#hate that i had a bad spoon week this week

[hillhousebi]

-

[lizardho]

I was like 11-12 years old when I figured out at a boring-ass church activity that you could put rocks into little plastic spoons and then pelt people who annoyed me with them. I did this for the rest of the activity, and at Sunday dinner the next night was bragging about my victory (cornering the mean kid who picked on my youngest brother and pelting him with rocks). One of my cousins was like “no way, that sounds SO fun! Let’s do that RIGHT NOW!” So we grabbed spoons and went and got pebbles from the back yard and launched them at each other.

The problem was my grandma sold her soul for the world’s most resilient plastic spoons so we could launch those fuckers HARD. I gave out welts like candy on Halloween, and I got them back in kind.

So we resorted to taking cover and giggling until we got whacked, then yelping, then returning fire.

My cousin hid in my grandpa’s little fishing boat. It was a good boat, but simple and honestly underused. We didn’t know the little windows on it, meant to keep the wind out of my grandpa’s face while he drove, were cracking. However, they were definitely cracking. Eventually it became obvious and we realized we had been being dumb.

This was NOT the first time in my life I’d been dumb roughhousing and broken something, and I had developed a reputation in my family as being “suicidally honest” so I was the one to deliver the bad news. My grandpa let out a pretty good chuckle and said it was OK, tousled my hair, and asked my grandma to bring me cake. I am not kidding. I learned later he hated his boat and only bought it for his kids’ sakes, since he thought everyone needed to know how to fish. At the time though I was just bewildered and pleased at my good fortune. FINALLY, at long last, being honest and telling the truth about breaking something expensive was getting me cake. I knew if I kept trying it would eventually serve me, and now so had CAKE. I was pleased as could be.

My dad, on the other hand, was livid. He LOVED that boat. He spent several weeks each summer recovering from breaking ribs in that boat every year for about 7 years prior to this incident. He had great memories and memories that boat. So he told my Grandma NO cake for me AND that I’d be coming by this weekend to fix stuff around the house and pay for the broken window with my babysitting/lawn mowing money.

Obviously I was devastated, but that felt more in-line with the way things normally went when I broke something expensive so I just figured it was OK. My grandpa gave my grandma a look and sadly said “Ok, have her here on Saturday to help me with some yard work.”

That Saturday my dad woke me up at 6:00 sharp and drove me, sleepy and bewildered, to my grandpa’s house. He was mumbling under his breath the whole time but he thought he was teaching me consequences for my actions so he was ultimately OK with it.

We get to my grandpa’s house at 6:15. My grandpa is outside with a ladder hanging Christmas lights. The lawn is freshly mowed, the trees and garden are weeded and well-tended to, the carnations in the front yard look immaculate, and my grandpa has this giddy mischievous look on his face. He tells me he was so excited that I was coming over that he couldn’t sleep, so he did all the yard work himself. He asked me to help him put up Christmas lights and decorate the Christmas tree, which I did, then said that because I was such a good helper I could have some pancakes for breakfast. I was sent home with the slice of cake I had been denied the week before, wrapped to keep it as fresh as possible.

The whole way home my dad looked a little miffed, but told me that he was glad I had been honest and was proud of me for helping grandpa. I know he wanted me to Learn a Lesson™️the cowboy way, like he had as a kid, but didn’t have much room to complain since I’d still been Put To Work.

I think that was a lesson for both of us, although I’m not totally sure what it was supposed to show me. I think it was my grandpa’s way of showing my dad that discipline without tenderness doesn’t count as much. He died last year and I miss him terribly, as does my dad. I hope that my story of victory, drama, punishment, and ultimately a secret second victory is meaningful to someone else out there, but if not it still means a lot to me ❤️

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Show me where it hurts (part 1)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.

warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo

a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker.  I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D

(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)

edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(

wc: 3.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You think Miguel is avoiding you. 

One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point. 

"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."

She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it. 

"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"

"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow. 

"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.." 

He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here." 

"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?" 

"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?" 

"I don't have time for this-" 

"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?" 

"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans. 

"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks." 

"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now." 

This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching. 

"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-" 

"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."

"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."

He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "

Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!" 

When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall. 

"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening… I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly? 

Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out. 

~~~

Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big. 

He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing. 

Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm. 

"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain. 

Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies. 

"What happened?" He strains. 

"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-" 

"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"

"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"

Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye. 

"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-" 

"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."

Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple. 

"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."

When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile. 

You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you. 

"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."

You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."

"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."

You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?" 

He shrugs. " 'Course I was."

"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does. 

"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now. 

He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?" 

"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan. 

"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"

"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact. 

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-" 

"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-" 

"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"

"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-" 

"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "

He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it. 

"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"

Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.

"I don't… I d-don't…?" 

"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?" 

Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to. 

"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."

"Miguel-"

"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."

"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts." 

Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears. 

"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."

You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down. 

~~~

The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning. 

The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before. 

You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now. 

"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"

"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home. 

You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time. 

The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear. 

"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."

"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?" 

"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"

"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."

"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."

"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."

"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?" 

You hum.

"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"

"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."

He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?" 

"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me." 

"Naturally…"

"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."

"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"

"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."

"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "

"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me." 

" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."

"Good to know. I'll see you around."

He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard. 

Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes… 

You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.  

On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate. 

"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you. 

"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding. 

"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?" 

"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."

"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?" 

She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."

Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?" 

"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."

You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?" 

"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."

"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?" 

She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters." 

"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"

"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word. 

"I'm a little confused, Lyla."

She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface. 

It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head. 

Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…

"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "

You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla." 

"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."

Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning. 

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?" 

"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."

"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."

"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."

"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this." 

"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"

"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."

The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."

"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you." 

With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.

_

_

_

[seventh-district]

my sincerest apologies to anyone who’s messages, comments, etc. that i haven’t replied to yet. i’m just so terribly stressed and busy irl that i’ve barely even been online at all for the past week and at this point i can’t make any promises about when i can update things or reply to things but just. know that i’m trying my absolute best and lowkey running myself into the ground over here and i know it’s probably not obvious and it sounds like an excuse cause i don’t seem like a busy person but there’s a lot of things that happen in my life that i can’t/don’t/shouldn’t/won’t talk about and i really am just. so overwhelmed from it all that i can’t have the consistent online presence i’d like to have. i’m sorry.

i will get back to any comments or messages on all my various platforms as soon as i can. i promise. i just don’t know when “soon” is at this point.

[itneverendshere]

ugh do you think reader would put rafe on a sex ban only to ask for sex to help get the baby out (theyre a lil delayed) and rafe is soo smug it works

i was giggling writing this!! he'd think he's soooo smart warnings under the cut: smut

rafe had been pacing the bedroom for the past half hour, hands shoved deep into his pockets, glancing at you every few minutes as you lay sprawled out on the bed, fuming. well, not exactly fuming—more like grumpy. very, very grumpy. and uncomfortable.

the baby, it seemed, had decided it was perfectly content staying right where it was, even though your due date had come and gone three days ago.

you had enforced a “sex ban” two weeks ago, mostly out of frustration with rafe’s constant hovering and protectiveness.

he'd been overbearing, to put it mildly, fussing over every little thing, making sure you were never on your feet too long, practically spoon-feeding you every meal.

it had gotten to the point where you needed a break from him, and you knew withholding sex was the fastest way to get him to back off a little.  he hated it, of course, but he respected your boundaries.

well, sort of.

now, though, you were regretting it.

you let out a frustrated huff, moving on the bed again, trying to find a comfortable position for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour. nothing worked. you were restless and more than anything, you were ready for this baby to finally make an appearance.

rafe, meanwhile, was watching you like a hawk, biting back his comments, trying his best not to say anything that would push your buttons. he knew you were on edge, and truth be told, so was he.

he hated seeing you like this, hurting.

“y’know,” he started, clearing his throat, “there’s this thing they say works to, uh, speed things up…”

you turned your head to glare at him, one eyebrow raised in suspicion. “don’t even start.”

he put his hands up defensively, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “’m just saying, it’s supposed to help.” he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, enjoying himself a little too much. “we could give it a shot. what’s the harm?”

you narrowed your eyes at him, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck because shit, he wasn’t wrong. but you were still annoyed, especially when rafe got that smug look on his face. 

“you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, rolling onto your side, and facing away from him.

he chuckled, pushing off the doorframe and walking over to the bed, his hands sliding into his pockets as he stood next to you, towering over your grumpy form. 

“c’mon baby. y’know ’m right.”

you could hear the teasing lilt in his voice, and it only made you more irritated. you had put him on this stupid sex ban for a reason—because he wouldn’t stop fussing over you, treating you like you were made of glass, acting like you couldn’t do anything for yourself. and now he was suggesting breaking the very ban you had imposed.

but the thing was you were starting to consider. the idea wasn’t sounding so bad anymore, not when you were this desperate for some relief.

“i hate you sometimes.”

rafe grinned, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside you, his hand immediately finding its way to your belly, gently rubbing slow circles like he always did. “nah, you love me. just don’t wanna admit I’m right.”

you turned to look at him, your glare less menacing now, more playful despite your mood. “don’t act so smug.”

he shrugged, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “can’t help it, baby, know you too well.”

you stared at him, your mind racing, trying to decide if giving in would be admitting defeat. but then again, you were so ready for this baby to come out. maybe he had a point.

“fine,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “we’ll try it.”

rafe’s face lit up like christmas morning, that grin of his widening as he raised an eyebrow. “now you wanna try it, huh? after you’ve had me on a sex ban for weeks?”

you jokily slap his wrist, “don’t push it, cameron.”

he held his hands up in mock surrender, but the smirk on his face told you he was thoroughly enjoying this moment. “’m just saying, you were the one who cut me off, and now you’re asking me to break the ban. kinda ironic."

you groaned again, throwing an arm over your face. “shut up and get over here before i change my mind.”

rafe didn’t need to be told twice.

he was already sliding onto the bed beside you, his hands touching over your body like he couldn’t help himself. he’d been waiting for this—weeks of restraint, holding back when all he wanted to do was touch you, help you feel better in any way he could.

his hands ghosted over your swollen belly, trailing down to your hips, as he leaned in, his lips brushing the side of your neck. “you sure about this?”

“rafe,” you warned, but it came out more breathless than you intended. your body was instantly reacting to his touch, the heat in your stomach spreading fast. “stop talking. push your stupid jeans down."

his hand paused mid-rub, his brow furrowing in confusion. "what?

you shot him a look that clearly said don’t make me repeat myself.

“you heard me.”

he stared at you for a second, his lips twitching like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or be concerned. “can’t i be a little romantic first?”

“not today—” you gestured impatiently at him, “hurry up before i change my mind.”

rafe looked almost wounded for a second, his lips parting like he was going to say something else, but then he caught the look on your face.

"jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head as he stood up, hands going to the waistband of his trousers. “i feel objectified.”

“’m nine months pregnant. come here before i explode.”

he kicked his trousers off in one swift movement, stepping back toward the bed. “when you put it that way…” he knelt back down beside you, but this time, his hands were less gentle, sliding up your thighs, pulling you closer. 

you could tell he was still trying to be careful, still thinking of your comfort, but you had other priorities.

“baby, please stop fussing and just—” you cut yourself off, grabbing at him, urging him to stop overthinking every little thing. you didn’t need sweet or slow or careful right now. you needed this baby out.

 “bossy today, huh?”

you weren’t in the mood for drawn-out foreplay. you let out an exasperated groan, rolling your eyes again. “i’m being so serious.”

he eventually got the hint, pulling your shorts and panties off with surprising ease.

without another word, he dropped his entire weight on the bed, sitting up against the headboard as he dragged your body to his lap.

you gave him that impatient look, your legs straddling his hips. his hands rested on your thighs, his cock already hard and ready, pressing against you. instead of easing into it, like you might’ve done any other time, you just went for it.

you reached down between you, grabbing him, and lined him up, your breath coming quicker. "just do it." your voice had a demanding tone as you stared him down as if daring him to argue.

he was frozen for half a second, eyes widening at how forward you were. “you really wanna just—”

“i’ve been walking around like a balloon for weeks. so unless you’re gonna pop it—"

rafe hissed in response, eyes closing for a second as your hand tugged him closer. he shifted, one hand on your hip, steadying you both.

"okay, baby," he breathed out, clearly trying to get his head in the game, “okay.”

just like that he was inside you, the sudden fullness making you gasp, your body immediately tightening around him. his hand gripped your waist harder, holding you as he did all the work, thrusting up, deep and hard. you were gripping his clothed shoulders, eyes squeezing shut.

the sensation of him filling you exactly what you’d been craving. no slow buildup, no teasing touches—just straight to it, like you’d demanded. rafe wasn’t holding back now, his movements deliberate as he pushed into you again and again, his breath ragged in your ear.

“oh, fuck,” you whispered, nails dragging across the skin in his thighs, as your hips tried to meet his thrusts. it was exactly what you needed, your body already trembling as he hit that perfect spot. 

once you lifted your head, rafe was the one falling forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck, as much as your belly allowed him to, as he drove into you harder, grunting against your skin.

“god, baby—feel so fuckin’ good,” he mumbled, his voice all breathless. "how are you still so tight—"

you moaned, just pawing at his broad shoulders for dear life, your body taking over completely. safe to say your waters broke an hour later.

[reidsdimples]

Feverish- 2

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+❤️‍🔥 MDNI‼️

Part 1

Spencer’s inhibitions are still lowered which causes him to escalate things in the shower

You startle awake as Spencer flips over the side of your bed and pukes. You’re still pinned beneath him, his full weight on your legs. So you scrunch your nose and attempt to hold his hair back.

An awful groan escapes him along with a mumbled apology.

“I’m going to move you off of me so I don’t throw up on you and make this worse,” you say gently and help him roll to the other side of the bed.

At least he got into the small trash can you placed there.

Once you dispose of it you return to check on him, the two of you only having been asleep for about four hours. The sun had set and you figured you should attempt to give him more medicine.

Fumbling around in your cabinet you locate some drowsy flu and cold medicine that you didn’t realize you had.

You whip up some soup and grab him a Gatorade before padding back into your bedroom. He’s approached that level if misery where all he can do is lay there and groan in pain. It was awful to watch, Spencer was usually so calm and put together. In the six months you dated, you never saw him sick.

His eyes flutter open when you sit next to him and he pulls himself to a sitting position.

“You have to try to eat something so I can give you the medicine. I put ginger in the soup to help your stomach,” he nods. His hands are shaking so you opt to spoon feed him slowly.

Between bites you feel his forehead to discover he’s still burning up. You frown at him sympathetically. He definitely had the same awful flu you had two weeks ago. No doubt about it.

“Water, the sports drink will dehydrate me more without water in my system,” he says when you try to give him the Gatorade.

“Okay,” you bring his glass of water to his lips and he takes it down greedily. His hands linger on yours against the glass for a moment and he meets your eyes.

“Here,” you hand him the dose of the liquid medicine.

He scoots away from it.

“No pills? I hate the liquid,” he whines.

“No, you have to take this now. I’ll get you the pills tomorrow,” you grab his chin and turn his face back towards the medicine. “Don’t make me force this down your throat. I will,” you threaten.

He knows you’re serious, so he takes it throws it down before chasing it with water.

He only took a few bites of soup but it would have to do.

You help him back under the covers and place a thermometer under his tongue. You needed a true reading to monitor his progress.

“103.2 F,” you tell him. “You’re bad off.”

He nods in agreement.

“Drink this,” you give him orange juice with an immune boosting shot in it. “After this you can go back to sleep,” you promise him.

He looks so tired, so sick, that it makes your heart hurt.

“Stay with me,” he pleads.

“I’m not going anywhere Spence,” you place a hand on his face and brush his hair behind his ear. He gives you a thankful smile. “Just keep your tissues on your side of the bed,” you grimace at his now growing pile.

He smiles softly before groaning like it hurts.

-

He wakes some hours later with at least some clarity in his eyes. He’s on his face when he lifts up to look at you. He smiles sheepishly before groaning and rolling onto his back.

“You smell awful, you were sweating morning your sleep,” you place the book in your lap and look down at him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

You make him take his temperature.

“101.8 F, better,” you show him.

He throws his head back on the headboard and runs his hands through his long hair with a sigh.

You look for signs about whether or not he remembers kissing you so desperately the day before. He gives none.

“Let’s get you in the shower,” you pop up.

He doesn’t protest and he’s able to walk, albeit slowly to the bathroom on his own. He sways as if his head spins but he’s able to brush his teeth. You’re grateful for that.

He leans with he’s head on the wall as he scrubs his tongue, clearly getting up is taking a toll on him.

“I made sure it’s not too warm,” you tell him after turning on the shower head.

He looks between you and the shower expectantly.

“What?” You ask.

“Aren’t you going to leave so I can take these off?” He asks, some humor in his tone.

“I’m not leaving you to your own devices. I’ve seen you naked, it’s fine Spencer,” you reason with him.

“But-“

“Not up for debate, you’re not falling and dying in my shower. Now come on,” you tug his arm towards you.

He doesn’t catch himself as quickly as he should be able to and barrels into you. You’re pinned between him and the wall when he places his hands on the wall on either side of your head to stead himself.

His mouth is partially open, he has no choice since he can’t breathe out of his nose. But somehow that mixed with his shirtlessness and messy hair is driving you crazy.

You hook your index fingers into the front of his boxers, pulling him closer to you in an attempt to break his eye contact.

“Lose these and get in the shower, Spence,” you whisper. He nods and obeys.

You move into the shower behind him. He’s leaning on the wall with his arms holding him up, his head dropped between his them as the water flushes all of his hair over his face. You take in the muscles in his lean back, his ass…

Then he turns to you. His eyes are heavy again, his breathing labored. He looks like hell.

You bring a new loofah between you and add soap. He reaches for it but you snatch it away. His eyes can’t help but to move over your wet naked body. You begin to move it over his chest, making slow circles until the soap lathers. You get his arms and move to his stomach. He seems to be getting closer to you.

He grabs your hand with the loofah before you trail down further, his eyes wide. You can see his arousal between his legs despite him feeling terrible.

You let him take the loofah and he turns you around and pulls you close. He wraps his arms around you. His tall lean frame, partially depending on you to keep him standing.

He squeezes out the loofah over your breasts and massages it down between them, his other hand gripping your left tit. His strong arms are wrapped around you as his hands start to cover you in soap. He’s slow and teasing about it.

You can feel his cock pressing upwards against your ass, a small groan escaping him.

You turn to him and make him take a step backward so that the water runs over you both. He watches you, unsure.

You pour more body wash in your hand and place in flat against his stomach, letting it run down over his hardened cock. You push him to lean against the wall. The coldness of the stone causes him to wince but he doesn’t care.

“Ah,” he moans when you wrap your hand around him.

“Would this make you feel better?” You whisper. He swallows hard and nods frantically.

“I need you so bad,” he whimpers.

You pump him slowly, dragging your hand and tightening it around him.

He leans forward on a moan when you speed up, he drops his head to the crook of your neck and begins kissing and sucking on your skin.

It doesn’t slow you down, you tighten and twist your hand just how he likes it until his leaning on you with his hands gripping your ass. The water falls over both of you, heating your body.

He twitches and moans, his knees getting weaker in his sickened state.

“Please,” he whines and takes your face in his hands.

His forehead is against yours as he pants for air.

“Ah,” he groans.

He drops his head to kiss your breasts as his cock begins to pulse. He shudders and you pump him harder until his hot cum is shooting outward. He grips your hips and slowly lowers himself to his knees before you.

He presses his face against your stomach, kissing and moaning, worshiping you. You take in the sight of him. Half out of it, half panting with satisfaction.

Unexpectedly though, he keeps kissing and sucking on your skin until his mouth trails down to your pussy. He looks up at you through the splashing water as if pleading to taste you. You nod.

He’s not gentle about it and he doesn’t take his time. Probably because he feels awful. But you don’t mind.

He leans his face up and burries it into you, his tongue trailing between your folds. He latches onto your pussy and sucks and licks frantically. You push your hands into his hair, spreading your legs to angel him just right.

“Yes baby,” you moan.

This beautiful man on his knees before you looked like a god with his soaked mane of hair. He was breathtaking as his eyes fluttered closed and he devoured you. He moaned into your pussy as he enjoyed feasting on everything you had to offer.

His nails dug into the flesh of your ass, urging you to grind on his face.

You oblige, screaming out at the intense sensation.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant as you ride his face. He continues sucking on your clit and pushing his tongue into your entrance.

It’s so good, your legs start to shake and the world blurs. He doesn’t let up and you think he must be exhausted. But he wants to please you. He’s always been like that.

“Spencer!” You scream as your orgasm ravishes you. Your pussy clenches and pulses as he sucks down your cum. It’s like he’s starving the way he does it.

You try to focus your eyes on him, you can’t believe he just did that.

He pulls his knees out from under him and sits back against the shower wall.

He closes eyes as and you can see them shifting behind his eyelids.

“Are you okay?” You crouch down in front of him.

“Dizzy,” he whispers.

“You shouldn’t have… we shouldn’t have,” you start to apologize. He shushes you.

“Don’t say that,” he urges weakly and shivers.

“Oh Spence,” you feel so bad. You weren’t even thinking. Clearly he wasn’t either.

You wrap a bath towel around him and help him up.

Once he’s dried off you get him back into bed and add an extra layer of blankets. Even in his sickened daze his eyes follow you around the room because you’re still naked.

“Here,” you make him take the medicine he hates along with a fever reducer.

“No more of that,” you gesture at the bathroom.

“What about when I’m better?” He grins. Your cheeks turn red and you can’t help but to smile.

“Just sleep, Spencer,” you lean over and kiss his forehead.

[velvetreds]

untitled — k. tsukishima

tsukishima has always cared for you, but will he ever be brave enough to show it?

cws; angst, fluff, happy ending, kissing, fem!reader, petnames, arranged marriage to lovers, mentions of infidelity, swearing, not proofread i think thats all

wc; 2055

you're eighteen, freshly graduated when your parents tell you about their plans; nineteen when you meet tsukishima kei. he is calm, confident, and self-assured, a complete opposite of you — you're wondering whether it's possible to survive a fall from a skyscraper. not that you'd ever actually do it, of course.

the wedding happens a week before you turn twenty, and that night, tsukishima has the grace to at least pretend to not notice as you cry yourself to sleep. when you've almost dozed off, you hear him stumble out of bed and walk away. you wonder if he has a girlfriend, another partner, someone he truly loves, someone you're keep him away from. the freezer opens and closes. the prospect of you coming between two people too jarring to think about, so you try not to, and you are asleep when he gets back to bed.

the next morning, you're mortified at your appearance in the mirror, eyes red and puffy — much worse than expected, too. no wonder tsukishima had looked at you like that. oh, shit. you're a tsukishima too, now. you turn around, preparing to go to the kitchen to look for an ice pack — you don't remember seeing one, but it still gives you something to do instead of hating yourself and him and your entire life. when you're maybe halfway there, you bump into your new husband. he hasn't been expecting to see you here either, freezing in place with a couple of spoons in one hand. wait, spoons?

he holds them out to you awkwardly, brows furrowing as you stare at him. "what? take them, my fingers are getting cold."

you finally find your voice. "what for?"

"your eyes?" he says it like it's obvious. "i put them in the freezer last night."

oh. oh.

"t-thank you," you stammer, snatching them out of his hands, rushing back to the bathroom. maybe things aren't that bad after all.

living with tsukishima means you have to learn quickly that words are not enough — words are never enough. the first few days, it's difficult for you. when you cook something hoping he'll like it, and all you get is a cursory good, a distracted not bad.

it hurts, really hurts at first. you don't even want to be here, and the lack of appreciation makes it so much worse. that is, until, he invites his best friend, tadashi yamaguchi, over for dinner.

the two of you get along much easier than you expect — he's a complete opposite of your husband. when tsukishima is away from the table, he asks about the recipes. he's heard great things about your cooking, he says. tsukki will not shut up.

"i thought he didn't like it," you say. yamaguchi laughs at that, and that day you find out that with tsukishima, you have to look deeper than just words. you have to notice the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his appreciative hums, and the way he takes second helping and sometimes even thirds.

and then one day he approaches you, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. he clears his throat, runs one hand through his already messy blonde hair, clears his throat again. he fixes his glasses as you stare up at him expectantly. "yes?"

"canyoumakesomemorestrawberryshortcake."

"what?"

"strawberry shortcake," he gets out through gritted teeth. oh, you realise. he's embarrassed. "can you make some mo—"

"of course!" you reply before he can finish, trying to spare him the humiliation. on second though, this does mean he likes what you make. life is suddenly a little bit nicer.

tsukishima (willingly) holds your hand for the first time on your first anniversary. you refer to him as kei, now, and he doesn't really mind either. he thinks it's pretty, the way you say it. but he'll never tell you that, of course. he buys you your favourite flowers, even though it's not supposed to be a special date, because you're only married because your parents made you.

you hold the bouquet with one hand. "kei, you didn't have to!"

"i wanted to," he shrugs. "you're not the worst person to do this with."

"oh," you sigh, and the smile on your face is real, so real, and so is the way his lips quirk up — a small movement, but it's there nonetheless. "you too, kei."

you turn to go put the flowers in a vase when he grabs your wrist, pulling you back gently. his hand slots perfectly into yours, and he gives it an experimental squeeze. you squeeze back, and his thumb brushes over the back of your hand. "i mean it, y/n."

"i know." it's hard to suppress the grin that's trying to take over your face as you say it. "me too."

handholding becomes normal after that, whether he's holding onto you in the midst of a crowd, or the two of you are at home and he's playing with your fingers lazily. sometimes kei's doing something on his phone — he uses it one-handed, even if it makes things more difficult or slows down his typing — and your hand is in his other one. your hands might lie in the space between the two of you, fingers tangled together, or maybe he's tracing shapes, letters, words onto your palm — whatever comes to mind. either way, you like it. you like him.

nowadays, he even kisses you(r cheek) goodbye before work, and if he's extra tired after, he finds himself melting into you. your presence itself comforts him, your existence a soothing hand over his brow. he hopes you don't mind where this is going.

spoiler alert: you don't.

you've just poured yourself a cup of coffee when your husband walks into the kitchen, rubbing at his bleary eyes. he looks like he's just gotten out of bed and come here. there's something different about him that you cannot quite place, so you ignore it, half-turning to face him. "morning."

"g'morning," kei responds. his morning voice is low, rough as he walks up to where you're situated between the counter and the kitchen island. his hand falls to your waist easily as he moves you out of his way to stand behind you. his chin rests on your shoulder as he stifles a yawn. "i want some too."

you hand him your cup and he hums gratefully after taking a sip. putting it back on the counter, he wraps his arms around your waist. his body curves over yours as he lets go of himself. the weight is comforting as it blankets you — maybe the two of you can stay like this forever. you relax into the back hug; he nudges your head with his. "can't find m'glasses."

oh. so that's what's missing.

"i'll help you find them," you suggest, not questioning his rather... clingy attitude today. it's been well over two years since the two of you got married, and while he has told you on multiple occasions that you can see whoever you want, your moral code is still not low enough to partake in what can basically be termed as infidelity. even if the marriage is arranged, and there are no feelings involved — that's a lie, you know by now that you've definitely fallen for your husband, and hard — you still don't want to do anything of that sort, which has lead to you becoming quite touch-starved over time. so when tsukishima started becoming more and more physically affectionate as of late, you didn't dare question it, savouring every moment instead. over time, it's gone from fleeting touches and hooking his pinkie around yours while he tries to look unbothered, to much more confident hugs and handholding. essentially, everything a couple can do together — except kissing.

that's not to say you don't want to kiss him; you really do. when you see him chewing on his bottom lip, lost in thought, you want to kiss him. when you see him lick his lips while playing volleyball at all the games that he's started inviting you to now, even from afar you want to kiss him. and when one of his old friends from high school texts him about something stupid and his lips turn up into a pout without him noticing, you definitely want to kiss him.

but you digress.

it takes a two-minute search to find them on the floor by the bed; the floor by your side of the bed no less. the covers are more messy than you remember, even though you're sure you fixed up your part of the bed. the blankets are messy, pillows squished. the only way it could possibly be this way is if someone had been rolling around and also hugging your pillows.

you and tsukki live alone. you don't have any pets. you didn't do anything, and tsukki definitely would not — would he?

"why're you even out of bed so early?" you ask him as he falls back onto the covers. "you don't have work today."

kei flushes — actually flushes, a pretty red hue spreading across his face as he thinks of an answer. "you... weren't there," he says carefully.

"i see." your reply is just as cautious as you test the waters; after all, this is the first time whatever the two of you have going on between you has emerged from where it was comfortingly held captive in words left unspoken. "well, i'm here now."

"good," he says, and there's the slightest hint of a smile playing about his lips as he pats the space beside him. "c'mere."

oh dear. you really are sleepy, aren't you? maybe you shouldn't have gotten up this early either.

this time, you're the one waking up alone in bed — fortunately, too, because extricating yourself from the ridiculous pile of limbs that the two of you become every night is one of the least favourite parts of your day.

you find him pacing around the living room, phone held up to his ear. "that's not fucking working, tadashi! she's my wife, i can't just tell her that!"

his eyes meet yours; you raise a brow. tsukishima looks like a deer caught in headlights, before he cuts the call and puts his phone down. "hi."

"hi," you respond. anxiety twists in your stomach, a dark creature from an inky pool that crawls out and takes all of you. "what can't you just tell me?"

"nothing." it comes out too fast, and he knows he's fucked up by saying it.

"o-oh." you take it brilliantly, in stride. "well, are you having an affair, or something?"

you try to play it off as a joke, but the fear and insecurity is pathetically apparent in your voice. "i don't mind if you are—"

"i'm not!"

"it's totally okay if you are! that was part of our agreement, right?"

kei groans. he's not sure whether he should be put off or attracted by the way you're hell-bent on lying your way through this. "i swear i'm not, y/n."

"then?"

he swallows harshly. oh well, now it never. "come sit?"

you comply quietly. if not an affair, then what? technically, it doesn't count as one, you have to admit. but still, what was all of that affection for, then? to soften the blow?

"i like you," he whispers. his hands twist around each other nervously, knuckles white. "i know this is weird because we're fucking married, but i do—"

"okay," you breathe. "okay, me too."

you've thought about kissing kei tsukishima way more than you should. and when his tongue slips out to wet his grinning lips and his hand brushes your hair away and splays out to hold your face in one fluid motion, you especially want to do that. so you do.

you like being in love with him. when the two of you are glued together, when he absentmindedly traces iloveyous onto your palm, when he draws hearts on your shoulders with his thumbs. when he becomes much more vocal about how much he loves you, exactly. now, you even get to hear him say it out loud.

"i love you," he says, kissing your pajama-clad shoulder. "my sunshine princess."

"fuck's that?" you ask him, laughing, but you like it all the same.

"you're that," he replies, and refuses to elaborate.

as it turns out, you like him being in love with you too.

been on that married couple shit lately thanks mom ig. my parents also used to call me somethinf along the lines of sunshine/little miss sunshine when i was a kid bc i was so happy. not so me now but ill take it:)

chest hurts when i inhale like stopppp.

anyways 2:30am so i'll sleep now. lot of care, take love.

also ive been stuck at 499 for hours now so what should i do for 500

tags !! @akaakeis + @smiithys (gen taglist open!!)

[leahsgf]

FUSSY EATER - leah williamson

leah williamson x child!reader | bubba masterlist

"come on bubba. can you try some broccoli for mumma?" leah cooed, desperately trying to slip the little plastic spoon past your lips which had of course remained glued shut in refusal.

you simply turned your head away in response, like you had done every single other time she had tried - settling for staring at beth and alessia from across the canteen, a much more interesting option in your opinion.

you were leah's mini, in every single way - and always had been, but the older you got the more this had began to show, mimicking everything she did from simply kicking a ball, to her signature frown, and even babbling certain words in that dreaded roadman accent that sometimes slipped out of the blonde's mouth for no apparent reason. even when you wouldn’t stop referring to everyone as ‘darlin’ for weeks on end, your want to be just like her was something that your mother adored beyond words, usually.

your recent thing however? she wasn't such a fan of.

you were finally at the stage where you could confidently eat solid foods and start having meals like leah, and she hadn't put any thought into just how fussy she herself was until she had you mirroring everything she did - including devouring absolutely anything that was beige and not giving anything else as much as a look.

which is what had landed you both in this situation, you sat in a highchair and leah sat across from you, spoon still loaded with the dreaded green stuff that you had yet to be convinced to try.

you were quite content with the bits of bread and plain pasta that were sat on your tray, and were suspicious of the piece of broccoli held in front of you, not knowing why you were being expected to try it when you had never seen your mumma eat it.

"come on sweetheart. if you try this little bit for me i'll get you some chocolate, yeah? just one little bit. i know you love chocolate"

"bribing the baby now are we williamson?" tooney cackled, walking past with her own food - not before snapping a picture of the sight before her to update her very amused followers, who had over time become invested in leah’s ‘dead’ meals.

“shut up man, she’s so stubborn i can’t! i have so much more respect for my mum now but surely even i wasn’t this bad”

“of course you were lee! you still are, are you forgetting that you called chicken slices ‘white ham’ until we were 23 cause you were convinced you hated chicken!” keira giggled, joining in on the conversation and lightly shoving her best friend as she slipped into the seat next to her.

“oi! not helping!” leah grumbled, the frown lines on her forehead that may as well be permanent only deepening as your refusal continued.

“maybe you should eat some and show her, she copies everything you do.” georgia chimed in this time, grinning as she already know what the answer would be.

“but i hate broccoli”

-

just a small little thing i’ve had in my drafts that makes so much sense in my head, bubba is 100% a picky eater like leah is

[hysteria-things]

can you do a story where y/n is really sick (a cold)

and chris is loving and takes cares of her

SNUG AS A BUG

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve been fighting this terrible cold for about a week, and your boyfriend loves to take care of you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFF, swearing, crying

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 570

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: fun fact this is based off when i was sick and dying in like october LMAO it was the worst i’ve ever felt.

hope you like it anon!

i’m feeling jolly today so i might post a smut later ;)

here’s to day a million of being sick. realistically, it’s only been a week, but you still felt like shit.

the TV was playing your favorite show since you’ve had enough free time to binge. it feels like you’ve been glued to the couch forever.

tissues were scattered on the snack table next to you along with two empty bowls — one with soup from breakfast and one with ice cream. those are the only two things you can eat since your throat is killing you.

your parents have to work, so chris has been coming over to take care of you when they’re not available.

the front door opens; you don’t have the energy to look at who it is (even though you know)

“i got you your soup from wawa and some more water.” chris smiles sympathetically at you, placing the things on the table.

“thank you.” you hoarse out.

“how are you feeling?”

“terrible.”

he pouts. “i’m going to go to your room for just a second. let me know if you need anything.”

you nod as he walks away, making his way up the staircase. however, he pauses midway when he hears your sniffles.

it’s not just congested sniffles. they’re cry sniffles.

he snaps his head to you. you have the soup in your hands, but you’re not eating it. instead, you’re using the spoon to mix it.

he quickly goes back down the stairs to come rushing to you. “oh, no. none of that.” he takes his thumbs and wipes your tears, leaving his hands cupping your cheeks afterward.

“i don’t want to be sick anymore.” you sob. his heart is breaking seeing you like this. he hates it when you’re upset. “my h-head hurts so bad. a-and i feel so weak.”

“i know, i’m sorry.” he places your head into his stomach since he’s standing in front of you, and your tears start to wet his shirt. “just keep taking the medicine the doctor gave you and you’ll get better in no time.”

“i don’t want the soup.” you cry. you tend to say nonsense when you’re this upset about something.

“that’s okay.” he grabs it from your hands and places it with the other bowls. “we can save it for later, alright?”

a chill runs up your spine. chris starts to take the blanket off of your body and before you can protest, he speaks. “let’s bring you to bed. it’s much more comfortable.”

he takes your hands in his and helps you off the couch, walking at your pace until you’re upstairs and into your room. you immediately head under the covers, plus two more blankets for your chills.

chris starts tucking you in with a goofy grin on his face, as if he’s a father tucking in his child. “feel snug?”

you smile warmly. “as a bug.”

“i’m going to go get your medicine and water so you have them. i’ll be right back.”

you yawn but nod as he leaves the room.

moments later chris returns, but you already passed out. he quietly makes his way into the room when he notices this, placing the items on your nightstand.

he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before kneeling to kiss you on the forehead. “i love you.” he whispers, backing out of the room and closing the door, leaving you to sleep for the rest of the afternoon.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[4:19 pm]

You sighed, tightening the covers around your body even tighter. You closed your eyes and willed the day to end already. It had been an awful day. You slept through your alarm and gotten to class late. Usually, this wouldn't have been an issue, but you had a test and the TA was such a douche. You had to beg the professor to let you retake it later in the week and gotten the meanest stare from the TA while you walked out of the classroom.

Then you left your key in your room and only found out after walking through the windiest day you'd ever experienced. And your roommate wasn't answering her texts, which you should have guessed because she told you she was going out of town with her "maybe girlfriend."

Then to top it all off, your group mates for a group project were all texting you individually to ask what their part of the project was, despite it all being planned out on a shared document already.

So here you were, bundled up under the covers of frat!Jaehyun's shitty sheets. Thankfully, when you arrived, Doyoung had been leaving and was happy to let you in.

His sheets smelled like they hadn't been washed since the last time you made him wash them, but his bed was enough to ease your annoyance and general hate for the day.

After maybe an hour or even half an hour, you weren't sure, the door creaked open. "Hey, Baby," Jaehyun greeted quietly and hesitantly, "not that I'm not happy to see you, or rather a you shaped lump in my bed, but weren't you planning on locking yourself in and studying tonight?"

You pulled the covers off your face, a pout present and tears building in your lash line, "I had a really bad day and I got locked out of my room."

His eyes soften, crawling onto the bed and pulling you into his warm hold as big spoon. "It's over now, Baby," Jaehyun coos as he rubs soothing circles on your arms.

You sighed out, sniffling while a few tears escaped. "It was just such a bad day."

Jaehyun turned you, holding your head to his chest. He let you cry it out, kissing your forehead, and muttering reassurances. When you calmed down, he pulled your head back gently, brushing your hair from your face. "Let's order your favorites for dinner and I'll get Taeyong to talk to the RA tomorrow morning to get you into your room. We can catch up on your shows and... I'll even let Haechan watch with us."

You pouted again, jutting out your bottom lip, "you love me so much."

"You're my girl, ‘course I do," he replied nonchalantly while both of you ignored how red he got. You loved him a whole lot too.

[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter two -

I might kill my ex, not the best idea

Eddie warned Robin that a game of never have I ever was a bad idea, and you should know better than to go snooping where you don’t belong.

warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking (hey it’s a summer time barbecue in the midwest), you thought there was a lot tension the last chapter? baby, you haven’t seen nothing yet. jealousy, spicy things are revealed about all of them during a drinking game.

wc: 9.5k

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

It’s been one week.

One entire week without even so much of a glimpse of that permanently messy head of hair, and god, you hated how much it bothered you. Ears perking up every time you’d catch the cadence of his voice through the receiver of Robin’s cordless phone the few times he called her to check in. Like an unwanted guest who wasn’t taking the hint, his broad shoulders and full pink lips that somehow always look like they need to be kissed haunt your unsuspecting dreams at night. 

You hate it, you hate him, and you try not to spiral about why it feels like the opposite.

“We’re going over to Steve’s tonight,” Robin practically hums around a mouthful of fruit loops, completely unaware of you already stewing about the boy whose name just rolled off her tongue this early in the morning. 

“What?” You snap, tearing your eyes from the slow pour of the coffee maker in front of you, grouchy and wound up from a dream about his big hands pulling your legs apart so perfect white teeth could nip at the inside of your thighs.

“Steve, you know that guy you told me you’d try and be nice to. The one who’s fixing your car?” Sarcasm drips from her tone as she scoops up another bite, “We’re going to his house.”

Of course.

“That’s cool with me.” You muster up enough effort to twist your lips up into a smile that feels more like a grimace. The smashed rainbow Robin reveals in her mouth when she laughs tells you it is.

“Do me a favor, and never go into acting.” Swallowing loudly, she drops her spoon back into her bowl with a clank. “I do appreciate you trying to pretend like you’re okay with it, though, and in all seriousness, we haven’t gone this long without seeing each other in like, forever. He says you're keeping me hostage.”

“I’m keeping you hostage?!” You scoff with a roll of your eyes, turning your back to finally pour yourself the cup of coffee you’ve waited so patiently for. “He’s the best friend stealer.”

“I’m not going to lie, I think I like you two fighting over me,” she laughs, looking a little too smug for your liking as she brings her empty bowl to the sink, Garfield slippers scuffling across the tile, too lazy to pick up her feet from the floor.

“Yeah, 'cause you’re sick.” A real smile curls up into your cup, inhaling the rich scent into your nose. “What are your plans to torture me with his presence this time?” 

Robin narrows her stare at you in a silent warning, pulling herself up to sit on the counter, orange cat covered feet dangling freely as you meet her gaze with softened eyes in a silent apology.

“Eddie’s off tonight, so we’re having a little reunion barbecue, and Steve’s gonna grill.”

Choking on your coffee, you sputter your sip back into your mug, turning her freckled face sour.

“Since when does Steve know how to cook, let alone grill?”

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you know you’re skating on thin ice, but all the built up tension that tightens your muscles, and buzzes incessantly at your fingertips makes everything feel impossible to control.

“He’s not seventeen anymore - “

“Really? He had me fooled shoving his tongue down some pretty blonde’s throat at Rick’s the other night.” 

“That’s - come on, you know that's not fair. He didn’t even know -”

”Why stop at just the four of us, let’s invite Vickie, make it a real party.”

The name of your best friend’s ex leaves your mouth before you can stop it, instant regret making a heavy home in your chest that feels like it might cave in when her mood shifts with glassy eyes and it’s completely your fault.

“I take back what I said, I need you to start acting again.”

Jumping off the counter, you set your mug down so you can grab her arm before she can take those few steps out of the kitchen. 

“Hey! Look, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” 

She doesn’t put up much of a fight, even though you deserve it, the blue in her eyes turn to ice when she looks at you.

“I’m sorry.”

She holds your stare until she can tell you actually mean it, melting glaciers with a heavy sigh. 

“It’s fine, I get it.” 

Her words come out soft, just like the lines that smooth on her face.

“I know this is weird and like totally against friend code or whatever, but I think that just goes to show how much he must mean to me or even a testament to how much he’s changed if I’m even asking you to just try and do this. Just try, that’s all.”

“No, you’re right,” you fluster, doing your best to reassure her in a shaky voice, “I just slept badly and had a really weird dream. It just threw me off a little. I’m being so awful and I’m sorry.” 

Flashes of the way his hands gripped your hips and the dirty things he whispered in your ear has your palms start to sweat, making you loosen your grip on her arm before she can notice. 

Robin searches your face for the reassurance that she needs before a small smile finally tugs at the corners of her lips.“This is why you’re my best friend.” She pulls you into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“Only if you tell him that.” 

Snaking your arms around her waist, you let out a shaky laugh, silently preparing to see the man who hasn’t left the crevices of your mind since you stepped foot back in Hawkins.

———

It feels like you’re back in high school the way you can’t stop looking at yourself in the mirror, the nerves still feel the same.

Your gaze wanders up and down your reflection, turning from side to side, overly critical eyes take in your curves that are on display a little more than normal and you wonder if Robin will notice. Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, better yet you wonder if Robin will notice and have something to say about it. 

“You’re certainly spending a lot of time on an outfit.” Your best friend whistles low as she leans against the open bedroom door confirming your fears with a cross of her arms.

“Just trying to remember what I brought is all.” You don’t engage with the amusement that hides in her tone, smoothing down the short black skirt that flares over the tops of your thighs, before adjusting the straps on your matching tank top.

“Riiiight,” she snorts, earning the kind of glare that has her raising her hands in defense before a shit-eating grin cracks wide across her face. “I’m going to need you to hurry up, though. Do I need to remind you that we’re walking?”

“I’m done!” You huff, sock covered feet digging into her cream carpet as you make your way toward her, “I just need to put on my shoes.”

“You’ve got twenty secon-” she agonizes before three hard knocks on her front door cut her off. Her cheshire smile falters as she turns confused.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get to finish that sentence,” you warn in a harsh whisper, grabbing your Converse that had been haphazardly kicked off earlier in the corner. 

Robin puts a ringed finger to her lips, like the possibility of a kidnapper being on the other side is extremely probable, and it’s her turn to glare when you roll your eyes at her dramatics. Following her out to the living room, you plop down on the couch, watching her slowly creep to the front door. Both her hands find the blue painted wood pushing up on the toes of her Reeboks to look out the peephole.

“Steve?!” 

The name makes your stomach flip, a shaky breath pushing its way through watermelon flavored lips because you thought you had more time than this. Keeping a poker face, you take your time tying your laces as she swings the door open. Head down, your eyes keep their focus on how the dirty white strings move between your fingers. 

You’re not ready to look at him. Not yet.

“After taking you to school at 7am every day after I graduated, you really thought I was going to let you walk?” The smile in his voice is evident, a fond memory you’re not a part of but you can still feel the warmth inside it by the way he speaks. 

“Thank god,” she starts, the insinuation of the words that are going to follow making your eyes snap up, narrowed and shooting daggers at your best friend, catching Steve’s attention in the process. 

“We were going to be late.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, his gaze claiming yours and holding it against your will, the beginnings of a smirk playing on his full lips and suddenly it’s so much warmer in her living room than it was two seconds ago. “Why’s that?”

He somehow looks even better than the last time you saw him, a bad habit you’re quickly learning that he has. The honey colored tips of his chestnut hair curl at the ends, sticking out of the sides of his backwards baseball hat. A well worn black cotton shirt with the sleeves cut out has the arms that you’d dreamt about on full display. The summer sun somehow dotting even more freckles across his shoulder blades that flex everytime he spins his car keys around his finger. The dark cherry red basketball shorts he wears hit the bottoms of his hairy thighs, the red mesh even more vibrant against his tan skin, just like the white leather of the Nike Cortez’s that cover his feet. 

“She’s just being dramatic,” you grumble, finally tearing your eyes from the dark moss that covers the chocolate inside his, doing your best to ignore the heat of them wandering the bare skin of your legs as you finish tying your shoes.

“You changed your outfit like sixty times!” 

This is the moment that you decide you’re going to kill Robin in her sleep tonight.

“Well, I’m ready so you both can stop being annoying now.” Standing, you tug down the bottom of your skirt that suddenly feels even shorter with his full attention on you like this.

“Wait, why am I annoying? I just got here.” Steve argues when your words finally sink in, snapping him out of his daze, catching the keys in his palm. 

“You’re always annoying, Harrington,” you sigh, hoping your deflections are working, but the small smile that never leaves his lips tells you it’s not.

“Shotgun!” Robin calls out like it’s something you would have argued over. Your shoulder brushes with his as you push your way out the door, sending sparks to the tips of your fingers and making your hair stand on end. Steve and the summer heat warm your skin. 

“It’s all yours,” you concede with ease, ignoring the butterfly wings that wreak havoc in your rib cage when the spice of his cologne makes its way into your nose.

It was going to be a night.

Steve keeps the windows rolled down, the muggy air making your bare thighs stick together and to the hot leather of his backseat. It drowns out the music as he speeds down the back roads, making the conversation between him and Robin upfront almost inaudible.

You don’t worry about what they might be saying, not even when they both start gesturing wildly with their hands. Taking advantage of the time left alone, you put all of your focus into preparing yourself for the next few hours, doing your best to push the lingering thoughts of your dream deep down to a place that no one can find. A task that proves to be much harder while avoiding his gaze that dares you to meet it in the rear view mirror the entire way. 

The memories you have of the back of his car don’t help either.

Pulling into Forest Hills trailer park, you’re surprised at the facelift they finally gave it after all these years. Lush green grass grows where the yellow and brown shrub used to be, and a wooden gazebo that looks like it’s missing a finishing coat stands tall, replacing the picnic table where you and the metal head used to smoke. Even the gravel that paves the road looks new and gray, not the dirt brown mud that it used to be. 

It’s still a struggle to wrap your head around the fact that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, the former king of Hawkin’s and Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson not only work together, but live together too. You would have laughed in anyone’s face if they told you this five years ago. 

The BMW’s tires crunch loudly against the rocks as Steve pulls into the driveway of a hunter green trailer. It sits in the back of the park, almost touching the edge of the woods behind it. A faded white line running along the length that matches the metal railing of their front entrance and the overhang that covers it. The paint peels from parts of the metal in the heat, revealing spots of the gray hidden underneath. A worn in deep maroon couch sits on the porch just like the dirty brown one at Wayne’s trailer, and you already know Eddie spends his mornings there. You internally groan when you catch yourself wondering if Steve does too.

“Home sweet home,” he hums, cutting the engine off and pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You dare to meet his eyes for the first time since you left the apartment when Robin jumps out of the front seat, and you immediately regret it. He smiles wide, finally catching your attention, those perfect white teeth baring themselves at you as he pulls off his hat to run a hand through his sweaty bed head. The long strand he’s always at battle with falls through the opening in the back when he puts it on again, because, of course it does.

“Good to see you finally slumming it with the rest of us, King Steve,” you snort, pulling on the handle to let yourself out, ending any chance of conversation.

If it wasn’t for your Eddie barreling out of the front door to greet you and Robin with a big dimpled grin and a freshly rolled joint, you would’ve thought a little harder about the way Steve winced at the nickname.

The Munson/Harrington Bachelor pad anomaly isn’t exactly what you expected it to be, but even then you weren’t entirely sure what that was. It’s cozy just like how Wayne’s used to be but where there’s hand me downs that have been through the short line of Munson men’s hands, there’s an equal amount of obviously perfectly well kept new. Like the shiny big TV in the center of their living room, and the well-loved lazy boy in front of it, that still had cigarette burns from its previous owner, next to the rich tan leather couch right by it.

It smells like it has just been cleaned, a sanitizing lilac still lingering in the air, trying its best to cover the smell of all grease stained clothing in their hampers and the smoke from joints like the one Eddie’s about to put out in an ashtray full of ones just like it.

He sits at the head of the table with a lopsided grin that pushes up the apples of his cheeks and reveals the deep dimples in the center of them. Droopy lids frame his bloodshot eyes that meet your own. Orange and pinks paint the darkening sky through the sliding glass door behind him. 

“I still can’t believe you’re actually here,” Eddie chuckles with a fond glint in big brown eyes leaning back in his chair that squeaks under the redistribution of his weight.

“Back by popular demand,” you smirk, pointing at Robin, who sits just on the other side of the table, glassy eyed with an unwavering smile. 

You try to ignore how the empty chair next to her bothers you, or they way your eyes keep looking toward the kitchen through the small opening of their little island, giving you the perfect view of Steve prepping dinner. His thick eyebrows are furrowed as he digs through spice racks and drawers, front teeth digging into the plushness of his bottom lip deep in thought.

“I think this calls for a fire,” Eddie announces loudly, bringing you back to the conversation with a slap of his palms on the wood of the table and the kind of smirk that tells you that you’ve been caught.

“We told Janice next door weekends only after last time,” Steve’s voice startles you, making his presence known, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. 

“It’s Thursday. Practically the weekend. Besides it’s a special occasion, look who’s here Stevie boy.” Something in Eddie’s tone makes Steve’s eyes narrow in a silent threat that only makes the metal heads' lips twist up into something more devilish. 

“You have to put it out before bed then, I’m not dealing with it like last time.” Steve accepts defeat quicker than anticipated, “And if she calls or comes over to complain at all, that's all on you too.”

”Deal,” Eddie agrees with five fingers across his heart, the silver of his rings catching in the low light of their trailer.“I think she’s got a crush on me anyway.”

“She’s married,” Steve dead pans with a deep sigh, taking his hat off to run another hand through his hair and you hate the way it has your thighs meeting under the table. “Who’s helping me with dinner then?”

He knows better than to look at you, so his gaze falls onto his roommate and best friend.

”Don’t look at me!” Robin argues, raising her right hand to show off the faded scar on her palm. “Last time I tried to help, I had to get stitches, remember?”

”The fire’s a full time job I’m afraid,” Eddie shrugs, standing up. Not missing a beat, they both look at each other like they're in on some secret that you and Steve aren’t apart of before their eyes land on you.

”You know I’m not a good cook,” you whine, refusing to meet the heat of Steve’s stare that burns against the side of your face.

”I’m sure Steve’s more than willing to help teach you, princess.” Eddie grins, and it makes you want to slap the dimples clean off his face.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine, I can do it by myself,” Steve interjects with a sigh before you have a chance to respond with something that he knows will just egg the metal head on and get his ego even more bruised.

He’s not expecting the way your eyes snap to his, or the way they narrow with something fiery deep inside them.

”We’re grown adults, Steve. I think I can handle helping you cut some vegetables or whatever it is you need me to do.” Standing up with a shove of your chair, he doesn’t even attempt to argue about how that’s the exact opposite of what you just said.

”There we go! Problem solved.” Eddie’s grin is mischievous, and so is the wink he throws at his roommate before opening the sliding glass door, ushering Robin out and leaving you both alone.

The tension inside the kitchen hangs thicker in the air than the humidity outside weighing down your shoulders, making the words stick in the back of your throat as you try to navigate the close proximity to Steve. Neither one of you is sure of what to say first, and the sound of Eddie and Robin laughing outside filling the silence between you somehow makes it worse. 

The weed twists the knots in your stomach tighter, and the cedar that always seems to linger whenever he’s around turns suffocating without an escape. You lean against the sink across from him while he digs through the icebox in the fridge. Shoulder blades moving with the motions of his wrist, plastic crinkling loudly every time he moves a bag out of the way. Muttering to himself, you watch goosebumps rise on his tan skin from the cool air, muscles twitching from the shock.

This was a mistake. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you tear your eyes away in hopes it will stop the dull ache between your legs from getting worse when you’re brought back to the way those same arms caged you in while his hips pushed you deeper into the mattress in your dreams last night. Looking out the small window at the beginning flames of the bonfire, a shaky breath pushes past your glossed lips, and you wipe your palms on your skirt before turning around to wash your hands.

”You don’t have to help, you know?” His voice comes out just loud enough for you to hear over the running water, the small smacking sound of the fridge closing behind it, “If you’re that uncomfortable, I can do it.”

Cutting the water, you shake your hands in the sink before tearing off a paper towel from the roll next to you. Working up enough courage to finally turn around to look at him, you finish drying your hands with a softer expression.

”No, I can help.” 

He holds your stare, silently giving you another out while his fingers make quick work of unwrapping a head of lettuce, an onion, and a few peppers from their plastic confines. No matter how much you want to look away, you don’t, standing firm in your choice despite everything inside of you screaming to run away, and it’s enough for him to nod his head. The slight twitch of his lips while he rolls the bags in his hands doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I just need you to cut the onion into thin slices for the burgers, and same with the jalapeños.” He instructs, turning his back to you to throw away the wrappings. 

The sudden movement has the deep cut sleeves of his shirt fluttering open, giving you a glimpse of the thick patch of hair on his chest, and how it tapers off and down past his belly button. Your thighs find each other again, and you look up to the ceiling silently, trying to regain all the strength you thought you’d just found. 

“And the lettuce - uhh, are you okay?” Steve’s confusion makes all the blood in your body rush to the apples of your cheeks as you try to hide your internal struggle with a smile.

“Yeah, we’re good. Never been better. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you ramble, brushing past him to the station he’s set up for you.

“…Right,” he starts with a pause before choosing to leave it alone, “I just need you to kind of rip the lettuce up, you can cut it if you want but I think bigger pieces would be better.”

You aren’t expecting his voice to come from right behind you, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath against the back of your neck. Your own goosebumps rise, dotting across exposed skin and you hope he doesn’t notice but the way he lingers in your space for a little longer despite the nod of your head makes you think otherwise. The spice of his cologne grows faint along with his footsteps against the tile floor, finding a home on the other side of the kitchen, busying himself with what he had started before.

Eddie turns on the radio, easing some of the tension from your muscles, and relaxing your shoulders as you get a good grip on the handle of the knife.

You could do this, easy. 

You really start to believe it too when you cut all the jalapeños, even humming along to an old Judas Priest song that you and Eddie used to blast in his van after school. Peeling the onion, you pretend that you don’t see the reflection of Steve staring at you from the glass of the microwave as you sway your hips and bop your head to the beat.

“So, New York huh?” He finally breaks, and your eyes flutter to the reflection to see him putting away all the spices he’d pulled out while you were smoking. “You likin’ it?”

Your movements freeze for a second, and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth with all the things you’ve dreamed of saying to him. Years of coming up with all the ways you’d tell him how much better you were without him. A recurring fantasy of a ten year reunion where you’d show up with your famous screenwriter husband you’d met on the Subway, turning your nose at him and whatever Hawkin’s girl he’d managed to knock up. But instead, the universe has you here five years too early, and Steve isn’t the same guy you’d left even if you don’t quite trust it yet.

Picking up the knife again, you roll your shoulders with a quiet breath before cutting into the onion once more as you search for the words to answer.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s big and it can be a little scary sometimes but I can be myself there,” it comes out a little quieter than intended but you still twist your hips to meet his gaze from across the kitchen where he stands with crossed arms giving you his full attention. “No one really cares what you do.”

“Who are you trying to be out there?” He asks like he has no idea what small talk is, the greens in his eyes shimmering against the last bit of sunlight that shines on his face.

“Someone stronger than who I was in high school,” you whisper, turning back around to focus on the task at hand and not your ex trying to dig into the depths of your soul while you cut onions.

“You were always the strongest person I knew,” he counters, and you can practically hear the shrug that you know follows his words.

”You certainly liked to test it.” 

It comes out before you can bite your tongue, your knife slicing right into the center of the onion and hitting the cutting board roughly, adding dramatic effect.

”Ouch,” he hums with a small laugh, silverware clanking against the metal of the sink behind you as he finishes cleaning up his mess, “I guess I deserved that one.”

“Steve.” You stop cutting, dropping the knife to look at him, unintentionally swiping your eye in the process, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that. I promised Rob- oh fuck!”

The burning in your right eye becomes unbearable, the tears spilling freely down your cheek blurring your vision with a harsh sting.

”Oh, oh no. Did you touch your eye?!” Steve sounds panicked, sneakers scuffling against the tile as he hurries to grab a washcloth from the drawer. 

“It was an accident!” You whine, closing your eyes as tight as you can, willing the burning tears to stop, the sound of water running from the sink filling your ears, “God it hurts so bad, Steve.”

”I know baby, I know,” he coos in a soothing voice, and in your panic you almost don’t catch the old nickname that slips off his tongue with ease. Long fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer to him, “Let me see, stay still.”

The coolness of the rag provides instant relief when he presses it gently to your eye. Taking a deep breath, you feel the warmth of his palm rub up and down your arm soothing your irritated nerves more. The sting doesn’t fully go away, but it subsides enough for the tears to slow down as he applies a little more pressure before removing it to wet it again. Blinking past the burning, you finally realize just how close you are to him now. 

Chests practically touching, you can see the beginnings of stubble lining his jaw despite being able to tell that he shaved today. The vampire bites on his neck that used to be your favorite to kiss taunt you for what feels like the millionth time this week. With cedar and musk filling your lungs, it feels impossible to breathe.

He cuts off the water, turning towards you again, and you aren’t prepared for the depth in his eyes meeting yours from this distance. They’re soft when they look at you, the chestnut inside them warming gold as you stare back at him a little dazed. Calloused fingertips stop their path up your arm to gently grab your chin, tilting your face up to his so he can get a better look at the damage. He’s sweet with the way moves your head around, the pad of his thumb smoothing the skin under your irritated eye.

”I think you’ll be okay, I don’t see any seeds or anything trapped inside,” he whispers, thumb never stopping its movements while his gaze flicks down to your lips that pout on their own, something electric charging in the air.

The sliding glass door opens behind him before you can answer, Robin and Eddie making their presence known in a loud burst of energy. Snatching the wet rag from his hand, you’re quick to put distance between you. Placing the cool cloth against your face, you make your way out of the kitchen before anyone can ask you anything about what happened. Muttering a “thanks Steve '' on your way to assess just how ruined your makeup is in the bathroom. 

Your heart pounds in your ears feeling the ghost of his touch everywhere, chest tightening because your body won’t stop screaming for more.

You stay in the bathroom long enough for the burning to subside, mumbling words that resemble some kind of pep talk while scrubbing your hands. Fingers that still shake with nerves fix your smudged mascara, listening for the moment their voices go quiet behind the sliding glass door before you decide to finally venture out. The sound of Steve’s laugh catches in your ears, as you make your way through the empty trailer, the corners of your lips curling on their own as you tug on the handle that separates you from them. The humidity is quick to turn your skin sticky despite the sun disappearing behind the trees. 

”There she is! I heard Harrington tried to blind you,” Eddie chuckles from his place crouched in front of the fire. A half smoked cigarette dangling lazily from the side of his mouth as he ‘stokes’ the flames, the crackling wood competing with the buzz of the cicadas that surround you.

”Riddle me this, Steve, why is it that whenever someone ’helps’ you cook, they end up in the hospital or worse, almost BLIND!” 

From her spot sitting on one of the many faded red plastic lawn chairs they have circled around the pit, Robin doesn’t hesitate to turn it into a dog pile with dramatics that could rival an Oscar winning actress.

Steve rolls his eyes, the warm light from the smaller flame of the grill glowing underneath him, highlighting his sharp features. His gaze meets yours, ignoring his friends, and you swear even from here, you can see the green inside each eye shine. You know there’s a million questions he wants to ask but there’s only one that comes out, and it’s soft just like the way he touched you inside.

”Are you okay?”

It’s hard for you to look anywhere but his face, remembering just how pretty it was up close. Your eyes trace the straight line of his nose, and the curve of his full bottom lip before finally meeting his eyes. The small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth reminds you that you haven’t answered him yet but he doesn’t say anything. He lets Robin’s low whistle do all the talking.

”Uhh, yeah, I’m good. Crisis averted,” you mumble, snapping out of it, cheeks warming up enough to compete with the fire pit you stumble around, landing in the seat next to your best friend. “No jalapenos on mine, I think I’ve had enough for today.”

Steve laughs again, just like the one you heard on your way out and the sound burrows in your heart, making it swell, giddiness roiling deep in your gut. You ignore Robin’s obnoxious toothy grin next to you, doubling down even more when she starts to wiggle her eyebrows. The two beer cans at her feet tell you everything you need to know.

Without a cloud in an almost completely dark sky, you start to see the twinkling of the stars you’ll always miss begin to appear. They battle for your attention against the fireflies that flicker through the tall grass and into the woods. Lighter fluid stings your nose when Steve squirts more onto the burning coals, switching from hot dogs to burgers like he’s been grilling for a family of four his whole life.

A couple of beers calm your nerves that threaten to give you away, watching Steve in his element like this, the holes cut in his shirt showing off every flex of his muscles as he flips the patties. Cheese melting over the burger meat, just like your body that sinks further into the lawn chair that sticks to the backs of your thighs. He throws you a knowing look, making you clear your throat. Straightening your posture, you try to join in Robin and Eddie’s conversation like you hadn’t just been caught. Taking another long swig of the bitter semi cold liquid, you hope it’s enough to get you through dinner.

It’s not.

Steve takes the seat across from you when he’s finished cooking, manspreading with his paper plate in his lap. You fight the urge to look at the tan line of his inner thighs that are revealed by his loose fitting shorts, laughing a little too loud at Eddie’s jokes, desperate to keep your struggle hidden. Even going as far as acting interested when Robin starts talking about her reasons why she likes to buy certain things from the three different grocery stores in town. 

It’s when a dribble of ketchup lands on top of Steve's hand after a large bite that you lose your cool. Right between his thumb and index finger, he hums with cheeks full of food before those full lips of his wrap around the spilled sauce, cleaning it with a flick of his tongue.

”I’m gonna throw my plate away, is anyone else done?” You squeak, standing up abruptly, your chair nearly falling backwards in the process. 

“Jesus, easy tiger,” Eddie snorts, finishing off the last of his beer before crushing the tin can in his hand, tossing it on his empty plate, “The trash isn’t going anywhere.”

“Just trying to be a good house guest is all,” you lie, making Eddie quirk an eyebrow, the dimples in his cheeks coming out to play again.

”Uh huh.” He smirks before handing you his plate that Robin quickly piles hers on top of. “Sure.”

”That’s very sweet of you,” Steve chimes in, with a lopsided grin on his face that makes you want to punch the air and get out of here. 

“She’s pure class Harrington, get it right,” Robin comes for the save with a knowing wink that only makes the heat growing in your cheeks worse.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you mumble quickly turning on your heel, feeling all their eyes on you as you make your way to the back door of the trailer.

”Hurry back. We're gonna play Never Have I Ever,” your best friend calls out over her shoulder making you wish you could just stay inside when the sliding glass door closes behind you.

Embers spark and pop from the fire before they disappear into the night sky, the full moon’s white glow stopping just along the dark edges of the trees that surround the backyard. The four of you sit around the pit with fresh beers in hand. The buzz of the alcohol turning Steve’s gaze heavy as he stares at you from across the flickering flames. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth you look everywhere but his direction, and hope he doesn’t see the way your thighs press under the heat of it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea Robin?” Eddie whispers, big brown eyes glancing between the both of you, and your bouncing knee.

”It’s fine, they’ll be fine. Right guys?” She waves the metal head off, nudging you with her elbow, completely unphased.

��Of course we’ll be fine, why wouldn’t we be fine?” You snap, tugging the bottom of your skirt down, all the built up tension turning into aggression. Steve smiles into his next gulp.

“Whoa, whoa. I was just asking, but you do seem a little tense.” She raises her hands in surrender, both her eyebrows disappearing behind her shaggy bangs while Eddie distracts himself by poking the fire.

“Relax, it’s just a game,” Steve sighs, settling deeper in his chair, the warm amber in the flames bouncing off the mischievous gold in his eyes that keep their hold on you. “Besides, we’re friends now, right?”

Your gaze narrows, the grip on your beer tightening enough to hear the pop of the metal.“Yep,” you manage to get out, shooting Eddie a glare when he snorts.

“If you guys say so,” he starts, ignoring your scowl while getting cut off by Robin who’s practically vibrating in her seat now.

”Let’s have fun already. I’ll start.” Robin shushes him before acting like she’s deep in thought, turning to face you with the kind of grin on her face that tells you she’s up to no good, “Never have I ever…let some Wall Street douchebag go down on me in the backseat of his Rolls Royce.”

“That’s weirdly specific- oh wait! Damn! Princess!” Eddie whoops when you take a swig with a roll of your eyes, flipping Robin the bird. 

“Gotta try everything once, right?” You shrug, holding his gaze with a smirk, not even trying to hide that you’re taking great pleasure in the way Steve’s jaw clenches at the new found information of your life outside of here. “He had a nice mouth when he wasn’t using it for talking.”

Steve takes a deep breath through his nose, the mossy greens in his eyes turning dark as you lean back in your chair smugly.

“She’s a wild one, I’ll tell ya,” Robin giggles fondly, passing the baton to you with a proud smile.

Maybe it was the beer or the incessant way Steve’s presence drove you to the brink of insanity by rageful lust. Or even just the way he sat across from you with his legs spread wide like he ruled the world, whatever it was, that's what’s to blame for the question that rolls off your tongue.

“Never have I ever taken someone’s virginity.”

Robin’s jaw drops, guffawing with a harsh slap on your leg, mouthing a ‘you said you’d be nice’ but the buzz of the alcohol keeps a lopsided grin on her face. Eddie drinks, nervously watching the staring contest going on between you and Steve. Like a dog and its owner trying to establish dominance, both of you refuse to be the one who looks away first. Taking two gulps for good measure, he smacks his lips loudly when he’s done, wiping the foam off his upper lip with the back of his wrist. Raising his eyebrows at you in a silent challenge.

“This isn’t awkward at all,” Eddie grumbles, taking another sip of his beer to help the uncomfortable tension that threatens to settle over the circle.

”Who’s next? Who's next?” Robin urges with a flick on your knee, forcing you to fold and give her your attention with a blink of your eyes and it feels like the first time in hours that you finally look at someone other than Steve. 

Your teeth clench, grinding at the thought that even after all this time he’s still got this kind of hold on you, and it has you riding the thin line between wanting to give him a black eye or have him take you for a spin in his beemer for old times sake. 

“Eddie,” raising your can in his direction, he meets you in the middle with a cheers that doesn’t quite touch before slinking back in his chair with an exhausted huff.

“Hmmm, what do I want to reveal about myself?” He hums deep in thought, metal rings clinking against tin in a familiar tune as he taps his fingers around his beer can, “Never have I ever… been in a threesome, despite being titled ‘freak’ of Hawkins.”

“Really?” Robin seems genuinely shocked, making you giggle.

“Yeah, I know. It’s crazy to me too.” Eddie shrugs, with a knowing grin that doesn’t quite sit right in your gut.

That’s when you see it. Steve taking a drink.

”WHAT?!��� Your best friend squeals practically jumping from her seat, clearly something that's not common knowledge being revealed.

Jealousy is an ugly monster, and it finds a home deep inside your chest tonight, turning you green with it. Your half empty beer can crunches the more your fingers dig into the tin, eyes narrowing when he just responds to Robin with a coy smirk and a shrug bringing his attention back to you.

”Gotta try everything once right?” Steve mocks, full pink lips curling up at the corners as he takes another sip.

Your heart sinks with your stomach, the muscles in your face doing the same before you have a chance to stop it. Visions of red nails and pink lips that don’t belong to you dance through your head, and the smug smirk he probably wore while his big hands gripped their hips taking turns making them moan his name. The sound of your can completely collapsing in a loud crunch gets everyone’s attention, and you ignore the softened expression on Steve’s face trying to capture your gaze again. Eddie clears his throat, throwing you a life line before opening a new can of beer with a suggestion you’ve never been more grateful for.

”Alright Steve, your turn.” 

Steve nods with a tight lipped smile taking one last glance in your direction before sitting up in his chair with an idea that makes his cheeks push up and his eyes sparkle against the light of the fire. “Alright, never have I ever pretended to not only have a driver's license but also own a car that actually belongs to my best friend so I can hook up with a girl in the backseat.”

A quiet sigh escapes your lungs, shoulders relaxing just a little when Robin groans loudly at the attack that’s clearly focused on her. Oblivious to the fact that you’re hanging on by a thread next to her, you stare fixed on the way the flames lick up into the night. 

“Look, she was a college senior, okay? I was only a sophomore and she was way cooler than me. Judge me all you want, but it worked didn’t it?” She argues, lifting her beer to the sky before taking a sip proudly. “No regrets!”

Her smile is contagious, easing some of the tension when you and Eddie giggle meeting each other's eyes from across her honey blond waves. You can feel Steve’s stare burning a hole in the side of your head, the heat of it in direct competition with the fire that thrives off the light breeze that rustles through the trees. 

“Aright, alright, never have I ever faked getting off.” She wiggles her eyebrows with a toothy grin, looking at Eddie specifically who gives her a dead stare in response, clearly something told to her in confidence. 

Biting your lip, you really weren’t going to add more fuel to the fire but when you finally meet Steve’s eyes that have been begging for your attention this whole time, you can’t help but douse the flames with the whole can of gasoline. Another flash of different shades of lipstick staining the freckles you loved to kiss so much sending another wave of rage down to your core.

”I can think of a few times.” You snort loudly, holding his gaze and pointedly stealing everyone else's attention before polishing off the last of your crumpled can.

Steve’s jaw clenches hard enough that you swear you can hear his teeth crunch together. Nostrils flaring with a gaze so dark it threatens to swallow you whole, all traces of honey and warmth gone, leaving you chilled to the bone.

”I think we’re done with this game Robin,” he grunts, standing up with a kick of his chair and for once his eyes don’t search for yours as he stomps across the yard towards the yellow light of the trailer. 

“Seriously!” Your best friend groans, slinking back in her chair with a hand running down her face, “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

”Yeah, genius! I told you, but nooo, you didn’t want to listen to me.” Eddie scoffs into his beer can, using his free hand to poke at the fire.

”Can you go, like, talk to him or something?” Robin turns to you with an almost pleading look that gets more prominent the more your face turns sour.

“Me?! I have to go talk to him? Seriously? He’s the one who stormed off,” you argue, crossing your arms.

”Yeah, well you clearly hurt his feelings.” She points at his pacing figure through the kitchen window and it takes everything inside of you not to tell her that he hurt yours first.

The two of you stare each other down, the wills of stubbornness at battle until her eyes go soft, big and glassy. 

“Please,” she begs, pulling out the big guns, and jutting out her bottom lip.

You hold her gaze for a few more seconds before surrendering with a roll of your eyes, huffing loudly when you uncross your arms to stand up, making her face light back up.

”I hate you. More than anything.”

Eddie cackles loudly at your lie, digging in his front pocket for a smushed pack of cigarettes.

“We all know you don’t mean that,” she hums with a content smile, leaning over to snatch the freshly lit tobacco from the metalhead’s mouth, waving at you as you start to follow Steve’s path up to the trailer. “Please don’t kill him!”

Closing the sliding glass door behind you, a shiver runs up your spine when the coolness of the air conditioning hits your sticky skin. The sound of running water catches in your ears from the kitchen along with the murmur of his voice under its rush.You can’t quite make out what he’s saying to himself, even when you reach the doorway. 

Hunched over the sink, his shoulder blades flex with every harsh scrub of the pan. His hat rests on the counter, and you can’t help but notice the wild way his hair sits on the top of his head from wearing it all day, sun kissed tips curling from the humidity. Clearing your throat just loud enough to alert him of your presence, you watch the way his whole body goes rigid. It only lasts for a moment before he recovers, shutting off the water with a lazy slap of his hand. Turning around he grabs the dish towel next to him to dry off, meeting your gaze with a little more color in his eyes, flecks of gold trying to shimmer in a raging storm.

Having his full attention on you, alone like this, is enough for your tongue to go numb. The back of your throat turns into sandpaper, making it impossible for words to find their way out. A big hand runs through his hair, fingers getting caught on a knot at the end that he works out with ease, a gentle sigh deflating his defensive chest just a little before he speaks.

“Hey.” 

Anger still boils under all of the attraction, along with the jealousy you aren’t willing to acknowledge.You aren’t ready. You can’t do this yet.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” you excuse yourself, turning on your heel and leaving just as quickly as you arrived.

You ignore the way he calls after you, seeking solace in the place that's become your hiding spot for the night. Fingers wrap around the handle to the familiar room, you stop in your tracks when a warm patch of light leaking out from a crack in a door that wasn’t opened before catches your attention. 

You can smell the cedar from here.

Glancing over your shoulder to see if he followed you, it changes the course of your direction when you discover that he didn’t. Taking a few steps across the hallway, you’re careful not to let the hinges creak when you push his bedroom door open a little more. Your senses quickly become overwhelmed with everything that makes Steve, Steve. You throw another cautious look down the hallway before crossing the invisible line. Closing the door like how you found it, you let your curiosity get the best of you. 

It’s cleaner than you thought it’d be now that he doesn’t live inside the Harrington’s massive house anymore. His bed is bigger, the twin sized mattress that you used to squeeze into traded in for a queen. The navy blue comforter that looks soft to the touch is laid out messy on white sheets, a digital clock with glaring red numbers that read 10:30 pm on the nightstand next to it. 

The carpet under your feet is a heather gray, and you can tell that it’s scratchy even with your shoes on. Patrick Swayze watches your every move from the Roadhouse poster hanging on his wall, the floor creaking as you make your way toward the small work desk in the corner. Your eyes linger on the impressive way all his dirty clothes manage to be in his hamper before they find the framed pictures spread over his desk. 

There’s one of him with the middle school boy you knew as Dustin Henderson perched on his back, only he looks much older than you remembered. The curls still give him away despite the braces free smile. Both of them grin hard enough for their eyes to crinkle in the corners like they had finally stopped laughing long enough for someone to snap this picture. 

You fight back the way your cheeks threaten to push up, not surprised to find one of him and Robin at what looks like Lover’s Lake, both of them striking the same pose with inflatable tubes around their waists wearing matching bucket hats and sunglasses.

The guy in these photos doesn’t seem anything like the one you remember and it’s hard for you to wrap your head around it. They look the same.

”I don’t think this is the bathroom, do you?” Steve’s voice makes you jump, heart stopping in your chest for a split second before you meet his questioning stare with a guilty face of your own. 

His arms are crossed over his chest as leans against the door frame, unintentionally pulling the collar of his shirt down giving you a glimpse of the patch of hair and the gold chain underneath. The softness in his eyes from the kitchen is gone as he stares you down, it’s replaced with something you can’t quite put your finger on but the intensity of it raking over your body has your thighs meeting for what feels like the millionth time tonight. His full pink lips twist into a sarcastic smirk as he pushes off the wood, taking the next few steps into his room.

”Did you really mean what you said out there?” He questions, dark eyes sparkling the more you squirm under the heat of them.

”Mean what? I said a lot of things out there. We all did.” Narrowing your gaze, you try to take back some semblance of control, squaring up your shoulders at him but the dark chuckle you get in response tells you it’s a futile attempt.

“I didn’t say anything about you specifically though, did I?” Steve counters, stopping just a few feet away from you, tongue poking at the side of his cheek, “No, I don’t think I did.”

He hums, uncrossing his arms to mimic your stance in a silent challenge, eyebrows raised waiting on your response.

”I didn’t say anything about you specifically either.” Jutting out your chin in defiance, it's your turn to cross your arms now. Maturity at its finest.

He doesn’t answer you, instead he holds your eyes with his own and it takes everything inside of you not to look away. Your tongue swipes against your bottom lip as he starts to take a few steps closer, broad shoulders making the room feel small when the toes of his sneakers meet yours.

“I don’t think you ever faked anything with me.” He looks down his nose at you, smelling like summer nights and everything you’ve tried to forget.

”You think or you know?” Cocking a brow with a shit eating grin that tells him you aren’t going to fold easy, the backs of your thighs hit the edge of his desk. 

He sucks at his teeth, rolling his shoulders with the kind of laugh that makes the dull ache between your legs turn into a throb.

“I know. Trust me.” He smirks, gaze lingering where the soft dough of your thighs meet before finding your eyes again, “Guess what else I know?”

It's hard for you to catch your breath when he looks at you like this and you wonder if he notices the quick heaves of your chest or the way your eyes glaze over from being this close to him.

”W-what?” Your stutter gives you away, but at least you tried to fight one last time before he went in for the kill.

The whites of his teeth show in the kind of smile that tells you he was hoping you’d ask just that. Leaning in, his palms land on his desk finding purchase on either side of your hips, caging you in. He’s close enough for the tip of his nose to brush against yours, close enough to smell the wheat from his beer on the warm breath that fans against your lips. 

“You wouldn’t still look at me the way you do, if I hadn’t made you feel good honey. And you know what else?” 

His voice goes deep as he whispers, nose nudging at your cheek before his lips hover right by your ear making you shiver, goosebumps making their second appearance of the day. Your hands find the edge of his desk, chest brushing against his in a deep breath feeling the slightest touch of his lips against the soft spot right behind it.  

“I know I can make you cum harder with my tongue than some Wall Street asshole, who doesn’t even know what to do under the hood of that fancy car he spent so much money on.” His grip on the desk tightens at the thought, wood groaning under the stress of it and it has your thighs spreading for him on their own.

“Steve -”

His fingers grab your chin like at the shop with just a firm enough hold for you to pull away if you want to but you can’t bring yourself to do it when his eyes threaten to swallow you whole. You wonder if it's just a mirror reflection of your own as he takes some of the new space you’ve given him, so close now that you can feel the heat of his body where yours screams for him most. His brows furrow when your noses brush and he swears he can taste the watermelon of your lip gloss, and then he knows he can when he feels your fingers curl into his shirt tugging him closer.

“I think,” he breathes into your mouth, hesitating just enough to soak it in a second longer before pulling away with an almost pained expression that he quickly tries to cover up, “I think it’s time for me to take you and Robin home.”

He steps back and out of your space, a nervous hand running through his hair like he did something he wasn’t supposed to do. His eyes meet yours again and there's something apologetic that swirls in the deep forest that watches you tug your skirt down straightening up.

”I’ll uh, I’ll give you a minute while I go wrangle Robin.” 

He takes one last look at you like he really needs to be sure of something before finally walking out and leaving you alone to wonder how the night ended with you here. Skirt rucked up, trying to catch your breath in Steve Harrington’s room.

———-

🌻 beta’d by @superblysubpar

🌻 chapter three

[ericshoney]

Wheel of doom ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: You join your brothers in the wheel of doom video

Warnings: usual swearing, nicknames, shouting, chaos and fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today you were in LA with Nick, Matt and Chris about to film a video which could go either way, good or bad. You weren't sure what the video was about, as they wanted to surprise you, but as you saw the wheel, you figured it out.

Nick began to introduce the video, along with you as the special guest, Chris started coughing loudly, making you all look at him.

"Dude, just stop." You mumbled.

"Shhh." He replied.

You laughed as the video began, Nick went first and landed on chug a Pepsi, which made Chris whine and you laugh more.

"Shut it, kid." He mumbled.

You shook your head as you watched Nick chug the Pepsi. Matt then went next, having to drink water for a week and Chris gained $100 from each of you.

"Like I have $100 to give you! I'm sixteen!" You exclaimed.

"The wheel has spoken, kid." Nick said.

You sighed and then it was your turn. You gave the wheel a spin and saw what it landed on.

"Do a handstand for a minute." You read outloud.

"I'll set a timer." Matt said.

You stood in the middle where there was some room and got ready. Matt started the timer as you did your handstand. Luckily you were quite good at handstands and lasted the whole minute.

"Nice job, bub!" Nick praised.

You smiled as you all continued to spin the wheel. Matt kept spinning when he didn't need to, Nick for some reason landed on the X a lot, Chris having to clean Nick's room was the best you thought and you had to do some simple challenges.

"Alright everyone there are only two things left on the wheel." Nick said.

"One is Matt's worst nightmare and the other is Y/n's." Chris said.

You looked at the wheel and saw one had ketchup involved and the other had peanut butter, which you hated a lot.

"Let's see how it goes." You mumbled.

Nick gave the wheel a spin, landing on an X. Matt then had a go, also being lucky to miss, Chris also missed and now it was your turn. You spun the wheel and as it slowed down you closed your eyes, nervous to see what it landed on and when you heard Chris laugh, you opened them again.

"Eat a spoon of peanut butter." Matt read outloud.

You whined and hid your face in your hands. You hated peanut butter much like Matt hated ketchup. Nick patted your back as they continued to spin the wheel, Matt now getting the last challenge.

"I'm not doing it." He said.

"Hey if I've got to eat peanut butter, you gotta eat ketchup!" You exclaimed.

You, Matt and Chris sat at the table. Chris had his last challenges in front of him. He tried to swallow the raw egg but failed, had the mouthwash but spit most of it out and downed the bottle of water. You laughed a little at how messy he looked.

"Come on kid, your turn." Nick said.

You sighed and looked at the spoon of peanut butter. You then looked at Matt who had a fry with ketchup on it. You held his hand, making Chris and Nick laugh.

"We can do this!" You cheered.

"Uh, no we can't." Matt replied.

"On three." Chris said.

You sighed and on the count of three, ate the spoon of peanut butter as Matt had the ketchup covered fry. You both pulled faces and looked as if you were going to cry. Matt got up, grabbing some root beer.

"I'm going to bed everyone." He cried, shuffling off to his room.

"I want pizza tomorrow." You said.

"Sure sweetheart." Nick replied.

You got up, also grabbing a drink, before going to Chris' room where you were sleeping. You knew the fans would have fun with this video.

[etheries1015]

As requested by @mellowwillowy who asked me to do some dark Yandere content. I'm gonna try my best, but be prepared to probably be incredibly disappointed since I've never written Yandere stuff and it's not my forte. Really went out of my comfort zone for this one LMAO.

Featuring: Yandere!Jade, Yandere! General Lilia, Yandere! crowley

TW: DARK CONTENT. Non-consensual, Stalking and obsessive behavior, Sexual assault, hair pulling, mentions of cannibalism, reader locked up, toxic relationships, toxic behavior, degradation, manipulation, hair pulling, abuse, forced "pregnancy" Although only mentioned as being pregnant not describing gender or sex.

anybody experiencing such things in real life, please reach out for help <3

WARNING: I don't typically write stuff like this on my blog, so I will say this now: Any hateful comments WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED. If you decide to read from here on out, that is ON YOU. I will NOT tolerate any bullying, harassment, or negativity. These are EXTREMELY sensitive and triggering topics and you have been thoroughly warned.

Yandere! General Lilia

♡ Yandere! General Lilia who found you at your most vulnerable. You were on the ground after being left behind by your comrades, frail and barely moving. He looked down at you with pity in his eyes, using the tip of his foot to lift your head to look up at him. While you sneered at him with distaste, a dark idea flooded his mind. Lilia smirked down at your body before stepping on the top of your head, pushing it into the mud.

♡ "Poor, pathetic human...Look how they left you behind..." He removed his foot and bent down to your level, using his hand to grab you by the hair and lift your bloodied face. "Ohh..if we clean up this blood, I'm sure you're not a horrible sight to look at. How about I take you in? As my little human 'pet'?"

♡ You didn't have a choice. Lilia was eager to knock you out and drag you to a misshapen house that was obviously thrown together on a whim, throwing you inside. He cleaned you up while you were passed out, noting all your properties. You were unaware of this, though. He convinced you that you had simply passed out and he had kindly lay you to rest upon the bed. What a liar.

♡ the first week while you were too weak to move, Lilia would keep you in a warm bed and spoon-feed you food. Although he often seemed cold, you would describe him as warm at the time. It was shocking how kind this fae could be, too kind, really.

♡ He practically nursed you back to health and you completely forgot about the fact he had dragged you there in the first place. A fae helping a human seemed out of bounds, but he was just so...different. So you thought.

♡ Although, he thought you were escaping once when you stepped outside of the home for the first time simply for some fresh air. He quickly let down the facade he had held and gave you a reminder of why you shouldn't trust him.

♡ He'd punish you by pulling you by the hair and dragging you back into the house kicking and screaming, placing you in front the mirror nearby. He would force you to look up while he degraded you.

♡ "See this?" He grabbed you by the cheeks roughly, pressing hard, "Who would want a pathetic and ugly human such as yourself? what do you think will happen when you go out? You will be left behind just like they did before." He let go, a smile replacing his anger, "But not me...I told you if you stayed here nothing bad would happen, but you were trying to leave me, weren't you?"

♡ No matter how much you cried and told him that wasn't your intention, Lilia tsked and refused to believe you.

♡ As a continued punishment for your defiance and retorts, General Lilia would roughly tear your clothes off and force you to look in the mirror as he violated you. Your hands were bound with magic and your mouth gagged, Lilia pulling your legs apart roughly and unzipping his pants.

♡ "How does it feel to be filled to the brim by a fae? It must feel better than any human could ever make you feel. If you stay, You get to feel like this all the time...any human would be elated, wouldn't you agree?"

♡ "We would make such beautiful mixed children, wouldn't we?" He groaned as he came into you for the 6th time that night of your punishment pressing his hand against your stomach, "right here. Swollen with bastard children..."

♡ After your attempted "escape", you were chained up and typically naked. He would feed you, cleanse you, and bring you random gifts and food...Truly keeping his word on treating you as if you were his pet. It was debilitating.

♡ If you were good, he would let you sleep in that warm bed that you first got to sleep in upon arriving. He'd even sleep with you...not without his hands wandering around your body and having his way with you a time or two.

♡ He makes a point to frequently shower you with gifts and affection, even bringing you clothing and allowing you to walk around the house.

♡ On other days he reminds you of how useless you are as a human, reminding you how he found you and kindly took you in when you were abandoned

♡ Tells you how much he loves you and going back would never do you any good... you could never leave his side.

not like he'd let you any time soon, anyway.

Yandere! Jade

♡ He starts out by watching you from afar, admiring you. You always felt his stare at times, but you could never quite see him or put your finger on it.

♡ You will find random things inside your locker. They started out innocent enough, cards professing love for you, flowers, random things he would find in the mountains. You thought it was rather cute, even if you couldn't tell who was leaving it behind for you to find.

♡ Then soon it progressed to photos he took of you with notes on the back. The first time you pulled out a photo of yourself anticipating a letter, your smile quickly dropped. Jade, however, was smiling in the corner watching you unravel his plan.

♡ One was a picture of you changing through a window of Ramshackle, behind the letter is said "Every part of you is my favorite, but I'm particularly fond of your bare legs."

♡ This becomes incredibly worrying to you. You still weren't sure who this mystery person was, and of course you went to someone you were close to for advice. That person was Jade, as he predicted enough.

♡ He's your white knight. He acts all worried and panicked on your behalf, stating he would "take care of it." After about a week when the letters and pictures stopped, you thanked him with a hug.

♡ that single hug sent shivers down Jade's spine. Just being in close contact with you in terms of an embrace wasn't enough...he found himself quickly rushing to the bathroom to release himself, pulling out his phone using the same filthy pictures he took of you to pump his cock dry.

♡ His behavior only worsened from there. That single hug gave him this itchy feeling that wouldn't leave him about being close to you- soon noticing other items of yours going missing. Your underwear, specifically.

♡ You thought it was only a little bit weird when he gifted you a set of new underwear, but you talked it up to just being super close with Jade and he was trying to be helpful with your missing hosiery and was sympathetic to your issue.

♡ Upon visiting his dorm room, you took notice of a specific notebook. He had walked out per Azuls request for assistance, and you took this opportunity to snoop around. Inside this notebook, you found a bunch of pictures of you- ranging from the ones you saw in your locker, to other more disturbing photos such as your sleeping form in revealing night clothing and one in which you were preparing for a bath.

♡ The dread truly set in once you read all sorts of insane things Jade had put, but one that stood out to you the most was an entry in which he detailed how if he couldn't have you, he would have to chop you up and put you in his favorite dishes to fully make you one with him.

♡ "I've never felt more connected with someone before. I know we must truly be fated for one another, and I can't bear this burning in my heart to have them nearby. Perhaps in order to fully reach a level of togetherness, the only way to become truly one with one another is if I were to cut them up and consume-"

♡ You wanted to throw up. You had to stop reading, but before you even had the chance to react, the unexpected occurred.

♡ "I see you've found my little secret," A voice from behind you startled you, dropping the notebook and stared up at the tall male with a deadly pale face and dreaded wide eyes. His expression was difficult to read with an uneasy smile spreading cheek to cheek

♡ "What happens from this moment on," He said, grabbing you by the chin and leaning into your face, "Is entirely up to you."

Yandere! Crowley

♡ You had always been seen as Crowleys favorite. It wasn't like he made it particularly difficult to tell, the way the students would spot his crows anywhere you were.

♡ He was constantly monitoring your every move. If you were with someone else, he'd always inquire to you about your conversations and why you were so engaged in talking with someone other than himself.

♡ "Don't you think you're getting too close to my students?" He pouted, "I think this was a bad idea. How about I allow you to stay with me? Oh, how kind I am to invite you open arms into my home!"

♡ It really wouldn't be much different than now. You were always aware that he watched your every move- the crows in your window while you were stripping for bed were an obvious sign that you were never alone or away from his prying eyes.

♡ Crowley is incredibly coy and risky. He doesn't care what anybody else says or thinks when it comes to you, he wanted to make it painfully obvious specifically to the staff that you were his prey and his alone.

♡ This includes having his way with you anytime, anywhere. If you were just bringing papers to him, he'd have you on his desk with your legs spread at a moment's notice without as much as locking the door.

♡ This wasn't uncommon. He was always testing your patience, a hand crawling up your skirt in the middle of a meeting or taking you in a classroom after hours. But he's never done anything this extreme before...

♡ While you're completely bare and naked on his desk for anyone to walk in and see you in all of your glory, Crowley only unzipped his pants to free his cock from his confines. He's quick to push himself inside of you without prepping you first, leaving you to yelp out in pain.

♡ "Hush, now...we wouldn't want anyone else coming in and seeing you in such a state, would we? If you aren't quiet and another teacher comes in..." He tsked, smirking and swallowing your whimpers with his mouth.

♡ It was as if he was purposefully trying to make you fail, as if he had some sort of plan. Pressing his cock into the deepest parts of you practically slamming his hips against yours. It hurt more than felt pleasurable, you felt tears prick your eyes and a loud yelp of pain escape your lips.

♡ It wasn't a surprise when Crewel walked in to see what was going on. Upon this sight, Crowley tsked once more and looked at you with distaste, not even phased at Crewel's appearance. As if he was practically expecting it.

♡ "Look what you've done...I suppose it's time for your punishment now, isn't it?"

♡ You were soon gagged and hands tied in front of you, Crewel now having his way with you as if it were the most natural thing to occur while Crowley watched. Tears were pouring down your eyes, looking over to Crowley unable to tell what he was thinking behind that mask of his.

♡ When your body stopped resisting and you went limp in giving up, Crowley walked over and instructed Crewel to stop. Crowley untied you and ungagged you, holding you in his arms and petting your hair.

♡ "I recall you saying you found Crewel handsome. Was it everything you ever wished for? Are you satisfied with him? or have you learned your lesson?" although he was gently stroking your hair, the frown on his lips was enough to tell you this punishment was for that purpose. Your answer would determine his mood, that much you knew.

♡ You nodded in response, choking out a feeble cry "I'm sorry, I won't say it again. You're the only one that can pleasure me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." As you babbled your apologies, Crowley smiled and kissed the top of your head, and carrassed your body.

♡ "Good...I'm sorry I had to punish you like that, my little crow. I promise to make it up to you. How about a fancy meal tonight? Hmm? I'll take you to the expensive one you like. Kind of me, isn't it?"

♡ It was twisted and messed up, you knew this. You knew it was just a way to ensnare you, another way to keep you bound to him. You've convinced yourself that he had your best interests in mind, for although he would subject you to ridiculous punishments... He would also treat you like you were the most precious cut of an expensive gem.

A vicious cycle, indeed.

♡ You nodded feebly, Crowley smiling and lifting you in his arms. Gone in a puff of smoke, he took you to bathe in warm water and give you that sly smile and gentle facade that always draws you back in.

~~

[boydepartment]

hiii can you do enha finding out you have a crush on them from one of the members

“R U FR?” - enhypen reaction to finding out you’re in love with them

a/n: i am so sorry this took a million years BUT HERE IT IS :3 I ALSO DIDNT KNOW HOW TO TITLE THIS SO I HOPE PPL READ THE ASK LMAO

warnings- nothing- fluff, reader uses she/her

MASTERLIST

🥯jungwon… he was working on some lyrics for a song that he wanted to write. he never really took part in something like this directly so it was new to him. and he was struggling.

“jay… i don’t know what to write, it’s a love song! i’m struggling.” he leaned his head on the desk and watched as jay messed with the different knobs on his guitar.

“ask y/n she’s like in love with you.” jay mumbled without thinking, he shot his head up and looked at jungwon who also shot up.

jungwon slowly turned to jay, “are you… being honest with me?”

his older brother sat awkwardly, “ummm if i said yes?”

almost immediately jungwon got up and called you asking your location, if he had to run to you he would. and he was going to.

🥨heeseung… he sat on his back in the practice room singing to himself. he took up extra practices for the next upcoming comeback and you had left a couple hours ago after dropping him off lunch. he was so thankful for you and it made him smile to himself. around 4am riki walked in and sat down next to heeseung.

“dude it smells like body odor and noodles in here what the fuck did you do?” riki asked between laughs

heeseung sat up and rolled his eyes, “it smells like noodles because y/n dropped me off food.”

riki scoffed, “when did she drop off the food? i didn’t see her.”

heeseung leaned back again, “couple hours ago, around 1am.”

“1AM???? damn she really is in love with you hah!” riki froze right after the words came out of his mouth. god he spoils everything.

“wh-what??” heeseung looked at him wide eyed, ears pink.

riki immediately got up and ran out, leaving heeseung to sit in the practice room alone blushing.

🥐jay… you had a rough couple weeks due to family stuff and jay felt bad. you were a really close friend of his and he hated seeing you so upset. to make you feel better jay started cooking you your favorite meal. he was in the kitchen cooking and planning out his day so he can drop it off to you while it’s still warm. he was mumbling to himself when jake walked in.

“is this dinner?” jake asked, sitting on the counter. jay looked at him.

“1 get your ass off the counter, and 2 no, it’s for y/n, it’s her favorite.”

jake looked at the food, “this is a lot to give her.”

jay nodded, “i’m hoping it’ll last her a few days, it’s been rough for her lately.”

“i’m sure her just seeing you will make her feel better, she talks about you all the time yaknow?” jake said mindlessly, ass still sat on the counter.

jay nodded and hummed without thinking. jake thought he was ignoring him so he wanted to test it, “she’s in love with you.”

jay’s eyes widened and he almost dropped the wooden spoon, he looked over at jake and smacked him with it, “that’s not funny and i told you get your ass off the counter!”

🧇jake… he was waiting for you to come over to the dorm. you needed help on an essay and jake had free time so he offered to help you. he also loved to keep his skills sharp so he lived vicariously through your university work. he was frantically cleaning his room when sunoo walked in.

“oh you’re finally cleaning your room?” sunoo spoke leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed.

jake looked up at him, “yeah y/n is coming over, it needs to be clean i don’t want her to be grossed out by me.”

sunoo scoffed, “she’s seen you laugh so hard snot comes out of your nose and she’s still in love with you.”

jake stopped mid throw, his paper ball not landing in the trash, “wait what?”

sunoo laughed, throwing his head back, “oh nothing!” before walking to his own room. jake was suddenly hyper aware of his messy room and the time. you were going to arrive any minute and he was sweating nervously.

🥞sunghoon… he was getting dressed up to meet you for coffee. you were actually in town for the week so he wanted to see you again. you had been busy with classes and work and just life in general. so sunghoon wanted to take you out for froyo, he was buttoning up his coverup and putting on cologne when heeseung entered the bathroom.

“do you have a date today or something?” heeseung looked at him, eyebrows rising.

sunghoon shook his head no, “just taking y/n out for ice cream.”

heeseung now looked at him funny, “are you sure it’s not a date? she likes you a lot yaknow, like love love.”

“what? what do you mean!?” sunghoon flipped around to look at him, “do i look okay? is it too much? should i change? wait she’s in love with me?!”

heeseung left the bathroom after tapping him on the shoulder and a small good luck.

🍞sunoo… you and sunoo were having your monthly movie nights. it used to be weekly but since he became an idol he gets busy a lot. but you were willing to wait the once a month for these movie nights and for him. you were knocked out on the couch in the dorm and sunoo walked to the hall closet to get you an extra blanket. jay walked past him but stopped, jay knew you were going to confess to sunoo today. he was the one who told you to

“did y/n talk to you yet?”

sunoo smiled to himself, “we always talk, why?”

“so are you guys together now or?”

sunoo looked at him a little confused. jay yawned and stretched a bit, he was half asleep as he started walking again, “she was supposed to confess how she’s been in love with you for years. guess she forgot to.”

sunoo walked back quickly to you practically shaking you awake after that. he loved you just as much as you loved him, and sleep was not going to get in the way of that.

🍰riki… you were in the shower in the dorm. on the way home from a cafe it started pouring which led to you getting soaked. riki knew you were bad with the cold so he immediately shoved you in the bathroom with a change of warm clothes. not wanting you to get sick, then he walked to his room to make sure it was tidy and had enough blankets for you both.

jake was already in his room though, “what’re you doing in here?”

jake looked up, “looking for the ipad, where is it?”

riki blinked, “i need it you can’t have it right now.” he started rearranging the blankets on his bed. jake looked at him, jaw agape.

“what the hell for what?! give it!”

riki looked back at him, “you’re acting like you’re the child.” jake started searching riki’s desk.

“hey! cut it out! me and y/n are watching a movie after she gets out of the shower!” riki said and smacked him with a pillow.

jake stopped and his grin widened, “ohhhhhhhhhhh okay then never mind, if you and your girlfriend wanna watch a movie then i’m good i’ll just use heeseung’s pc.”

riki’s ears turned pink, “she’s not my girlfriend…” never in his life was he going to tell you his feelings for you.

“what really? i heard her talking on the phone the other day about how much she was in love with you? huh… maybe i heard wrong.” at that jake got up and left and almost immediately you entered the room. you looked at riki who was pink all over.

“ummm are you okay? do you have a fever?”

[mischievousmoony]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟻 ⟡ 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎

⟢ james potter x fem!reader

⟢ summary: modern restaurant au; you and james complete side work at the end of your shift . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁2.1k

⟢ warnings/tags: coworker!james, coworker!marauders, anxious!reader, not rlly proofread

⟢ the new hire masterlist ⟡ main masterlist

note: dropping lore in this part ig

"I don't think this restaurant is fancy enough for this to be necessary," you huff, polishing what seems like your millionth spoon.

You're sitting at the rickety break room table, polishing silverware and rolling sets of them into cloths. James is across from you, looking at his reflection in a butter knife.

"No one who eats here is going to care if there are a few water stains on their spoons," you grumble. You're in a bit of a bad mood, this task being the only thing keeping you from going home.

"Nate wants this place to be fancier than it is. Always has," James replies, neatly arranging his knife with the other utensils on the cloth in front of him.

"Always, huh?" you wonder, "Has he always been the manager?"

"As long as I've been here."

"And how long is that?"

"Ah," James pauses in the middle of rolling his napkin, counting in his head, "Technically five years."

You stop in the middle of polishing a fork, looking up to meet James' gaze. "What? Really?" you ask.

James shrugs as if it's nothing, responding, "Started as a busser when I was seventeen. The only person who's been here longer is Remus."

You don't understand the relevance of the comparison, pointing out, "Well, he's older."

James looks at you puzzled, "Remus and I are the same age."

You put the fork down entirely, gaping at James. "Remus is twenty-two?" you ask, your tone conveying your shock.

"Yeah," James says slowly, furrowing his brows, "You didn't know that?"

"No. He looks at least a few years older."

James tilts his head side to side, pondering your comment. "Maybe a little," he admits. "That kitchen wears him down."

You look puzzled as you straighten out the fork you had dropped down on the table, thinking about the revelation that still doesn't quite add up to you.

"If he's our age how in the world is he already a head chef?"

James looks as if he's trying to recall the answer, but comes up short.

"You'd have to ask him. He was hired before me and I guess I never thought to ask that."

"He was a head chef at seventeen?" you ask, eyes widening as your shock doubles.

"No! No, he just worked in the kitchen. Think he was head chef by twenty, though."

"Oh..." you trail off, thinking that makes much more sense than your initial impression. But not by very much. "Still, wow. What about everyone else?"

James' eyebrows raise curiously as he starts polishing yet another spoon.

"What do you mean?"

"They've been here how long?" you clarify.

"Ah. Sirius started about a month after I did. Did you know he started as a server?" James shares the details like it's hot gossip.

To you, it basically is. You can't imagine Sirius doing anything besides bartending at this restaurant.

"Really?"

James smiles at the way your eyes light up in surprise and slight amusement. "Yeah," he confirms. "He absolutely hated it, but doing that he got to train with the bartender before him."

You nod understandingly. It makes sense, you suppose. Bartenders don't just appear out of thin air. You either have to work your way up the ranks or receive formal training, and if you had ever given it any thought, you would have assumed the former.

It dawns on you that you haven't given much thought to your other coworkers at all. Besides what you've naturally found out over the handful of weeks that you've worked here, you don't know much about anyone besides James.

"And the others?"

James blows out some air, thinking, and he takes two rolls of silverware and begins using them as drumsticks against the table. You smile a little at the action.

"Whenever I became a server I recommended Pete for my old busser job. That was probably four years ago."

James had told you stories about him and Peter before, but you wonder how long they've actually known each other.

"How did you know Peter?"

"Known him since primary school."

"Huh," you express your surprise quietly, and James continues on.

"The next hire was Marlene," James smirks as he recalls something. "Actually, she's the reason Lily and Mary were hired."

"Did she recommend them too?"

James chuckles, shaking his head as he explains, "No, Marlene was always complaining about too much testosterone in this place. I think five.. six months after she started, she told Nate that a customer said that they thought management must be sexist because of the lack of girl hires."

"Did someone actually say that?" you ask skeptically.

"No," James laughs, "He totally bought it though cause he hired Lily and Mary a week later. Worked out great for them in the end. You know they go to uni in the city? They’re both here to support themselves through it.”

Your bottom lip finds itself between your teeth as you think about how long everyone has worked here. They’ve all had years to get to know each other. You have already been feeling like an outsider, so learning this just amplifies that tenfold.

James puts his makeshift drumsticks away when he notices you getting lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind?”

Your eyes flash to him, startled out of your train of thought. Shrugging, you try to brush it off and return to your duties to the silverware.

“C’mon, I always know when you’re getting lost in that head of yours,” James says with a teasing yet affectionate tone.

You purse your lips, knowing the chances of James letting this go are slim.

"I just… I don't really know much about them at all I guess. Do they..." you trail off, apprehensive to admit your insecurities.

"What?" James probes gently, softening at your hesitation.

"I’m worried they don't like me,” you admit.

"What!? Why? You’re great! Why wouldn’t anyone like you?” James says it earnestly without a hint of hesitation, and that alone makes you feel a bit better.

You keep your hands busy with the silverware, your eyes focusing intently on the water stains you polish away so that you don’t have to face James as you explain.

“I feel like I haven’t made much of an effort to get to know them. I was nervous, I guess, to talk to new people. Now I’m even more nervous because it’s been so long and I haven’t even tried. They’re going to think–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” James stops you from snowballing into a self-deprecating ramble, placing a hand over yours across the table, also stopping the way you’re polishing a spoon to death.

He dips his head down to try to meet your eyes, which are trained intently on the table. “No one thinks anything,” he says patiently. “Actually, you know what I’ve heard? I’ve heard them say that you’re kind. Maybe a tad shy, but that’s not a bad thing!” The last few words tumble out in a rush, James being worried that you’d take it negatively when he really finds your timid nature so endearing.

Your gaze slowly shifts to meet his eyes. “It’s hard for me to warm up to new people,” you admit, your voice low.

James absentmindedly strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, “You got on with me just fine.”

“You’re different,” you say before you can give it much thought. You would’ve bit your tongue if you had.

“How am I different?” he asks, his eyes twinkling with something you can’t quite place.

“I-I don’t know you just are.”

It’s true, you’re not sure why but after your first day you were already comfortable with James, more than comfortable if you’re being honest. He quickly became your favorite part about this job.

He simply accepts your answer. Normally, he’d say something witty or teasing, but he finds himself at a loss for words.

The conversation fades into silence, neither of you knowing how to proceed, both overwhelmed with confusing feelings.

James can’t stop looking at where his hand rests over yours, not knowing how to retract it. Not wanting to.

Meanwhile, you search your brain for something to say, something that would change the subject. You don’t feel the need to keep talking about this anyway. Although, you’re not sure if you feel better about the situation with your other coworkers or if you’ve just been distracted from it.

“So, five years, huh?” you start.

"Technically," he emphasizes. He slowly retracts his hand as the conversation takes on a more casual tone.

You had barely even noticed his hand there with how natural it felt, but now that it’s gone your hand almost feels cold. You distract yourself by rolling more silverware.

"What does that mean?" you ask.

"I, er, pursued other things for a little while. Didn't work out, so I ended up back here."

You can’t help but wonder what he means, so you ask, "What things?"

James stammers, him now the apprehensive one.

"Sorry,” you say quickly, “I don't mean to pry."

"No, it's okay,” James waves off your worries, “I was playing rugby."

“What, like, professionally?” you ask, not expecting him to say yes.

“Er, yeah," he admits, twirling a butter knife in between his fingers.

You freeze. “Wait. Seriously?”

“Yes,” he chuckles airily.

He notices how your mouth is slightly agape, twitching as it forms the shape of words which never leave your lips. He can tell you’re wondering what happened, but you’re too polite to ask.

“I hurt my knee,” he continues, purposefully avoiding the specifics, “so ended up back here.”

Your face crumples in sympathy. "Oh. Oh, I-I'm sorry," you say, genuine compassion in your tone.

“It’s fine. I’ve come to terms with it," James says honestly. His career was brief— barely even got a chance to start— and while he'll always wonder what could've been, he's not angry about the way his life is turning out.

"So what about you? What would you be doing if you didn't work here?" James suddenly asks you.

"I never went to uni," you say, thinking of Lily and Mary— your age and likely almost done with their studies. "I would've liked to. I don't even know what for."

"You still could."

"Yeah, maybe," you say tentatively, rolling you're last set of cutlery. "That's all my side work. Want me to help with yours?"

"No, you get out of here, I'll be alright," James assures, not wanting to put extra work on your plate, recalling how annoyed you've been with this task.

You nod, standing from the table to collect your things from your locker. You bid him goodbye as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow, James."

"Bye, love," he says fondly, waving with a fork in his hand as you go.

On your way out, you pass Sirius, giving him a small wave and a barely audible "goodnight" as he joins James in the break room.

"Night, doll," he calls down the hall as he turns into the room.

Sirius has a wide, knowing smirk on his face when he locks eyes with James.

"Rolling silverware?" Sirius asks, his tone dripping with his amusement.

James shrugs, "Yeah, so?"

Sirius tilts his head, chuckling, "I thought your side work was to prep garnishes today."

"Ah," James fumbles with some silverware as he responds, "I finished that ages ago. So, I offered to do Lily's side work."

"Oh, did you?" Sirius says with mock surprise.

"Yup. Just doing a favor for a friend," James grins innocently.

"Or trying to get some alone time with that work crush of yours."

"I do not have a work crush!" James quickly defends, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. He almost feels guilty, Sirius is at least right about the alone time part. James still misses having you by his side as a trainee, but after you're conversation today he feels bad about stealing you away from your other coworkers.

Sirius raises his hands in the air, "Alright, mate. Whatever you say."

"You're a prat. Why don't you come help me with this?"

Sirius looks incredulous at the suggestion, "I'm not the one who volunteered to do extra work!"

James rolls his eyes, picking up one of the many forks he has left. But truth be told, he didn't quite mind having to do the extra work— spending time with you made it well worth it.

Sirius snorts at the sudden lovesick look on James' face when he gets lost in his thoughts, and makes a mental note to wager a bet with Remus tomorrow on how long James will last.

[nightplvmes]

*.⊹˚ RAFAYEL | paint (christmas special)

── ◜rafayel x fem!reader — mini one shot 1.3k words ◜Rafayel prepares a Christmas gift that she has been waiting for for a long time. — author's note here | christmas specials from the rest of the LIs on my profile

"Rafayel? We have to go. Come on." She ran through the halls until she reached the front door, waiting her boyfriend to reach her a couple of seconds later. "I almost forgot dessert," she whispered to herself as she started walking to the kitchen.

Until Rafayel got in her way. She frowned in confusion and tried to step aside but it didn't work. "Can you move? I forgot dessert," she said, thinking it was one of his usual pranks.

"We can't go out." He said quickly, not really wanting to make too much of a fuss. He knew how excited his girlfriend was to be able to attend this meeting, and she had been waiting weeks for Rafayel to meet her friends.

"What are you talking about?"

"The streets are closed because of the storm." He grimaced and felt guilty as he saw her face turned into disappointment.

"What? But this morning I saw the news, it said that…" She didn't finish the sentence. She had seen the weather that morning, everything pointed to snow but other than that it was nothing serious. When it turned into a storm? "I can't believe it!"

She groaned and dropped her bag on the floor. She felt completely disappointed, it was almost midnight and although they were already too late for the meeting, she hoped to arrive in time to eat dessert, introduce Rafayel to her friends and spend a couple of hours there before going home.

"We can stay here. It won't be so bad." Rafayel's arms wrapped around her, after all they had already been there all day. They had planned to spend the afternoon together, doing things that according to her were Christmassy and they would close their night at her friends. It was just a small change of plans.

"But I wanted you to meet my friends," she murmured in disappointment, her voice muffled as she had her face buried in Rafayel's chest.

"I can meet them later. We'll have a meeting just for that." He hated seeing her so sad. He knew this meeting was important to her, but he couldn't just stop the storm with the power of his mind.

Half an hour later she was sitting on the living room floor. She was still wearing the clothes she had chosen to to go out that day and Rafayel was in front of her watching her take spoonfuls of the dessert she had made for her friends.

"It's not that bad. We can still open the presents here." Rafayel pressed his lips against his girlfriend's forehead. He didn't know what else he could do to cheer her up.

"It's not that, it's just… You know I hate it when plans change." She made a face and looked at him.

Rafayel smiled when he saw the cream of the cake dripping from the corner of her lips. He reached out and with his index finger he took the cream before it slipped from her lips and stained her clothes.

Yes, he knew perfectly well how much she hated it when her plans changed. Rafayel always thought it was something more than just a change of plans and there was something else in his girlfriend's head.

He looked away, starting to think of something he could do to make her feel better. Letting her just sit on the rug and eat that dessert seemed to have made her feel better but she still had that pout on her lips.

Then he remembered… There was a gift he had kept in his studio and he didn't really think about giving it to her yet, not as a Christmas present at least. It was something she had asked him for a long time ago and Rafayel had simply refused after giving her a reasonable explanation.

"I have something for you." She frowned as her boyfriend got up from the floor and walked down the hall where the bedrooms and his studio were.

"What is it?" She asked taking a spoonful of the dessert again, thinking that it was simply one of the gifts he had bought her despite all the times she told him that she didn't really need anything. Finally she felt like she had had enough of that dessert. It was too much sugar and she was beginning to feel her body's rejection of it, so she decided to simply put it aside and clean any trace of sugar from her mouth.

Rafayel came back into the room a couple of minutes later. He had something in his hands and he seemed… nervous? Why did he seem nervous about a simple gift? It wasn't that she didn't appreciate it, but unless it was a pregnancy test she didn't understand his nerves. She had started joking about it since she found out that in seahorses it was the man who carried the baby.

"Here it is." He placed a gift wrapped in green paper on her lap. She looked at him waiting for some explanation, she felt like she needed some context because it was something important. "Do you remember when we started dating you asked me what you had to do to make a painting of you?"

She nodded, she remembered it perfectly because she had insisted too much until Rafayel told her that he couldn't because he didn't feel capable of capturing her beauty. Her cheeks turned red just by remembering it.

Then something clicked in her mind… she parted his lips in surprise and turned to look at Rafayel waiting for him to say something. He just looked at her with a small smile on his lips.

She tore the gift paper as fast as she could. She could feel her heart beating hard, until… She couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was a painting, of her.

It meant much more than he thought. She had wanted so much a painting of her completely made by Rafayel, but after having refused she had simply given up and stopped asking.

"You… But I thought…" She felt that the words were not coming out of her mouth. She turned to look at him waiting for something else, to explain the reason why he had decided that this was the perfect time to make a painting about her. Until she noticed something. "Where is this?"

She looked at him. She didn't recognize the background in the painting because it was focusing a bit more on her face but there was definitely some kind of cafe behind her.

"It was the first time I saw you. Do you remember?" She nodded. Of course she remembered because he had told her that story himself thousands of times.

"Of course I remember, it's just that… I can't believe it." She looked at him, feeling like she could cry at any moment. It was just a unique gift… too unique.

"I'm still think I didn't capture your beauty." She smiled. "I thought it would be a special gift. Much better than those boots you wanted."

She giggled. There were some nice black boots she had wanted a few weeks ago but had decided that it was a totally unnecessary expense.

"The boots would have been a nice gift too." Those words had come out of her mouth without thinking but in reality that gift was much better than any other. If Rafayel had simply bought the boots for her it would have been a great gift too. Anything that came from him was.

Rafayel laughed and put his arms around her to bring her closer to him. She still had her eyes on the painting he had made for her. It was her favorite painting now. "They're in the blue box," he murmured close to her ear.

She opened her eyes in surprise and looked at him. Had he bought the boots for her too? "Rafayel!"

He smiled at her excitement. He leaned in to press his lips against hers for a couple of seconds. "Merry Christmas, cutie."