. “Why are you like this?”

Eddie gasps excitedly, “And there it is!”

Placing another spoon down on the extravagantly set table, Steve tries to keep his flat tone in the face of Eddie playing, “Hmm, as I recall, this party was your idea? Maybe I should make you set the table.” adding under his breath, “If only you knew where all the forks went.”

“Oh god, that’s the good stuff.” He collapses back into one of the chairs, his hand against his forehead like he’s feeling faint. Then, peeking up at Steve with an innocent and hopeful look, “How mad would you be if I swept this all to the ground so you can take me. Right here. Right now.”

Steve throws his head back, laughing. “Did you plan this fancy Christmas dinner just because you get off on me being mean? ‘Cause I think there’s easier ways we could’ve gotten there. Definitely less cooking involved at least.”

“Nope! This is just a side bonus.” He slaps his hands on his legs and rolls to his feet. “Welp! I’m gonna go get the food in the oven. Oh! Were you gonna show me how to make those napkin crowns?”

“I was thinking we’d just go with a basic tree. Crowns take time to perfect. Everyone’s showing up soon for cocktails and we still need to get dressed.” He places the final water glass with a flourish and turns in the sudden silence to see Eddie standing in the doorway, dramatic hand against his chest, eyes all big and shiny.

“Oh, don’t look so sad, baby.” He steps in to take Eddie’s hand, pressing his lips to the back of it, and says in a low, slow voice. “How ‘bout I make a napkin crown just for you and leave it somewhere private. How’s that sound, hm?”

“Hot.” He says, face slack, eyes blinking, processing when napkins became so arousing. “Confusing. But mostly hot.” Because no, it’s not the napkins, it’s Steve. Always Steve. And his competency. Oh god, playful and knowledgeable Steve is so hot.

Steve backs off, smiling, and goes to the check the bottles of alcohol on the side table, turning all the labels forward. “Tsk, if only I’d known, all those years ago, that table setting was all it took to get you all hot and bothered. Who needed all that getting to know you and learning about your interests and wooing.”

“Oooooh yeah, baby, talk etiquette to me.” he says mock seriously, stepping into the kitchen. He raises his voice to be heard over the sound of moving the prepared food from the fridge to the oven to warm. “If only you’d listed the proper course order of a menu that first time I came over. Might’ve saved us a ton of time.”

He hears Steve laughing in the next room and smiles himself. He can’t believe that the no-longer-kids Party don’t think Steve is silly, always teasing him for being so strict. One day soon, when they have kids of their own, he knows they’re going to come to some sudden realizations. But until then, he gets this Steve all to himself, in all his fun and sexy and silly glory.

He’s suddenly not sure how he’ll control himself seeing Steve in the formal wear they picked out. Oh, why did he think this fancy pants party was a good idea? Knowing how he is when he just sees Steve in a nice button down? But no, it’ll be fine with all their friends and family here as buffer. He’ll just have reign in his horn-

“What are you thinking about so hard in here?” Steve wraps his arms around his middle and Eddie suddenly realizes he’s been staring into the open fridge for who knows how long. He shuts the fridge and turns in Steve’s arms, wrapping his arms around Steve so they mirror each other.

“What else, but you, could hold my attention so assiduously?”

“Should I start listing now, so I might be done before everyone gets here?”

“Hey, I was being romantic.” He pouts at Steve’s amused smirk. “Also, I really was thinking of you. Was picturing you in that tux. How the jacket tapers and the shirt stretches and the pants-”

Steve laughs and cuts him off with a quick, hard kiss.

“Well, what about you?” He gasps against Eddie’s mouth. “I can’t believe you found a men’s corset and that it looks so fucking hot that I’ve spent the last month trying not to think about it.”

Eddie spins out of his arms and leans against the kitchen island, hands planted on the edge, eyes dark.

“Gonna ask again, what if we sweep all of this to the floor and you take me right here, right now. Hard.” He opens his eyes to the widest puppy dog eyes he has, “Please?”

With a laugh, Steve steps in close to brush a light kiss against his pouting lips.

“Such an enticing offer.” He walks off out of the kitchen and down the hall, Eddie unable to do anything, but follow. “If only Wayne wasn’t about to walk through that door and El wasn’t so excited to show off her fancy dress.”

Steve pauses outside their bedroom door, Eddie bouncing off his back. Steve turns to him and hooks a finger in his waist band, pulling him flush. “New Year’s, though. We’ll stay in, make dinner, put on our suits, and then tear them off as the clock strikes midnight. How’s that sound?”

Eddie gulps, face flushed. “Yeah. That. Let’s do that.”

[urrockstar-xe]

Valentine's Day with Dick Grayson :)

posted feb 11th, 2024 1:19 am

I'm so behind on V Day fics omg!! so while I write the ones I've missed, here's a sweet little headcanon I thought up :) - xox xe

If there's anything Dick Grayson is known for, it's that he's a total Romantic.

My personal headcanon? Valentine's Day is his favorite Holiday.

You can expect every big gesture you could think of, I'm talking big beautiful bouquet, the fancy box of chocolates, rose petals on the bed. All of it.

he takes you to an overpriced fancy restaurant just to give you the chance to dress up together.

Dick easily convinces you to go dancing, you blame the charisma of course. and that damned smile.

"C'mon, sweetheart, for me?"

you folded like a lawn chair.

Not that anyone blamed you, all those Wayne Gala's did the man some good, you two would be the center of attention the entire night whether you liked it or not.

Though it was hard to dislike anything that came with days like this.

Dick was always so affectionate to you but on Valentine's day? You had received ten times the affection you typically did and that was just by breakfast.

hand kisses, soft touches, stolen kisses any chance he could find, touching your waist every time he passed you, anything if it meant touching you.

Did I mention he'd buy you flowers? I mean like, a bouquet for your nightstand, "So you can see something almost as stunning as yourself every morning and every night."

A bouquet for your table, "for an energy boost during meals together, of course."

And you couldn't forget the one needed for the coffee table, obviously. "To focus on when our trashy reality TV nights get too overwhelming."

I mean seriously, some of those reality show fights could be solved so easily with communication.

Dick spends the entire night before on patrol talking through his comms about "the big V-day" (that Jason so lovingly refers to as "Virgin Day") talking on and on about his plans to surprise you.

It never takes long for Jason and Tim to get sick of it but Barbara thinks it's sweet.

and though he'd never admit it, Bruce can't help but think so too.

masterlist

[koshkamartell]

summary: one shot AU. It's a hot day and Joel Miller has been contracted to fix up your garden.

warnings: dark!Joel, pervy!Joel, voyeurism, masturbation, reader is feminine, innocent reader, fantasies of noncon PIV.

word count: 2,500

It was hot outside and the air conditioner in the truck wasn't working again. It always shit itself in the summer. He had the driver's seat window rolled all the way down with his elbow bent and resting on the window ledge, hand clutching the wheel. The sleeves of his flannel shirt were rolled up his thick tanned forearms. His other hand was nursing half a can of beer by the crotch of his grass stained jeans. Landscaping in this weather was thirsty work.

The truck rumbled slowly down the quiet street until it came to a stop outside a small white picket fence. The front yard was overgrown with thick green grass and tangles of weeds, the result of several months of neglect from the previous owners of the house.

Joel parked the truck infront of the gate and switched off the ignition. He stayed seated in the truck and took a moment to survey the exterior of the property. It was a small house, nothing fancy. It looked old and rundown, in desperate need of a coat of paint.

He finished the last dregs of his beer and tossed the can over his shoulder into the backseat. With a grumbling sigh Joel peeled himself off of the vinyl seat of the truck and got out of the vehicle. He sauntered up to the gate to enter the yard, almost ripping it off of its rusty hinges when he pushed it open.

Who the fuck lives here, he wondered.

The real estate agent who sold the house had booked him to do this job, so he really had no idea if anyone was going to be home while he cleaned up the yard. It didn't bother him though. He preferred to work alone without someone looking over his shoulder. He especially hated working a job for rich folks, the kind of people that eyed him with barely disguised disdain while he broke his back taking care of the lawns and shrubs that they couldn't be bothered maintaining themselves.

Joel lumbered through the mass of grass and made his way to the porch. There was evidence that someone had been here trying to clean up the place; a broom leaning against the brick wall by the door, a new looking welcome mat sitting at its feet, the porch swept clean of any debris.

He rapped on the door with his fist and stood back to wait to see if anyone was home. He waited a few moments but impatience was already setting in, exacerbated by the heat of the sun. He wanted to get the job over and done with already, to just call it quits for the day and fuck off to his favourite bar. It was too hot to deal with this shit.

Joel was about to turn around and just get started on cutting the grass when the front door creaked open. He didn't know who he was expecting to greet him, but he definitely wasn't expecting you. You, dressed in a summery white dress that stopped just above your knees, the soft skin of your bare legs and feet on display. Your hair was loose and wisps clung to your sweaty forehead. Beads of sweat shimmered on the swell of your cleavage. You smiled at him as you greeted him with a courteous hello, your voice sweet and airy and going straight to his cock. He had to make a conscious effort to avert his eyes from wandering all over your curves. He looked down at his feet and shuffled a little on the spot.

Joel put his hands on his hips and cleared his throat. "Afternoon, ma'am. I'm here to do your yard. Treylore Real Estate contacted me a few days ago."

"Yes, ofcourse," you chirped. "I just bought the place and they hadn't organised a gardener beforehand. But that's okay, I'm still moving my stuff in."

Joel nodded once. "I'll get started now, let ya know when I finish up."

"Sure. What's your name?" You asked.

Joel glanced up at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Usually clients didn't give a shit about his name or introducing themselves. But ofcourse you weren't like the others. He could see that straight away.

"Joel." He murmured.

"Nice to meet you, Joel." You smiled brightly and introduced yourself.

You apologised for not shaking his hand, holding up your own hands to show your palms smudged with black grease, explaining that you were tinkering with the air conditioner inside.

Not only did you look like an angel, but you had the name of one, too. Fucking gorgeous.

"Alright then," Joel mumbled gruffly, nodding once more before turning around to go get the lawn mower from his truck.

He hoped that you wouldn't stay outside, that you'd retreat back into the house and not distract him. How the hell was he going to concentrate on mowing the lawn and doing his job with you around?

When Joel returned to the yard with the mower and his gardening gloves, he was relieved to see you had disappeared back inside and shut the front door. Thank fuck for that. Joel fired up the mower and got to work.

He got half way done cutting the grass and weeds when you came waltzing out again, your dress swishing around your thighs, carrying a tall glass of lemonade with ice cubes that clinked against the glass as you moved. Joel was crouched down tugging a nuisance weed from the ground when you approached him. His thick forearms flexed in the sun and sweat was beaded along his forehead. He didn't notice your presence until you came to stand a foot away from him. You were still barefooted.

"Hi again," you said. "It's so hot out here, I thought you might like something cool."

Joel craned his neck to peer up at you, eyebrow cocked. Not only were you polite, but now you were offering him a drink? This was a first.

"It's lemonade," you clarified shyly. "Home-made."

Joel's eyes slowly trailed down your body and stopped when he saw your thighs were level with his face. Oh, what he would give to have them wrapped around his head right now.

Joel slowly ascended from the ground, knees cracking, and stood straight and tall beside you. He pulled a rag from his back pocket and wiped his dirty hands on it, then wiped the sweat from his brow with it. He stuffed it back in his jeans and accepted the glass from your outstretched hand.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am." Joel said, staring down at you.

The condensation on the glass felt soothing on his calloused fingers. He finished the drink in two big gulps. It was sticky and sweet and instantly refreshing. He handed you back the glass.

"You're welcome."

Joel watched you scamper away back into the house, admiring the shape of your ass. He clenched his jaw and brushed his palm over the the bulge of his half hard cock.

Why were you being so friendly? Were you purposely teasing him or something? Why else would you be prancing around in a sweet little dress infront of him, offering him your name and a cold drink?

Joel had to shake his head to rid himself of these thoughts. He needed to concentrate on the job and not think about your thighs and pretty face. He needed the money too, so it was important that he do a damn good job with your garden.

He started up the mower again and continued on with the landscaping.

Joel busted his ass to get the lawn manicured and the garden weeded. After he was sure that he had sufficiently completed the tasks, Joel then loaded the mower and his equipment back into the truck.

His shirt clung to his skin uncomfortably, his body drenched with sweat. He just wanted to get in his truck and drive off but he knew he had to be courteous and say goodbye to you.

Joel trudged up to the door to knock but saw that it was already open. He rapt a knuckle on the wood and took a tentative step over the threshold.

"Ma'am?" He called out. "I'm finished out here now."

There came no response from inside the house. Joel waited for a little bit before calling out once again.

"Hello?"

He knew he shouldn't be entering your home but for some reason he couldn't stop himself. He was being pulled into your space by some invisible compulsion.

What if you had fallen asleep and he had just left? Anyone with bad intentions could just come walking through your door. What kind of gentleman would he be to let that happen?

Joel sauntered to the small living room and took a glance to see if you were there, but all he found were stacks of taped up cardboard boxes and a dusty couch. He wandered into your kitchen but there was no sign of you there, either - just more boxes and a cutting board surrounded by lemons and half a jug of lemonade.

Where the hell were you?

Joel didn't bother to call out to you as he drifted throughout the house. There was something thrilling about being in your home without knowing exactly where you were, as if he were hunting you down. His heart beat picked up in his chest when he heard faint sounds coming from down the hallway.

Joel crept closer to the noise and recognised where it was coming from almost immediately. You were in the bathroom, the sound of spraying water echoing from behind door that you had left ajar. You were humming, a soft and sweet muffled sound from your throat.

Fuck, you were showering.

The mere thought of you naked made Joel's cock began to thicken in his jeans. He swallowed thickly and came to a pause outside the bathroom door.

He shouldn't be here. He's invading your privacy and being a fucking creep. A better man would leave a note or some shit, or would atleast wait for you to finish and come outside. But Joel is not a good man. He cannot stop himself; and truthfully, he doesn't want to.

Joel peered through the crack in the door and had to stifle the moan crawling up his throat when he saw your naked body behind the shower glass. You had your eyes closed and your head tilted back as the water cascaded down your round breasts and over your soft stomach, down to the mound of your beautiful pussy.

Joel's tongue darted out to lick at his plush bottom lip as his eyes roamed hungrily over your curves. He cannot remember the last time he had a woman as stunning as you are - and here you are now, naked before him like it's his own personal strip show.

His hand subconsciously started to palm the bulge in pants. Maybe you did this on purpose. Maybe you left both doors open as an unspoken invitation for him to come and join you. For all he knows, you are a massive slut who is begging for his attention.

Fuck it.

Joel hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans before pulling his hard cock out from his underwear, the head already leaking with his precum. You continued to hum and enjoy the feeling of the water streaming over your naked form while Joel closed his fist around his throbbing length.

Oh yeah, you're a nasty fucking slut, alright. You probably get off on teasing guys like him all the time. You probably act all innocent and sweet and then beg to get fucked like a cheap whore.

Joel began to stroke himself, staring intently at the plush slopes of your body and the way your hands trailed over your skin. You turned around, your back facing him, and he inhaled deeply at the sight of your perfect ass. He jerked his cock faster, the squelching and smacking of his actions drowned out by the roar of the shower water hitting the tiles.

Joel imagines himself sneaking up behind you right now. He would quickly wrap his arm around your chest and clamp his hand over your mouth. You would squeal in shock and instinctively writh in panic but he'd make sure you couldn't get away, no matter how much you wriggled.

"Sssh, darlin', ain't gonna hurt you now," he would coo into the shell of your ear.

He would waste no time sinking his fat dick into you and drilling you mercilessly against the shower wall. You would cry under his heavy palm but eventually surrender, unable to do anything but get railed while pinned by his strong frame.

Your pussy would feel so fucking tight and warm, there's no way he would pull out. No, he would shoot his load so deep inside you that you'd be dripping for fucking days afterward.

The thought is too much for Joel; he finds himself cumming quicker than expected. His climax hits him with an intense ferocity that makes him hunch against the door frame and grunt like an animal. His cum shoots out over his knuckles in warm bursts, droplets falling to the ground while some splatters against the bathroom door.

His chest rises and falls with his ragged breaths. His hand gradually comes to a stop once the high of his orgasm fades. Holy shit, he can't remember the last time he came so hard like that.

When the shower comes to an abrupt stop and Joel sees you have turned off the taps, he quickly composes himself. You squeeze the excess water from your hair and turn to reach for a towel. Joel stuffs his softening cock back into his pants and turns on his heel, quickly making his escape before you catch sight of him.

He zips himself up as he stalks out your cottage, his heart hammering in his chest from the thrill of his secret depraved act. Joel once again nearly rips the gate off its hinges as he pushes through it before hopping into his truck. He starts the engine, uncaring of the burn of the hot steering wheel on his calloused palms or the stifling air inside his vehicle.

The tires squeal as Joel pulls a sharp uturn and speeds off down the street. He glances in the revision mirror at the sight of your cottage disappearing behind him. When he's turned the corner his body relaxes a little more into his seat. His cum hasn't quite dried yet, and he absent-mindedly wipes the back of his hand on his thigh.

When Joel finally gets back to his home and slinks through the door he no longer feels like getting drunk by himself and falling asleep in his armchair. Instead, he finds himself craving your home made lemonade and the sweetly sour taste swimming over his tongue.

[th3tism]

HI HELLO HOW ARE YOUUU

anyways could I request the tf2 mercs with a fem s/o who dresses masculine? likeee a s/o who likes to where suits n stuff that’s typically seen as ‘mens clothing’? tyyyy

Ask and you shall receive

Mercs with a masculine girlfriend

Mercs: scout, sniper, spy

Scout:

Ok, at first he didn't get it

You're a girl? Why would you dress up like a guy???

But then you showed up to a date in a suit and his dingaling went ALL the way up

He gets it. Pls continue being masculine in front of him holy moly

Sniper:

He always understood

He's always liked rugged or masculine women

He has taste

Pls pls pls wear suits around him dude he will fold like a lawn chair 🙏🏻

Spy:

Ok this is kinda just a silly hc but I'd like to think this mf crossdresses

Idk it's silly

Both of you will probably dress up together in like super fancy outfits just to go shopping or something

Like Sniper, the man has a refined taste in woman

He always understood why people found women in suits hot bc he is people

[psychedelic-pebble]

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Warnings: NSFW content - mdni.

Pairing(s): College!Stanford Pines x Reader

Summary: You hate parties, but somehow get roped into the biggest one at Backupsmore University. Luckily for you, things take a turn in your favor.

If there’s one thing you’ve always hated, it was parties. They’re crowded, stuffy, and loud. But this was college, and despite your evident discomfort around them, you’re easily peer pressured. You received an invitation to a house party, a house that one of the rich kids owned. His parents were gone for the weekend, and no matter how hard you protested, you were somehow roped into going.

Apparently, they didn’t really care who they invited; they just wanted to have a lot of people there. You don’t actually have that many friends to go with; in retrospect, you actually only had one friend at college, who happened to be the reason you were roped into this whole ordeal.

You don’t know what to wear; you don’t really go to parties. You don’t “party.” You decide to keep on your day clothes: ripped jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. Sitting at the couch of your dorm thinking of any excuse to ditch, you hear a knock at your door. Fuck. Too late. You begrudgingly open the door and smile awkwardly.

“Hey, Fidds.” You give a nervous half-smile, placing a hand on the base of your neck.

“Hey! Ya decide not to back out after all?” Fiddleford, AKA your only friend at uni, beams at you. He’s also not dressed in anything fancy: just his normal sweater and jeans.

“Too late to back out now anyway.” You sigh, closing and locking the door behind you. You place your keys in your pocket and follow him down the hallway. “I’m not really the partying type, you know.”

He gives your shoulder a light punch. “Aw, c’mon, it’ll be fun!” He leans down a little, just enough to lower his voice and whisper, “Plus, I dragged Ford inta coming.”

You’re not as close to Ford as he was, but Fiddleford could definitely tell how you felt about his roommate. He was pretty much the only one you’d opened up to about your feelings towards Stanford. You two were friends, but not much more than that.

As soon as you hear Fiddleford say that, you choke a little and glare at him.

“You didn’t.”

“I sure did! It’ll give y’all a better chance to get to know each other, too!” God, if it weren’t for the fact he was your friend, you would’ve strangled this farm boy.

With a rough clearing of your throat, you two begin walking down to the house where this party is supposed to be happening. It isn’t far from campus, maybe a fifteen minute walk. Most of it is spent making idle chit-chat with Fiddleford and talking about trivial things.

You can tell this is the right house from the get-go, if the blaring music is anything to go by. Looking around the small crowd scattered around the front lawn, you make out a figure standing by the curb seemingly waiting for you. It hits you that it’s Stanford after a moment, and you feel your face embarrassedly flush. He grins and approaches the two of you.

“Hey, you made it!” He smiles at you and Fiddleford, keeping both hands in his pockets. “I was starting to wonder if you had set me up.”

Fiddleford laughs, sparking up a conversation while you silently panic and stare off into space. Ford was wearing a white button down that hugs his form a little too nicely, and a pair of black slacks. You find yourself idly staring at his chest more than once.

God, you need a drink.

“Hey, uh, not to be a buzzkill and ruin the curb-party,” you say, disappointed with the way your voice wavers, “but shouldn’t we head inside?”

Both men stop their conversation and nod at you. You give an awkward grin in return and start walking inside, with both of them following suit. You push open the front door and immediately your ears are assaulted by the blaring music; you wince and continue forward, trying not to let it overwhelm you just yet.

“I’ll, uh, just be over here.” You gesture towards the drinks, trying your best to play it cool.

“Sounds good. We’ll be here if ya need us.” Fiddleford winks at you and you flash him an uneasy smile in return.

Your feet move faster than your thoughts, and before you know it you’re pouring yourself a drink, with more alcohol than juice. Just to ease the nerves a little, you think. You take a large swig from your red plastic cup, choking a little but swallowing it down and coughing loudly. This really was not going to be a good night for you.

As the party continued, you basically just hover around from corner to corner trying to find your friends. They’ve completely disappeared, and it didn’t help that you were more than a little tipsy.

“Hey!” Some girl suddenly shouts, causing everyone in the room to turn around to find the source of the call. “We’re playin’ seven minutes in heaven, who wants in?”

Great. You really don’t want to stick around for that, but before you know it, you’re being dragged along with the crowd. You stumble, clumsily looking around before realizing everyone is starting to sit in a circle. It’s too late to leave without further embarrassing yourself, so you sit too. You look around nervously, trying to take in the options for who you might be forced into a closet with. Your heart drops when you see Stanford sitting right across from you on the other side of the room, right next to Fidds. He looks just as nervous as you feel. You’re regretting going to this party more and more.

“A’ight, here’s the rules!” The girl from earlier yells, grabbing an empty beer bottle and holding it up. “We spin this and whoever it lands on has to go into that closet together.”

You are not drunk enough for this.

A couple rounds pass with most people opting to flirt, talk, or make out in the closet and then it's suddenly your turn. You’re passed the bottle and stare at it with malice, clutching it in your hands before the crowd starts urging you on to spin it. You notice Ford looking at you; he gives an awkward smile and looks away.

Okay, fuck it, you think. You place the bottle down and give it a good spin, and once it slows to a stop, you follow the direction of the neck and freeze. Once again, Stanford. Fucking, Pines. What are the chances??

You swallow nervously and look around at everyone, wondering if it’d be too late to back out. Fiddleford gives Stanford a shove, causing him to stumble forward a bit and look at you. He gives you a nervous look, standing up and waiting for you to follow.

Despite everything screaming for you to run, flee, and get away, you stand up and brush yourself off. You wobble a little with the alcohol in your body still prevalent. You’re suddenly being shoved towards the closet before you can protest, with Ford not far behind having Fidds pushing him on.

You’re both pushed into the closet and the door shuts behind you. You let out an embarrassed groan as your eyes adjust to the dark. You can make out Ford standing close by, fidgeting with a button on his shirt. There was barely enough room for both of you to fit in here.

“Ford,” you sigh, defeated, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even come out tonight.”

He looks at you and swallows nervously. “It’s okay, I know Fidds probably pressured you like he did with me. People like us don’t get invited to parties very often.”

It's deafeningly silent for a few moments while you gather your thoughts.

“You don’t seem like the partying type.” You shrug, leaning back against the wall.

“Neither do you,” he laughs, “yet here we are.”

You’re so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Seems like he’s been drinking too. Your face burns a little; thank god it’s dark in here.

“What do you want to do?” Ford asks, leaning against the other wall.

“What is there to do in this situation?” A sigh escapes you and you can’t help but cover your face. “Most people get drunk and have drunk sex in a closet. It's stupid.”

Ford grimaces and looks away. “Even if it’s someone they don’t know. I mean, at least we know each other, and I wouldn’t be completely opposed to it, but-“ He cuts himself off. Oh God.

You feel like you’re gonna explode. What did he just say?? The two of you share a flustered glance and you bite your lip in thought.

“Stanford, I, uh.” You try to think of something, anything to say. He grits his teeth and covers his face in shame.

“Sorry. I think the alcohol is getting to me.” He frowns, dragging a hand down his face.

You can’t think of anything to say, so you let your body speak for you. You walk forward and grab his button down, yanking him down into you and smashing your lips into his. He squeaks in surprise with his hands trembling and hovering just above your hips. You pull away and look at him, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” you mumble, backtracking and attempting to pull away.

His hands find your waist suddenly and pull you closer, a huff escaping him when you press up against his torso. “It’s- It's fine.”

You share an embarrassed look, and you feel him shift nervously, but he doesn’t let go. You look down and your jaw almost falls off; he’s completely hard in his slacks.

“Holy shit.” You breathe, looking back up at him. Ford averts his gaze to the other side of the closet, slightly releasing his hold on your hips, but before he completely lets go you decide to let yourself be bold. “Want me to uh, help with that?”

He blinks and turns back to you, seemingly taken aback. “What do you-?”

Not giving him a chance to answer, you reach your hands down and fumble with his belt. He flinches slightly, obviously not used to the contact, and you stop, looking back at him.

“Is that okay?” You bite the inside of your lip nervously, wondering if you’ve just screwed the whole thing up.

“I mean, I, uh.” He sighs and lets out a small groan. “I don’t really do flings. I want there to be something behind it.”

“What if there is something behind this?” The words come out faster than you can think them over. Ford feels his breath catch in his throat and he looks at you with an almost pleading expression.

“What’re you saying?”

“I’m in love with you, dumbass.” You laugh nervously, attempting to downplay the situation.

Stanford swears under his breath and looks everywhere but you. “I, uh, I have feelings for you too.”

Your heart swells in your chest and you grin dumbly, clumsily unbuckling his belt with shaking hands. You look up at him with an expression that asks, “is this okay?” and Ford looks down at you and nods his head.

“Please, I need you.” That's all it takes for you to sink down to your knees and pull his slacks down along with his boxers. His dick nearly smacks you in the face as it springs out of his boxers, already hard and leaking. You hadn’t even touched him yet.

“Oh, wow, uh,” your breath hitches and you blink a couple times, “that's, wow, haha.”

He covers his face with a hand embarrassedly, too scared to look down at you. You smile at his shyness, determined to break it and make him into a mess for you.

You wrap a hand around his cock and give an experimental tug, causing him to hiss through gritted teeth and whimper softly. You think over your options, eventually landing on taking it further and wrapping your mouth around him. You take the head into your mouth and he straight up moans, slapping a hand over his mouth and running the other through your hair.

“Shit,” you hear him whisper, trying to keep himself quiet so as to not alert anyone else at the party, “that’s- God, that’s good.”

Your chest swells with pride and you take him a little deeper, experimentally pressing the flat of your tongue against the underside of his cock. His hand trembles and grips your hair. You pull away , looking up at him.

“You can be rough, Ford. It’s okay.” You pant, taking him back into your mouth. He nods and moves his hips forwards ever so slightly while gently pushing the back of your head trying not to hurt you. How cute.

You move suddenly, taking the whole thing down your throat, and he lets out a strangled cry, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of his bottom lip to try and quiet himself. He can’t help himself anymore; he fucks your mouth a little harder and begins moving your head with his hand; you don’t mind.

He’s never felt this way before; his heart is pounding and he feels like he’s on fire. He can’t control himself; his fingers grip your hair hard and pull you down onto him while he starts fucking your throat like he’s gone feral. You place both hands on his thighs while he does so, feeling the way they tense and relax with every thrust.

The noises he’s making go straight through you, causing you to heat up and moan around him. The vibration makes him groan and fuck your throat faster- he’s getting close, you can tell.

“C..Can I cum in your mouth?” He asks shakily, slowing his thrusts to give you a chance to respond.

You nod feverishly around him; you let him take control as he loses himself and shoves your head down in a fast-paced rhythm while thrusting his cock into your mouth. The whine he lets out is downright pornographic, biting down on the palm of his hand to silence it while he shoves himself as deep as possible and cums down your throat. You nearly choke but manage to keep it together as you feel it down your throat, filling your mouth and dripping down your chin.

He stays there for a second before pulling back to let you breathe, and you cough slightly at the movement. You wipe off your mouth with your sleeve, not caring if it’s gross at the moment.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” Stanford leans down and places a hand on your shoulder. You shake your head.

“No, just not used to that.” You weakly say, your throat still raw.

It’s just then that you realize there’s been someone banging on the door for the past few minutes that neither of you picked up on.

“It’s been like, fifteen minutes, are y’all okay?”

It’s Fiddleford’s voice. You and Stanford exchange a glance and you stifle a laugh.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” You call back, standing up and brushing yourself off. Stanford fumbles with his pants, pulling them up and tucking himself back into his boxers. You open the door and look at Fiddleford with a sheepish grin, while Stanford exits the closet behind you and clears his throat. Fiddleford raises an eyebrow and looks at the both of you. Everyone else at the party is staring.

“Y’all look like hell.” He jokes and punches Stanford’s shoulder gently. “What’d y’all get up to in there anyway?”

You glance away and Stanford gives him an awkward smile. You hear the crowd watching you collectively give an “ooooh!”

“You don’t wanna know.” You eventually manage to say. Fidds gives you a knowing look and grins.

“Y’all together now?” He crosses his arms and surveys the both of you.

Stanford shrugs, looking at you and back to Fiddleford.

“I guess you could say that.” You laugh a little, shoving your hands in your sweatshirt pockets. You’re gonna have to wash it when you get home.

Thanks for reading!! I also uploaded this on AO3 if you’d like to read it there.

divider creds to @cafekitsune !!

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Whiskey and What-Ifs | Sebastian Sallow x OC #20

warning: emotional rollercoaster ahead

Summary: At the end-of-year celebration at Leander's farm, the night unfolds with drunken games, tension, and an almost-confession from Sebastian, leaving Evangeline wondering if there was truth behind his teasing words. The evening turns sour when Sebastian’s reckless behavior shatters Evangeline’s fragile hopes.

Words: 8,382

Tags: Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Unspoken Feelings, Angst, End-of-Year Celebration, Hurt/No Comfort, Drunken Shenanigans, Almost Confession

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Read on AO3

The warm, golden light of early summer stretched across the rolling fields of Leander’s family farm. The end-of-year celebration was in full swing, with groups of students lounging on hay bales and picnic blankets scattered across the lawn. Jars of fireflies were strung between the wooden beams of the nearby barn, glowing softly as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Music floated through the air from a charmed gramophone perched on a barrel, and the scent of grilled sausages and roasted vegetables wafted from a table laden with food.

Evangeline stood at the edge of the crowd, nervously tugging at the hem of her dress—a soft, deep green sundress with a fitted bodice that flared out slightly at her hips. It wasn’t anything she’d have chosen herself; Natty and Cressida had insisted she wear it, practically ganging up on her in the dorms earlier that day.

“Come on, Evie,” Cressida had said, holding the dress up against her with a gleam of determination in her eye. “It’s perfect for tonight! And you do own it, so it’s about time you actually wore it.”

Natty had nodded in agreement, her tone encouraging but firm. “You’ll look stunning, I promise. This cut will show off your waist, and the color is absolutely perfect with your complexion. Besides,” she’d added with a sly grin, “it’s nearly the end of the year. Go out with a little confidence.”

Evie had protested, of course—something about how it was too much or too outside her comfort zone—but by the time her friends were done with her, she was standing in front of the mirror, the soft fabric of the dress hugging her figure just enough to highlight her curves. She had to admit, however grudgingly, that it looked alright.

Now, though, standing at the edge of the party, she felt exposed.

“Evie!” Poppy called, waving her over to a circle of students gathered near the bonfire. “Come on, we’re about to start a drinking game!”

Evie smiled and waved back but didn’t move immediately. Her gaze drifted across the party, landing on a familiar figure leaning against the side of the barn. Sebastian stood with a drink in hand, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his hair slightly tousled. He was laughing at something Garreth had said, his eyes alight with mischief. It was nice, seeing him like this—out of his Slytherin robes, so at ease in the warm glow of the firelight. She quickly looked away, her heart doing an uncomfortable little flip.

“Evie?” a voice broke into her thoughts, and she turned to see Ethan, a Hufflepuff boy from their year, smiling at her. “Haven’t seen you in a while."

Ethan was solid and broad-shouldered, with sandy blond hair that fell just slightly into his green eyes, giving him a boyish charm that most girls in their year found endearing.

Evangeline, however, remained unmoved. Objectively, she could see why others might fancy him, but there was no spark of interest—no fluttering of her heart or warmth creeping up her cheeks. To her, Ethan was just Ethan: friendly, harmless, and perhaps a bit too persistent.

“Excited for exams?” he asked, his tone warm and conversational, but there was a faint nervousness in the way he shifted on his feet. "This'll probably be our last bit of fun before we're all neck deep in parchment and textbooks."

“I’m just ready for them to be over," she said, a polite smile tugging at her lips.

Ethan chuckled, his easygoing laugh ringing out over the sounds of the party. “Aren’t we all? Though I bet you don’t have much to worry about. You’ve probably got top marks in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Meanwhile, I’ll be lucky if I don’t blow up another cauldron.”

Evangeline gave a soft laugh, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Professor Sharp can be... intimidating, but his bark is far worse than his bite.”

“That’s reassuring,” Ethan replied, flashing her another smile that lingered just a second too long. “Maybe next term I should partner up with you. I could use someone to keep me in line.”

His tone was light, but the way he leaned ever so slightly closer made her stomach twist. She glanced away, hoping to deflect. “Well, Sharp might not appreciate me pulling double duty as a babysitter., considering I need to keep an eye on Garreth too.”

Ethan laughed, not deterred. “Fair enough. Besides, I wouldn’t want to distract you from your own brilliance.”

Evangeline tried not to cringe. She managed a polite smile but didn’t respond, glancing toward the bonfire where her friends were gathered. Natty caught her eye, raising an eyebrow in a way that clearly said, Do you need rescuing? And Evie gave the smallest shake of her head, though her unease remained.

“You know,” Ethan continued, oblivious to her discomfort, “You look... really nice tonight, Evie.”

Her cheeks warmed, but not for the reasons Ethan might have hoped. Compliments like that always made her feel uncomfortable, like she was suddenly on display. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice soft. “That’s kind of you.”

“It’s not kindness,” he said, stepping just a fraction closer. “Just honesty.”

Across the yard, Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he watched. He couldn’t hear their conversation over the hum of chatter and the crackle of the bonfire, but he didn’t need to. The way Ethan’s posture tilted slightly toward her, the deliberate smile on his face, the soft blush on Evie’s cheeks—it all painted a picture Sebastian didn’t want to see.

He scoffed, taking a sip of his drink. Of course Ethan would try his luck tonight. The end-of-year celebration had everyone feeling nostalgic and bold, the perfect excuse for ill-timed confessions.

“Seb,” Garreth said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You’ve been glaring at them for ages. What’s got your robes in a twist?”

Sebastian scoffed, straightening up and tossing back the rest of his drink. “I’m not glaring. It’s just embarrassing, watching him fumble around like that. He’s not even subtle.”

“Embarrassing for him or for you?” Garreth asked, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

“Shut up, Weasley,” Sebastian muttered, his tone sharper than intended as his gaze drifted back to Evangeline. She was nodding along, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress while Ethan leaned in, saying something that made her laugh softly. That laugh, paired with the way her dark hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and the warm firelight brushed across her skin, had Sebastian’s stomach twisting.

Then there was the dress—that deep green sundress that clung to her waist before flaring out, its simplicity somehow making her look even more striking. It obviously wasn’t the first time he’d seen Evangeline in something other than her uniform, but tonight felt different. She looked... stunning, though the word felt dangerous the moment it crossed his mind. And Ethan, of course, had noticed as well.

Sebastian forced his attention back to Garreth, his smirk a little too forced. “He’s wasting his time,” he muttered, “She’s not interested.”

Garreth tilted his head, watching Sebastian with a knowing look. “You sure about that?”

“I know Evie better than anyone,” Sebastian said firmly, his tone sharper than he intended. “She’s not into blokes like him.”

Garreth raised his hands in surrender, his grin widening. “Alright, alright. Whatever helps you sleep at night, mate.”

Sebastian ignored him, turning his attention back to the bonfire, watching as Evie leaned back slightly, a hand brushing a stray lock of hair from her face as Ethan said something else, drawing another smile.

“Seb,” Garreth called, nudging him with an elbow. “Earth to Sallow. Are you going to keep brooding all night, or are you actually going to enjoy yourself?”

“I’m fine,” Sebastian replied tersely, stalking over to the drinks table and grabbing himself another glass, "We gonna play whiskey pong?"

Garreth followed, still grinning as he grabbed a drink of his own. “You’re on. Though I’d say you’ve already got a head start, mate. You’ve been downing those like it’s a competition. Trying to give me an easy win?"

Sebastian shrugged, pouring himself a generous serving. “Keep dreaming, Weasley.”

The two joined a group already gathered around the makeshift whiskey pong setup, a long wooden table with a pyramid of cups at each end. The rules were simple: toss the ball into a cup, make your opponent drink. It was just the kind of distraction Sebastian needed—something to channel his frustration into and keep his mind off Evangeline and Ethan.

As the game went on, Sebastian’s usual confidence came roaring back. His competitive streak flared as he sank shot after shot, his smirk growing with every triumphant cheer from the surrounding crowd. For a while, he managed to forget the lingering jealousy gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

But every now and then, his gaze would drift back to the bonfire, where Evangeline sat with her friends. She was smiling now, leaning close to Natty as they whispered and laughed about something he couldn’t hear. She looked at ease, and the sight of her like that—happy, unguarded—made his chest tighten.

“Your turn, Sallow,” Garreth called, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Sebastian lined up his shot, forcing himself to focus. The ball arced through the air, sinking neatly into a cup on Garreth’s side of the table. The surrounding crowd erupted into cheers, and Sebastian flashed a smug grin as Garreth groaned and reached for the cup.

“Drink up, Weasley,” Sebastian said, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “Looks like I’m on a roll.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, mate. Your luck’s about to run out.” Garreth muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. He drained the cup in one go, slamming it down on the table with a flourish.

Sebastian smirked, raising his glass in a mock toast. “We’ll see about that.”

The whiskey pong continued, the night growing hazier with every drink. By the time Sebastian finally claimed victory, his earlier edge of irritation had dulled into something quieter, more manageable. But as he stepped away from the game and glanced toward the bonfire once more, his brow furrowed.

Evangeline was missing.

He scanned the crowd, his chest tightening slightly despite himself. Where had she gone?

“Looking for someone?” Ominis's voice cut through his thoughts.

Sebastian turned sharply, his smirk faltering as he met his friend's smug expression.

“No,” Sebastian replied quickly.

Ominis raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a faint, knowing smirk. “Oh, I see. You’re not looking for Evangeline. Well, in that case, you won’t be interested to know that she took a walk toward the pasture. Alone.”

Sebastian’s shoulders tensed, his smirk vanishing entirely. “She—” He cut himself off, quickly schooling his expression into something more neutral. “Why would I care where she went?”

Ominis let out a soft, exasperated sigh, shaking his head. “I don't know. Why would you care?" He shrugged, turning on his heel to walk back towards the party, “I’m sure she’s fine, but if it’ll ease your clearly nonexistent concern, you could always check on her. Just... hypothetically, of course.”

Sebastian hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the direction Ominis had indicated. He could see the faint outline of the pasture under the moonlight, the rolling hills dark against the starry sky.

“Hypothetically,” he muttered under his breath, downing the rest of his drink before setting the empty glass on a nearby barrel. The distant hum of the party faded behind him as he strode toward the pasture, his steps uneven from the whiskey but purposeful all the same.

The air was cooler away from the crowd, and the faint smell of hay mingled with the earthiness of the fields. He spotted her almost immediately, a lone figure standing near the wooden fence that separated the pasture from the rest of the farm. The green of her dress stood out against the dark backdrop, her hair catching the moonlight in a way that made his chest ache.

“Evie,” he called, his voice cutting through the quiet. She turned, her expression briefly startled before she relaxed, her lips curving into a small smile.

“Sebastian,” she replied, her tone light but questioning. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered, leaning against the fence a few feet away from her. “You’ve been missing all the fun.”

She shrugged, her gaze drifting back to the pasture. “Just needed some air."

Sebastian nodded and for a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet sounds of the countryside filling the space between them.

“You look...” he started, then hesitated, the words catching in his throat.

Evie glanced at him curiously. “What?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, looking away toward the horizon. “You look nice tonight,” he said finally, his voice a touch too casual.

Her cheeks warmed, and she ducked her head. “Thank you. You do too. It’s strange seeing everyone out of their uniforms.”

“Strange good, or strange bad?” he teased, shooting her a sidelong glance.

“Strange good,” Evie replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It’s just… different. Feels like we’re playing dress-up or something.”

Sebastian chuckled, though the sound was soft, almost distracted. His gaze flickered to her once more, lingering on the way the moonlight caught the curve of her cheek, the delicate sweep of her collarbone revealed by the dress. The sight stirred something he quickly tried to push aside.

“So,” he said eventually, his tone casual, though his jaw tightened slightly. “Ethan seems... eager tonight.”

Evie blinked, turning to look at him fully. “Ethan?”

“Yeah, you know,” Sebastian said, his smirk returning but lacking its usual edge. “Blond, Hufflepuff, keeps laughing at everything you say like it’s the most brilliant thing he’s ever heard.”

Evie’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. “He’s just being friendly.”

“Friendly,” Sebastian echoed, a faint scoff in his voice. “Right. Because leaning in like that and giving you those puppy-dog eyes is totally platonic.”

Evie sighed, her fingers tightening on the fence. And when she didn't respond right away, Sebastian's chest tightened into a knot, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them. He tried to brush it off, he really did, but the thought of Ethan’s easy grin and the way he’d leaned closer to her made his jaw clench.

“Evie,” Sebastian pressed, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “You’re not actually... interested in him, are you?”

She sighed again, looking up at him with that exasperated expression he knew too well. "No, Sebastian," she said,"I’m not interested in Ethan.”

Sebastian exhaled. “Good,” he said, the word slipping out before he could stop it. When Evie raised an eyebrow at him, he quickly added, “I mean, not that it’s any of my business.”

Evie chuckled softly, shaking her head as she turned back to the pasture. "I'm perfectly capable of handling myself, you know."

"I know," Sebastian said quickly, leaning back against the fence with a casual shrug. “But it doesn’t hurt to have backup. Especially when the backup is this charming.”

Evie rolled her eyes, though her lips curved into a faint smile. “Backup. Right. Because Merlin knows Ethan was such a threat.”

“He could’ve been,” Sebastian muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.

She turned to him fully now, her head tilted slightly as she studied him. There was no anger in her gaze, just a quiet curiosity that made him shift under her scrutiny. “You’re really worked up about this, aren’t you?”

“I’m not worked up,” Sebastian lied, crossing his arms defensively. “I’m just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Trying to help."

Evie tilted her head back, her gaze lifting to the stars scattered across the night sky before her eyes met his again.

"...What’s this really about, Sebastian?”

Sebastian froze, caught off guard by the question. Her voice was soft, without accusation, but the weight of it pressed down on him all the same. He forced a smirk, the one he wore like armor in moments like this. “What do you mean? It’s about Ethan. Bloke clearly doesn’t know when to back off.”

Evie didn’t blink, her steady gaze pinning him in place. “No, it’s not,” she said, her tone calm but resolute. “Tell me the truth.”

Sebastian turned his head, looking out at the dark expanse of the pasture. “It’s nothing,” he said, his voice lower now, almost uncertain. “Just... end-of-year stress, maybe.”

“That’s not it either,” Evie countered, her brow furrowing. She stepped a little closer, her voice dropping. “Sebastian, I know you. So... just tell me what’s really going on.”

Sebastian let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You think you know me that well, huh?”

“I do,” she said firmly, her gaze unwavering. “And right now, you’re deflecting.”

He sighed, running a hand through his already-tousled hair. “You’re relentless."

“And you’re avoiding the question,."

She was so close to him now he could see the shimmer of moonlight reflecting in her eyes, smell her perfume curling around him, see the way her chest rose and fell with each breath. And Merlin, he wanted to close the gap between them. The thought struck him with a force that almost made him stagger. He wanted to reach out, to touch her hand resting so lightly on the fence, to pull her closer and finally say everything he’d been holding back. But the fear of ruining everything stopped him cold.

Instead, he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he forced his gaze back to the dark expanse of the pasture. “Evie,” he began, his voice quieter now, almost unsteady. “You don’t make this easy, you know that?”

“Make what easy?” she asked softly, her tone curious, almost tender.

Sebastian turned to look at her again, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. The struggle inside him was unbearable, the push and pull of his instincts tangling into a knot that refused to loosen. One side screamed for him to deflect, to laugh it off and keep the fragile balance of their friendship intact. The other side—the louder, more reckless side—urged him to just say it, to lay it all out in the open and deal with the fallout later.

“You really want to know what’s going on?” he asked, his voice strained.

Evie nodded.

Sebastian let out a shaky breath, his lips curling into a smirk that was far too forced to be convincing. “Alright,” he said, his tone shifting to something light and teasing, though his heart thundered against his ribs. “If you really must know... I’ve been trying to figure out how to convince you to fall madly in love with me before the year’s out.”

Evie blinked, startled, and for a moment, her expression was unreadable. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a smile, though there was an edge of something she couldn't quite hide.

“Is that so?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, her tone playful but cautious.

Sebastian shrugged, trying desperately to keep his voice casual. “Obviously. I mean, who wouldn’t want to secure the affections of the great Evangeline Sterling? Gryffindor beater extraordinaire, unparalleled in charm and wit...” He trailed off, his smirk faltering. "Seems everyone's trying to, these days."

Evie studied him, her smile lingering but her brow furrowing slightly, as though she was trying to puzzle out whether he was serious or not.

“Well,” she said slowly, her tone matching his lightness despite the hesitation in her posture. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, Sallow. I’m not so easily convinced.”

Sebastian laughed, “Oh, I know,” he said, leaning back against the fence and crossing his arms. “I’ve been planning a campaign—flowers, serenades, maybe even a dramatic duel or two. The works.”

“Dramatic duels, huh?” Evie replied, her lips twitching into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Seems a bit excessive.”

“With someone like Ethan sniffing around?” Sebastian quipped, raising an eyebrow. “I’d say it’s warranted.”

Evie rolled her eyes, but the mention of Ethan seemed to draw her back into herself, and the quiet between them grew heavy once again.

Sebastian could feel it, the unspoken tension wrapping around them like a thread stretched too tight. His chest ached, his heart pounding with the desperate hope that she’d push him just a little further, that she’d call him out and make him say what he really meant. He wanted her to pry, to break through the mask he’d so carefully put up.

But instead, Evie glanced away, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Well,” she said softly, almost absently, “I guess I'll... be waiting for those flowers."

Sebastian’s smirk faltered, his stomach twisting as her words hit him harder than they should have. Her voice was light, teasing on the surface, but there was something underneath it that he couldn't quite decipher. And the silence that followed felt heavier than any before it, like a chasm widening between them with every passing second. Sebastian wanted to reach out, to pull her back across it, but he couldn’t seem to make himself move.

“Anyway….” she said at last, straightening and brushing her hands against her dress, “we should probably head back."

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quiet and strained. “Wouldn’t want to miss Garreth's flaming marshmallow stunt.”

Evie gave a faint smile over her shoulder, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Sounds like something worth seeing,” she murmured, her tone light but distant.

She started walking back toward the glow of the bonfire, the soft swish of her dress the only sound between them. Sebastian stayed where he was, watching her retreating figure and feeling the weight of everything he hadn’t said pressing down on him like a curse.

He should have stopped her. He should have said something real, something honest. But instead, he stood there, frozen by his own uncertainty, as the gap between them grew wider with each step she took.

“Coward,” he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair.

As Evie walked back toward the bonfire, the warm glow of the firelight did little to ease the chill that had settled over her. The strange, charged conversation with Sebastian replayed in her mind, each word turning over and over like a puzzle she couldn’t solve. He’d been hiding something—she was certain of that. But what?

The idea that he might actually like her, that his playful comments could have held even a grain of truth, made her chest ache. She could imagine it, just for a moment: Sebastian pining for her, his sharp wit masking a tender longing. The thought sent a flicker of warmth through her, a dangerous kind of hope she quickly pushed aside.

If anything, the whole exchange had been a joke to him, a clever way to dodge her questions while keeping her off balance. And now, as she imagined him laughing at the idea of liking her—of truly liking her—it felt like a sharp jab to the ribs.

Evie’s pace slowed as she neared the edge of the bonfire’s warm glow, her mind spinning with everything Sebastian had said—and everything he hadn’t.

She barely noticed Ominis until he stepped into her path. His expression was calm, but his lips pressed into a line of faint concern.

“You seem... upset.” he said softly, his head tilting as he studied her with that uncanny awareness he always had.

Evie blinked, startled by the directness of his words. “I’m not,” she said quickly, her tone sharper than she intended. “I’m fine.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re not fine,” he said plainly, his voice devoid of accusation but unyielding. “You’re breathing too quickly, your voice is strained, and you sound about two seconds away from hexing me.”

She sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, glancing away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Ominis took a small step closer, his expression softening just enough to show that he wasn’t going to push her—yet.

“Fair enough,” he said, his tone deceptively light. “But if you’re planning to drink yourself into oblivion tonight, you might as well have company.”

Evie glanced at him, startled. “I’m not—”

“Oh, please,” Ominis interrupted with a faint smirk. “You’ve got that look. The one that says you’re about five minutes away from finding the strongest thing Garreth brought and trying to forget whatever just happened.”

Evie’s lips twitched despite herself, though the smile didn’t quite stick. “And you’re volunteering to keep me company?” she asked, a faint edge of sarcasm in her voice. “Since when do you drink at parties?”

“I don’t,” Ominis admitted, his smirk widening just slightly. “But someone has to make sure you don’t pass out in a field somewhere.”

That earned him a small laugh, quiet but genuine, and Ominis took it as a victory. He extended an arm toward her. “Come on. You can drink, and I’ll sit there looking judgmental. It’s one of my better skills.”

Evie hesitated, her gaze flickering back toward the barn where she’d left Sebastian. Part of her wanted to go find him, to demand answers, to pull the truth out of him no matter how messy it got. But another part—the part that ached the most—knew it would only hurt more.

Finally, she nodded, letting out a slow breath. “Alright,” she said, her voice quieter now.

The bonfire cast flickering shadows across the field as the party wore on, the vibrant hum of conversation and laughter growing looser as drinks continued to flow. Evie now sat on a blanket a short distance from the fire, her knees tucked to her chest and her cheeks warm from the whiskey Ominis had been feeding her.

“You sure you want another?” Ominis asked, his tone skeptical as she reached for another refill. He sat beside her, legs crossed, his wand resting idly on his lap.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Evie said, her words beginning to slur just slightly. “You’re supposed to be my company, not my conscience.”

Ominis let out a resigned sigh, tilting his head toward her as though in warning. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t try.”

As the warmth of the whiskey settled in her chest, the sharp edges of her earlier conversation with Sebastian blurred into something softer, easier to ignore. The tension in her shoulders loosened, and she leaned back on her hands, watching the firelight dance over the faces of her friends.

By the time the fifth—or was it sixth?—drink found its way into her hand, Evie was giggling at everything Ominis said, even when he wasn’t trying to be funny. She didn’t notice the way Sebastian’s eyes flicked toward her from across the yard, his brow furrowed as he watched her down another glass without hesitation.

“I’m not even drunk,” Evie announced to no one in particular, her voice carrying over the crackling fire. Ominis, unimpressed, arched a brow.

“Right,” he said dryly, “and I’m the Head Boy of Gryffindor.”

Evie swatted his arm lightly, a grin spreading across her face. “You’re no fun, Ominis. You never let loose.”

“That’s because I’m the one keeping you from doing something regrettable,” he replied, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

But Ominis couldn’t hold back all of her reckless decisions, and soon, Evie found herself swept up in the growing carelessness of the crowd.

Someone—likely Garreth—had started a drinking game that involved conjuring increasingly ridiculous hats and balancing them on their heads while singing off-key. Evie had passed on the game earlier, but now, with her inhibitions rapidly fading, she looked tempted.

Before Ominis could protest, she'd already pushed herself up, teetering slightly as she joined the circle near the bonfire.

“Evie!” Garreth called, grinning as he conjured a sparkler that fizzled dramatically in his hand. “Your turn to sing! Pick a hat, pick a song!”

Evie giggled, the sound unrestrained and light. She plopped an oversized feathered hat on her head and grinned. “Alright,” she announced grandly, her slurred voice only adding to the humor. “Something... dramatic.”

“Dramatic, she says,” Garreth repeated, “Then give us your best rendition of A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love! Don’t disappoint us, Sterling!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, and before she knew it, Evie was belting out the tune at the top of her lungs, swaying theatrically as the ridiculous hat wobbled precariously on her head. Her friends joined in, the group laughing so hard that they struggled to stay upright.

Watching from the sidelines, Ominis let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head. “She’s doomed.”

But Evangeline certainly didn't feel doomed. She felt invincible. The warm haze of whiskey and laughter coursed through her, blurring the edges of her usual reservations. She twirled dramatically, the feathered hat slipping sideways on her head as she gestured with exaggerated flair during the song's most outrageous lines. Her friends' cheers only encouraged her, and she leaned into the silliness, throwing herself into a wobbly curtsy as the final note ended in a flourish.

“Encore! Encore!” Ethan chanted from where he stood across from her, clapping loudly as others joined in.

Evie bowed deeply, nearly tipping over before catching herself on Natty’s shoulder, laughing so hard her cheeks hurt. “Thank you, thank you,” she said grandly, her words slurred but her smile beaming. “But I must retire while I’m still at the peak of my career.”

“More like before you fall on your face,” Natty muttered, steadying her.

Evie giggled again, waving off the concern as she reached for another drink, her inhibitions fully dissolved.

The bonfire crackled on merrily, casting flickering light over the group as they dissolved into more drunken banter. Garreth had somehow procured a half-empty bottle of mead and was regaling everyone with a wildly exaggerated tale of his "near-death" experience during a Potions mishap, complete with flailing arms and dramatic gasps for effect.

"And then—" Garreth paused for emphasis, swaying slightly as he pointed the bottle at Natty, "—the cauldron exploded! I swear, if I hadn’t ducked, I'd've lost my head!"

Cressida rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Garreth, I was there, and all that happened was Professor Sharp yelling at you for using dragon scale dust instead of ash.”

“Details!” Garreth declared, throwing his hands up with mock indignation. “The point is, I survived. A true Gryffindor triumph!”

Evie giggled uncontrollably, leaning heavily against Natty for support as she tried to wipe tears of laughter from her eyes. “I think the real triumph is that you’re still allowed near a cauldron,” she teased, her words slurring slightly.

“Careful, Sterling,” Garreth shot back, wagging a finger at her. “I’ll have you know I’m a visionary. And visionaries are often misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood doesn’t mean competent,” Ominis deadpanned from his spot a little ways back, his tone dry as ever.

The group erupted into laughter, Evie’s cackling the loudest of all. She clutched her sides, practically doubled over, and Garreth pouted dramatically.

Ethan, perched on the edge of the blanket with a drink in hand, leaned forward, his grin mischievous. “Now... if we’re going to keep things interesting, maybe it’s time for something more daring.”

“Like what?” Poppy asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

The other Hufflepuff's grin widened, and he leaned back, spreading his arms in mock grandeur. “Body shots!”

The group fell silent for a beat, and then Garreth let out a whoop of laughter. “Ethan, you mad genius,” he said, slapping the other boy on the back. “I knew you were good for something.”

“Merlin’s beard!” Natty exclaimed, smacking Garreth's arm. “Have you lost all sense of decorum?”

“Decorum?” Leander repeated, laughing. “It’s an end-of-year celebration, Natty! Where’s your sense of fun?”

“Somewhere that doesn’t involve whiskey and licking people,” she shot back, but her tone was more amused than offended.

“Body shots,” Evie repeated, the words coming out slow and deliberate as though she was turning them over in her drunken mind. Her brow furrowed, and then she gasped with delight. “Like with the salt and lime and everything?”

Ominis paled. “Evie, no. Absolutely not.”

“Evie, yes!” Garreth declared, grabbing her hand and spinning her in place. “Come on, let’s show Ominis how fun works!”

“No, no, no—” Ominis started, fumbling for her other hand before shouting, “Garreth, stop manhandling her—” as the redhead hoisted Evie over his shoulder.

“You’re coming too, Gaunt,” Garreth teased, “A party’s not a party without your charming wit.”

“I’ll hex you,” Ominis growled, but his threat was cut short as Garreth moved ahead, unable to hear him among the group's laughter.

Sebastian, watching from across the yard, sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was spiraling faster than he’d anticipated, and the sight of Garreth spinning Evie around like a victorious Quidditch trophy was doing absolutely nothing to ease the frustration boiling in his chest.

“Are you going to do something, or just glower all night?” Violet asked, sidling up beside him with a teasing grin.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened as he muttered, “She’s fine.”

“Sure she is,” Violet said, her grin widening. “But you’re not.”

“Evie!” Ominis’s voice cut through the chaos, his exasperation palpable. “I’m serious—don’t you dare—”

But Evangeline Sterling was not listening.

Her cheeks were flushed with a mix of alcohol and laughter, and her eyes sparkled with the kind of reckless abandon that only came with too many drinks and too much encouragement. She grinned as Ethan placed a shot glass in her hand and presented her with a lime wedge like it was some grand prize.

“Alright, alright,” Evie said, holding up the glass like she was about to deliver a toast. “How does this work?”

Ethan grinned broadly, tossing an arm around Evie’s shoulder as if they were partners in some grand conspiracy. “It’s simple. First, someone offers up their belly button as the vessel for the shot.”

Across the yard, Sebastian froze, his drink halfway to his lips as Ethan's words hit him. This wasn’t just another round of drunken whiskey pong like he'd assumed. This was something else entirely—and the idea of Evie participating made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

Meanwhile, Evie's eyes widened, and she burst into laughter. “Their belly button?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Garreth, now joining in on the explanation, replied with mock seriousness as if he’d just revealed some great secret. “A noble tradition, steeped in the ancient rites of drunken debauchery..." Garreth studied the crowd, eyes narrowed until they landed on Ethan.

“And it's only right,” Garreth crowed. “That Ethan go first!"

“Absolutely not,” Ethan protested, his face turning a vivid shade of red as he glanced nervously at Evie, who was still clutching her sides with laughter. “I wasn’t serious!”

“Oh, but we are,” Garreth shot back, his grin widening as the rest of the group cheered and hollered in approval.

Ominis stood stiffly near the edge of the gathering as his frustration visibly mounted. His pale gaze flickered toward Sebastian, who had been observing the chaos with a stormy expression. For a moment, their eyes met, an unspoken agreement passing between them: this needed to stop.

Sebastian set down his drink, ready to intervene, but before either he or Ominis them could act, a voice cut through the commotion.

“Oi!” someone called from the shadows near the edge of the yard. “Who’s up for a swim? Let’s make it a proper party—skinny dipping at the pond!”

The group erupted in a mixture of laughter and gasps, the attention shifting immediately from Ethan to this new, far more reckless suggestion.

“Now that’s an idea!” Garreth declared, throwing his hands into the air. “Who’s coming?”

“I am!” Evie’s voice chimed in, determined despite her obvious intoxication.

“Evie, no!” Ominis’s voice was sharp as he stepped forward, his wand pointed toward her as though he might use it to physically tether her in place. “Absolutely not.”

“Evie, yes!” she shot back, already moving to follow the crowd. “I’ll be fine,” she said, waving him off with a grin.

Sebastian muttered a curse under his breath and moved to follow, but Ominis was way ahead of him, his strides carrying him quickly after her. “Evangeline Sterling, you are not doing this,” he snapped, his usually composed tone fraying at the edges as he tried to keep pace with her, but she was already weaving her through the crowd, her laughter drifting back to him on the wind.

The pond lay at the edge of the property, its surface shimmering faintly under the moonlight. By the time Ominis caught up, Evie was standing near the water’s edge, giggling as someone dared her to jump in. She hesitated for a moment, then reached for the hem of her dress, lifting it slightly as if to pull it over her head.

“Evie!” Ominis’s voice cracked sharply, cutting through the buzz of laughter and cheers from the group. He was nearly breathless from keeping up with her but straightened as he approached, reaching out to grab her wrist. “Put. Your. Dress. Down.”

Evie paused, blinking at him with wide, glassy eyes, the fabric still bunched in her fists. “What’s the problem, Ominis?” she slurred, swaying slightly.

“The problem, Evangeline,” Ominis said sharply, still holding her wrist with a firm but careful grip, “is that you’re about two seconds away from creating the kind of memory that lives on in school lore forever—and not in a good way.”

Evie blinked up at him, her wide, glassy eyes narrowing in confusion before she broke into a tipsy laugh. “It’s just a swim, Ominis!”

“Just a swim?” Ominis echoed, his brows lifting in incredulous disbelief. “Evie, you’re about to strip in front of half our classmates. That’s a crisis in the making, and if that’s your idea of innocent fun, then Merlin help us all.”

Around them, students were still stripping down and wading into the water, their laughter ringing out across the pond. Garreth, clearly thrilled by the chaos, raised his drink from where he’d waded into the pond and called out, “Sterling, you’re a legend! Don’t let him ruin the fun!”

But before Evangeline could even respond, Sebastian approached from the shadows, his broad shoulders illuminated by the flickering firelight behind him. His scowl was unmistakable, sharp and cutting as his eyes darted between Evangeline and the crowd in the pond.

“Alright,” he interjected, “That’s enough.”

Evie turned, her face lighting up in a mix of recognition and drunken rebellion. “Sebastian!” she exclaimed, abandoning her dress mid-tug and stumbling toward him. “You’re here! I thought you’d disappeared!”

Sebastian stepped forward just in time to steady her, catching her arm before she could trip over a root. Her face was flushed and her wide, delighted grin made his earlier irritation falter. She clung to him like he was a lifeline, her fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve as if she hadn’t seen him in weeks.

“Of course I’m here,” he muttered, his voice softer than he intended as his hands instinctively settled on her waist to keep her upright. “Someone has to stop you from getting yourself killed—or worse.”

Evie swayed slightly in his grip, looking up at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “You’re such a killjoy, Sebastian,” she teased, her words slurring just enough to make him huff a quiet laugh. “You and Ominis. Ruining my fun.”

“Yes, we’re absolute tyrants,” Sebastian said dryly, though his words lacked any sharpness. It was impossible to stay annoyed with her when she looked at him like that—like he was the best part of her night. “Terrible, fun-hating monsters here to save you from your own drunken chaos.”

“Dreadful,” Ominis added from her other side, his tone deadpan. “We should be ashamed of ourselves.”

Sebastian tightened his hold as Evie laughed, her head tilting back as if the situation was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. The sound was unrestrained, warm, and far too infectious for his liking.

“You’re both the worst,” she said with a dramatic pout, though her grin quickly returned as she leaned heavily against Sebastian, resting her forehead briefly against his shoulder. “But I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you.”

He froze, his breath catching in his throat. It was a simple, drunken admission, but it tugged at something deep inside him. He cleared his throat, forcing a smirk to mask the sudden warmth spreading through his chest. “I've been around all night, Evie.”

“Nope,” she insisted, pulling back to look at him, her lips forming a playful pout. “Not properly. And now you’re here.” Her hands tightened on his shirt, as if to prove her point. “Right here.”

Sebastian froze for a moment, caught completely off guard by the way Evie nestled against him. Her forehead pressed into his shoulder, and her warm breath ghosted through the thin fabric of his shirt, sending an unsteady jolt down his spine. His usual quick wit faltered, leaving him standing there like a statue while Ominis snickered quietly beside him.

“Comfortable, Sterling?” Ominis asked, raising an eyebrow.

Evie shifted, her cheek brushing against the curve of Sebastian's shoulder. “Mmhmm,” she hummed, her voice sleepy now. “Warm... safe.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened, a mix of pride and something deeper swelling in him. Merlin, she had no idea what she was doing to him, did she?

“You’re insufferable when you’re drunk, you know that?” he said softly.

“You’re insufferable all the time,” she countered, lifting her head just enough to glare up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes.

Sebastian chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, and shook his head. “Fair enough.”

Ominis let out a long-suffering sigh. “If you two are done flirting—”

“We’re not flirting,” they said in unison, though the protest sounded far too rehearsed to be convincing.

“Of course not,” Ominis replied with a smirk. “Now, can we please get her sitting down before she passes out on the spot?”

“Good idea,” Sebastian muttered, guiding Evie toward one of the empty blankets near the bonfire. The warmth of the flames was a welcome contrast to the cool night air, and Evie’s shivers began to subside as soon as they settled her down.

She leaned back against Sebastian as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her head resting against his shoulder. His arm automatically curled around her, holding her steady.

“Here,” Ominis said, kneeling beside them and offering her a flask of water. “Drink this. Slowly.”

Evie blinked at the flask like it was some foreign object, then took it with both hands, her fingers brushing Ominis’s briefly. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice quieter now.

As she drank, Ominis leaned closer to Sebastian, his voice low enough that Evie wouldn’t hear. “She’ll be fine, but you might not survive this.”

Sebastian gave him a sharp look, his jaw tightening. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ominis smirked, tilting his head as if to say, You know exactly what it means.

“Just keep her out of the pond,” Ominis said simply, straightening up and brushing his hands against his robes. “I’m going to find Natty. Between the two of us we should be able to make sure nobody drowns.”

Sebastian nodded absently, his focus already back on Evie, who had tilted her head to look up at him again. “Are you leaving?” she asked Ominis, her voice faintly disappointed.

“Just for a bit,” he replied with a rare smile. “You’re in... capable hands.”

As Ominis disappeared into the crowd, Evie turned her gaze back to Sebastian, her brows knitting together slightly. “You’re not going to let me go swimming, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he said firmly, though his smirk softened into something almost affectionate. “You’re stuck with me.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile, and she shifted closer, resting her head against his chest. “Good,” she murmured, her words barely audible over the crackling of the fire.

Sebastian swallowed hard, his heart pounding against his ribs as he stared down at her. For once, he didn’t have a clever comeback. Instead, he let his chin rest lightly atop her head, closing his eyes briefly as the firelight danced around them.

~

Evangeline woke slowly, her head pounding with every thud of her heartbeat. A faint groan escaped her lips as she shifted, burying her face into the pillow. It smelled faintly of cedar and something else—something warm and comforting, though she couldn’t place it through the haze of her hangover.

Where am I?

The question floated through her mind as she blinked against the sunlight streaming through the window. The room was small but cozy, with small nightstand and sheer, lacy curtains.

Feldcroft. My bedroom in Feldcroft.

Evie sat up too quickly, immediately regretting it as a sharp pain shot through her skull. She groaned again, clutching her head and squeezing her eyes shut. The pounding in her temples was relentless, each throb a cruel reminder of the drinks she’d downed the night before.

What happened? How did I get here?

Fragments of the party drifted back to her in disjointed pieces—the bonfire, Garreth’s antics, the ridiculous feathered hat, the pond… Sebastian.

Sebastian.

Her cheeks warmed as blurry memories surfaced: his arm around her, the way he’d steadied her when she swayed, the tender way he’d kept her from making a fool of herself. For a fleeting moment, the thought brought a strange comfort. Then, faint voices from outside the room shattered the quiet, pulling her back to reality.

“—reckless, Sebastian,” Ominis said sharply, his voice tinged with anger. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” Sebastian replied, his voice quieter, heavy with guilt. “I know I screwed up.”

“You left her there alone!” Ominis snapped, cutting him off. “Anything could have happened to her. And then you went and—”

“I know!” Sebastian interrupted, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You don’t think I feel terrible about it?”

“Terrible doesn’t undo it, does it? She trusted you, and you went off to—Merlin, Sebastian! You snogged a fifth-year Gryffindor in front of everyone after she passed out!”

“Keep it down. She doesn’t need to wake up to us fighting,” Sebastian muttered.

“She’ll wake up to more than this,” Ominis snapped. “The whole party saw. You think people won’t talk?"

The words slammed into her, each syllable cutting deeper than the last. Her fingers tightened in the bedsheets as her memories sharpened, replaying every moment of the previous night—the way he’d teased her, steadied her, looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“If you must know, I’ve been trying to figure out how to convince you to fall madly in love with me before the year’s out.”

It had felt real. For a fleeting, hazy moment, she’d let herself believe that maybe there was something more to his words, that maybe the possessiveness in his gaze wasn’t just Sebastian being Sebastian but something deeper.

But of course, as she’d always suspected deep down, it had never meant anything.

Her face burned with humiliation, her stomach churning as the ache in her chest deepened. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears away. What had she expected?

The voices outside the room continued, muffled but distinct enough for her to piece together their conversation.

“You’re going to have to face her,” Ominis said sharply. “You can’t just act like nothing happened.”

“I don’t even know what to say," Sebastian replied, his voice heavy with frustration.

“You might want to start with an apology,” Ominis snapped. “For once in your life, stop thinking about yourself and consider how she feels.”

Sebastian’s silence was deafening, and Evie’s chest tightened further. She didn’t want to hear more. She didn’t want to know how he’d justify it, how he’d downplay it, how he’d twist the truth to make it seem like less than it was.

“You don’t care," she told herself, forcing the words into her mind like a shield. "You don’t care.”

But the sting in her chest, the way her hands trembled as she gripped the bedpost, betrayed her.

He'd left her there, alone by the fire, vulnerable and unconscious, like a discarded afterthought. Something could have happened to her. Anything. And yet, he hadn’t stayed. He hadn’t cared enough to ensure she was safe.

Her mind spiraled, replaying the moment over and over: the warmth of his arm around her, the steadying presence she’d trusted implicitly. How easily he’d abandoned her, slipping away to find someone else—to kiss someone else. The ache in her chest deepened, an unbearable weight pressing against her ribs. It wasn’t just the kiss, though the thought of it burned hot and sharp. It was the carelessness of it all, the way he’d left her behind as if she didn’t matter.

With a deep breath, she stood and smoothed the fabric of her dress. Her legs wobbled slightly, and the room swayed for a moment as the hangover reminded her of its presence. But she steadied herself, squaring her shoulders as she reached for the door.

She didn’t know what she’d say when she saw him. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. But she couldn’t hide in here.

As she opened the door and stepped into the hallway, the voices stopped abruptly. Both boys turned to look at her—Ominis with a flicker of concern, Sebastian with guilt. For a moment, the weight of their gazes made her hesitate, but she quickly pushed it aside, holding her head high.

“Evie—” Sebastian started, his voice soft, almost pleading.

“Don’t,” she said sharply, her voice more brittle than she’d intended. Her gaze locked on his, her jaw tightening as she took a step forward. “Just don’t.”

Sebastian’s mouth opened, then closed it, his expression crumbling.

“I need some air,” she said, cutting him off before he could say anything. Her voice wavered slightly, but she forced herself to keep it steady. “Don’t follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, she brushed past them, her footsteps brisk as she headed for the door. The sunlight outside was blinding, and the warm summer air hit her like a wall, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Not until she was far enough away to breathe again.

He was never yours, she reminded herself as she walked, her hands shaking at her sides. And he never will be.

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[wanderingelvis]

Sparkly Little Thing ✨🧚🏻 | A Yandere!Elvis fic

Summary: Reader isn't dumb per se, she's just sweet but she's also the latest signing on Elvis' label. Elvis just wants to protect her, and make sure that she won't fall into the same traps that he did during the earlier years of his career - even if that means taking advantage of her.

Pairings: Late 60s/Early 70s!Elvis x Naive F!Reader

🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻 Warnings: Soft Yandere themes, emotional manipulation, parental abuse, potential headspace regression - if I've missed out any, please send me a message, I'll update accordingly.

Tomorrow would be your first day as the latest signing to RCA and your whole life had turned upside down. You'd come from a pokey little town, out in the country, far, far away from the dazzling lights and hustle of Los Angeles.

You grew up in a modest, converted barn with your mother, where you both got by with the basics. You were perfectly content with the basics, you liked the basics - the little lawn that backed onto the barn and the chickens you both kept, the porch that you'd sit on to read your books in the daytime, and watch stars during the nighttime. 

 Your mother had always wanted more though, more money, more notoriety and more everything - and you were her ticket to that. She'd dragged you to auditions throughout your childhood, neglecting your education and your personal development to prioritise photoshoots for television advertorials or small background roles in a television show. Naturally, you never saw a dime, but why would you when you were a child? But the money that your mother promised to set aside for you as you grew up, would still never appear. 

Still, you'd hit the jackpot after wowing executives from RCA after a rendition of 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' from The Wizard of Oz, a movie that you'd actually never, even seen. Your mother sat there, her smile was wide and her eyes were filled with dollar signs, as the executives told you that you'd be doing some backing singing for some other artists as you would be trained to grow into their latest sparkly little thing, producing your own records and performing small shows.

You never wanted to be famous - in fact, you were perfectly content with just sitting in your front lawn with your books and cats, contently watching life go by without anyone knowing your name. Obviously, you were feeling a little nervous about the whole thing. Actually, you were feeling very nervous.

You had a friend from home who was an integral part of the label. Peggy worked on the sound systems and was a little bit older than you were. She'd come from the same small town as you, in fact, she'd grown up just down the same street as you. She was almost like a big sister to you really, she'd always been protective of you and loved you dearly. Your mother knew that too, and Peggy was the reason you'd even bagged an audition.

Your mother had written to her, practically begging her to talk to her boss, which Peggy was happy to do as she knew you were a talented girl. In fact, it was Peggy that took you to your first ever grown up party, one that one of the label executives was hosting at their large villa.

"It's okay, Y/N. You look adorable! Stop your frettin', will ya?" Peggy laughed, batting her hand at you, who was just trying to smooth out any creases and crinkles in your dress. You frowned. You felt like you looked silly, you loved your outfit but you were worried about wearing it to a real grown up party, full of movie stars and singers that you admired and you felt like you were going to stick out like a sore thumb.

The party was bustling, the smell of spilled champagne and cigar smoke consumed the rooms and it was all a little loud for you, but you loved it. You were in awe of it all, the curious little thing that you were.

You and Peggy mingled with the other guests for a while, well, actually Peggy chatted away to the fancy looking people whilst you smiled nervously, not saying a word whilst looking down a double and triple checking your dress looked okay.

"Honey, c'mere. I need'ta go in the drinks room with my friend Tommy, 'kay? I need ya to stand guard for me? Not let anyone in? Can you do that for me honey?" Peggy asked you. She didn't want you to wander off into the sordid party, but she could equally use someone to just make sure her time with the cameraman wasn't to be interrupted. 

"Sure can Peggy! I'll make sure no-one comes in! Promise!" You said eagerly, nodding along with her. She smiled at you, squeezing the top of your arm before taking Tommy's hand and he lead them into the drinks room, giggling. 

 You quietly stood by the door that was tucked away a little. You could see a long corridor near a stairwell and lots of passersby. You saw some people you'd seen from your audition and tours around the label, but you didn't run to say hello, even if you'd liked to. No, you had a very important job and that was to make sure Peggy was going to have a nice and uninterrupted time with her friend Tommy. 

 You looked down at your shoes, furrowing your brows when you noticed that they were a little scuffed and more worse for wear than you'd like. You were at a big Hollywood party for goodness sake and here you were with shoes that were nearly falling apart.

You - well, your mother - hadn't been paid yet so you weren't exactly in a position to be buying new, shiny, things even if you'd like them. You frowned and chewed your lips as you looked down on the shoes, trying to work out how you could neaten them up so they'd look a little more presentable. As your mind was busy focusing on your shoes, you were snapped out of your thoughts by a deep voice and two large shadows appearing to loom over you.

"Move out of the way, hon." A short, clearly agitated man, said to you. "No, no! You can't go in there!" You said, trying quickly to get between the door and the two men - particularly the shorter one at the front.

"Get outta the way, kid. Elvis can do whatever he wants." The short, little man grunted as the two stood tall over you. The man, who you quickly realised was perhaps the most famous man on the planet right now, and definitely the most important person on the label, was the Elvis Presley.

Elvis stayed silent, grinning smugly, down at you, who he thought was awful cute.

"Nuh-uh! My best friend, Peggy, she's in there! She said no-one can go I and I gotta keep guard for her so you can't go in, even if you are Mr Presley! I'm real sorry, I-I just made a promise." You stammered, not exactly making eye contact. You felt extremely nervous and cornered.

The smaller man, practically seethed at your words. "Look here kid, I don't give a damn if you've made a promise, we're going in, now move!" He said, forcefully grabbing your arm in a tight grip, making you yelp and stumble over your own two feet at the jolt, falling forward directly into Elvis Presley's chest.

"Goddamnit Billy, you hurt the little lady. Get outta here, go find me another cigar, goddammit." Elvis growled, wrapped his arms around you, whilst you tried to find your feet, your cheeks scarlet red with embarrassment at the scene. "You okay there, little one? Sorry about Billy, he gets it into his head that he's more important than he actually is. Are you hurt, sweet thing?" Elvis asked softly, once Billy had turned a corner.

"Um -" You stuttered. "I'm real sorry. I should've let you in." You said quietly, your eyes glossy.

"What the fuck is going on out here?" Peggy snapped, as the door flung wide open as did her eyes when they landed on the Elvis Presley rubbing circles on your back - a sight that she never thought she'd see. "Jeez Louise." She sighed.

She and Elvis knew each other, Peggy often fixed sound problems for a lot of Elvis' recordings and they got on well. However, Peggy knew, just like everyone who'd been around at RCA for long enough, that no-one would dare to mess with Elvis. Elvis could be the most charming, charismatic man in the room, and he always was, but everyone knew that he got what he wanted and he would do anything to get it - and he could be scary.

"Oh hey Pegs. Your friend here was determined to let you to your privacy and Billy got a bit... well... he got a bit like Billy, didn't he?" Elvis chuckled with a slightly fed up tone in his voice.

"You okay, flower?" Peggy asked you in a softer tone.

"Uh-huh, was just bein' stupid." You muttered, suddenly shy at the attention that Peggy and Elvis were giving you.

"No honey, you were just doin' what I asked, I shouldn't have put you in that position. What about me and you go get a drink?" Peggy suggested.

Elvis watched as Peggy looked back at whichever fella she had been schmoozing with, he knew that she'd been having a good time and that her cute, little friend could sure give him a good time too.

"Pegs, you go and have your fun, I'll get this little lady a drink." Elvis said.

"No, I'm sure you're real busy anyway Elvis, besides, I told her Momma I'd keep an eye on her." Peggy said.

"It really ain't a problem, Matty has been chasin' me like one of 'em rabid dogs trying to get me to sing for everyone so he can boast to all his friends that he had me do it at his party." Elvis said. It was true, but Elvis also just wanted to get to know you better. "Now, I'll get her a drink, and you can get back to that fella of yours." Elvis chuckled. He'd always liked Peggy.

"Non-alcoholic." Peggy warned Elvis firmly, who nodded.

Elvis extended his hand for you to take. You glanced at it and looked up at Elvis, who just laughed a little at you. "Ain't gonna bite you, honey." He insisted with a smile.

And in that moment, you decided to trust him.

Elvis took you upstairs, where it was a little less crowded and little more quiet. Elvis spotted you as soon as you walked in with Peggy, he'd kept an eye on you and it wasn't until Peggy had finally left you alone that Elvis decided it'd be the perfect time for him and Billy to head over to you, all under the guise of wanting a drink - that's what he'd told Billy.

He'd noticed you jump a little every time a bottle of champagne was popped, or someone hollered a little louder than usual. You were a skittish little thing. He'd also noticed how you were relentless in trying to smooth out the pleats on your pretty dress and how it was so obvious that you kept comparing your dress to all the other women that were at the party. As Elvis watched you from the other side of the room earlier, he'd noticed that you were growing increasingly insecure at your appearance at the party.

But it was understandable, you looked more conservative than the rest - you looked virginal and Elvis could tell from a mile away. You didn't exactly look like a woman, you looked like a girl, like a little deer in headlights and completely out of place, even if you so desperately wanted to be there and fulfil your mother's dreams. 

Elvis had observed how you'd picked up one some snickering from other women at the party at your appearance, making you feel shy and embarrassed. You really did like your dress, you thought it was so pretty but you realised it wasn't exactly the right thing to wear to a record label party and the feeling made you very self-conscious.

 Elvis lead you to a quieter bar and you watched as he greeted and joked around with the barman, it was like he knew everyone at this party. He radiated an almost scary energy as you watched him, he had more charisma in a single hair on his head than most people you'd met had in their whole body. You could see why he was considered the King of Rock 'n' Roll.

"I'll take a Gin Rickey and a fruit punch for the little lady, hold the alcohol." Elvis said cooly before continuing to talk to the barman about a previous party they must've been at. 

"One Gin Rickey and a Virgin fruit punch, comin' right up." The barman said, getting to work on making your drinks.

You stayed quiet by Elvis' side, feeling incredibly small and insignificant next to him, but the feelings were intertwined with those of comfort, no-one would give you any nasty looks for your dress if you were stood by Elvis, no-one would be looking at you if he was there, and you didn't mind that.

You were brought out out of your thoughts by cold glasses slamming on the wooden bar, one being placed directly in front of you. Your eyes widened at the drink, you'd never had a drink like this, it looked beautiful. 

"Wow..." You whispered quietly to yourself, your doe eyes trained on the tall glass that had a cherry in it along with a slice of pineapple and had different colours layered in the drink.

"Impressive, ain't it?" Elvis chuckled, sipping his drink. You fluttered your eyes up to him, giving him a bashful smile, still a bit confused at why Elvis was so attentive to you. You quietly nodded in agreement, offering Elvis a shy smile. "How about we go somewhere a little quieter, doll?" Elvis suggested, placing his large hand on the small of your back, guiding you to a large, unoccupied couch in a quiet corner.

Elvis consumed the couch, dominating all the space around him to the point that he was intimidating yet inviting. He placed and arm on the back of the furniture, allowing space for you to sit by him.

You were nervous, naturally, this was the biggest star on the lot, and if your mother knew you were sat beside the Elvis Presley, she could quite possibly faint. Your heart rate picked up a little, knowing that even though your mother wasn't here, there was an unbearable mountain of pressure on your little shoulders to impress him.

But you didn't need to feel any pressure because Elvis was already obsessed with you.

You perched on the edge of the couch, holding your ice cold drink with both hands, the cool droplets making your hands wet but you didn't really know what else to do. Elvis could see that you were tense and nervous, but he didn't need to rush you, he could play the long game.

"That's a pretty lil' dress you got, ain't it sweetheart?" Elvis observed and your brows furrowed. You liked the dress a lot - it was the only one you had, but Elvis was Elvis, your tatty little dress was hardly impressive. But, Elvis was the first and only person to give you a compliment all night on the outfit that you'd really tried hard with, and that meant something to you.

"Really? You like it?" You said softly, your fingers delicately tracing the hemline of the skirt, being carefully not to cause and creases or mess up the pleats.

"Mhmm." Elvis hummed, leaned all the way back on the sofa as opposed to you, who was practically hanging off the edge of the front of the couch. He could only see the side of your face and you couldn't see his at all, unless you moved your whole body, but you were too scared to face him just yet.

"It's my only party dress." You told him quietly, your eyes still trained on the skirt, though you could feel Elvis' eyes trained on you. "Well, um, it's not really like the other dresses at this party." You said, your insecurity and innocence shining through.

"You're right, it ain't, it's prettier." Elvis commented, knowing the remark would draw you to him.

In some kind of twisted way, he didn't mind that other women at the party had snickered at your outfit. Elvis knew the little babydoll dress would make you look inexperienced and not fit in with the crowd, but he still thought you were the most angelic little thing he'd seen at any of these parties. Had other people at the party actually have been nicer to you, maybe you wouldn't have stayed so close to Elvis' side. Elvis revelled in the fact that you were feeling down, so that he could be the one to bring you back up again.

You turned your head to look behind you, staring at him to check if he was being serious, and oh boy he was. You blushed and chewed a little on your lip, taking in the words.

He was kinder than you thought he would be. You'd heard lots about Elvis Presley, but here he was, practically babysitting you for Peggy when he could be anywhere with anyone.

You were a bubbly, outgoing little thing who loved making friends but Elvis sure did you make you nervous. It wasn't just his status as the King of Rock 'n' Roll but his whole demeanour exuded a dominance and power that was overwhelming, causing you to be a little more shy and reserved than you normally would be - even if you did desperately want to be his friend, he'd been nicer to you than anyone else at the party.

Naturally, it wasn't the first time that Elvis had made a girl go all quiet and shy but it was a rare occasion. Anyone would've thought that many girls would become shy and intimidated by him but in reality, most of the women he met were adoring fans and women at the label that knew they had one chance with him so would throw themselves at him.

"So you're Peggy's friend huh? Or little sister?" Elvis asked.

"Oh, um, no Peggy's not my sister but I always used to wish she was, and um, I guess she is sorta like a big sister! We're friends, she used to live on the same street as me and Momma and we grew up together, she's kinda like my best friend 'spose." You told Elvis fondly, you absolutely idolized and adored Peggy. "She's real cool," You giggled angelically, making Elvis' heart rate pick up at the sound.

"You here visitin' her then, doll?" Elvis asked as he watched you shake your head with a soft giggle as you revealed to him that you were the latest signing to RCA.

You began to slowly open up to Elvis, babbling on about how you were actually very nervous about being at RCA and all you wanted to do was make your Momma proud, and Peggy too. Elvis nodded along, humming at the appropriate times to show he was listening as you answered all of his many questions. 

The minutes turned into hours and you began to feel totally comfortable in Elvis' presence, he still intimidated you, there was no denying that, but equally, he was making every effort to make you feel relaxed and to make you trust him.

Eventually, Peggy found the pair of you, you were now sat much closer to Elvis, curled up on the big couch with your fifth drink.

"There you are flower! Havin' a good time?" Peggy beamed.

"Oh yes! Look at my drink! It's a fruit punch without alcohol, what was that word, um, the word that the barman called it?" You asked Elvis, looking for his help.

"Virgin, honey." Elvis said cooly.

"And it was so good Peggy! D'ya wanna try?!" 

"No honey, we gotta get you home! You got your first proper day tomorrow!" Peggy said.

A little yawn escaped your lips, the sleepiness and exhaustion from the overstimulating party taking over your small body. Elvis and Peggy both watched fondly as you rubbed your eyes with your balled up fists, making the mascara that Peggy had applied for you smudge ever so slightly.

"Now, I think it's definitely time to go home and into bed, flower." Peggy smiled, smoothing out a stray strand of hair of yours.

A pout formed on your plump lips at the words, you'd been having such a fun time with Elvis, you really didn't want it to end. "Oh Peggy, Elvis was gonna tell me about his first day at RCA and I really wanted t'hear it, can we stay for the story? Please?" You said with those bush baby eyes that anyone would find it near impossible to refuse, but Peggy managed.

"Not tonight, hon, you know I made a promise to ya Momma to have you back home before 1am." Peggy smiled.

"I know." You mumbled in defeat with a hint of sadness, you knew Peggy as just doing her best by you even if you did want to stay and spend all night talking to your new found friend, Elvis. 

"Pegs is right darlin', you don't wanna be all sleepy and yawnin' on ya first day, do ya baby?" Elvis chided, leaning over to comfort you by rubbing gentle circles on your back, which just made you feel all the more drowsy.

"Nuh-uh," You agreed cutely.

"Say goodnight and goodbye to Elvis, Y/N." Peggy instructed as you and Elvis rose from the couch.

You didn't really hesitate in wrapping your arms around Elvis' torso as he towered over you, the height difference appearing to be quite noticeable. You usually wouldn't be so forward as to hug somebody that you'd only met a couple of hours ago but there was something inviting and comforting about Elvis that you craved. 

Elvis reciprocated your hug, cuddling a little and chuckling at your sweet action. 

"Am I gonna see you again?" You asked nervously, blushing vulnerably.

"'Course baby, you're comin' t'see my studio and trailer remember?" Elvis said, reminding you of one of the interactions in your long conversation with the man where he offered to show you a tour of his recording studio and his trailer that you eagerly accepted without much hesitation.

 Peggy watched the interaction between you, her little childhood friend and the most famous man in the world. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she didn't exactly like what she was witnessing.

"'Kay," You giggled adorably. "Buh-bye Elvis." You said, taking Peggy's outstretched hand. 

"Bye baby." Elvis said fondly, watching as Peggy promptly led you out of the room and away from him, but not before you managed to turn back and wave goodbye to him enthusiastically.

Two things were certain as you left the party: 

1. Your first grown up party had been a success.

2. Elvis was obsessed with you.

🧚

taglist: @prompted-wordsmith @vintagegirl2005 @imaginationlast @presleyenterprise @librafilms @ccab @wolywolymoley @billhaderstan420 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @elvispresleywife @ellie-24 @hollbunn @sassanoe @gothicphantom @eliseinmemphis @astralheart21 @elvisbf @slimerspengler

[ihni]

A moment in the rain

My last fill for @harringrovesummerbingo, square C3, prompt: "Wedding party ruined by a thunderstorm"

5,3K, general audiences, no warnings.

Summary:

Billy and Steve are at a wedding, when there's a sudden downpour. While the other guests scramble to run inside, the boys both decide to escape the rain under the same gazebo.

(On AO3 here)

Fic under the cut:

With about a hundred guests, the whole backyard decked out in flowers and decorations, a band playing live music and enough food to feed twice the number of attendants, it was a surprisingly grandiose wedding for a couple roughly a year out of high school, even if their families happened to be upper middle-class. But if one scratched the surface a little, one could see that there had been attempts at reducing the costs, and perhaps not everything was as fancy as it looked at first glance. The tablecloths were old sheets, the glasses and plates didn’t match from one table to the next, and the flowers – except for the bride’s bouquet and the groom’s boutonniere – were mostly wildflowers and picked locally. Besides this, Steve recognized the wait staff as mostly teens from the neighborhood, and the guitarist in the band was Tommy’s older cousin from Canada. Steve also happened to know that all the food had been prepared in advance by relatives and friends of the bride and groom over the course of the last week or so – he’d actually been a part of it himself, spending an evening a couple of days ago scrubbing thirty pounds of potatoes for the potato salad.

From what Steve could see, the only thing they hadn’t had a hand in preparing themselves was the wedding cake, which hadn’t been rolled out yet but which he had gotten a glimpse of in the kitchen – it was a square two-tier cake the size of a small table that looked like it was more than big enough to feed everyone in attendance. Steve was currently on his second helping of potato salad – seeing as he had helped make it happen, also it was really good – but he made a mental note to leave space for dessert.

The reception was held outdoors, in a huge backyard where Steve had spent countless afternoons when he was younger. In the middle of the lawn and in the center of attention, the newlyweds held court. Tommy looked more proper than Steve had ever seen him in a grey three-piece suit and a powder blue bowtie, and Carol looked like a dessert herself in a dress that had to have had more fabric than all the tablecloths put together. Both of them were radiating happiness, and despite everything, Steve couldn’t help but be happy for them. The three of them may not have been as close as they once were, but they’d made up after graduation, and as all three of them remained in Hawkins instead of leaving town like so many others, they stayed in contact and eventually started tentatively hanging out again. Steve had even helped Tommy pick out the morning gift for Carol – a small gold circlet, a simple band that would go around her wrist. Steve knew Carol, and suspected that she would cry when she got it.

Just like Carol’s dad and Tommy’s mom had cried in the church, during the ceremony. In all fairness, it had been a beautiful ceremony, and even Steve had gotten a bit emotional and had to blink away tears.

Seeing as they were in Hawkins, and considering the fact that both Tommy and Carol had lived in Hawkins their whole lives – just like Steve – Steve knew or recognized just about everyone at the reception. It was kind of nice, actually – like a reunion only a year after graduating. And he found himself thinking that it was a wonder what a year out in the real world could do. People who Steve hadn’t been able to stand at the end of the school year suddenly seemed more grown-up – talking about college or their work, rather than partying – and he had a surprisingly pleasant and only slightly stilted conversation with Debbie, who he’d avoided for a whole school year after a disastrous second date which ended with him throwing up on her shoes.

The less said about that, the better – a sentiment Debbie seemed to share.

All in all, it was a beautiful wedding and Steve was having a good time. He’d brought Robin as his plus one – knowing full well that it wouldn’t exactly stop the rumors that they were dating – but he hadn’t seen her since Heather Holloway whisked her away an hour ago. He didn’t mind, though, as it gave him a chance to catch up with old friends and acquaintances.

There was one more thing that the newlyweds hadn’t skimped out on, and that was the booze. Considering how they both used to party, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that there was a wide assortment of alcoholic beverages to choose from – and even though Steve had stuck to the (cheap) champagne, he was feeling the effects of it, which in retrospect might be why he found everyone he talked to to be more pleasant company than he remembered. Other partygoers did not stick to champagne, though, and people were already getting louder and a tad more disorderly. Steve suspected that at least one fight would break out before the night was over – which was honestly a staple of a good wedding in Hawkins, Indiana. He doubted that the police would be called, though, as Tommy’s uncle worked for the Hawkins Police Department, and he was already one of the loudest people in the crowd.

Eventually, the cake was brought out to the delight of the assembled, and the crowd cleared an empty space on the grass. The band started playing a slower song, and Tommy reached out a hand for Carol, who took it and let herself be led to the improvised dance floor. She had kicked off her shoes so she was barefoot in the grass as they danced their first waltz together as a married couple. The two of them were beaming and only seemed to have eyes for each other. Once more, Steve had to swallow against a lump in his throat and blink away tears as he watched his old friends be so happy together. He hadn’t even known that Tommy knew how to waltz.

A while into the song, Tommy’s parents, followed by Carol’s parents, started dancing too, which signaled that the dancefloor was now free for all. As couples started swaying on the grass – perhaps swaying a little more than planned, due do the uneven surface and the amount of alcohol already consumed – Steve extricated himself from the crowd and walked off to the side of the big yard. From here, right at the tree line, he could see everything clearly. The house, the people; all familiar in a way that made his heart feel warm, like it had been wrapped up in cotton.

The song ended, and everyone applauded. The band started up a new song – a faster one – to the whoops and claps of the crowd, and the dance had just started anew when the sky was lit up by a flash of lightning. The backyard was bathed in a shockingly white light for a fraction of a second, followed by a loud boom which seemed to shake the earth and rattle the windows of the house. People screamed and ducked before realizing that it was only thunder, at which point nervous laughter spread through the crowd instead.

Then the rain started. Up until this point, Steve had barely noticed the way the sky had darkened – had assumed, in the back of his head, that it was because it was getting later – but now he looked up and saw that the reason why it was darker was that the sky was heavy with thick grey clouds. Another flash of lightning struck somewhere close by, and the rain intensified from one second to the next.

Chaos ensued. People dispersed from the yard like cockroaches; men and women both snagged whatever they could off the tables and ran for the house. Carol’s aunts grabbed whoever they could reach and directed them to carry the cake inside to save it while the band scrambled to protect their gear against the rain. Meanwhile, the air was full of the rumbling of thunder and the sound of people shrieking and laughing as they fled the open space of the backyard. And in the middle of it all, alone on the suddenly abandoned lawn, were Tommy and Carol – laughing and kissing in the downpour, still dancing to music no one else could hear and getting their fancy clothing all wet.

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them.

But then it suddenly registered how the rain wet his suit and seeped into the fabric and ruined his carefully arranged hair, and he made a run for it, too. People were still cramming into the house, though, so instead he headed for the old gazebo at the edge of the woods, where he and Tommy had played for hours and hours when they were kids. It was run down nowadays and could use a paint job, but the roof was intact and it would be enough to protect him against the rain.

Just when he ducked in under it, though, someone else came running from the other direction to take refuge under the same roof, and in the flash of another lightning, Steve found himself facing Billy Hargrove, who he up until now had only seen snippets of in the crowd. They both stopped at opposite edges of the gazebo, water dripping from their clothes and hair – although Billy seemed to have gotten off lighter, since he’d come from the cover of the trees.

“Harrington,” Billy said as the thunder rumbled, one side of his mouth tipping up in a leering smile as he shook his head to get the wet tendrils out of his face. “Long time no see.”

It had been a long time, was the thing. Steve hadn’t really seen him since graduation day when Billy had sped out of the parking lot immediately after the ceremony. According to Tommy, he hadn’t gone back to California though, like everyone had expected – no, he’d ended up in Indianapolis, of all places. Steve had been surprised to hear it, since he hadn’t gotten the impression that Billy liked Indiana. But perhaps his dislike had only applied to Hawkins.

“Hargrove,” Steve said cautiously with an acknowledging nod, and watched as Billy’s smile widened. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Nah,” the man said. “I live in Indy now.”

Steve nodded, but didn’t speak as he shook his sleeves to get rid of the excess water droplets, and they fell into silence. It wasn’t really an awkward kind of silence, despite their history, because the rain beating down on the roof was too loud for casual conversation anyway. Steve twirled the glass he was still holding between his fingers, and downed it. He put the empty glass down on the railing and looked out across the yard, considering if it was worth it to cross the yard in this weather.

Everything looked grey in the rain, and the house was barely visible due to the downpour. Tommy and Carol had disappeared, and all that was left on the lawn were the abandoned tables and scattered and overturned plastic chairs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Billy come up next to him, but keeping a respectful distance.

“Nice party,” Billy commented, his voice more audible now when he was closer.

Steve couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but before the rain had hit it had been a nice party, so, “Yes,” he said simply, “it is.”

Billy huffed out a breath. “It suits them. A wedding party as stormy as their relationship.”

It rankled, for some reason, to hear Billy talk about Tommy and Carol like that, even though Steve knew that what he’d said was true. Billy hadn’t known them for more than a couple of years – what did he know? “You think you know them so well?” he couldn’t help saying.

Billy peered at him and then turned to face him. “You think you do?”

Which, as much as he hated to admit it, was fair. Steve had been the one to pull away from Tommy and Carol back in school, while Billy had spent most of senior year at their side. And Steve knew that they were still in contact with Billy, that they’d been visiting him in Indy a couple of times, even. He just didn’t like to be called out on it. But he wasn’t about to argue. The last time he’d argued with Billy, he’d ended up on the floor of the Byers’ house with a concussion. So, “Maybe not,” he said between clenched teeth and a stiff smile. He turned to Billy to say a polite goodbye, planning on making a run for the house after all – that cake had looked good, and he wanted a piece – but the words died on his tongue as it registered that Billy was shirtless under his suit jacket. Not just wearing a shirt that was half-unbuttoned, like he’d expected – no, there was simply no shirt at all.

He stared for a moment too long, because Billy let out a laugh and said, “My eyes are up here, Harrington.”

Face burning, Steve’s eyes snapped up to Billy’s, expecting to see a mean smirk or calculating eyes. Instead, he was met with a smile and eyes glittering with mischief. It made him want to relax and tense up at the same time, not knowing what to expect. “Where’s your shirt?” he blurted out, in a too-obvious attempt at distraction. He had to have been wearing a shirt earlier – Steve doubted that the priest would have let him inside the church if he hadn’t been wearing one.

“Someone spilled wine on it,” Billy replied, still smiling.

“And, what?” Steve said. “Carol just let you walk around with no shirt on at her wedding?”

Billy took a step closer so Steve could hear the purr in his voice as he said in a low voice, “Carol was the one who spilled the wine. Accidentally, of course.” He raised one eyebrow. “She was also the one that pointed out I couldn’t very well walk around with a shirt with a wine stain on it. She basically begged me to take it off. And who am I to argue with the bride on her wedding day?”

Of course. Steve wasn’t even surprised, Carol had always had a wandering eye – and even Steve had to admit that Billy was nice to look at. “And Tommy was okay with that?”

“Tommy had no complaints,” Billy said, voice low and rumbling like the thunder overhead.  “I caught him staring, too. Kinda like you, just now.”

The reminder brought a flush to Steve’s face, and he took a step back. Desperate to change the subject, he grasped for something, anything to ask.

“What were you doing in the woods?” was what he came up with.

Billy leaned back so he was half-sitting, half-leaning on the wooden railing, comfortable as you will while giving Steve his space. “Had to take a piss.”

“In the woods?” Steve asked, struggling to regain his composure after Billy had knocked him off-balance by getting so close and being so … shirtless and sultry. “Classy as always, Hargrove.”

“Have you seen the queue to the bathroom?” Billy cackled. “It was the woods, or piss my pants. And then I’d been without a shirt and pants, and then the horny little newlyweds would probably have ravaged me right there on the lawn.”

Pointedly not thinking about Billy out of his pants, Steve snorted. “You wish.”

Billy made a so-so motion and shrugged. “I mean, none of them would be my first pick, but it’d be rude to ruin their big day by refusing …”

Steve clenched his teeth. He knew he was being baited, knew he shouldn’t ask. He really shouldn’t ask.

“Who’d be your first pick, then?”

Fuck.

Billy’s eyes were sparkling with delight at Steve playing along with whatever game this was, and he flicked his eyes down Steve’s body, making sure to take his time as he dragged it up again. When he met Steve’s eyes, looking at him under his lashes, he bit his bottom lip and said, “Wouldn’t you like to know, pretty boy?”

Steve had to work to get enough spit in his mouth to swallow. Billy just stayed there, leaning back, watching. Waiting. His suit jacket was open, showing off his chest, still damp from the rain – or was it sweat? His eyes were hooded and his hair fell in messy curls over his shoulders, longer than they’d been when Steve last saw him. Steve wanted to grab a handful and pull, which was an insane urge that would probably get him killed if he gave in to it. Billy oozed danger; like a tiger in tall grass, waiting for its prey to get close enough to go for the kill. But it was a decidedly different kind of danger than he’d exuded back in high school. Back then, the end result would have been a beating. Now?

Steve was startled to realize that he kind of wanted to find out.

But playing along just to see where this would lead would be stupid, and dangerous, and Steve had had enough of being stupid and running into danger to last him for a lifetime. He much preferred to face the threat head on. Which was why he straightened up and stood with both feet steady on the ground as he asked, “Okay, what is this?”

It seemed to throw Billy off, but only for a moment. His smile faltered, but was quick to reappear. “What is what?”

“This,” Steve said, motioning between the two of them. “What are you trying to … What are you saying, exactly? What is this? Are you flirting with me?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Doubt made him impatient, and he was a second away from stomping his foot like toddler. Swallowing against sudden bile, he huffed, “Cut the crap, Hargrove. We both know you hated me in school, so what the fuck are you –“

“What? I never hated you,” Billy interrupted, looking honestly surprised.

Which just added to Steve’s ire. “What do you mean? Of course you did! You were a right asshole, you were on my case all the time, wouldn’t leave me alone at practice or in the hallways. You beat me up!”

That elicited a reaction. Billy pushed off the railing and mirrored Steve’s posture, feet planted and arms at his side. Not threatening yet, but ready for a brawl. “Okay, first of all, you lied to me about my sister’s whereabouts after she’d gone missing, when I finally found her in that weird house in the woods with you and a bunch of boys. That was super sketchy, and I won’t apologize for what I did, back then. You deserved that.” Steve took a breath – to say what, he didn’t know – but Billy continued before he could speak. “As for the rest of it …” He shrugged and turned his head so he was looking out over the lawn. Another flash lit up the world, and for that bright white second, he looked uncertain. When the rumble of thunder followed, it almost drowned out his voice. “I liked you.”

Sure he’d misheard, Steve blinked and shook his head slightly as if to clear it. “I’m sorry, what?”

Billy took a deep breath, and pulled on the mask of confidence like someone else would pull on a jacket; he straightened his shoulders and turned back to Steve with a cocky smile that was too wide to be real. “I used to crush real hard on you, man. Guess I didn’t handle it very well.”

He was pulling Steve’s leg – it had to be a joke.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not, actually.”

“But you slept with like, half the girls at school!”

“So?”

Frustrating! Billy was so frustrating. Was he seriously standing here, telling him he used to have a crush on Steve, and that that was why he was such an asshole in school?

“I don’t believe you,” Steve all but spat.

Shrugging, again with just a little too much flair to be real, Billy took a breath and turned away, as if to leave. “Believe what you want, then. I’m out of here. Have a nice life.”

Steve’s hand shot out before he could think it through, grabbing Billy by the arm to stop him from leaving. Billy didn’t speak, just turned his head slowly to look down at Steve’s fingers around his bicep. Then, just as slowly, he looked up at Steve. There was something wary in the way he looked, but there was steel in his eyes and voice when he spoke; “Didn’t know you were so homophobic, Harrington.” Steve reeled at what he saw in Billy’s eyes; words that were supposed to be a joke, which hid a threat, which hid … vulnerability?

He pulled his hand off the other man’s arm as if he’d been burned. “I’m not. Homophobic, I mean.” Billy watched him cautiously, and Steve babbled on. “One of my best friend is a homo. I mean, she –“ Shut up, Steve! “I mean, I don’t have anything against –“

“Fags?”

The word cut through the air between them just as another flash of lighting lit up the sky. They stood in silence while waiting for the accompanying thunder to pass – it took longer this time, so maybe the storm was waning – and when the only sound was the noise of the rain around them, Steve opened his mouth to speak, but found that he couldn’t. The silence grew to discomfort, and something in Billy’s posture crumbled. He smiled, sardonically, and looked down at his own two feet. “Great talk, Harrington. See you around.”

Steve didn’t reach out this time, but he called out “Wait!”, and Billy froze. “I don’t have anything against … fags,” Steve said, rushing to get the words out and not caring if the words were right or wrong. “I really don’t. I have friends who are like that, and, and. It would be pretty hypocritical of me, actually, considering my first kiss was Tommy!” His eyes widened and he sucked in a breath – he hadn’t meant to admit to that – but it worked, as in that it drew a surprised laugh out of Billy.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” In for a penny, and all that. Steve braved a smile and gave a one-shouldered shrug that probably failed at making him look indifferent. “We were like, nine or ten, and he was crushing hard on Carol even then, and we got it in our heads that no girl would want to kiss someone who didn’t know what he was doing. So … we practiced. With each other.”

Billy still looked guarded, but there was a small smile playing on his lips even as he said, “Kid’s stuff, Harrington. It doesn’t count.”

“Well,” Steve said and swallowed in preparation for taking the plunge. “We continued practicing until our second year in high school, so …”

That got a reaction. “No shit? You and Hagan?”

“Why are you surprised? You just said that Tommy ogled your bare chest when Carol got you shirtless. You have to have suspected.”

“Tommy being at least half gay doesn’t surprise me, I’m pretty sure he and Carol are plotting to try to get me into bed with them on their wedding night as we speak … But you! King Steve.” He looked honestly flabbergasted, but there was delight tinting the surprise. “You’re shitting me.”

It was a thrill to be able to throw Billy’s words from earlier back in his face. “I’m not, actually.”

“Huh,” Billy said. He didn’t look like he was planning on leaving any time soon. “How about that. The biggest womanizer in the history of Hawkins’ High … playing for the other team?”

“Now, now,” Steve said, holding a hand out. “I wouldn’t say that. I like girls. I just …” He thought about everything he and Robin had been talking about, and finally decided on, “I’m just an equal-opportunity guy, I guess.”

“Really?” Billy said, and looked almost impressed.

Steve felt warm under his gaze. “Yup.”

“So …” Billy said, and that mischievous glint was back in his eye. “Did you ever …” He made some lewd gesture, complete with raised eyebrows, “… with both of them? Tommy and Carol?”

Steve was pretty sure that the way he blushed at that question was answer enough. By the way Billy threw his head back and cackled, it was.

“Shut up! It was one time!”

“Oh this is too good! Wow! You are such a slut.”

“You’re the one to talk!” Steve said, but he couldn’t help smiling because this felt … this felt more like friendly ribbing than anything else.

Billy ignored him. “Oh my god. You should have brought that up in a speech during the dinner.”

Steve actually hadn’t done a speech. Instead he’d bought the happy couple a set of expensive kitchen appliances, and called it a day.

“Yeah, well. It’s not exactly something that one should speak of out loud in Hawkins.”

That had a sobering effect on Billy. His smile dimmed. “Don’t I know it.”

Their whole conversation had been a roller-coaster and Steve still didn’t feel all too stable in it, but Billy looked almost wistful – so much unlike the Billy he remembered from a year ago – that he couldn’t help but ask. “Is that why you …?” When Billy looked over, he made a face. “You know. Went out with all those girls?”

Billy exhaled and tilted his head to the side. “I mean, yeah. There’s no better place to hide than in a crowd.”

Silence descended on them again, but it wasn’t so awkward this time. And this time, Steve was the one to break it.

“So … are you also an equal-opportunity … player? Or …?”

“Oh,” Billy said, then shook his head. “No.” And for a second, Steve felt a thrill of fear run through him, suddenly convinced that Billy had been lying in order to get blackmail material on him. But then Billy continued, “No, I was never really into … girls.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, mind whirring. “Huh.”

“Yeah.”

It was weird. There must have been something about this particular place, and this particular moment. The two of them were standing in a run-down gazebo, rain beating down on everything around them and separating them from the outside world. It was like they were in their own little bubble, outside time and space. It felt as if everything revealed here was … safe. In that way, it didn’t feel real.

“Why are you telling me this?” Steve asked, softly. Because he suddenly had a lot of things that he would have to think about, but that question was on the forefront of his mind.

“Because …” Billy started, and hesitated. Like he wasn’t sure himself. “Because I don’t live in Hawkins anymore,” he decided. “No one here can hurt me.” His eyes flicked to Steve at that, as if to make sure that Steve didn’t mean any harm. When Steve didn’t move, he relaxed a fraction. “And because … I saw you today, and.” He cut himself off, looking down at his shoes. Scuffing one against the wood underneath his feet. “And I think I might have lied to you, just now.”

Furrowing his brow, Steve tensed up. “What?”

“I said I had a crush on you,” Billy said, and Steve had time to feel crushing disappointment in the split-part of a second before Billy added, “But I think that I still do, actually.”

And before he knew it or could react, Billy was in his space and his hands were in Steve’s hair on either side of his face, and that was Billy’s lips on his and –

– and time stood still. Like if lightning had stuck him where he stood, the world lit up with white light and electricity. Gone was the sound of the falling rain and the rumble of thunder, gone was the house and the woods and the lawn, gone were the whole world outside of this gazebo, outside of this moment. His heartbeat made its way through his body drumming like an army marching to war. Steve didn’t breathe, didn’t blink – just existed in this moment where there was only Billy, and Billy’s lips on his.

And then the world turned white for real and shook with a boom, and they jumped apart. Billy swore and ducked over the railing to check the sky.

“Shit,” he said. “That was a close one.”

Steve’s whole body was tingling, the hairs on his arms standing up. The air smelled crisp, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the lightning, or because of the kiss. Maybe both.

“We should …” he said, a bit shakily. “We should get inside. It’s not safe out here.”

Billy glanced at him, with a hint of apprehension that might as well have been a blaring neon sign pointing at his head. He was obviously nervous about Steve’s reaction to the kiss.

“You worrying about me, pretty boy?” he said, but his voice shook a little, as if he was struggling to hold on to the confident façade. And Steve marveled, because had he always been this transparent? He couldn’t believe he’d been fooled by Billy’s cocky attitude back in school.

“Well,” Steve said, and pointedly looked down at Billy’s bare chest. “It wouldn’t do to deprive Tommy and Carol of their eye candy on their wedding day, now would it?”

Relief, in the form of a smile. “Eye candy, huh?”

“Well,” Steve said, and gestured kind of helplessly to Billy. All of him.

The smile grew. “I’m staying at Motel 6 when I’m in town,” Billy said, apropos of nothing.

They both drifted forward, and were suddenly in each other’s space. The thunder rolled over the sky, but without a flash this time. The rain wasn’t coming down as hard anymore. The storm was abating.

“Uh-huh.”

“So I was thinking …” Steve watched, mesmerized, as Billy bit his lip; watched with bated breath as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “If you want to, you could stop by tonight … after the party …?”

“Yeah?”

“And we could …” He exhaled on a laugh. “Practice kissing some more.”

Steve leaned back, if only to attempt an insulted gasp. “You think I need the practice?”

Billy honest-to-God giggled. Fuck, Steve was screwed.

“I don’t know, Harrington. You don’t exactly seem to be a hit with the ladies these days.”

“Hey!” Accurate, but still. “I get around.”

“Uh-huh,” Billy said with a smirk. “You do know your date is a lesbian, right?”

That actually had Steve take a step back, mouth open. He didn’t think he’d let that particular cat out of the bag, Robin was going to kill him –

“Relax, I saw her smooching with Heather in the pantry after dinner,” Billy said, which – huh. Way to go, Robs. “And also, I clocked her on my first week in Hawkins. No straight girl draws boobs on her shoes.” He gave Steve a significant look. “Like knows like, I guess.”

Steve didn’t have time to answer, before another lightning lit up the sky – further away this time, though, and the rumbling of thunder took some time to reach their ears. When he turned to look at the house, he could clearly see the lit-up windows and the people milling about inside. When concentrating, he could hear music coming from inside, and he realized that he could only do that because the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

Their bubble was gone.

“We should probably …” He gestured towards the house.

“Yeah.”

Not knowing what to say, he only managed an awkward, “So …”

Billy rescued him with an all-too-aloof, “So, I’ll see you later?”

Steve could feel himself grinning. “Yeah. Room 10, right?”

Billy matched his grin. “Room 10.”

“It’s a date,” Steve said, heart fluttering, and grabbed his empty champagne glass. “Now let’s get out of this rain. I want some cake!”

[octuscle]

Hey, could you help me ? I've had the weirdest thing happen to me, and I don't know who to turn to...

See, yesterday, after going to bed a bit early since I was tired, I didn't wake up in my bed... but rather on a rather fancy couch in, you know, one of those modern cubic manors the other side of town... Worse still, there was visible traces of alcohol, and even other people sleeping in the living room I was in, all of them young popular-looking guys and girls... It looked like the aftermath of a party, yet I don't drink alcohol, I'm not sociable at all, I'm not fashionable and I hate parties !

Although I was able to leave without being noticed, I'm still unsure of how in hell I ended up over there. So, could you help me understand what happened ?

The next morning is even stranger. You're lying naked on silken sheets in a huge bed. Your body nestled close to a young man with the body of a Roman god. Your hard-on is downright painful! Until you realize that this is not a dream. You slide off the bed, gather up your clothes and tiptoe out of the room and out of the house. Shit, traces of a party everywhere… This is what you imagine a modern version of the great Gatsby to look like. You get dressed on the lawn in front of the house. The expensive Hanro underwear isn't really yours. And although you can unlock it with your face, the brand new iPhone isn't really yours either. Something strange, something very strange is going on here!

During the day, you receive a whole series of messages from people you don't know, but whose contact details all seem to be saved in your address book. I wonder if you're meeting for an aperitif before the party today. What you are going to wear. Whether they should give you a lift or whether you should take a cab. You're sitting at your desk, processing claims and wondering what's going on. Should you answer? Should you ignore things? You decide to ignore it. At some point you call it a day. On the way home, you grab something from the Vietnamese restaurant. And eat it in front of the TV.

This time you wake up on a lounger by an impressive pool. At least you're not naked this time. You're wearing a golden thong. And you have no idea where your clothes are. Only your cell phone is lying on the floor next to you. So what? There are plenty of clothes lying around. From different people. None of it is yours or even your style. But you can't walk around naked. So you're waiting for a cab in a satin suit and sandals and you feel incredibly ridiculous. Until you find your wallet in the inside pocket of your jacket. Well, at least a wallet with your ID and driver's license. It's from someone who looks different from you, but who has your name on it. What the hell is going on here?

After a shower, you stand in front of the mirror in your apartment. Your skin looks darker somehow. You somehow look fitter. You just look different. Your phone reports that people are liking and commenting on your latest Instagram posts. You don't even have an Instagram account. You're late for work. You have to turn your phone off because it won't stop vibrating with incoming messages. Your head keeps vibrating. You get a migraine. You call in sick. You have to go to bed.

Damn, that was the best party in a long time! Shit, you've blacked out, you've overdone it again. Thank God it's only a few meters to your house. You can only hope that you don't have any appointments tomorrow morning that you've overlooked. And if you do, your manager will have to take care of that. You need to throw up now and then get some sleep. And tomorrow the party will be at your house. You have a reputation to lose as a host and as a party animal. Give it your all!