#fic: requests
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todo being todo for his gf? like silly and goofy like he is wih yuuji
you frown, crossing your arms over your chest, almost too agog to even react. your heart was pounding, your cheeks steaming. âwhatâŠ.â you begin, cheeks coloring very, very red. everyone is staring now, stopping on the sidewalks to look at you. well, the two of you. âwhat are you doing?â
todo aoi looks up at you grinning, looking very much like the cat that got the cream. âwhat do you mean?â he asked calmly, pleased with himself.
you stare down at him, mouth agape. your boyfriend, your gorgeous, sweet, idiot of a boyfriend had thrown himself, without even a moment of hesitancy, into a puddle on the road and was now lying face down in said puddle. in the middle of the street. completely uncaring that everyone was staring at him as though he had just...well, thrown himself into a puddle.
âwhat do I mean?â you repeat. you used the hand that held the umbrella that had once housed both of you to gesture to him incredulously.
he looks up at you, blinking away the rain that rushed over you, until you moved to kneel at his side, holding the umbrella over his head. not that there was any use in trying to keep him dry, given his current location.
âI didnât want you to get wet." he says simply.
the smile on his face is blinding, almost contagious, and even though your cheeks are already red you can feel the color deepen. his shirt is soaked through now, the black fabric of his pants sodden with the water from the puddle he's taken up residence in.
"aoi this is...." you start. "you want me to walk over you?"
todo nods vigorously, not losing his smile. he looks up at you in awe, in love, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in such a cute way that you can't help but lean forward and kiss them. his cheeks went pink, and it made you smile. even after all this time he sill blushed when you kissed him.
"you are the most ridiculous man I've ever met." you say, attempting to deliver the words in a mock stern voice, but you couldn't help but chuckle then, the laugh that broke free from deep in you chest startling the woman beside you, who clutched her chest.
your boyfriend is the only person you could possibly imagine doing this with completely and utter sincerity. the only person who would ever even think of doing something like this at all.
"you're a ridiculous man. a ridiculous, ridiculous man." you say, fingers gently pushing his chin up so you could plant a kiss on his lips. "and I love you, so much. now get up!"
#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#todo aoi x reader#todo aoi x you#aoi todo x reader#aoi todo x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#writing#mine#fic: jjk#fic: requests
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NSFW
Vampire lover that canât drink your blood without you keeping his cock warm.
He has to be balls deep in your pussy, otherwise he gets all hard and cums in his pants just from one sip of your blood.
Itâs just way less messy to already have his cock buried in your cunt, and he doesnât like to waste his seed. Heâs a powerful vampire that needs an heir, that sperm is valuable!!
So every time he needs to feed, he pushes your expensive panties to the side and sits you on his cock, content to cum inside of you.
#vampire#vampire smut#vampire boyfriend#vampire imagine#vampire x reader#vampire x human#x reader#chubby reader#x reader smut#fem reader#female reader#reader insert#requests open#monster fudger#monster imagine#monster fic#monster smut#monster fucker#monster boyfriend#monster lover#chubby!reader#fem!reader#imagines#cw blood#cw breeding#smut fic
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no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.
#ultraman#ultraman: rising#netflix#X reader#kenji sato#kenji sato x reader#kenji sato smut#ultraman rising#kenji sato x you#kenji sato x y/n#ken sato#ken sato x reader#ken sato x you#ken sato smut#ken sato requests#x reader requests#request#ultraman rising fic#romance#Smut#picture#tuning in .á
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routledge!reader x rafe, after big john comes back and finds out that both of his kids are dating the camerons, he gets mad, especially at his daughter, cause he thought that she wasn't thinking straight. After a few days, he throws a stupid comment about rafe when they were with the rest of the pogues and reader just snaps at him. pure angst now đ„° she realises that he's never been a good father, only caring about treasures and yells that she wishes he never came back. Then goes to rafe, crying, for comfort đ (i love angst im sorry.)
hold me close
rafe cameron x routledge!reader
warnings: angst, swearing, a kiss, pretty safe !!
authors note: OKAY ik thats trevor n not rafe but erm, weâll pretend bc that pic is what gives the energy for this oneshot. anyway hii, hope u guys enjoy this one. feel free to send any requests guys! n thank u for 1k followers yesterday. ilyasm <33
you sit in the backyard, the soft hum of cicadas filling the warm night air. the pogues are just behind you, laughing and talking in a huddle. it feels good to see them like this againânormal, for once, after everything.
after the chaos of the last year, of treasure hunts, betrayals, and close calls. youâve always tried to stay out of it, letting john b and the others chase after the gold while you lived your life. but eventually, you couldnât stay on the sidelines, not when rafe got involved, not when it became a matter of life and death.
itâs been hard, being stuck between two sides, torn between your brother and your boyfriend. but tonight, you just want peace.
you glance over at your dad, sitting a little ways away from the group, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin on his face. big john routledgeâalive, after these three years. you still canât believe it sometimes.
he looks different, a little more worn, a little rougher around the edges, but the way he carries himself hasnât changed. heâs still larger than life, still full of stories, still your dad. and god, you missed him.
he catches your eye, and for a moment, itâs like nothing has changed. like youâre just a kid again, sitting with your dad, listening to him talk about his crazy ideas, his wild adventures.
âyou know,â he starts, leaning forward, âi remember that time you and john b tried to catch that fish out by the dock, and you both fell in. i swear, i thought i was gonna have to drag you two out myself,â he says, chuckling to himself, shaking his head like the memory is some long-lost treasure of its own.
you smile, even though it feels a little bittersweet. âyeah,â you murmur under your breath.
you pull at a piece of grass by your feet, your fingers absentmindedly tearing at it. youâve waited so long for this momentâfor him to come back, for your family to feel whole again.
but now that heâs here, you donât know what to do with it. you canât shake the feeling that somethingâs changed, that heâs not just the dad you remember, but something else entirely. still, you canât help but feel like the little girl who always looked up to him, who wanted nothing more than to make him proud.
âi never thought weâd see you again,â you mumble, your voice low, barely above a whisper. you donât look up from the grass, your fingers still picking at the blades, but you can feel his gaze on you.
âi never thought iâd be back either,â he admits quietly. âbut i couldnât stop thinking about you two. every day out there . . . i thought about coming home.â
you scoff softly, a bitter smile pulling at your lips, even though you donât mean for it to. âbut you didnât,â you say, barely above a whisper. âyou didnât come back for three years.â
he shifts in his seat, his fingers tapping against the arm of the chair. âit wasnât that simple, y/n,â he says. âi was trying to protect you. there are dangerous people out there, people who want what weâre after. i couldnât come back until i knew it was safe.â
you nod, but itâs a hollow gesture. youâve heard it all before from other peopleâthe excuses, the treasure, the danger. it always comes back to that.
you glance at your friends, laughing and sharing stories with each other. youâve spent so long trying to push this life aside, to live outside of the mess of treasure hunts and betrayals. but it always pulls you back in.
âyeah, you always did put the treasure first,â you murmur as you face forward again. youâre not even sure if you mean to say it out loud. itâs more to yourself, just a thought thatâs been living in the back of your mind for too long.
âdonât do that.â he leans forward, his voice soft, almost pleading. âi did it for you and john b,â he says, like itâs the most obvious thing in the world. âfor our family. i wanted us to have somethingâsomething big, something that would change everything.â
âyeah, but we didnât need that,â you say, your voice small, but firm. youâre still pulling at the grass, twisting it around your fingers. âwe just needed you.â
he doesnât say anything for a moment. itâs like heâs trying to figure out what to say, but thereâs nothing that can fix the years of distance. nothing that can make up for what you lost when he left.
thereâs a long silence, and for a moment, you think maybe this is as close as youâll ever get to understanding each other. you donât want to fight tonight. you just want to sit with him, to pretend that things could go back to how they were before.
âso,â he starts again, his tone shifting back to playful, like heâs trying to lighten the mood, âyou and john b teaming up with the others to chase down treasure? guess it runs in the family.â
you laugh, but itâs a little forced. âyeah, well, i tried to stay out of it. but . . .â
âbut what?â he presses, leaning forward with a smirk. âgot a little taste of adventure, didnât you?â
you glance up at the marsh, a faint smile on your lips. âsomething like that,â you mutter.
but you donât mention rafe, donât mention how heâs become a part of this tangled mess, how hard itâs been being caught between him and your family. youâve already told your dad the day you reunited a few days ago in barbados. didnât end well that time either. you donât want to ruin the moment, donât want to start another fight.
but, as if the universe is reading your mind, your dad shifts the conversation in a way that makes your stomach drop. âjust promise me,â he says, suddenly serious, âyou wonât let that rafe cameron kid get too close. heâs no good, y/n.â
the words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you just sit there, staring at him. it takes you a second to process what heâs said, to even understand the casual way heâs dismissed rafe, like itâs nothing. like heâs nothing.
âand i hear john bâs with sarah now, too?â his tone shifts, bitter and disapproving. âso now both of my kids are wrapped up with the camerons. hell of a choice you both made.â
you freeze, your stomach tightening. there it is. you knew it was coming, but it still hits you like a punch to the gut. itâs not the first time heâs made a comment about rafe, and you thought you were doing the right thing confessing whatâs changed since you last saw him, but now heâs dragging john b into it, and that makes it worse. so much worse.
âdad,â you start, trying to keep your voice steady, but thereâs an edge to it, a warning. âdonât.â
he shakes his head like youâve said something ridiculous. âno, i am gonna say something. sarah, rafe, theyâre cameronâs kids. ward cameronâs kids. youâre smart enough to know better than to get mixed up with people like him. theyâre bad news. always have been.â
âyeah, but theyâre not like him,â you snap, your voice sharper than you intended. âsarahâs not ward. rafeâs not ward. theyâre not their father.â
he just laughs, but thereâs no humor in it. itâs harsh. âyou really believe that?â he asks, shaking his head again. âtheyâre camerons. itâs in their blood. you think youâre any safer with rafe than you were without me here? because iâm telling you right now, youâre not.â
you stand up, your hands balled into fists at your sides. youâve heard enough. for days now, youâve listened to him make little digs about rafe, about the camerons, and youâve kept your mouth shut. but tonight, itâs too much. you canât keep it in anymore.
âthree years, dad. three years you were gone, chasing your stupid treasure, while we were stuck here. john b and i had to figure it out on our own. so donât stand there and act like you have any right to tell me who i should or shouldnât be with.â
big john looks at you, stunned, like heâs seeing you for the first time. but youâre not done. thereâs too much youâve kept bottled up, and now itâs all spilling out.
âyou care more about that gold than you ever did about us,â you say. âyou care more about treasure than you do about being a father. you donât know anything.â
big johnâs face hardens, his jaw clenching as he stares at you. âi know enough,â he says, his voice cold. âi know who the camerons are.â
âyeah?â you snap, your voice breaking. âwell, maybe if youâd been here, youâd actually know something about me too.â
you turn on your heel, ready to storm off, but the moment you move, you notice it.
the pogues are silent now, all of them watching. sarah, jj, pope, kieâtheyâre still, their conversations dropped as they stand there, wide-eyed and uneasy. john b, though, heâs just sitting there with his can of beer held low in his hands, lips pressed together. you can tell heâs heard it all before. heâs not going to step in because he knows you need to let it out.
youâre just done with it. you take a step forward, ready to leave this backyard and the suffocating tension behind. but something stops you, a feeling gnawing at your chest, pulling you back. you hesitate, turning just enough to glance at your dad over your shoulder.
heâs still staring at you, his expression set like stone, as if heâs waiting for you to say more, to take it all back, maybe. but you wonât. not now.
your voice wavers, but itâs steady enough. âi wish you never came back.â
his face doesnât move, but something flickers in his eyes. you donât wait for him to respond. you turn away for good this time and walk out, leaving the backyard behind.
before you know it, youâre at rafeâs house, your knuckles rapping against the door almost frantically. you pace, glancing down at your phone, watching as the notifications keep comingâtexts from john b, a few from kie, and even jj. they're all asking the same thing: â where are you? â or â are you okay? â
you drag your hand down your face, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. before you can get lost in your thoughts, the door swings open, and there he is.
rafe stands in the doorway, his expression unreadable. he leans against the doorframe for a second, his lips slightly parted, taking you in. you know heâs already pieced together whatâs happened from the voice messages you left on the way over. not that heâs the type to acknowledge it with some grand gesture or comforting words.
he doesnât say anything, but he steps aside without much ceremony. you slip past him and leave your phone in the foyer, tossing it carelessly on the side table as you pass, the pinging of messages finally fading into the background.
you make your way down the hallway, not even sure where youâre going, but your feet carry you to the living room. rafe follows close behind, his presence looming, but not overbearing. his eyes are trained on you, watching as you take in the dimly lit room. thereâs a bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table, a glass next to it, already finished. itâs so rafeâquiet, controlled chaos.
you stop, your breath shaky, your chest tight, and before you can hold it back, everything comes spilling out.
âhe doesnât get it, rafe. he just doesnât fucking get anything,â you start, your voice louder than you intend. you turn to face him, your hands gesturing wildly as you try to make sense of the mess of emotions coursing through you. âi mean, heâs been gone for years, and he comes back, and suddenly he thinks he can just . . . control everything? like he gets to have an opinion about my life after everything heâs done. he doesn't even know me anymore.â
rafes eyes are fixed on you, and heâs listening, letting you get it out. his jaw twitches slightly, but he stays silent, just watching as you unravel in front of him.
âand itâs like . . . itâs like no matter what i do, no matter how hard i try, itâs never enough! not for him, not for john b, not for anyone!â your voice cracks, and you press your palms against your temples, trying to hold yourself together, but the tears are already brimming, threatening to spill over. âi didnât ask for any of this. i didnât ask to be stuck in the middle of all this shit with my family and you and . . . god, itâs too much.â
you turn away from him, your breath coming out in shallow gasps now as you try to steady yourself. but itâs no use. youâre falling apart, and it feels like the weight of everything is finally crushing you.
before you can say another word, rafe steps forward, his arms sliding around you in one swift motion. âalright, alright, câmere,â he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. âcâmon.â
you collapse into him, burying your face into his chest, the tears coming freely now. he holds you tight, his chin resting lightly against the top of your head as his hand rubs slow circles on your back.
rafeâs not one for words, and you donât expect him to be, but thisâthis is enough. the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his arms keep you grounded, itâs enough to make the world stop spinning for just a moment.
you donât say anything else. neither does he. the silence stretches on, but itâs not uncomfortable. for once, you feel like you can breathe.
even though heâs holding you, his mind seems elsewhereâhis jaw clenched, muscles rigid beneath the surface. itâs not hard to guess where his thoughts have drifted, especially after everything you told him in those voice messages.
you can tell heâs upset. not just because youâre upset, but because of what your dad saidâabout him, about his family. his body is stiff as he holds you, and you know him well enough to see the silent anger simmering just beneath the surface. his eyes arenât on you; theyâre somewhere distant, staring past you as if heâs imagining your fatherâs words in his head.
âiâm sorry about what he said, rafe,â you whisper into his chest, feeling the way his breathing shifts, more shallow now, controlled. âhe said something about sarah and john b, too.â
he doesnât respond right away, but you feel his hand pause against your back, fingers pressing a little harder. for a moment, it feels like he might pull away, but instead, he just tightens his grip on you. his silence speaks volumes. rafe is the type to internalize everything, to let it fester until it boils over, but you can feel it nowâthe tension thrumming through his entire body.
âdoesnât matter,â he finally mutters, though you can tell by the way his voice is low, that it does. âitâs nothing i havenât heard before.â
you pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him, and his eyes flick down to meet yours. theyâre darker than usual, clouded with frustration, but he still tries to soften his expression for you.
âhe doesnât know what heâs talking about,â you say quietly. âhe doesnât know you.â
for a moment, neither of you speaks. rafeâs hand resumes its slow, steady motion against your back, though the tension hasnât fully left his body. you can feel the war going on inside himâthe part of him thatâs angry, defensive, but also the part thatâs trying to be here for you, to let go of his own frustration long enough to comfort you.
âfuck him,â rafe mutters after a long silence, his voice barely above a whisper. âhe doesnât get to talk about you like that. or me.â
thereâs a dangerous edge to his voice now, but you know itâs not directed at you. heâs angry, not just at your dad, but at the situationâthe impossible mess youâve both found yourselves in, caught between your family and his.
âi donât care what he thinks,â you murmur, holding onto him tighter. âiâm here with you. thatâs all that matters.â
he doesnât respond, but his hand moves to the back of your neck, his fingers curling gently into your hair as he exhales, long and slow, like heâs finally letting go of whatever was eating at him.
for the first time tonight, the room feels quiet as the two of you stand there, wrapped in each otherâs arms.
youâre gazing up into his eyes, searching for somethingâcomfort, understanding, maybe a little reassurance. your hands find their way up his shoulders, one resting gently on his collarbone while the other slides higher, rubbing the area around his ear and jaw.
âyou know that i love you,â you murmur, your voice soft but steady, as if the confession can dissolve the tension still hanging in the air.
rafe stares down at you, and in that moment, you can see everything in his eyes. heâs never loved anyone more than he loves youâthe way you stood your ground against your own dad tonight, defending yourself and defending him and his family. itâs a vulnerable space, one he doesnât often let himself occupy, but with you, it feels different.
he nods, pressing his lips together as if trying to hold back a flood of emotion. then, with a sudden urgency, he leans down and kisses you deeply. the taste of whiskey lingers on his lips. itâs a kiss that speaks of everything unspoken.
but just as quickly as it begins, he pulls away and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. you close your eyes into the gesture, feeling the warmth of his lips linger against your skin.
rafe goes back to resting his chin on your head, his breath steady as he holds you close again. you breathe in his familiar scent, a mix of sea salt and something distinctly rafe, and let the silence wrap around you like a comforting blanket.
in this moment, nothing else matters. not the fights, not your dadâs harsh words, not the stupid tangled web of family and expectations.
just you and him, together, holding onto each other for as long as you can.
#rafe#rafe cameron#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron outer banks#drew#drew starkey#drew starkey concept#drew starkey smut#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey x you#drew starkey fic#drew starkey blurb#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey fanfic#requests!#rafe outer banks#rafe smut#rafe angst#rafe x reader#rafe x you#x reader#rafe fanfiction
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ON AIR; op81 [smau]
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a/n: I đ WANT đ INTERVIEWER!READER đ TO đ BE đ A đ SERIES đ (please pretend you want it too)
cw/tw: none!! oscar piastri my favourite baby <3
(part two)
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The Kingâs Retribution â„ prince Aemond Targaryen
Summary: when he walks back to the Keep, Aemond finds his brotherâs wife in distress while her youngest child keeps her awake. Maybe itâs time to show the King that no one can humiliate the one-eyed prince.
Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, rough sex, lactation kink, reader is Aegonâs wife, post B&C, s2e3 inspired, dacryphilia, Aemond feels humiliated after the brothel scene, hair pulling, doggystyle, they do it in Aegonâs roomsđ kind of a chubby/overweight reader because she has baby weight, tell me if Iâve missed something. English isnât my first language<3
Word count: 3.6k+
A/n: a very special thank you to @aemonds-holy-milk for this incredible request!!! And a very honorable mention and thank you to @arcielee for helping me with the plot and beta-ing for me! Your touch made this much hotter and better!đ©· Reblogs and comments are more than welcome<33
Aemond pushes the door to one of Maegorâs tunnels, peeking through to see if anyone is around. He scoffs when he finds the hallway empty, with no guards, no maids or handmaidens. He walks upstairs to the royal chamberâs floor, one hand pushing his hood off while the other twirls his dagger.
He is filled with such rage that he can burn this castle down without Vhagarâs help. The sting of humiliation keeps poking through his ribs, making him heave with each breath he takes. He had to keep his composure back in the brothel, he had to show his power by walking outside the room naked as the day he was born to regain some control his brother took away from him.
He walks past the rooms of his family, skipping a stair here or two as he follows the path to his chambers in silence, until he reaches his brotherâs doors, catching the sound of a soft hiccuping and muffled wailing of a child.
Aemond unsheathes the dagger as he steps closer to the unguarded door, shaking his head in disbelief at his brotherâs ignorance, especially after what happened to Jaehaerys. He opens the door slowly, not wanting to startle whoever is inside â a nursemaid or the queen.
He finds you sitting in front of the fireplace with baby Maelor crying fat tears in your arms as he tries to latch onto your exposed breasts to fill his tiny, hungry belly. Aemondâs eye wanders over your bare upper body; heavy swollen teats leaking with milk, a tired and teary expression on your face as you try to lull your son back to sleep, tending to him, caressing him, loving him.Â
He has never seen a sight more beautiful than this.
He sheathes his dagger and pushes it into his belt before knocking on your door gently so as not to scare you and his nephew. He watches you closely as you snap your head in his direction, the tension leaving your shoulders as you smile at him sadly.
âAemond,â you call him, gasping when your son bites your already sore nipple with his gums, trying to latch on to it but failing. He cries harder, face twisted angrily, his chubby cheeks red and puffy with how long heâs been searching for some comfort.
âPlease, please donât â mommy is trying,â you cry with him softly, standing up to pace around the room while you rock him, shushing him and wiping his tears. You are trying your hardest to feed him properly, but every second is wasted in vain as he cries and fusses in your arms.
Aemond closes the door behind him, enraptured with the sight you madeâwatching you walk around the room, half bare and beautiful to his eager eye. He unfastens his cloak and belt that holds his daggers and sword before laying it on the nearest table, walking towards you with his hands locked behind his back.
You look like The Mother coming real, a god he should worship at your altar.
âOh, my darling boy,â you coo at Maelor, sniffing as he sobs harder, his little fists flying on your chest as he searches for your breast, mouth parted and ready to be filled with his late-night meal.
Aemond stands behind you, not too close to intrude on your personal space, especially in such a vulnerable state you are in, but to keep looking at you. His eye roams across your nude chest, your fuller stomach, and hips that carry the remaining weight of having pushed a babe into the world.
He listens to your words, remembering the sight of his brother mocking him at the brothel, while he was being cuddled and taken care of â what an ugly laugh he has, Aegon.Â
His gaze darkens as he looks at you, his queen, his brotherâs wife, his brotherâs possession, being so vulnerable in his presence with your breasts out and your child finally suckling on them. His eye finds your form once more as Aegon's words replay in his ears â âMy brother will not sample another.â He will make sure to teach his brother a very valuable lesson and serve him a good punishment.
His cock starts to swell beneath the layers of his clothing as he stares at you with a newfound passion; you have always been a lovely figure in his mind, too sweet and beautiful to be wed to his brother, and yet, now your features seem to be bolder in his eye.
He strides forward when he hears Maelor crying again, this time much softer but a cry nonetheless. You scurry to cover your breasts when you feel him behind you, trying to look at least a bit modest now that your child is less fussy.
âIâm sorry, Aemond, I-I forgot you came to visit,â you say in a hushed tone, waiting with bated breath for him to say something.
He looks down at his nephew over your shoulder, reaching to wipe a drop of milk from his round cheek near his mouth, his fingers brushing against your sore nipple accidentally. Both of you inhale sharply â him with the new rush of desire and you in surprise.Â
âWhat a messy eater,â he says, his eye meeting yours as he brings his wet finger to his mouth, licking the remaining of your milk off while he keeps eye contact with you, dropping his eye to your lips as soon as they part in surprise before he meets your eyes again â they look darker, cloudier, more lustful. Your lashes flutter, and your rosy lips let out a shaky breath as you keep your gaze on his pink tongue licking his finger.
âIt runs in the family Iâm afraid,â you reply, averting your eyes from him, pressing a kiss on top of your sonâs head as you bounce him, trying to hide your embarrassment.
Despite how crude your husband is, heâs never been one for making you flustered by such a simple gesture, and yet, his brother seems to be the complete opposite; bold, daring, and heâs surely taking whatever he wants.
âMay I?â Aemond asks, standing in front of you with extended arms, reaching to take Maelor in his embrace. You gently pass him over, and as soon as your arms are free you bring them to your chest to cover your breasts.
âI-I need toâwould you mind holding him for a moment?â You pull the front of your shift up as you ask him, and he canât help his gaze not fall back on your chest but looks upward to your eyes quickly before you catch him and nod.
He hugs Maelor close, resting his little head on his shoulder as he walks towards his crib, glancing at you walking past the privacy screen. Aemond shushes his nephew, rocking him gently while he hums a tune his mother used to sing for him to lull him to sleep. It seems his efforts have worked when Maelor grows quiet, tinted cheeks stained with tears and fingers fisted tightly. Aemond lies him down slowly, brushing a finger over the few strands of his nephewâs silver hair before his attention is turned to you walking towards him with a warm towel over your chest.
âHe has been restless as of late,â you sigh, leaning down to brush a kiss on your sonâs forehead, standing on Aemondâs good side, âas have I, as everyone in the Keep. It seems he feels the loss of his brother.â
âWe are all shaken by the loss of Jaehaerys,â he replies, his good eye looking up at your face, taking in every up and down of your face.
âYeah,â you smile at him, ducking your head as soon as the tears gather in your eyes, âyeahâŠâ
He takes a step closer, reaching to wipe the tear that fell from your eye, cupping your cheek in his large hand, âWhat ails you, my queen?â
âI justâŠâ words die in your throat as he rubs soothing circles on your cheek, tracing the shape of your cheekbone with his thumb. âIâve been feeling so unloved.â Your voice comes out a fragile whisper.
âWhy is that, my queen?â He asks, swallowing harshly at the thought of his fool of a brother being neglectful to you. Heâs been given the most beautiful maiden in the realm as his wife, so dutiful and sweet, but taken for granted because Aegon canât simply keep his cock in his breeches for so long.
âDid you happen to see him when you were out?â You ignore his question, looking up at him from beneath your wet lashes that frame your eyes so perfectly.
He nods, his strong hold on your face never faltering, if anything heâs now more determined to punish Aegon, to take something he has been given on a silver plate but failed to care for. His touch is warm and welcoming, it grounds you to this moment of brief recognition of your feelings. Aemond seems to understand it, willing to give more, but his main purpose of this visit is to hurt Aegon the way he has hurt him.
âWas heââ a sob is stuck in your throat as you try to utter the words, âin the b-brothel?â
Aemond looks down at his muddy boots, recalling how his brother saw him, how he laughed and undermined him in front of his friends. Aemond forgets about your question for a second, pressing his lips into a thin line and gritting his teeth before he looks back up at you, not before looking one last time at your chest, watching your milk soak through the fabric.
âI-I apologize, maybe itâs best if you leaveââ You move away from him, making his hand fall from your face as you try to put back the little dignity you have left before you embarrass yourself more in front of him.
Something shifts inside him as you hide yourself from him, putting more distance between as you move toward the bed. His brother was right; he has not sampled another and has always sought out the Madame, but maybe it ought to change, maybe the fire of his brotherâs cruelty might quell if he takes his most precious possession from him.
âAllow me to help you, my queen,â he walks toward you slowly, his eye seizing you up, taking in the sight of your curls around your shoulders, your skin glowing under the orange hues of the candles.
You turn around, watching him take long steps until heâs standing in front of you. He raises his hand, brushing his knuckles on your collarbones, his eyes dropping down to your cleavage. You exhale shakily, whether it is in requited desire or surprise, he does not know, but you do not push him away, just a weak protest that âwe should not do this, I am your brotherâs wife.â
âMy brother is a fool who demeans others to feel powerful, and he has done this to us both,â he dips his down on your neck, his hot breath fanning on your ear, âlet me show you what you have been deprived of.â
âYou wish to help me just to teach your king a lesson?â your voice comes out with a slight tremble as you reach to brush your fingers through his silky hair. âIs that truly why you want me?â
âI despise when Aegon takes what is his for granted,â he says, âHe is a fucking twat who takes for granted the treasures he has been given: the throne, the crown, you. And he humiliates you, his queen, by stepping inside that sinful place," he mumbles against your skin, tracing his lips over your neck while his nose nudges your cheek.Â
âWhat do you want to do?â you whine when he bites your earlobe; you cling to his shoulders.
âI wish to fuck you like a hound,â he groans into your ear, his hands coming to grip your full hips.
âWe will experience his wrath, Aemond,â you try to protest, but with how focused he is on marking your skin, you cannot help but melt in his arms.
âHe is the king, Iâm a kinslayer,â he hovers his mouth over yours. âI will kill him too if he dares to subject you to his anger.â
âWe must be quiet-mhmââ he cuts you off, smashing his lips to yours, swallowing your protest. His hands move to your waist, gripping and caressing wherever he can reach, his tongue meeting yours in a soft battle of dominance.Â
You moan into his mouth when one of his fingers traces a line from your hip up to your breast, squeezing the heavy flesh in his large palm. He groans against your sweet lips in delight, loving the weight of you in his hand. His thumb swipes across the wet towel before he pulls it out of your shift and drops it on the floor, leading you backward past the privacy screen to the bed.
You tangle your fingers in his soft hair, reaching to pull away the tie and letting his shiny silver hair frame his face beautifully while he kisses your breath away.
He lies you on the bed, breaking away from your lips for a second to look down at you, making room on top of you with his gaze fixed on the way your milk soaks through the fabric. He grabs the sides of your shift, ready to rip it apart before you put your hand on his, shaking your head, mumbling a hushed âwe need to be quietâ before taking off the dress yourself, lying under his heated gaze all bare except for your small clothes.
âMy brother is a fucking idiot,â he mutters before he leans down to lick a path from your neck to your heaving chest, swiping the tip of his tongue over your nipple. He hums as he tastes a few beads of your milk, but abruptly stops when you whine, looking up at you with a questioning look.
âMaelor, well, he canât latch onto his wet nurses. They are a bit s-sensitiveâ oh!â Your hand flies to your mouth when Aemond closes his lips around your bud, sucking like a babe being starved for hours, finally having his fill.
His other hand moves to your other breast, pinching, squeezing, and playing with the flesh while he gets drunk on your milk, helping the weight of discomfort vanish immediately.
Your nipple falls from his lips with a lewd âpopâ, and he moves to the other one, giving the same attention while he leaves sticky lines of your milk across your chest, sucking on your teat quickly, nearly growling at the taste.
You cannot do anything besides moaning behind your hand and arching your back, pushing your chest further into his face. You throw your head back as your hips buck into his, his bulge rubbing against your covered core.
Aegon has never done this for you, itâs always been his duty to plant his seed inside you with little to no care for you to just make an heir, and after Jaehaerys, heâs been ever more distant â no more dinners, no walks in the garden with you and the kids.
His interest weakened the more you started to show, your soft dolce features turned into one of a woman, a mother-to-be, so he sought his pleasure in the brothels to fill the void you could no longer fill. You were non-existent in his eyes, and for once, you are glad, because the other Targaryen brother seems as if heâs in heaven while he feasts upon your breasts like a deprived babe.Â
He lets go of your nipple finally, giving the fat of your breast one last kiss before he works his way up to your lips. He unlaces his pants and breeches, urging you to reach and undo his doublet, dropping it down on the pile of clothes. He breaks away to gasp for air while he grabs the back of his linen shirt and stands on his knees stark naked, his cock red, angry, and ready to burst inside you. His mouth shines with drops of your milk and spit.
He grabs the back of your thighs, spreading your legs to his hungry eye, licking his lip as his gaze falls on your soaked cunt. Aemondâs patience runs thinner than before, he moves closer to you, and his hair falls around you like a silver waterfall.
He strokes himself a few times before aligning himself with your entrance, pushing in until his cockhead is inside your warm cunt before he slams all the way into you. He muffles your scream with his own lips, hands coming to rest around your head, caging you under him as he starts thrusting.
Finally, he thinks, finally he has taken something that belonged to his brother, something so precious and fragile. You are nothing like Sylvie, you are soft and delicate, you taste deliciously sweet, and oh so responsive.Â
He relishes the way you scratch his back as he fucks you with abandon, snapping his hips into yours furiously as he lets the pent-up anger he feels pour out of him. It is the anger he had inside because of his brotherâs idiocy, the words that cut him deep like a sharp dagger.
But no more, no, it is time to take whatever belonged to Aegon. You are just a beautiful touch to it, and he would make sure his brother knows whoâs been here, on his bed, giving his wife the pleasure she has never experienced before.
âMy queen,â he shushes you, reaching down to collect a drop of your milk before reaching to smear it on your lips, licking it off them. His cock pistoning inside of you quickly, but he is mindful of the baby sleeping on the other side of the privacy screen.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head, breasts bouncing with each deep thrust as you try to keep your voice at bay.
He remembers his brotherâs words once more; âdid you fuck her like a hound?â No, not with the Madame, but he will fuck the queen of the seven Kingdoms like one now.
He pulls out of you, leaving you clenching and whining at the empty feeling before he flips you over on your stomach, pulling your hips up as he spits into his hand and strokes himself before making home inside your tight cunt again, his cock reaching deeper with this position.
You fist the pillows under your hands, biting the fabric to muffle your noises, and Aemond notices that it is your husbandâs pillow you are lying on.
He chuckles lowly, one hand gripping the fat of your hip while the other runs down the curve of your spine before he fists your hair in his much larger hand, pushing your head into Aegonâs pillow even more.
âBreathe in his scent while I fuck you like a dog in heat, yes, good girl,â he groans, his limbs tingling with pleasure and anger, letting his emotions take the best of him as he picks up his pace. âYes, remember how much of a pathetic husband he is, think of how he can never give you pleasure like I can while I fuck my child inside you.â
Tears run down your face from how intense he is taking you from behind, his hips snap into your arse. Your wetness drips down on the bed sheets, but there is little you can do but take what he gives you â a blinding and mind-blowing pleasure you have never had with your husband.
Aemond reaches around your body to find your pearl, rubbing quick and steady circles on the bundle of nerves, leaning down to prep your spine with feather-like kisses, taking in your mesmerizing scent, and looking closer at your tears, taking pure satisfaction in seeing what a mess he has made out of Aegonâs wife, the realmâs queen.
You come with a sob, teeth digging into the soft cushion while your legs shake, walls clamping down against his girth, eliciting a deep throaty moan from him. He lets go of your weeping cunt and grabs your bouncing breast, squeezing the heavy flesh in his hand while his face falters, his thrusts deepen.
When his climax washes over him, itâs all white hot pleasure that rushes through his veins. He shakes atop you while his cock twitches and shoots ropes of his warm spend deep inside you, filling you to the brim. He kisses your tears, his face pushed against your cheek as he lets out broken gasps and groans.
He untangles his fingers from your hair as soon as he calms down from his high, bringing his milk-covered hand to his lips to lick it clean while he meets your eyes.
You look angelic, glowing with the aftermath of your release. The Mother came to life, he thinks.
He pulls out of you gently, minding how sensitive you must feel after the brutality he bestowed upon you. Aemond helps you under the covers, not caring to clean either of you up before he lies down next to you wrapping one arm around you while you curl next to him with your head on his chest.
He notes how quiet you are, drowsy and sleepy in the aftermath of your climax. He takes pride in how peaceful you look, and how good he must have made you feel. His good eye falls on the nightstand on his side, finding his brother â no, the Conqueror's crown â glinting under candlelight.
âI will kill him,â he whispers, âI will make sure our son sits upon that chair and holds Blackfyre. I will kill him, and no one shall ever know it was me.â
#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x chubby reader#rue:smut#fic requests
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I absolutely adore the fic you just put out with Rafe! Hit me deep as someone that has been cheated on. You have a talent! <3 Rafe request idea! It just hit me, but I bought a sweater today from the Mens section at a store (better quality). Maybe you could do Reader and Rafe dating. He is falling hard and is super infatuated with her, one day she forgets that certain sweater at his place (which clearly on the label is for men from a mens store) and he is absolutely heartbroken thinking that she is cheating on him. Maybe he snaps, but more so in a super heartbroken, teary eyed and soul crushing way, lots of angst since you are so good at it!!!!
SWEATER WEATHER! âž» rafe cameron
notes / tysm for the request!! i loved writing this. may have gone overboard and made it a bit too dramatic but we love us some angst in this household !
content / rafe cameron x fem!reader, bf!rafe, angst, rafe with trauma, established relationship, accusations of cheating, comfort, 1.1k words
summary / when rafe finds out that your sweater is from the menâs section he immediately freaks. His deep rooted trauma and pain come to the surface and the fear of losing you almost ruins everything.
You loved oversized sweaters. Feeling like a cozy hug you could wear. So when you wandered into the mens section one afternoon and spotted the perfect oversized sweaterâsuper soft, way too big, and in a deep gray colorâyou couldn't resist. It was perfect for cool evenings with Rafe, wrapped up on his couch while you two watched a movie or just talked about anything.
You bought it on impulse, smiling to yourself as you imagined Rafe teasing you about how it was big enough to fit him. You wore it the next time you visited him, but totally forgetting to mention it as you were too caught up with other things.
Rafe was everything you wantedâstrong, confident, but sweet in a way you hadn't expected when you first met him. He made you laugh with his rough exterior and soft heart. He made you feel safe, loved.
While Rafe, for his part, was falling deeper and deeper in love with you every day. He'd catch glimpses of you in moments you didn't even realize he was watchingâlaughing softly to yourself at a text, tucking your hair behind your ear, or wrapping yourself in one of his sweaters. You were everything good in his world, and he'd do anything to keep you close.
So that evening, like so many others, you two stayed up late, talking until you finally kissed him goodnight and headed home, too tired to remember to grab the sweater you'd draped over his chair.
Rafe found it the next morning, and at first, he smiled. It still smelled like youâvanilla and something sweet, something comforting.
Then he saw the label.
Men's store. Size large.
The words hit him like a slap to the face. He knew you loved oversized sweaters, but this... this wasn't just big. It was from a men's section, clearly not something meant for you, at least not at first. His heart started to pound, thoughts spinning out of control. Who had you gotten this from? Who were you spending time with when he wasn't around?
He tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to him. He could see it in his mindâyou smiling at someone else, laughing, falling into someone else's arms, and it tore him apart. The relationship you guys had built, now felt like a lie, like it was all an illusion.
When you came over the next day, something was off. The moment you stepped through the door, you could feel the tension in the air. Rafe was a mess of nerves and heartbreak. He tried to keep it together, but the moment he saw you, something inside him broke. The sweater was still in his hand, crumpled and worn, and without thinking, he tossed it towards you.
"Who is he?" he choked out, his voice raw, filled with anger he could no longer control.
You stared at him, confusion in your eyes. "What? Rafe, what are you talking about?"
"This. It's not yours. It's from a men's store. You left it here... you're seeing someone else, aren't you? Someone gave you this."
For a moment, you couldn't speak. You could only stare at him, confusion turning into realization. He thought you were cheating on him. Your heart sank, seeing how much pain he was in, how deeply he was hurt by something that wasn't even real.
"Rafe," you whispered, reaching out to him, but he pulled back, his face crumbling with heartbreak.
"Don't lie to me, y/n," he said, his voice breaking. "I can't take it if you lie to me."
Tears brimmed in his eyes, and you felt your own chest tighten at the sight of him like thisâso vulnerable, so broken by his own fears. You hadn't realized how much you meant to him until now, seeing him overreact like this over a sweater.
"Rafe, it's my sweater," you said gently, voice steady despite the ache in your own heart. "I bought it from the men's section. I liked how big it was, that's all. No one gave it to me. I promise. I would never do that to you."
But Rafe couldn't bring himself to believe you. Not yet. His mind was trapped in the fear of losing you, of being second in your heart to someone else. Like it was with his dad and Sarah. The tears fell then, and he couldn't stop them.
Without hesitation, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him despite his resistance. He was stiff at first, but you didn't let go. "I'm not going anywhere," you whispered, voice soft but firm as you rested your head against his chest. "It's just a sweater, Rafe. You're the only one I want."
He stood there, frozen in your embrace, and slowly the truth began to sink in. You weren't lying. The sweater wasn't a sign of betrayal, just a silly, oversized piece of clothing you liked. And he had let his fears nearly destroy what you two had.
Slowly, his body began to relax, his arms came up to wrap around you, and you could feel the weight of his emotions in the way he held you, like he was afraid you might slip away.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with regret, his face buried in your hair. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean toâ"
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes soft and full of understanding. "It's okay," you said quietly, brushing a tear from his cheek. "We're okay, Rafe."
He nodded, his eyes searching yours for reassurance, for any sign that what you two had wasn't slipping through his fingers.
"We're okay," you repeated, holding him close, letting him feel your warmth, your presence.
And for the first time since he'd found that sweater, Rafe allowed himself to believe you. He needed to trust you, to get over the fear of being abandoned. And deep down he knew that you could be the one to take his pain away.
feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!
tags đ·ïž @starkeysprincess @gibson-g1rl @beausling @drewsarms @nxptvn @rafescokewhore
#writers on tumblr#drabble#rafe cameron x you#rafe obx#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x you#rafe fic#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe obx 4#request#requested
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CAN YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO PERV ILLUMI i do not think there is enough perv illumi content on this app
Heâs a perv
Perv!Illumi x Fem!Reader
A/N: sorry this is short and may resemble my other perv writings⊠but I hope yâall like it! Join my server
warnings: pervy Illumi, yandere behavior, masturbation, panty stealing, heâs kind of yucky, breeding, pregnancy
NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter
âŒïžIf you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!âŒïž
Illumi had never experienced sexual attraction before. Had he gotten some morning wood once or twice? Yes, but he rarely felt the urge to jack off.
That was⊠until he met you.
He wasnât quite sure what made you so appealing. You looked ordinary, at least⊠you should have. Illumi had been surrounded by the worlds most beautiful women since he was but a boy⊠yet here he was, getting hard over a girl he had barely met.
Maybe it was your soft curves, or the ways your hips swayed when you walked⊠it could have even been your sweet voice, and those pretty, glossy lips that made him want to pull you in and taste the shiny lipgloss you were wearingâŠ
Whatever it was, ever since he first laid eyes on you, Illumiâs body had been acting strangely. Even a whiff of your perfume could have his cock twitching, standing at attention and ready for you⊠it was quite embarrassing, or it would have been if Illumi had any shame.
No, the only reason Illumi his his overwhelming desire for you was because he wanted these feelings to go away as quickly as possible. He couldnât fall for some nobody Hunter with nen weaker than all the other applicants that had passed with you. No, Illumi was supposed to marry the best of the best, a woman whose womb could bear a strong heir.
But⊠that didnât stop him from acting on some of his urgesâŠ
Unfortunately, Illumi couldnât seem to let you out of his sight. It was annoying, following you around as you did your little daily chores in town. He could hardly get any work done when you looked so cute. You didnât even realize your panties were showing when you bent over to pick up a coinâŠ
When he couldnât be constantly watching over you, Illumi would steal little trinkets from your home to⊠keep him satiated. Used panties, your lipgloss, and clothing items that smelled like your perfume.
Heâd wrap your panties around his cock as he jerked off, your cardigan pressed against his face. If he really focused, he could imagine your pussy tightening around him, your plump thighs pressing against him as he bounced you on his cockâŠ
Heâd cum buckets into your panties, then break into your apartment and drop them off on your floor, like a cat leaving a dead mouse as a gift.
After a while, his urges grew and grew, until your panties just werenât enough for him anymore.
Wooing you wasnât too hard, and getting into your pants was easier than he would have though. The fact you were a virgin was very surprising⊠but welcomed. After all, he was a virgin as well.
The second his cock sunk into you, he immediately knew that he could never let you go. To hell with a strong heir, he wanted you, and only you. You were the only one that could make him feel this way⊠soft, vulnerable, and so goddamn horny.
Poor, poor you, having Illumi fuck into you for hours on end, unable to pull out of your pretty, warm cunt. He fucked so much cum into you that you felt so swollen and fullâŠ
Even after he was done, he didnât pull out. Instead, he held you close, kissing the top of your head. âYouâre all mine, darling. Iâll have wedding preparations ready within a week.â
You were much too exhausted to argue⊠and you werenât sure you could say no to Illumi Zoldyck⊠so you just slept, accepting your fate. Youâd be taken care of, and would never have to worry about anything ever again.
Shortly, Illumi would have his now pregnant wife in his home, where she would be safe, and where he could ravish her whenever he felt like it.
#illumi x reader#illumi smut#illumi x y/n#illumi x you#perv!illumi#requests open#x reader#anime x reader#reader insert#hxh x reader#hxh imagines#smut requests#hunter x hunter x reader#anime x chubby reader#chubby!reader#chubby reader#plus size reader#smut fanfiction#smut fic#x reader smut#hxh smut#hunter x hunter smut#yandere#fem reader#fem!reader#female reader#yandere illumi#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere smut
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Fourâs colors: standing there awkwardly
Legend: having a flashback to that one time he killed four colorful and identical dark links in the literal Palace of the Four Sword
Thanks for the request anon!
#Lu legend#lu four#lu colors#lu blue#lu red#lu vio#lu green#linked universe#linkeduniverse#ok I honestly think four would tell legend along with everybody else#But I didnât have the energy to draw anyone besides him lol#Lu memes#lu#request#Also the anime style transformation thingie is probably not very funny but the composition looks wrong without it alas#My art#linked universe fanart#palace of the four sword#For the record the amount of fics I have read with this premise (all of which fabulous) is vast#Hence this is not an original idea XDDD
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Mark my words.- o.piastri
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summary: mark slips up about your marriage.
pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! rb!mechanic! wife! reader
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He crossed the finish line, and you couldnât help the smile on your face. Sure, Checo had crashed in the last lap and Max had gotten p6. Not a good result, but then again, thatâs what you had told Christian would happen if he didnât let you build the car.Â
You were Adrianâs protege. You were the next Newey. Christian was just too focused on the past.Â
âFuck!â he groaned, slamming his headset on the desk.Â
âI told you so,â you sighed, leaving him at the desk and running to the parc fermĂ©. Oscar would be coming through in mere minutes, and you wanted to be there to see him. Secretly dating another teamâs driver wasnât easy, but you two made it work. You were both lowkey about things, even though youâd been married for about a year now. You stood beside Nicole, far away from your own team, but you didnât really care. You wanted to see the light in his eyes when he came up to his mum and you.Â
Nicole wrapped her arms around you, cheering as you both relived the moment that Oscar had won. Oscar Piastri, 2 time Gran Prix winner. Heâd proven himself time and time again, he wasnât a second driver, and McLaren now had a difficult choice to make.Â
But all that was for another day. Today was about Oscar.Â
He ran over to the team, finally spotting his mum and you beside her. You could see from his eyes that he was smiling. She pulled him into a tight hug.Â
âYou did it!â she cheered, holding him close. âIâm so proud of you.â
He pulled off his helmet, smiling at her. âThanks mum, love you loads,â he smiled, then turned his attention to you. âNot bad, eh?â
You smirked. âNot bad Piastri.â
âNot bad for you either, Piastri,â he smirked as you rolled your eyes.Â
âGo get weighed idiot, Iâll catch you in the airport, yeah?â
âWouldnât miss you for the world,â he winked, then walked off to continue the celebrations.Â
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You woke up the next morning, sore, with Oscar beside you. You groaned as you turned over, shutting off his alarm. âOsc,â you yawned.Â
âShush,â he whispered. âFive more minutes.â
âOscar, we need to get up,â you reminded him, but he just tightened his grip on your waist. âCome on Osc, I need a shower.â
He smirked and you rolled your eyes, not missing his innuendo. âI could-â
âWe did enough of that last night, give me time to recover,â you laughed. âWorth a shot,â he smiled. âAlright, Iâll start on some breakfast.â
He pressed his lips to yours in a sweet greeting (also short because his breath stinks in the morning) and you went your separate ways. This weekend was Singapore, and you knew how tough it was on every driver, engineer, and mechanic. Singapore was always the race you dreaded. It was unpredictable and hot. Way too hot.Â
You came out of the shower to see Oscar pacing the kitchen, on the phone with a very stressed Mark. âNo I understand that, but I thought they wouldnât hear us⊠I-I didnât mean to-â
âOscar, itâs too late mate. Youâd better just come out with it, or get your mum to, or something. People are getting really confused and they think Y/n is your sister or something,â Mark sighed
You burst out laughing, making Oscar laugh.Â
âThey think weâre siblings?â you laughed. âWhat the fuck?â
âYou did call her âPiastriâ to be fair mate,â Mark chuckled.
âWell that is her second name!â he defended.
âOsc, just post our wedding photos or something,â you shrugged. âOr we could just let people speculate.â
âSorry baby, but I donât really love the idea of people thinking youâre one of my sisters,â he mocked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer.Â
You shrugged, grabbing a piece of toast he'd made you. âI donât care, Iâm just an insignificant engineer from RedBull.â
He rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. âYouâre so helpful,â he responded sarcastically.
âUsing sarcasm as a defence mechanism because you donât want to admit youâre the breadwinner of the family? How humble and noble of you,â you laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek and squeezing his ass, making him jump.Â
âI hate it when you do that,â he scoffed, batting your hand away. You knew he loved it.Â
âAnyways, whatâs our action plan lads?â Mark asked.Â
âUp to you,â you shrugged. âI donât care.â
âWill I post on twitter and act like itâs been common knowledge?â He suggested.
âMate, no one would believe that. Youâre known for keeping things secret and being nonchalant, just do that,â Mark laughed.Â
âSounds good to me,â you nodded. âThanks Mark.â
âSee you in Singapore,â he sighed and you grained as Oscar hung up the phone.Â
âFucking Singapore,â you groaned.Â
âI know,â he nodded in agreement. âHopefully this year I wonât be as ill.â
âLetâs fucking hope so,â you smoothed down his hair. âYou need to start brushing your hair baby. Itâs so awful in the mornings.â
His lips became a line and he nodded. âHumbling me isnât always necessary,â he breathed out and wrapped his arms around you, grabbing your ass as he pressed kisses on your face and neck. âBut it is appreciated,â he finished sarcastically, as you pushed him off giggling.Â
âYouâd appreciate it more if you took the advice,â you muttered, taking a bite of your toast.Â
He shook his head, chuckling. âHowâd I get so lucky?â he pressed a kiss to your cheek.Â
You shrugged. âBy using the dark arts?â you teased and he just laughed.Â
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You walked into the Singapore paddock with Lando, deep in conversation about his upcoming birthday party. You usually werenât photographed all that often in the paddock, and when you were, itâs usually because you were beside a driver or someone more important, mostly because you were known to ruin photos. Holding up your middle finger, threatening to flash the camera, etc, itâs what has made you a Gen Z favourite. You also refused to go up on the podium, no matter how many times Max asked. You were pretty low-key about everything, it worked well.Â
âSo I was definitely thinking a DJ, but what about the dress code? Should it be casual? Business casual? Black tie?â he questioned.Â
You rolled your eyes. âClub attire Lando, itâs being held at a club, let people dress like theyâre going to a club.â
He nodded, as if heâd never thought of that. âYouâre a genius!â
âYouâre a fucking idiot,â you sighed as he walked off to the McLaren motorhome.Â
You walked off to the RedBull motorhome, noticing more cameras on you than normal. Most people just left you alone, it wasnât often that the camera followed you (mostly because of your aforementioned behaviour), but tonight they wouldnât let up.Â
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Even as you sat in the pitlane, chatting to Daniel, you were still being recorded.Â
âDo you know what this whole thing is about?â you asked Daniel and he looked at you like you were crazy.Â
âHave you not seen what Mark posted?â he asked, his eyes wide.Â
âWhat the fuck did he post?â you asked, rushing to get your phone out.Â
And there it was. Mark had announced it for you.Â
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aussiegrit
tagged: oscarpiastri , reallyy/n
Liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen and 872,928 others
aussiegrit: These two crazy kids were too busy being in love (and winning races) to tell you guys that theyâre married! Love you two xxx
comments
alexalbon: oh oscarâs going to go mad.
landonorris: marks time of death: now.
oscarpiastri: I WANTED TO POST FIRST
oscarpiastri: THIS SHIT IS UNFAIR. FUCK YOU MARK -> reallyy/n: someone will be sent to the stewards if you don't stop with the language...
pierregasly: it still freaks me out that they're MARRIED and 22 and 23. like wtf. -> kikagomez: đ -> pierregasly: ... -> user82: SHE CLOCKED YOU I FEAR
user93: I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS (no i'm not.)
user22: THIS IS SO ADORABLE WTF
sebvettel: good memories! officiating was such a blast! -> user883: SEB OFFICIATED? -> user21: it makes sense, y/n has been super close with the schumachers and seb since she was a kid because of her dads job as a mechanic in f1. he worked for ferrari from the 1980s to around 2015. -> user02: LORE DROP?????
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âThat dickhead!â you cursed. âIâm going to go find Osc, Iâll be right back.â
He nodded and sent you on your way. You had to tell Oscar, he definitely didnât know yet, right? He was going to lose it at Mark, he wanted to be the one to post, he wan-
And you walked into someone. Someone wearing papaya. Oscar wearing papaya. Oscar.Â
âDid you see?!â âDid you see?!â
You both chuckled, then remembered the situation.Â
âIâll kill him for you if you want?â you offered and he just smiled.Â
âIt had to come out somehow,â he shrugged. âThough, those arenât the pictures Iâd pick.âÂ
âWe all know what pictures youâd pick,â Lando interjected, winking at you. Oscar elbowed him. âI meant your wedding pictures!â âYeah, right,â you scoffed. âAnyway, we can call him later and kill him together. Sounds good?âÂ
He nodded, wrapping a hand around your waist, the other landing on your ass. âSounds great.âÂ
He quickly pressed his lips to yours, feeling all of the cameras on him, but still not caring. âLove you.â
âLove you too,â you smiled before walking away, back to your conversation with Daniel.Â
Mark was going to get murdered, that was just a fact. Mark your words.
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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula one imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x you#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula one#mclaren#oscar piastri x fem!reader#f1 fluff#x reader#female reader#x reader insert#reader insert#x reader fic#x reader fluff#x reader fanfiction#fem reader#gn reader#f1#f1 smau#f1 imagines#f1 x you#requests#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction
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hi! i absolutely adore your writing omgg
if itâs not too much trouble i was thinking maybe ethan landry x fem reader and continuing with that dynamic of the dom gf + sub bf in public but vice versa in bed? LOTS of size kink (if youâre comfortable writing it ofc) and maybe some degradation from ethan? ugh that would just be sooo đ©đ©đ©
tysm in advance, no rush in writing, and donât forget to eat and drink water!!
â đŠ
a/n: guyyys itâs official!! I have my first emoji anon <333 and of course bae, tyyy sm!!!
proofread
ïč â đ Ë â. êł * àŁ àŁ casual dominance with Ethan in and out of bed
Outside of bed, itâs like you both have your roles assigned to each other, you take complete dominance, you ask him to do simple thing you could do like â carry your books, your purse and even cleaning your shared dorm for weeks and weeks without stopping, it was something he found particularly annoying, specially when you basically did nothing compared to him.
âBabe, do you think you can wash those dishes for me?â Youâd ask the taller man in front of you, standing right next to the sink.
âCanât you do them? Youâre already close and Iâm kinda busy right now.â He mutters, focuses on whatever project heâs working in his computer, slightly nibbling on his thumb.
âCome on⊠you always do them for me.â You say in indignation, crossing your arms and huffing before you sit down on the couch.
âYeah but Iâve been doing them for weeks, and again, Iâm busy.â
It almost serves as a warning, and by now, youâd stop, youâd do your own dishes yourself, but you really canât find it in you to stop when you just want him to do one simple chore. â Why canât he do them anyways? Heâs not that busy, is he?
âEthan are you serious? Itâs like two dishes and you spend all your time in that computer, you can spare some time to do it for me, itâs not that difficult.â
See, thatâs what does it for him, because he finally stops what heâs doing to look back at you, raising a brow as if daring you to keep acting that way, and when you do say something else, it doesnât take more than two seconds for him to toss you over his shoulder and take you to bed.
Heâs on top of you â all over you the way he likes it, fucking some sense into you with some quick and hard thrusts, one hand wrapped around your throat while the other gently holds your waist.
âThis is just what you needed, huh?â He scoffs. âSome dick so you can finally learn to stop bothering me and do your own shit.â
You donât respond, instead, you press your eyes shut while one hand paws at the one at your throat, moaning as you try to make him let go.
âUh-uh, youâre gonna learn your lesson, youâre gonna learn that when I say no, it means â Iâm fucking busy.â He groans.
He squeezes your neck a little tighter, bring his other hand down and slightly fiddles with your clit, loose and messy movements that somehow do get you closer.
âAnd after this ââ he breathes, leans down to whisper on your neck. âYouâre gonna wash your fucking dishes.â
#ethan landry smut#ethan landry x you#ethan landry#ethan landry x y/n#ghostface smut#scream 6 smut#scream smut#ethan landry imagine#ethan landry x reader#ethan landry scream#ethan landry fanfiction#ethan landry fic#ethan landry x fem!reader#ethan landry fluff#jack champion#jack champion x y/n#jack champion fluff#jack champion scream#jack champion imagine#jack champion x reader#jack champion smut#scream 6#ghostface x y/n#ghostface x you#ghostface imagine#ghostface x reader#đđ: ethan landry#. đŠ anon#. requests#webbluvrsugar
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boyfriend chrollo headcanons ?
one word: possessive
chrollo loves to have his hands on you at every available opportunity
always kissing you, everywhere and anywhere
he loves to kiss your cheeks, your chin, your temples, your forehead, your neck
its intoxicating to him how good you smell, how sweet you taste
sometimes he feels like a vampire, feeding off the noises you make when he kisses you, the laughter when he tickles you, the soft moans you utter when he's inside of you
loves to nuzzle his nose against your neck when he stands behind you, feeling powerful as you giggle at the tickle his breath makes on you
his favorite thing is to see the gooseflesh rise on your skin when your body reacts to his
loves to sit you on his lap when youâre at ease with the troupe, balanced properly upon his knees so that your back is pressed against his warm chest, his arms wrapped protectively around youÂ
his favorite place for you is on his lap, sat across his thighs like its your own personal chair
constantly has his hands on you
no matter when or where
doesnât care if people are put off by the PDA between you two
will glare at any man who has the audacity to look at you for more than a second
will threaten (read: kill) any man who has the audacity to speak to you in any way that's disrespectful or rude
heâs in charge of the group, thatâs obvious
but if heâs the king, then youâre the queen
everybody knows that if you have an opinion, chrollo will always listen to it and more likely than not share it
he always listens to what you have to say, even if its at odds with what he thinks
even though it's rare for you to fight, your power is whispered about among the troupe
older members remember the way you used to fight, the way your power could match uvoginâs in strength and chrolloâs in versatility, the way you could decimate an enemy with one look and a single action
they know it's really no wonder chrollo fell in love with you
#gender neutral reader#chrollo x reader#chrollo lucifer x reader#hxh x reader#hxh x y/n#hxh x you#hunter x hunter x reader#fic: hxh#writing#mine#finished it....4 years later#fic: requests
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NSFW
Yandere!Vampire that was once royalty, living in a dilapidated castle, alone and depressed. As a human, he was surrounded by people. Everyone adored him, his golden curls and warm brown eyes charming the hearts of every noble that set eyes on him.
That was until his family was slaughtered by a coven of vampires, leaving him the only survivor. Now with no family, he was turned away from the nobles that once gathered at his side, calling him beautiful and intelligent. Now he was a beast, and was only left alive because no one dared to touch him.
As the years passed by, all that knew of his existence died out, meaning no one remembered or cared for him. In the past, he had at least been grateful he had been in someoneâs thoughts, even if it was in a negative light. Now, no one even hated him. He was just nonexistent to the world outside his castle.
Centuries passed by, every day slowly picking at the last bits of his sanity. Days of past grandeur and the current day mixed together, leaving him in a state where he couldnât tell whether he was back in the living arms of his family, or wandering the dark, crumbling hallways of his childhood home.
It was only when a soft, warm light flooded one of the abandoned rooms he had been standing in that the fog in his brain began to fade, allowing him to see what was in front of him for the first time in decades.
It was you, a young woman in a hoodie and jeans, holding a flashlight. You lived only a mile away, and had been exploring when you came upon ruins of what seemed like an ancient castle.
You had heard rumors of a person that wandered the ruins from the townsfolk, and old tales of vampires that had been passed down by tongue for centuries. Not believing them, you decided to see for yourselfâŠ
Your light shone upon what you first thought was an ethereal ghost or some kind of beautiful spirit. A man with a mop of blonde curls, porcelain skin, and the most beautiful pair of ruby red eyes youâve ever seen stared back at you.
The person attempted to speak, but clutched his throat, as if he hadnât spoken in so long, his vocal cords had forgotten how.
âH-hello?â
The man perked up at the sound of your voice, his eyes clearing up. It seemed just hearing another human speak made his undead heart leap, and he couldnât help but stumble towards you.
You yelped when he crossed the room within seconds and pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply.
The smell of another person, of sweat and perfume mixing together to make your own unique scent made him want to sob.
Of course you were freaked out, but the man holding onto you wasnât hurting you, and you could feel warm tears soaking through your shirt. How could you turn away someone that was obviously in distress?
Unsurprisingly, the man followed you home. It didnât take a genius to realize he wasnât human. He was as pale as a sheet of paper, with no pulse or any color to his cheeks. His eyes were scarlet, a shade you had never seen a human have before.
Despite knowing this, you couldnât help but care for him. He was thin, malnourished, with clothing that was so old and dirty that it nearly crumbled when he took them off.
âAre you hungry?â
You had taken to asking only yes or no questions, since he couldnât speak. The man frowned, his eyes getting foggy for a second. You decided to ask again.
âHello? Are you-â
He suddenly snapped back into reality, leaning forward to gently place his lips on your neck. You squeaked out in surprise when you felt his teeth sink into your neck⊠but it didnât hurt. Instead, you only felt an uncomfortable pressure and draining sensation, and before long he was pulling back.
âMmphâŠâ he panted softly, blood running down his chin. âWas⊠so⊠thirstyâŠâ he managed to say, his voice hoarse and small.
He cupped your cheek, holding your face in his hands and looking down at you with what could only be described as utter adoration.
âMy loveâŠâ
From that point on, he was attached to your hip, following you everywhere you went like a lovesick puppy. Any time you were separated, he had severe anxiety, going back and forth from his dreamworld and reality. It was his coping mechanism, but it caused him to never understand what was real and what wasnât.
You grounded him, made him feel safe and loved. Oh how he adored you. You had saved him from his lonely existence and taken him into your home as if he were a stray dog, and he was loyal like one. His loyalty came at a price, however, and that price was your freedom to do as you pleased.
Late nights out with friends became next to nonexistent, especially if he knew there would be any males there.
âI just want to protect you, my beloved. Itâs a dangerous, cruel world. People will act as if they love you when they do notâŠâ
And as you slowly became more and more isolated, his affections only grew. Kisses to your hand began to trail up your arm and to your neck. Snuggles turned into grinding and heavy petting, and even the most innocent of caresses became lewd in nature.
It didnât take long for him to fuck you for the first time. After all, he had been pent up and alone for centuries, resisting taking you on the spot was excruciating.
The second he sunk into your pussy, he came. You were just so warm and your scent made his head fuzzy. He couldnât help but fuck into you like a wild animal, feeding from your pretty neck as he filled you up over and over.
After the first time, a day didnât pass by when he didnât crave your intimate touch. Some days he was satisfied with heavy petting and kisses, others he couldnât be satiated until his face was between your legs, lapping at your cunt for hours.
You were his, his mate, his lover. He couldnât imagine a life without you anymore, so could you really blame him when he clung to you so tightly?
He just loved you, and he did such a good job at keeping you satisfied, just enough to where you didnât look into the missing cases of your old lovers and male friends.
Why would you need to pay attention to any of that when your loving, attentive boyfriend was right there, ready to worship you from head to toe?
#monster fucker#monster fudger#monster fic#monster lover#x reader#chubby reader#chubby!reader#fem reader#female reader#monster boyfriend#vampire x reader#vampire imagine#vampire#vampire boyfriend#monster fuqqer#monster imagine#monster boy oc#monster smut#monster#vampire smut#x reader smut#reader insert#requests open#fem!reader#imagines#plus size reader#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#teraphilia
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fall right into me
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.
word count: 13.6k
warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but itâs (say it with me) for the plot!!!
a/n: i know itâs been a LONG time since iâve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope itâs at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)
đïżœïżœïżœ
Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steveâs.
He picks up on the third ring. âHello?â
âHey, Steve.â
âHi,â you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, âwhatâs going on?â
Youâre not quite sure where to start.
Coming home from work earlier, youâd been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.
The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartmentâone in the basement of a sweet, older coupleâs house who just never used the space and converted itâthe carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.
You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.
You donât know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.
Unfortunately, it wasnât.
The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. Theyâd both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasnât their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle âweâll take care of it, sweetie.â
You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.
Itâs an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasnât so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?
Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.
Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, youâre on the phone with the one person youâd known would pick up.
You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, âShit.â
âYeah, shit,â you agree. âAnd now Iâm gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I donât know how Iâm gonna go back into that house, Steve.â
If youâre being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose thatâs one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.
âJust come live with me, instead,â he offers without hesitation.
Steve says it like itâs obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since youâve slept over at the Harringtonâs house countless times before. Only, this is different because youâd be staying for a while, because youâd be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.
Heâs been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and youâre one hundred percent sure youâd offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesnât make it any easier for you to accept, not when youâre already frazzled from the events of the day.
âNo, Steve, Iâm sorry Iâm just being dramatic,â you say, twisting the phoneâs cord around your finger. âIâll be fine, really. Itâs just a month, or so, and I donât wanna be in your way or-â
âWhen have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?â The pet name heâs called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. âBesides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents wonât be around to care, either.â
âI canât ask you to let me move in, Steve.â
âWell then, itâs a good thing youâre not asking. Iâm offering. Itâll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. Itâs perfect!â
Thereâs a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory heâs talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.
You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he canât be bothered to hold himself up, like thereâs constantly a weight on him.
âAre you sure about this, Steve? Itâs really okay if youâre not. I swear Iâll be fine.â
âAs if Iâm letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parentâs house. Youâre staying with me, alright?â His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that heâs being honest, that he means it. âWeâll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, âkay?â
âYou can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.â
âDon't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,â he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. âSo, youâre living with me, yeah?â
You donât think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.
âYeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.â
âNone of that. I know youâd do the same.â
Thereâs something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where youâve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. Thereâs no questioning whether or not youâd be there for each other if you were in need.
Itâs known, felt. Like a fact.
âNow,â he continues, âIâll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.â
âOkay.â
âYou need me to bring boxes for your stuff?â
âIâm not sure how much is worth keeping. Itâs pretty ugly in there.â
Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. Youâll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you donât have money for right now.
But, you havenât let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.
âIâll bring some anyway, then. Weâll figure it out, angel, donât worry.â
âThanks again, Steve. See you soon.â
âTen minutes,â he assures you, then the line clicks.
-
True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isnât surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.
Youâre sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steveâs BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.
His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, âYou okay?â
The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that youâve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, âGuess so,â you nod. âMaybe ask me again after all of this?â
Steveâs arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. âIâve got you. Weâll get through this, angel.â
Weâll, he says. A team.
You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.
âI hope you didnât wear your good shoes for this,â you say.
Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, âShoes can be replaced.â
He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though youâd seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think itâll just make it all more real.
He mouths the word âfuckâ while you arenât looking, then claps his hands once. âOkay, letâs figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?â
Youâre grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. âMaybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.â
ââKay. Iâll just go grab some boxes from my car,â Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. âIâll be right back.â
You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.
Youâre opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.
Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that heâs there, youâre glad for it.
Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least itâs only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.
Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that itâd be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save whatâs there.
Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroomâs doorway to look at you and make sure youâre doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.
Youâre not sure how youâd be managing this if you were alone, and youâre thankful that you donât have to.
The next time he checks on you, youâre by your nightstand.
Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the pictureâs stained with water and the frame youâd decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.
Where yours and Steveâs handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the markerâs colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.
Before you can stop yourself, youâre tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture thatâs sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.
âHey, angel?â Steve calls.
When all you do is sniffle and mumble an âmhm?â in response, he sets the box heâd been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.
He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.
âIt was my favorite one,â you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.
Although itâs soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where youâve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and youâre both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.
Steveâs clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and youâve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.
It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.
Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.
âWe can fix it,â he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.
âBut the frame-â
âWeâll fix it, angel. Iâll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.â
âSteve-â
âLook at me,â he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. âThis fucking sucks, I know it does, but youâre strong and Iâm here, and we can handle this.â
His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what heâs saying, and he really believes in you.
âThank you for being here.â You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. âIâm sorry for crying. I know itâs kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, itâs just-â
âItâs not stupid,â he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. âYouâre allowed to cry. Hell, Iâd probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.â
You laugh wetly into his shirt.
âNow,â he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, âthe quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. Iâll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.â
A smile tugs at your mouth. âDeal.â
-
Steve wouldnât let you do much of the work after that.
Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where youâd been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a âyes,â or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a âno.â
Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steveâs carâwhich wasnât a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.
Youâd refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.
By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like youâd lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.
Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when itâs time to fill the silence and when it isnât, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.
He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.
You were no stranger to the Harringtonâs house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing youâll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.
Steve, however, doesnât let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. âHoney, weâre home!â
âDork,â you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.
Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.
The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesnât even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.
It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide youâll deal with them later.
Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that youâd left there, and hands them to you. âI figured youâd wanna wash up.â
âYou calling me smelly, Harrington?â
âShut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.â
âHey!â
âIâm teasing, angel.â He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. âYou know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?â
You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.
Itâs funny, youâve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasnât said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when youâre in it. Thereâs a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when itâs not around.
You nod, âThank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I wonât be in the way, promise.â
âI want you in the way. You know youâre always welcome. This is no different.â He shrugs, âPlus, itâll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when itâs just me.â
âMaybe Iâll just stay forever, then,â you say, tone light and joking.
Steve, completely serious, says, âIâd let you.â
Thereâs a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something youâve never feltâor noticed, ratherâaround him. It throws you off just a little.
âAnyways,â Steve cuts your thoughts short, âIâll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when youâre done.â
He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.
Youâve been to his house a million times, so you donât really feel the need to âget settledâ but you desperately need a shower so thatâs where you go.
You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.
When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steveâs sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.
Itâs the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.
-
Youâve been staying at Steveâs for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when youâre there, especially when youâre around him.
Heâs taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. Youâve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where youâd done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.
Itâs been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.
This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, heâd even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasnât out of his way at all.
After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.
Eventually, youâd taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.
You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.
Though you havenât worked together in years, and he isnât far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where youâre simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.
If Steve were with you, heâd make stupid jokes that you donât wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever youâre cleaning.
Heâd probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.
You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.
Thatâs it.
Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isnât feeling too different from you.
Heâs spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever heâd come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robinâs been manning the desk.
Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.
Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (youâd told him he could tell her, because sheâs your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how youâd ended up staying with him in his house.
She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isnât very good at hiding things.
âWhat?â Steve asks.
âNothing.â When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, âWell⊠are you sure thatâs a good idea?â
Now, Robin is one of Steveâs closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesnât want to see anyone hurt.
She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, itâs clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesnât even know it.
When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldnât be filled by anyone else.
He would say itâs that of âbest friendâ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks heâs an absolute dingus, sheâs trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.
Clearly, itâs taking fucking forever.
He looks confused at her question, âWhy wouldnât it be a good idea?â
Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, âYou know what they say: become friends with your roommates, donât become roommates with your friends.â
âWhoever they are, theyâre dumb as shit,â Steve says. âSheâs been over, slept over, hundreds of times. Itâs not any different, just longer.â
âI guess so,â she settles on. âThe rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.â
âThatâs because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.â
âHow would you know? Itâs not like youâve ever tried following them.â
ââCause Iâm a rule breaker, Robs.â
Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair heâs sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.
âDonât think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.â
-
That night, your routine was pretty much the same.
Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.
Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. Theyâd met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.
Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.
After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldnât even remember already), theyâd assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.
You probably wouldâve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, youâd squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.
Steveâs hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.
He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they wouldâve found a way to blame you for it.
You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didnât know exactly what it felt like beforehand.
After giving the couple Steveâs phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.
Home, you call it. Like itâs yours.
Sometimes it feels like it is.
Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, youâre back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie heâs brought back this time.
âGremlins?â You ask, smiling and shaking your head.
âHell yeah, angel. Itâs a classic.â
Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing âplayâ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.
âSo, how was work?â Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. Itâs why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.
âWeekdays are so boring, Steve,â you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. âYouâre so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.â
âRobin is a pain in my ass.â He says. He doesnât really mean it, because even when she is, heâs glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. âShe kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. Thereâs probably a dent in the desk.â
âThatâs because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.â
âWhat the fuck!â Steveâs smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. âYouâre supposed to be on my side.â
Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. Itâs contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.
Shrugging, you say, âI donât know, Iâd wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.â
âYouâd spin me too much. Iâd get sick all over you and then nobodyâs happy.â
âDonât talk about barf while Iâm eating, Harrington.â
You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesnât even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.
When the bowlâs empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.
Itâs a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes youâre asleep. Youâd been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.
That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.
He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldnât be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.
He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.
Steve, though he doesnât let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.
Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.
âHey, angel,â he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. âCâmon, letâs get you to bed.â
Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. âHmm?â
âYou fell asleep.â
âOh, sorry,â you mumble.
Steve laughs softly. âDonât be sorry, I just didnât want you to be uncomfortable.â
The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.
You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steveâs being. As if you havenât fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.
Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small âCareful.â
He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to whatâs become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.
Tomorrow, youâll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you donât feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.
Youâre practically asleep again by the time youâre settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.
Youâre just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft âGoodnight, angelâ against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.
-
On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.
âWe should go shopping,â he says when you walk into the kitchen. Itâs a little later in the morning, having slept in since itâs a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.
You raise your eyebrows at him. âLike, groceries?â
âNo, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?â
You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that youâre looking.
You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. âYou literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.â
âThatâs what theyâre there for!â The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. âYou need new clothes,â he continues, âand I need to get out of this house.â
âWe can do something else, Steve,â you say. âI thought you hated shopping.â
âWell, I donât hate you.â Thereâs a pause, Steveâs eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didnât notice, because even heâs not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. âPlus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really canât stand for that, can I?â
âOhhh,â you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, âso you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?â
âExactly. Weâll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?â
So thatâs how youâd ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.
He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.
Youâre a couple of stores in, and Steveâs been complaint-free so farâwhich makes sense, since this was his idea, but youâve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know heâs got some remarks in his head he just hasnât said out loudâand follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you canât imagine that this is any fun for him.
âHow about that one?â Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the storeâs wall.
Heâd seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what youâd lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.
He knows you. He cares enough to know you.
âYeah, thatâs really pretty, actually,â you admit.
At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things heâd already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was âtoo hard to browse with your hands full.â
After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steveâs holding. âYou can wait out here, Iâll be quick.â
âHold on,â he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. âWhy do you think Iâm here, angel? I wanna help you pick.â
âSeriously?â
âYes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?â
âOh my God,â you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.
Theyâre hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.
âHi there,â an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know itâs a practiced one. Customer service smile. âHow many you got there, darling?â
âOh, um,â you turn back towards Steve, whoâs counting the hangers in his hand. âFive.â
âPerfect!â The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, âYour man can have a seat right here. We call them the âboyfriend benches.ââ
âHeâs not my-â
âThanks,â Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didnât want you to correct her.
Did he⊠like the idea of being your boyfriend?
Fuck. No. He just didnât want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. Thatâs all.
The redhead smiles again, âHoller if you need anything,â she says before walking off.
You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?
âCome on,â Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. âShow me what youâve got.â
âI can't believe youâre making me do this,â you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.
You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that itâs not scratchy on your skin. Then, thereâs just some basic t-shirts that arenât all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.
Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.
It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You donât always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you donât hate what you see.
You actually like it.
âWell?â Steve calls softly from the bench.
In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.
Steveâs seen you in plenty of dressesâhell, you went to prom togetherâbut for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe itâs simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way youâre smiling shyly as he looks you over.
Or, maybe itâs because heâs the one who picked it.
He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he canât take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isnât very big, so with both of you in it, youâre standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steveâs eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.
As if he canât help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.
âYou look beautiful,â he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadnât meant it to slip out that way. It sounded⊠more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. âI have great taste. Clearly.â
You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. âYeah. Donât let it get to your head.â You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steveâs arm. âSteve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?â
You probably shouldâve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, âI didnât know!â
âOkay, Iâm gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.â
âWeâre not stealing.â
âI know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and donât buy something. Trust me.â
You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.
Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.
Heâs just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.
âFor you,â he says, holding out the bag for you to take.
âSteveâŠâ You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. âYou didnât have to do that. I wouldâve been fine with something from the Gap.â
âI know that,â he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. Itâs a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. âI wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.â
Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you donât think youâve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.
You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. Theyâre so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesnât have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.
Heâs the sweetest boy youâve ever known.
âWell,â you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. âThank you, Steve. This is really nice.â
His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. âYouâre welcome, angel.â
You donât buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each otherâs baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.
Itâs the best day youâve had in a while.
-
You donât think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (âI donât even pay rent, and I live here all the time.â)
But, this morning, youâve decided youâre gonna try.
Steveâs favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. Heâd told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that heâd have the kitchen table to himself.
Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. Theyâd ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.
So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.
You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steveâs usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.
Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheelerâs and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. Sheâd directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.
By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, youâve already made the batter and set out the toppingsâberries, maple syrup, whipped creamâlike a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as youâre swearing at the waffle maker.
âStupid fucking thing,â you mutter, trying to open it.
Steve smiles to himself before saying, âMorning, angel.â
You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.
Steveâs still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And heâs shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. Heâs got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.
Youâve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.
The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.
You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. âIâm making breakfast. Coffeeâs already in the pot, too.â
He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread youâve prepared, âWaffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?â
âJust wanted to do something nice for you,â you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. âTo thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-â
âHow many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?â He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. âI like having you around.â
âSo you donât want the waffles then?â
âOh, I want the waffles. I just donât want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. Itâs not some debt youâll owe me, angel.â
âWant you to know I appreciate you is all,â you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.
Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, âI appreciate you, too.â
Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.
And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.
Your cheek still tingles from where heâd kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like heâs still remembering exactly how it felt, too.
You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steveâs got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and youâve got your berries on the side the way you always do.
Neither of you work until later in the day, and itâs nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be âcoolerâ in school (heâd told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). Youâd told him he was going soft with age.
You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says âif you have time to lean, you have time to cleanâ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each otherâs impressions of him.
What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.
You wonder what itâll be like when you have to leave. When youâre living alone again.
Logically, you know youâll still see Steve frequently, because heâs your favorite person and you canât remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, itâll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.
Youâll miss it, you think.
Trying not to dwell on something thatâs still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.
He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.
Then, he teases you, âThese are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.â
You kick his leg under the table. âThatâs a funny way of saying âthank you,â Harrington.â
He kicks you back, much gentler than youâd been. âThank you.â
âThatâs what I thought.â
When you look at him, thereâs an easy, boyish smile on his face.
A similar one stretches across your own lips.
-
Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he shouldâve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.
And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he canât lie and say that he isnât glad that youâve ended up sharing his space.
The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.
He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like itâs him. For everything youâve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever youâd cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.
Even when youâre not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until youâre fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.
He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasnât seen you cry since, or even bring it up, heâs decided he wants to fix it. Heâd told you he would.
Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steveâs room for his copy of that same picture.
When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, heâs glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasnât always all bad.
Steve probably shouldâve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (âDude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.â âI was four!â)
He hopes itâll be worth it.
Dustin was the one who found the picture theyâd been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steveâs face as if theyâd been racing.
Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasnât too difficult, âcause Steveâs writing still isnât that neat), heâs waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.
Heâd picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so heâd taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.
Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows youâre done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later youâre walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.
His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.
He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. âI have something for you.â
âSteve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.â
âThis thing was free, so you canât even be mad,â he says, smiling almost sheepishly.
Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks⊠nervous.
Steveâs never nervous around you.
âOkay,â you say, shuffling on your feet. âWhat is it?â
âHere,â he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. âOpen it.â
You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isnât your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.
What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.
Itâs your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, itâs not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.
When you look back up at him, heâs already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.
Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. âThank you,â you say into his skin.
Steveâs arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.
âItâs not perfect,â he says. âBut I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.â
âSteve. Shut up. It is perfect.â
âIâm glad you think so,â he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.
You hug for what couldâve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. Youâre not sure if itâs still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you donât care at the moment.
This is probably the nicest thing anyoneâs done for you in a long, long time.
When you finally do pull away, you donât go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steveâs hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.
âIâm keeping it forever,â you tell him.
âYou sure?â he asks.
âCertain. Youâll always be my best friend, Steve.â
âYouâll always be mine too, angel.â
Then, your eyes both move to each otherâs lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.
Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupidâs bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that canât be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.
Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.
He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but heâs too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.
âWhat are you in the mood for tonight?â he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. âI brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.â
âMmm,â he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. âHorror. Unless youâre too scared?â
âYouâll just have to hold my hand, then, wonât you?â
âI guess I will.â
You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.
His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when heâs scared.
-
Youâre having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.
You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long youâre open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.
Youâd think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow youâd be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You canât quite remember what happened, only that youâd been yelling for Steve and he wasnât there.
Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you donât bump into anything.
Just as youâre pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.
âHoly shit,â he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. âI thought you were a ghost or something just now.â
You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that heâs distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.
âI feel like I should be offended right now,â you say, âif you think I look like a ghost.â
âShut up,â he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. âMy eyes arenât awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.â
You shake your head, though thereâs a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, âCouldnât sleep?â
He shakes his head. âBeen tossing and turning. Just canât get comfortable, then I got pissed âcause I couldnât get comfortable and only made it worse.â
âYou would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.â
He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. âWhy do you know everything? Spying on me?â
âHate to say it, but youâre getting predictable, Harrington.â You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. âI know you too well.â
He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.
Fitting, he thinks. Youâre his angel, after all.
âYeah, you do,â he agrees. Then, âWhat about you? Whyâre you up?â
âNightmare. Been forever since I had one.â
âYou okay?â he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.
âYeah,â you say, skin tingling where heâd touched you. âI can't even remember most of it, but now my brain wonât let me sleep.â
Steve wishes he couldâve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. Itâs silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.
He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.
So, he blurts, âWhy donât you sleep over?â
You furrow your brows at him, âUm, Iâve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.â
âNo, I mean, like in my room with me,â he says, suddenly shy at the idea. Heâs grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. âA proper sleepover.â
Youâve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, âOkay.â
Steveâs eyes widen like heâs surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, âCâmon.â
Soon enough, Steveâs lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.
You blame sleepinessâor, maybe, the lack thereofâfor the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.
He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.
His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.
âGoodnight, angel,â he says into your hair.
Your hand splays itself on top of his. âNight, Steve.â
And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesnât feel like much of a battle anymore.
-
You wake up the most rested youâve felt in a while. Thereâs warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.
Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than youâd been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.
Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.
Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.
Steve hasnât woken up yet, you donât think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like heâs fighting to keep you close.
As if youâd go anywhere even in your sleep.
His knee is tucked between your legs, and youâre quickly realizing that itâd be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. Youâre completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.
In his sleep, Steveâs mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.
It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that donât make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. Heâs met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.
âSteve? You awake?â you ask, checking.
âMhm,â he hums.
Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so thereâs space between you. âFuck. Sorry.â
âItâs okay,â you say. Because he canât control the way his body reacts while heâs asleep.
âI didnât think-â he cuts himself off, because heâs not quite sure how to say I didnât think about the whole morning wood factor or that Iâd fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, âIâm sorry.â
You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand thatâs now laying between you.
âItâs okay, really,â you say. âItâs, like, anatomy. Youâre human, Steve.â
âI donât want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,â he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.
âI donât think that at all,â you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. âWeâve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything Iâm surprised this hasnât happened already.â
âOh my God,â he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.
âSteve,â you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way heâs acting. Heâs got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesnât reflect the things you heard about him in high school. Heâs changed a lot since then. âItâs seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.â
Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.
He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after youâve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.
Itâs during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. Youâre sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and theyâd be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. Heâs already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.
You know Steve, could tell what heâs feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one youâve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.
Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.
âWhat if we didnât forget about it?â he says. Quiet and scratchy.
You donât have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. âWhat would that mean?â
Steve doesnât answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.
You donât.
Instead, the hand of yours that isnât still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.
It isnât as tentative now that youâve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morningâs haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.
Youâre simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.
Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.
Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze buttonâand you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits itâbefore diving back into you.
You feel hot all over, where one of Steveâs hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.
Itâs so good, youâre almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.
You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his âlast tardy warningâ from Keith.
Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, âbye, angel,â on his way out. His hairâs still a mess from your fingers, and he doesnât even seem to mind.
You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like youâre searching for physical proof that everything was real.
What the fuck just happened?
-
Itâs been a couple of weeks, and Steve canât stop thinking about that kiss. He doesnât know it, but you canât stop thinking about it either.
Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.
You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and itâd be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldnât that be something close to perfect?
You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steveâs, you realize that youâve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as datesâthe movies, lunch or dinnerâyou cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and youâve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.
You havenât brought it up with Steve because you havenât even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and youâd like to have a better idea of whatâs going on in your own head before asking him about his.
Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. Heâs in love with you.
Heâs pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.
It hadnât come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions youâve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.
Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where heâd practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed âthank youâ before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.
Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?
Steve canât answer those questions. He canât say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesnât think heâll ever come back from it.
Youâre his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl heâs ever seen, and he canât picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.
Heâs fucking terrified of losing you, but heâs also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.
So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddieâs trailer.
Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, âoh, hey Harrington. More weed?â
âNo, shut up. I need your help.â
âYou,â Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, âneed my help for something? Are you ill?â
âOkay,â Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.
âCome on,â Eddie laughs, âIâm just joking. Whatâs up?â
Soon enough, Steveâs sitting on Eddieâs couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.
âBasically Iâm in love with her and I have no clue what to do,â Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.
Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, âYou know Iâve never dated anyone in my life, right?â
Steve groans into his hands, âWhy do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.â
Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. âHave you ever thought of, I donât know, telling her how you feel?â
Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. âOf course I have, but Iâm fuckinâ scared.â
âWhatâs the worst that could happen?â
âUm, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and Iâd lose my best friend in the entire world.â
âWhat if she does feel the same?â Eddie asks.
Heâs both yours and Steveâs friend, heâs been around the both of you together. Heâs seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but itâs always looked a lot like love to him. Heâs pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.
âWhat do you mean?â
âWhat if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because youâre too afraid?â Eddie says. âMan, donât you think that risk is worth taking?â
Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddieâs right. Heâd hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.
You are worth the risk to him.
âWhen the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?â
âDunno,â Eddie shrugs. âWanna smoke?â
Steve laughs, âYes I do.â
-
With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, thereâs been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.
Youâve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.
You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever heâd been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.
The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.
How youâd been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddieâs, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didnât care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.
The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.
Sure, youâve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.
You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.
For a second, youâre purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and youâre scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.
So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like youâre running away.
Truthfully, youâre not sure what else to do. Youâve never been in love before, youâve never known it this wayâso kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didnât set a good example for you. Theyâd fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then theyâd be back and the cycle would continue.
Youâre scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.
Youâre stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steveâs quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. âWhat are you doing?â
You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like heâs nervous.
âI thought you werenât supposed to be home until later,â you say, hoping he canât hear the shake in your voice.
âIt was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-â Steve furrows his brows, âare you leaving?â
You nod. âIâve been in your way long enough.â
âI told you, youâre never in my way.â Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that thereâs something going on. That youâre panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. âI want you to stay.â
You want to stay, too. You just donât know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.
Your mind doesnât work the same when youâre afraid.
âGive me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. Iâve been taking up your space for weeks and-â
âBecause I love you.â Steve cuts you off. He hadnât planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he canât wait any longer. Especially not when youâre trying to run away. âIâm in love with you. And I want you here.â
You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like youâre not sure youâd heard him correctly. âYou- what?â
âI love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.â
âYouâre not high again, are you?â You ask, your eyes a little misty.
Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure youâre looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, âCompletely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesnât really feel like home unless youâre in it.â
âWhat about when my apartment is ready?â
He squeezes your hands. âStay then, too. Stay forever.â
You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy youâve ever loved.
You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how itâs turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.
Itâs easier than you thought it would be to say: âI love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. Iâm so scared of losing you, is all.â
âYou wonât. Not ever.â
You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if itâs one heâs known for years. Itâs slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love youâre practically overflowing with it.
The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesnât go far, resting his forehead against yours.
âSo what happens now?â You ask.
âWell, weâve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-â
âUm, Iâm pretty sure youâre supposed to ask me first.â
He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. âMy angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?â
Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you donât care one bit. âYeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.â
âAnd, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.â
He kisses you once more. And you donât ever want to not be kissing him again.
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thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you think!! it helps more than you know <3
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You write fluff and flangst absolutely amazingly and Iâm in awe every dang time!
Buuut since youâve got spring break coming up, a little fic idea thatâs in my head that Iâll never do justice! (If youâre interested)
Fem!reader finding out an adorable way to tell Spencer sheâs pregnant. I donât care if theyâre dating or married or what - but like she puts together a crossword, or a puzzle and he just doesnât get it. (If you wanna throw angst in, he leaves without getting it for a case and then realizes it in the middle of the night.)
puzzling | S.R.
trying to tell Spencer you're pregnant, but he's too concerned with your well-being to fill out your custom crossword puzzle
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: pregnancy and misc. symptoms., talk of fainting and blood tests. word count: 1.69k a/n: welcome back to the spencer reid dilf agenda! i hope this does your request justice and thank you for entrusting me with this idea!!!! <3
you
It was your pride and joy, the collection of folded papers that sat on the kitchen counter, next to a cup of coffee that you had already filled for him.
On your fake newspaper, you had created a custom crossword puzzle. With four very important clues.
Across: âEarly stage of lifeâ
Across: âAmerican actress Frances _â
Down: âMust be finished byâ
Down: âVeteranâs Day monthâ
You smiled softly to yourself as you heard Spencerâs footsteps coming down the staircase. Padding over to the kitchen counter, you sat on one of the stools, a cup of tea in front of you.
Before he even looked at the newspaper, Spencer leaned over to kiss you good morning, âYou look tired,â he whispered, hooking a finger under your chin as if he were investigating the dark circles underneath your eyes.
âWay to make a girl feel good about herself,â you teased lightly, even though you knew he was right. At least you felt tired.
He rolled his eyes, âYou know thatâs not what I meant.â Turning to grab his mug of coffee off of the counter, he observed you again, âAre you sure your doctor said nothing was wrong?â
Smiling, you gave him a brief nod. You had gone to see your doctor a few days ago for nausea and fatigue, and Spencer wouldâve gone with you had he not been on the other side of the country on a case. âTheyâre running some tests, but they didnât see anything blatantly wrong,â the doctor was running a few blood tests, checking your iron levels and HCG.
Using his free hand, Spencer reached over and moved a lock of hair out of your face, âThey said your blood pressure was low?â
Low blood pressure, as it turned out, was a pregnancy symptom that was most common in the first trimester. âYouâre freaking out over nothing, Spence,â you told him. Really, it was something. A rather large something â or small, depending on how you wanted to look at it. âCome on, itâs crossword time,â you told him, using the end of the pen to tap on the newspaper.
âI worry about you when Iâm away. You do know that low blood pressure can cause syncope, right? Did they prescribe you anything for it?â He asked, ignoring your wishes to move on and do the crossword.
There was a small part of you that just wanted to tell him, but frankly, you had worked too hard on the crossword puzzle to give yourself away like that. You couldnât tell him that they didnât prescribe you anything because they didnât know how far along you were. A larger part of you knew that if you just got him to work on the puzzle, he would have his answers in about seven minutes.
Then his phone rang, he pulled the device out of his pocket, and the Caller ID on the screen caused you to slump your shoulders forward. It was Garcia. âHey Garcia,â he greeted on the phone, âat the tarmac?â
You set your head on the counter and sighed in defeat as Spencer hung up the phone.
âAre you alright?â He asked you softly, tenderly wrapping an arm around your torso.
Humming, you sat back up, ignoring the stars in your field of vision as you did so. âIâm fine, you should go,â you insisted.
Spencer shook his head, âNo, youâre sick. Iâll call Garcia back and tell her I have to stay back.â Acting bewildered at the idea that he had been so remiss as to agree to do his job while you were unwell.
You reached out and set a hand on his, âItâs alright, love. I can take care of myself,â you reminded him. Besides the fact that you were wholly self-sufficient, the only reason why Spencer would be asked to meet the team at the tarmac was if they were headed toward a particularly gnarly case â they needed all hands on deck.
âPromise me youâll check in? Call your mom if you need any help, please,â he requested, pleading eyes following you as you got up to hug him.
Nodding, you wrapped your arms around him, âYou should take the crossword with you.â Pulling away, you haphazardly refolded the newspaper and handed it to him.
Furrowing his brow, Spencer inspected the paper that you had given him. âWe always do the crossword together on Saturdays,â he found you incredibly helpful on the pop culture clues. âWe could save this one and then have two for next week,â he offered.
God. No. Your eyes widened at the idea of having to keep your secret for another week, shaking your head, you shrugged, âNo, you should take it. Itâll make me look forward to next week even more,â you insisted.
He folded, and with a sweet kiss to the forehead, he was off to go save lives, remaining entirely unaware of the one growing inside of you.
him
The judgmental Italian behind him was proving to be a distraction, âDid you find something?â Spencer asked, eyeing the evidence board with frustration. Something bugged him about the case, and he couldnât figure out exactly what it was.
âNot right now, but itâs three in the morning,â Rossi said, joining Spencer by the evidence board. âWhy donât you give that big brain of yours a break?â
Shaking his head, Spencer crossed his arms in front of his chest, âI tried. I canât stop thinking about the case.â Men were popping up dead in a small Missouri town at an alarming rate, and he felt so close to a breakthrough.
Dave nodded like he understood the feeling, that was probably why he had emerged from his hotel room so early, returning to the precinct before the sun peeked over the horizon. âWhat do you usually do to wind your brain down?â
Raising his eyebrows, Spencer shrugged, âCrossword puzzles,â he admitted, any word puzzle would do the trick.
The chuckle from the older man next to him startled Spencer, âNow, why doesnât that surprise me?â Rossi looked around the precinct, âIâm sure we can find one around here somewhere.â
âNo,â Spencer said, âI have one in my bag, actually.â He refrained from including the detail that you had given him the crossword puzzle, or else heâd never hear the end of it.
Clapping him on the back, Rossi lifted his coffee cup, âThen I suggest you go take the thirty seconds to fill out that puzzle and then get some rest.â
Once he was back in his hotel room, he changed before pulling out the pile of papers that you had sent him off with. Sitting on top of the bed, he filled out the puzzle in approximately six minutes and forty-three seconds. Once the letters were filled in, he skimmed the puzzle â just to check it over.
The only one that mightâve given him trouble was about an American actress â usually he had you to help him with pop culture, but he recalled having the same last name as an actress in Days of Our Lives.
It was interesting that the words âBabyâ and âReidâ were right next to each other.
Wait.
Quickly, he calculated the odds that the words âBabyâ âReidâ âDueâ and âNovemberâ were all in the puzzle and when the numbers were put together, they made your anniversary. Spencer just as quickly called you, listening to the phone ringing.
His heart was racing as he waited to see if you answered the phone. âHey,â your groggy voice came through the receiver.
âWhere did you get this crossword puzzle?â He asked you, flipping through the rest of the newspaper for the first time.
You hummed softly, âYouâre doing it right now?â
Looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, he dropped his face into his hands. âIâm sorry, love. I didnât even think about the time,â it was just past four in the morning now, making it just past five in the morning in Virginia. âI just thought thatâŠâ his voice trailed off. What if it was just a coincidence?
There was silence on your end of the call, and he wondered if you had fallen asleep. You hadnât been feeling well, and heâd woken you up with his phone call. âYou thought what, Spence?â
The teasing lilt in your voice had given you away to him immediately. He knew. Every one of his suspicions were confirmed, âY/N Reid,â he breathed.
âSpencer Reid,â you countered.
He took a deep breath, âAre you pregnant?â
âYeah,â you answered simply, with about as much enthusiasm as he expected from you at five in the morning.
It all started to make sense to him. The low blood pressure, the drowsiness, and even the slight caginess when it came to him asking about your doctorâs visit. He swiped away a few stray tears, âI donât know what to say.â It wasnât a feeling he was overly used to.
You cleared your throat, âAre you happy?â Nerves clouded your voice, and he could hear you becoming more awake â more alert.
âI am,â he searched aimlessly. Elated. Thrilled. Ecstatic. âIâm so happy,â he told you, at a loss for words. âI donât know what to say, I just⊠God, are you okay?â Dread washed over him, you were alone, sick, and pregnant at home and he was halfway across the country.
Sighing, he heard a ruffling on the other end of the call. âIâm great. Iâm exhausted, I had no idea being pregnant was so tiring. I mean, I knew, but I didnât know.â You sighed again, âIâm not making any sense.â
He laughed lightly at your rambling, âYouâre making perfect sense. Chances are your energy will return during the second trimester.â
âDonât get my hopes up.â You paused again for just a moment, âIâm sorry if I scared you. With the whole doctorâs appointment thing. They really are keeping an eye on my blood pressure and whole slew of other things, but they know the root cause.â
A giddy smile grew on his face, âItâs because youâre pregnant.â
A soft hum came through the phone, âItâs because Iâm pregnant,â you concurred.
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PAY RISE; op81 [smau]
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a/n: okay so itâs the first time in ages iâve posted, but my university applications might not be able to be sent off in time and iâve been crying for days so iâm back temporarily as a distraction!!
i also have a 1,200 followers (and counting!) celebration that im planning to do for xmas. if this doesnât happen, itâll be happening in summer after my a levels <3
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