#heyyyy guys it’s been a few days

[saetoru]

the first night al-haitham spends with you, he’s unsure what to do with his arms.

“just wrap this one around me here,” you giggle, maneuvering his arm to curl under you. he does so stiffly, laying on his side like a log as you press close against his body. “now lay the other one over me.”

he does—and by that, he simply plops his other arm to lay flat over your torso.

“this is a rather awkward arrangement, don’t you think?” he raises a brow.

“it’s because you’re laying like a robot. loosen your limbs,” you huff, “you might as well eat nuts and bolts for breakfast.”

he’s not good at these kinds of things. he wants to tell you that—that if you’re looking for a boyfriend to hold hands and cuddle with, he’s probably not the best candidate. or the second best. or even the twentieth. he’s probably the last person on the list that you could get intimate with.

yet here you are, curling his arm around you like there’s any hope of him getting this right.

“are you sure this is—”

“here, i have a better idea,” you interrupt. suddenly, you’re hands are shoving him away, making him blink as you roll him around to turn and face away from you.

“what are you—” your arms wrap around him, and your chin rests on his shoulder as you press a gentle kiss to his skin. it’s warm, feeling you pressed against him like this. it’s nice and comforting and it feels like home.

and sure, maybe he lays a little stiff, maybe he’s unsure what do with his arms as he awkwardly lays there on his side, but you wrap yourself around him tightly, pressing a few kisses to the side of his head as you smile against his hair. he can feel you—he can count the beats of your heart and if he tries hard enough, he can feel the way the rhythmic pounding is just as quick as his.

“there,” you murmur, satisfied with yourself. a part of him feels he should turn back around and get it right—that he should be holding you and not the other way around.

but then you pull him closer against your chest, and he can’t help but melt into you. “this will get uncomfortable for your arms rather quickly,” he points out.

“shh. just sleep,” you click your teeth.

he thinks it’ll be harder to sleep with someone here, someone breathing and moving against him and keeping him locked in place. but oddly enough, he falls asleep quicker than usual that night—and every night after too.

[wewontbesleeping]

officially on vacation (don't leave until wednesday, but no more work!) and i'm happy happy happy BUT it's also like. there is some stuff happening at work that i'm soooo nosy about and i don't want to have to wait until i come back to hear about it lmfao.

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — eddie x fem reader (7.1k)

summary: 2011– your roommate drags you to a frat party and ditches the second she sees the guy she’s been fucking. left by yourself, you meet someone by accident, someone who isn’t in the fraternity 

warnings: smut, underage drinking, p in v, unprotected sex, grinding, dancing, eddie is trying to be cocky but he’s just awkward and silly

notes: i had a blast deep diving back into my hs and college days to reminisce with this. i hope if you were growing up during this time you can giggle along with me. love youuu oooh! also i hid some easter eggs in here (they’re not hidden at all)

The basement was steamy, and not in a ‘oh it’s a little warm in here but more like, every single person is drunk off their ass and the walls are sweating’kind of way.

College was everything you’d hoped it to be and more.

Your roommate, Kenzie was the type of girl who had an ‘open closet’ policy letting you wear her clothes almost more than your own. You weren’t too keen on sharing a dorm room with a girl you’ve never met before, but thankfully—you had gotten lucky. 

You had heard the horror stories from your older sister about her terrible roommate freshman year and you worried for most of the summer that you’d strike the same type of fortune. It wasn’t until you got a friend request on Facebook and a cheery little message : 

[Kenzie Walmen 2:07 PM: heyyyy roomie (;] 

that you knew you had nothing to worry about. 

She was from the west coast in sunny California, that bright western sky seeped deep into her personality. Kenz was sun kissed and bright haired, pretty ocean dipped eyes to give her the All-American type of aesthetic that most girls wished for. And maybe it was her laid back disposition, or her thrill for living it up and every hour of the day— that landed you here tonight at Delta Kappa Sigma. 

It wasn’t your scene.

You weren’t shy or new to getting drunk, you had even been so brave to take the occasional hit from a homemade bong in your neighbors dorm a few times, but the frat parties were known for their out of control Project X style of getting shitfaced. 

And something about guys with too much testosterone and too much Adidas cologne made your skin crawl and not in a good way. 

“Prints always look weird on me,” you grumble into the mirror eyeing your curves in a leopard lace tank top and black skirt, “is it too much?” 

Kenzie adjusts her off-the-shoulder top, adding a bit of shimmer powder to her exposed shoulder, “absolutely not, if anything it’s not enough.” Neon feathers decorate her bouncy curled hair as she eyes you in the mirror, “add that silver chunky necklace, and you’ll look bomb.” 

She was right, the necklace really pulled the entire look together, and if it were Halloween weekend you could even pass as a Spice Girl or maybe Snookie. 

“Sooo, is Steve gonna be there tonight?” You ask elongating the vowels in the aforementioned name, followed by some kissy faces and porn worthy moans. 

Kenzie rolls her eyes, a dusting of pink warming her cheeks, “yeah… about that. He said he has a “surprise” for me when I get there, so if I disappear, I’m just with him, okay?” 

“Wait wait wait—” you protest, holding a death grip clutch on a bottle of UV blue. “We aren’t even at the party yet and you’re already planning on ditching me?” 

— 

And that’s what got you here, a little more than drunk, holding a piss warm Green apple flavored Four Loko to your mouth, leaning against the corner basement wall in hopes to maybe disappear, wishing you were anywhere but in this cesspool of basement. 

The “DJ” (a frat guy wearing neon glasses with bars across them, scrolling through an ipod and a playlist more than likely named ‘Get Crunk’) was playing Kid Cudi, again. Everyone was screaming along to the chorus like he personally wrote it for them and their experience at college. A headache was brewing behind your eyes as the beat thumped loudly into your chest and radiated to your temples. 

Kenzie left almost immediately upon arriving. Swooped up and tossed over the broad shoulder of Steve the minute he answered the door. You laughed and shook your head, imagining how she was probably face down in navy cum stained sheets by now. 

The hours she spent on her hair and makeup went to waste, only being seen by the dead catalog eyes of Playboy’s finest from their pinned positions on the walls of Steve’s shared bedroom. 

Another sip from the overly carbonated beverage has you shuddering, the fiery ripple of fruit flavored [vomit] alcohol scouring through you like lava, causing your face to screw into a disgusted look.

How can people drink this shit? 

Your bladder screams at you to break the seal, demanding to find relief, immediately. The black lights were zero help in disguising if there were any doors that might lead into a bathroom. Pushing from the wall and taking the last hot sip from your drink, you navigate your way to the stairs. 

A table holding lone solo cups in formation from a forgotten beer pong game is now the proud owner of your empty can.

Weaving through the jungle of fist pumping douchelords and tipsy sorority girls making out for risqué facebook pics labeled [*~Freshman Y3ar!~*] you finally emerge from the sweaty pits of fraternity hell and climb the beer stained steps to the main floor. 

The monotonous beat from the music thumped a little less loudly up here, as if the noise was absorbed by the maroon colored carpeting and the oak cabinets in the foyer. 

The house was dated, decorated with a clash of orangey dark wood mixed with emeralds, dark reds and gold. As if this house was based out of Tuscany instead of midwest nowhere— complete with the rubbery fake fruit and vines that stood solely to collect dust. 

You had never been here before and didn’t know where in the hell to start looking to find the bathroom, and like Alice, you figured you might as well try every door knob in this type of Wonderland. 

The first door you peeked into looked like it was a formal dining room, but instead sat a television on the great oval table blasting obnoxiously loud as a pornstar moaned ripples of “pleasure” through her pink pout. Above her was an extremely tanned guy rocking a set of hard abs, thrusting in a slow rhythm that didn’t match her orgasm. 

A snicker slips from your lips and you gently pull the door closed with a small click, loud whoops and whistling from what you could only assume were a couple of frat guys erupt behind the door.

Watching porn together. 

You’ll have to add that to your growing list of things you didn’t know about the brotherhood behind a fraternity. 

The second door looked more hopeful as it was adjacent to the kitchen area. Upon nearly peeing down your leg, you were shocked stupid when you yanked the door open to find a closet housed with cleaning supplies. 

What the fuck? 

How could a frat house not have a bathroom? 

Your bladder squeezed in on itself and you were certain you couldn’t hold it any longer. Just short of giving up on this quest of relief and going back to your dorm, a gaggle of girls run down the steps leading to the top floor, where you could only assume the bedrooms were. 

“…why are frat bathrooms always so fucking dirty?!” 

Bingo.

Hustling up the never ending carpeted stairs, your bladder was on the brink of exploding as you shoved past a wooden door with a paper sign that read, “no jerking off in the shower!! pipes are clogged!” 

Your sandals clapped along the sea foam tiles floors as you slipped into one of the many metal stall doors. With a swift hike of your skirt up to your middle and pull of your panties, you were finally able to pee. 

A choir of angels sang the HallelujahHallelejuah chorus as you went and you sighed in relief that you had made it. 

“..yeah yeah, okay asshole,” a loud voice sounded from just outside the bathroom door frame, “you still owe me from last time,” the voice now echoed as it hit against the tiles and cement block walls, “no, payment is cold hard cash buddy, I don’t care if you have to dip into your trust fund.”  

A pair of black docs stomp into the tiled bathroom, nearing the stall you were in. There's no way he’ll come to this stall. 

“Tell daddy that you need more money for polos or Jordan’s— I really don’t give a fuck, but you need to pay the fuck up.” 

But as fate would have it…and in your hurry to get to the toilet before pissing all over yourself… and forgetting to lock the door in your haste… the stall door swings wide open— revealing a very bottomless you, to a pair of very wide dark, deer-in-the-headlight eyes. 

A beat that feels like an eternity passes, his hand is choked against his belt in a yank to unthread it, his phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. Your hands fly to cover yourself the best you can, panties still at your ankles, skirt still around your midsection. 

It’s all yells and screams with this random guy stumbling over himself dropping his phone on the ground and spewing, “Shit! Sorry! Sorry!” and you yelling for him to shut the fucking door already. 

His apologies don’t stop as he pulls the door closed, and from the other side of it as you pull up your underwear and adjust your skirt. 

“I swear! I didn’t think anyone was in there! I promise!” 

Your face burns in embarrassment as you contemplate melting into the floor and becoming one with the poorly aimed piss stains and the dirty grout. As good as that sounds you still have to leave, you still have to pass the guy who just saw your bare vag and you still have to navigate your way out of here. 

His phone lays face down on the floor, and you pray it isn’t broken for his sake. You pick it up, flipping it over to see that it scathed by with just a fine crack from one corner to another. His screen saver is a picture of a group of guys in a skatepark in the dark, smoke billowing thickly to cover their faces as they stand on the boards, the one with dark longer hair is shirtless, and painted with tattoos. 

“Shit,” you breathe quietly, “your phone is cracked.” 

You can see the shadows of his feet pacing back and forth but when you speak they stop, “oh..,” he mumbles, clearing his throat a bit, “umm, yeah, no biggie it was broke like that already.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah— hey, if you wanna slide that under the door I can um, let you ..ahem.. finish up in there.” 

Shit. Duh he needed his phone, and you were just holding it hostage in here as your shame hung thickly in the air. God this might really couldn’t get any fucking worse.

A deep breath in through your nose, you fake a mask of confidence and open the stall door. 

You hadn’t gotten a good look at him when he barged in on you, but now in the fluorescent dust covered light you dared to look a little longer at him. 

Long locks of honeyed brown locks fell onto the tops of his shoulders, covered with a green plaid flannel that hung open showing his neck and a flick of dark lines from a tattoo hidden under a black band tank top. His eyes were just as brown, round and flocked with a grove of thick lashes. Clearly he was the shirtless one in his background picture. 

He smiled sheepishly, pulling his jaw taunt as he averted his gaze to the toe of his boots, noticing your hand stretched out before him to give him back his phone, he glanced at your face, skimming his hand over your palm.

“Thanks— uh…” he started, shifting his weight to lean back against the many rows of sinks, “sorry again, I promise I don’t normally walk in on ladies using the facilities.” 

His eyes met yours and you instantly felt a heat run to your throat, his lips were impossibly plump as he drew them into a tight smirk. 

Fuck are those dimples? Of course they were. God he’s so pretty. 

You smile, “normal people lock the stall, but I was in a hurry… well I was lost!” you exclaim in a huff, fully hands on hips annoyed, “why the fuck would the bathroom be on the top floor?” 

You asked him incredulously like he should know. But on second thought…

“uhh… I dunno,” he shrugs, sliding his phone into the front pocket of his light wash colored jeans, not even looking at the broken screen as he leaned back again, “I’m not exactly an architect.”  

“But you live here?” you question, turning on the sink to wet your hands, “haven’t they ever thought of putting even a half bath on the main floor?” 

He rumbles out a laugh that makes your cheeks tingle, your buzz still in full force, “nah, you got it all wrong, I’m not a member of the ‘fraternity brotherhood of Alpha Mega Steroid’”, he jokes with air quotes, smiling wide when your lips tick up at the ends. “But I am a frequent guest, of sorts…”

This guy seemed to be one of those people who can make a nun blush, witty and dripping with a sexual charm that radiated from him like a ray of fucking sunshine. And fuck that grin of his. You’re in trouble. 

“Ahh, okay,” you banter back easily, shaking your hands to dry them since there were no paper towels in sight, “which one is your boyfriend? Let’s see I know.. Kyle? I think is his name, reddish hair, kinda feminine hands, or are you fucking Steve because I gotta say, I think my roommate might be giving you a run for your money right now.” 

Eddie’s eyes light up, a quirk in his brow as he asks, “Blonde girl? Kinda naive, head over heels for that mop of perfectly styled hair? Shit, what’s her name…Kelly? Kitten? She’s your roommate?” 

Of course he would know her, Kenzie knows everyone, and seems to leave a kind of impression on people that you envied. As bright as she shined, you were the shadow behind her. 

“Yeah,” you say, not hiding your annoyance, remembering how you got into this predicament in the first place. 

Eddie looks just as pissed as you’re feeling, “Oh, Stevie boy and I will be having words later on his lack of tact. They’re the reason why I was out wondering the halls like a fuckin’ ghost in a haunted mansion.” 

He takes note that you’re in the same boat he’s in but in your case, it’s a little worse, being a girl alone in a frat house never ends well. 

“I’m Eddie, uhh…designated dealer,” he says in almost a whisper, “for the deep pocketed asshoels full of daddy’s money.”

You connect a few dots, realization hitting hard in your frontal lobe from conversations you’ve kind of listened to from Kenzie about Steve. 

“Ahh, okay… now that you mention it, Kenz has talked about you before. You’re Steve’s old friend, Munson? I thought she meant like a forty year old or something.”

He laughs, loud and belly rolling like, “nah, minus a twenty from that. Steve and I are just close friends ‘s all… and no, not boyfriends.” 

You laugh then, all bubbly and light hearted that has his own skipping beats. Saying your name, he repeats it, a little grin on his face that he tries to hide, “mm that’s cute.” 

“Cute?” you question, an eyebrow raised as you fold your arms in on themselves, poking a hip out. 

“Yeah… cute,” he says standing fully and peering down at you, “your name is very fitting for you.” 

You roll your eyes playfully at his flirty words. Even though your stomach is somersaulting at the way his eyes seem to drip from heaven when he looks at you, your cheeks heating beneath his gaze.

“Is this the part where we exchange our hometowns and majors, because I’d rather get run over than do that right now.” 

Eddie chuckles, “oh yeah, well I’m actually here on an athletic scholarship.” 

“Really?” you question, eyebrows cocked in disbelief. 

“Yes!” Eddie jokes back, trying to bite back a smile, “if you must know it’s for Tennis, but please don't bother me for an autograph. I'm just trying to be a normal guy tonight.” 

“Noted.” You giggle, admiring the way this banter is coming so easily, maybe it was the liquid courage taking over or the fact that he was actually fun to talk to— either way, this night is starting to take a turn for the better.

“So, what does a Tennis star/designated rich boy drug dealer usually do at these kinds of things besides bursting in on girls using the bathroom?” 

He smiles, dipping his chin and looking at you through those impossibly thick lashes. Pushing off the sink he asks, “Sell a little here and there, sometimes dip into my own stash…what do you usually do at these things?” 

“Well,” you tease, twisting on the ball of your foot and heading towards the door out to the hallway, “I’m not usually at these things.”

“Ohh my god,” Eddie preens in his best valley girl/ Kourtney Kardashian impression, “you’ve never been to frat party!?” 

You smile, at his stupid joke, “Noo, I haven’t actually. Kenzie drug me out for a little pick me up after we bombed our History midterm, to…y’know— live it up— YOLO, all that.”

“Okay okay, letting off some steam after the stress of class, I get it...school was never a cake walk for me either.” 

“Yeah! But then your friend snatched her up, and since I don’t know anyone here… I was doing a very impressive wall flower guise, until my bladder interrupted that… and then a guy barged in on me in the bathroom.” 

Eddie stalks towards you, his eyes roving over your body, “Well… now you know me, soo Miss Lady Wallflower,” he cracks, “shall we descend to the basement and keep this party going?” 

His infectious smile stretches wide, practically ear to ear and you find yourself grinning just as wide, trying to twist your lips to at least hide your enthusiasm a little bit but goddamn— something about the way those dimples compliment the fucking christmas twinkle in his eyes.. ugh. 

He was trouble. The kind you had always craved but never dabbled in. But when in Rome…

“Lead the way.”

—

Eddie had made a pit stop in the large kitchen before returning to the basement. 

“Now sweetheart,” he purred, fishing around the shelves, of a pantry, moving cans of food and bags of chips, “I didn’t plan on drinking more tonight, but I’m not gonna let you drink by your— aha!” 

Eddie stands upright, brandishing a large box of saltine crackers. Your eyebrows furrow in response and he bows low, puts his hand inside the box, “I present to you, Stevie’s not so secret hiding spot,” pulling out his hand, his fingers are wrapped around a bottle of Burnett’s Vodka.  

Your eyes widen with devilish glee as you smirk, “how did you know it’d be there?” 

Eddie unscrews the cap and puts it to his lips for a long six second pull. 

You weren’t watching the way his throat bobbed and gulped when he swallowed each burning swig. Nope, not at all. You definitely weren’t memorizing each valley of cords and muscles as a single drop fell to his sharp chin and jaw. Never, not you!

And you weren’t holding your breath right along with him only breathing when those fucking glorious thick lips popped clean from the mouth of that bottle… his lips shiny from the bitter alcohol like a gloss you desperately need to lick clean. Yeah… no. that was not you…

So it’s only fitting when he speaks hoarsely and clears his throat that you are snapped back to the moment, your core keeping its own pulse. 

“He’s been keeping vodka in the same box in a food pantry since we were in high school, guy is the most unoriginal bastard I know,” he shrugs, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, and you can’t help but almost pout in the wasted opportunity. 

His eyes meet yours and they look just as hungry as you were feeling. He smirks crookedly and you practically flatline from the depth those molasses colored eyes hold. He moved first, inching towards you like a wolf stalking its prey, your pretty chapstick smile daring him to come closer. 

But the fuse between you is snuffed out cold as a crying girl erupts from the basement steps, her gaggle of friends helping calm her down as they leave the house. 

Eddie shakes his head and clears his throat as if he was just as bothered by you as you were of him. Turning towards the fridge he asks, “I’m sure they’ve got some Sunny D you can chase this with if that’s cool?” 

—

The basement proved to be in the same situation you had left it in: hot, sweaty, sticky. 

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes hotly behind you, loud enough to hear him above the music, “it’s like a furnace down here, no wonder that girl was crying.”

You lead him to the corner you were tucked in before, your drink still sitting on the beer pong table. By the way he is standing you can tell that this really isn’t his scene either, but after a while of passing the vodka and orange juice back and forth between you, he seems to loosen up a bit. His shoulders relax as his back leans against the wall next to you. 

Eddie’s words slurring together as his stories became more and more animated, and you giggle along, never taking your eyes off of him. Completely enamored. 

Your stomach burned with a flurry of butterflies when a few of his clients came up to him to buy, each more nervous than the next. Eyeing you suspiciously, questioning if you were some sort of a narc. 

Eddie stepped ahead of you, his shoulders squared and chest out to casually announce that you were cool and were with him. 

You didn’t know that he was waiting for you to object to it, to shove away from him and call him a pig for even assuming that you’d ever be seen with the likes of him besides in the dark, but you never did. 

Hours pass and the music just gets worse. Wiz Khalifa starts singing about colors and Eddie looks at the crowd of people grinding and rolls his eyes. 

The alcohol has you feeling tingly, a buzzing of flirtation sparks your blood and you are closer to Eddie than ever, the smell of his musky cologne and laundry detergent invade you.

Like any drunk girl, you start getting antsy, a little more touchy, and a lot more feely. Standing around isn’t cutting it anymore and you want to move, toss your hair back to some cheesy song, want to feel those hands you’ve been staring at all night run along your body as your hips move against him. 

Running your forefinger along the inside seam of Eddie’s flannel shirt, you look up at him through your lashes. 

“I’m assuming you’re not one to dance to a club remix?” 

Eddie watches your finger stroke up and down, your knuckles barely grazing his abdomen, but the small touch sending electricity to his spine. 

He leans into you, following your lead and pinching the hem of your skirt between his large fingers “you’d assume correct, the music I listen to is a little more head bangy than this.” 

“So,” you say coyly, pulling him towards you just a fraction more, “what you’re really saying is that you can’t dance.” 

Eddie scoffs, throwing his head back, his throat sticky with sweat and the hair by his ears wet and curling into ringlets, “oh I can dance my ass off honey, taught Channing Tatum everything he knows.” 

His hands find your hips, and you almost lose the little bit of confidence you have gained when the warmth of them seeps through your shirt, his blunt nails skimming your skin in small strokes.

“Do these little white lies masked as dorky ass pickup lines work for you?” Your hands are on his chest now, the black light illuminating each letter of his Deftones shirt to sparkle like snow beneath your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers into your ear, pulling you tight against him so your chest is pressed into his, “you tell me.” 

The music changes and a throwback song  

comes on, one you haven’t heard in years. 

“Guess you’ll have to show me those moves, because in typical drunk girl fashion… this is my song!” 

You grab Eddie’s hand and stomp to the middle of the floor, pulling him along with you until you’re shoulder to shoulder with other drunk and sweaty college kids. 

“Get low?” Eddie asks from behind you, his mouth dangerously close to the shell of your ear as his hands land heavy on your hips, “seriously?” 

Leaning your head back so your lips could reach him you talk loud enough just so he can hear you, “stop talking and fucking dance with me already.” 

“Goddamn…” he groans when you finally push your body fully back into him. 

It’s sloppy and horribly uncoordinated the way your drunken hips move beneath his hands. You’re both swaying along with the music, trying like hell to match the rhythm of everyone else around you. But in the tiny square footage you have in this cluster fuck of a space, Eddie has all the right moves. 

His palms are pressing you tighter into him, making sure you can feel just how hard he is, how hard you are making him. 

Courage and a few prom night dances under your belt have you dropping low and coming up slow, your skirt fanning out the tiniest bit as your knees are bent to the ground.

And Eddie is practically thanking God himself when you run the fattest part of your ass up his body, on the bunched denim by his shins, skimming the barely there fabric of your skirt against the hole in his knee, and finally up where he desperately needs your body the most. 

When you come back up he moves your hair from the side of your neck, his lips puckering around your earlobe as he nibbles lightly, “spin around so I can see you.” 

He groans again when you shake your head and laugh at his dismay, as much as he is turned on and bothered you are too, but the power of keeping him like this, teasing him with your body— turned you on even more. 

You snake your hands upwards seductively, landing daintily at the nape of his neck, twirling the wet tendrils of curls round and round pulling gently. Eddie hisses through his teeth, his hands roaming freely from your hips to your ribcage running them along the length of your sides, bruisingly hard. 

One minute you’re facing away from him, eyes closed in pleasure as he roves over your body, his lips pressed to your neck, and in the next he’s spinning you around so that you’re face to face— eyes locked on eachother, the heat and the alcohol and the endorphins are too much to handle. 

Your once labored breathing snuffs out to nothing when he leans in with licked lips his eyes fixated on your mouth. Standing. Staring. Staring and standing. You’ve had enough of this cat and mouse game. 

“Fucking kiss me alrea—”

His mouth with its plush pillow lips slam into you. He tastes like tart orange juice and a bite of alcohol. Like the way a summer day would taste if it were bottled up. He licks into your mouth and you whine for more of him, clutching onto his neck and pulling him further into you. 

When you break for air it’s loud, smacking lips and lapping tongues, tilting your heads to line up perfectly. When you twist yours again, Eddie holds onto your neck angling it just so with a glint of trouble in those whiskey eyes as he dives into the supple skin at the column of your throat. 

Sucking, swirling— his tongue is hot against you and you’re clutching onto his shoulders, your nails digging into the pilling fabric like he was the only thing keeping you Earthbound. 

You wiggle in his arms, squealing and whining out but he’s holding you tightly against him, moaning words into your neck that you can’t hear above the music. Then he’s on your mouth again, working you into a fit. His big veiny hands move along your back, grabbing your ass softly, then work up to wrap in your hair or lightly scratch at the inch of skin between your skirt and your tank top. 

Doing your own little damage to him, his shirt is shoved up over his chest, your fingernails trailing down his tattooed skin. A rise of goosebumps following in their tracks, and he stops kissing you to suck in a breath, your smile on his lips as you laugh and he whispers a breathy ‘fuuuuck’. 

Your fingers trail down to his waist band, tickling his skin as you suggest an idea with your eyes, one that you’re certain he would understand.

“C’mon,” he mouths, gesturing his chin to the exit as he slowly begins to pull you from the dance floor, up the stairs and into the kitchen area.

Eddie knew what he wanted. Knew it the second you walked out of that stall with that sweet fucking smile on your lips, shy and coy when he called your name cute, like you weren’t at all used to the type of attention he was giving.

And maybe you didn’t want this with him. Maybe you were a: ‘fuck-me-in-the-dark-so-I-won’t-be-embarrassed-by-being-seen-with-you’ type of girl, but you did dance with him, you laughed at his stupid jokes, stuck by him almost all night, but still he needed to be sure. 

He thought maybe in the brighter light you’d change your mind about what you wanted, what you needed from him, but you surprise him when you cling to his side, going up the steps, and backing into a wall pulling him with you by his shirt needily when you reach the top.

“D’ you uh..wanna get outta here?” he slurs, almost sleepily, his bangs fucked up beyond belief, his hair drenched and sticky with sweat and humidity, lips swollen red.

“My dorm isn’t far,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes running your finger along the waist of his jeans, “across campus.” 

Eddie chuckles, “fuck…” he sweeps a thumb over your pouted lips, groaning as he bites his own. “I’d crawl to fuckin’ Alaska for these, honey.” 

Your cheeks burn sweetly from his inebriated compliments. And even though you’re tipsy and so is he, you feel an odd sort of comfort with him—one you haven’t experienced before. 

“Let’s go then,” you whisper into his ear, “I want you inside me.” 

That did it for him. 

Eddie was all but running with you across the campus green, but not before taking off his long sleeved shirt and placing it over your shoulders murmuring how it was freezing and you’d probably get sick. 

Your combined laughter ricocheted off concrete forums and neatly trimmed grass. Passing by the fancy Chemistry Lab building, the Art Museum, the Med School and finally to your painted black brick dorm building: “Wheeler Hall” 

“Here’s home,” you sing out, placing your key into the door and pulling on the steel handle. 

The Wheeler Dorms were the newest addition to the college town. Named after a family that was killed in an accident back in the 80’s or something… you didn’t really remember what happened. 

The side door you had come in through was closest to your room, 011, on the first floor, again, the universe being kind to you. 

“Never been here before,” Eddie said looking around with wide eyes, “any of the dorms actually.” 

You smiled upon unlocking your room and entering, hanging up your keys on the command strip hooks by the door. Whatever confidence he had back at the party is now deflated a bit once he realizes just how different the two of you are. What the hell was he doing here? You’re in college, he’s only here because he deals. 

“Uhh..?” he questions, eyeing the lofted bed, “you know I was joking about being an athlete, right?” 

You giggle and toss your purse onto the futon, “relax, that’s Kenzie’s bed, mine is the shorter one.” 

“Oh thank fuck,” he practically sings letting out an over exaggerated sigh as he plops down on your futon, eyeing the leopard throw blanket, “I may look like a suave Casanova but I’m about as agile as Mr. Bean.” 

Laughter fills the room and you click on a lamp throwing the room into a cozy ambience as you slip off your sandals and sit on your bed, leaning forward, “you’re way hotter than him.” 

Eddie blushes a bubble gum pink sheen, using his still damp and unruly hair to cover his face, “keep being sweet on me see where it gets you.” 

“Is that supposed to be a threat, or a promise?”

“Oh baby, I don’t make threats, not to a girl that’s like you.” 

“Like me?” 

“Yeah you,” he deadpans, standing up and waltzing towards your bed, crowding you in, “funny, sexy, and by some greater power— digs me… at least I hope.” 

“I’m not the type of girl to bring a guy back to my place, Eddie,” you nearly whisper, putting a finger into his dangling necklace and pulling him forward, “you’d be the first.” 

Eddie places his hands next you on the bed, “like your first? Or just here in college first, I’m cool with either I just— are you sure you want this? I can leave if y—”

Cutting him off you kiss him, but not like the heavy kisses earlier when you two were making out like you were each other's oxygen masks, this one is sweet, like melted  sugar on Eddie’s tongue. 

“You talk too much,” you say with a warm smile, wrapping a finger around his curled ends of hair, “no more of that, just kiss me.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eddie wraps his arm around your waist and shifts you up further into the bed, laying your head on a pillow his body pressed into yours. He takes his time with you, kissing your lips then your jaw, working his way down your neck to where the bruises he’s already sucked into your skin were painted. 

Your moans and little breathy sighs have him hard against his zipper, his hips bucking into the tiny fabric of your panties that’s covering up that sweet pussy he got a glimpse of earlier. 

His shirt is somewhere on the floor, you had pried it off of him between locked lips and groans of having to move your lips from his that earned you a throaty laugh from him and the sexiest eyes that drove into you with an intense ferocity. 

He lowers further down your body, kissing every inch, moving your tank top out of the way to eye your orange bra, his mouth between your cleavage, moaning about how orange is now his favorite color. 

Eddie’s everywhere all at once, a hand traveling up and down your thigh, from the crux of your knee to the waistband of your skirt, the other hand is popping your tits out from that new found favorite colored bra of his —smiling wickedly at your peaked nipples. 

You moan lustful bliss as his tongue circles each one, giving equal attention to both, “you like that?” he asks.

“Feels so good,” you whine, “more, please.” 

Eddie smirks with your nipple between his teeth, “don’t have to ask me twice.” 

You weren’t a virgin, but holy shit you felt as if you had never had sex before, well never sex like this. Eddie teased you with his fingers, his thumb rubbing your clit while his fingers pumped inside of you, each curling inward towards a place nobody has reached before. 

He groaned with his bottom lip tucked between his sharp bite rubbing his achy cock through his jeans when you pushed your skirt down laying there in a matching orange lacey thong, bedazzled on the hips. 

“Would it be corny if I say you look like a Goddess?” he asks sheepishly, pinching the stretching fabric around your hips, “because… wow.” 

You bite your finger as if you were really thinking hard on this, hiding a smile, “you’re too much, Munson.”

“Too much?” he scoffs, pulling down your panties and settling himself between your legs, “you haven’t even seen my dick yet.”

You sit up, tits out and naked from the waist down, “well by all means, show me.”

“Greedy girl,” Eddie smirks, “did you bring me here just to get me naked? I’m appalled!” 

You move to your knees, sitting upright a bit so your face is level with his. You kiss him softly, moving to his neck and sucking just right to pull those deep moans from him that make your knees shake. 

Feather light touches skate along the expanse of his chest, working down down down until you’re undoing his belt, thumbing open the button on his jeans and yanking down his zipper.  

When your hand slides between him and his boxer briefs,  Eddie hisses, watching you pump him slow and tight. The feel of your smooth palm against his velvety shaft makes him almost cum right there and then, it’s been awhile since the last time. 

But you’re not hesitating or questioning yourself and he isn’t either. It’s almost fluid like a rocking wave the way Eddie lays you down, a team effort to swiftly shove down his jeans so you can finally feel eachother where the desperation is needed most. 

Legs hiked over his hips, he lines himself up with your gummy slicked entrance. It’s a deep and achy stretch for you, a vice grip for him. The lazy gasping moans you both emit are drawn out, yours practically breathless. 

“Holy fuck,” you breath into his mouth as he peppers you with kisses. He drags his hips out at a measured pace, pushing in just as unhurriedly, enjoying the way your body adjusts, cuffing him like a glove. 

Eddie breaks away from your lips to watch your bodies join together, moaning your name as he presses his forehead on yours collecting your mouth with his. 

“Shit…This okay?” he asks earnestly, nipping at your ear. 

You nod in gasping silence, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he speeds up. Your hands are skimming down his bareback, pressing him further into you with every thrust, begging him for more. 

He snakes a hand between you, rubbing circles in your puffy clit as he thrusts harder, trying to get you there before he loses all control. “Want you to feel good sweetheart, fuck— keep making those pretty little noises, you’re squeezin’ the hell outta me.” 

And he does. You cum hard around him, your walls fluttering and pulsing so fast you practically black out from the mixed pleasure of his fingers rubbing your clit and his cock stuffed in deep. 

His name falls from your lips in tiny little whines and he bucks into you a hard and final time before he groans, holding onto your headboard for support as he’s bottoming out, stringing rope after rope of hot spend inside of you. 

“Baby,” he whispers, “God—” he stops cold, realizing what he just did and what he didn’t do. “Oh shit, fuck fuck fuck! I didn’t pull out, I'm sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!

You laugh wickedly, your body shaking beneath him at his worried panicked face. 

He’s a babbling, out-of-breath mess, “’s not funny! I just got caught up in the moment and you felt so fucking good and I’m still a little dru—”

“Eddie, it’s fine,” you say, holding his cheeks with both hands squishing them together so his lips pucker like a fish, “I’m on the pill.” 

His face is still squished together when he speaks, “oh, well… okay.” 

“You’re fine,” you coo, coaxing him down from the ledge of regret and self hatred, “I—” you lean up and kiss him square on the mouth, licking into it and sliding your tongue against his, “I liked it.” 

His eyebrows disappear into his bangs and before he can open his mouth to speak you’re pulling him onto you kissing him deep and needy. 

The two of you end the night that way, him holding you, your hands in his hair, kissing so much your lips are chapped— never getting enough. Legs entangled together like a weaved basket. You fall asleep before he does, your little huffed breathing making his skin damp as you curl further into his chest. 

Wonder if Verizon is open tomorrow? He thinks when he remembers that his phone is definitely broke from it landing on the bathroom floor—but he’d never tell you that. 

He also wouldn’t tell you how he was supposed to go back to Steve’s tonight because they were leaving to see another old friend in California for the weekend— or how they needed to be at the airport by 2 AM for a 4 AM flight.  — or that Eddie was Steve’s ride because he lost his license in July. 

Nope.

He wouldn’t tell you any of it. None of that seemed to matter when you were sleeping so cute on his chest like that. 

When late morning comes you’re at it again, this time you’re riding him on the futon, slow like a twangy country song his hands rocking your hips. When you both finish you drag him to the showers, pumping some expensive shampoo into his hair and giggling when you tell him to be quiet so you won’t get caught. 

Steve called Eddie’s phone all night, and all morning, sending duplicate texts of rage, wondering where the fuck he had gone. 

Eddie silences the last call from Steve as you’re getting dressed, wearing a black pair of yoga pants and a zip up hoodie. He smiles when you offer to comb his hair, grabbing your wrist to pull you onto his lap kissing behind your ear. 

His voice is low, soothingly sweet and minty from your toothpaste as he asks, “can I take you to breakfast?” 

[luveline]

Heyyyy can you do a Hotch x reader where readers just kinda been down all day but doesn’t wanna tell Hotch because she’s kinda used to being the badass with all her walls up? And hotch kinda pulls her to the side and forces it out of her 😊😊

thank you for requesting!! fem, 1.2k

Hotch has dark hair. He’s an older guy but he’s yet to grey, hair like the strands are soaked with coal pitch, even darker under the office lights. He braces his hand on the desk and ducks toward Spencer’s computer screen, pointing at a corner with patience. 

“This one,” Hotch says. 

“Why would they organise it like this?” Spencer asks, his voice bordering incredulous. 

“I’m not sure. You’ll remember where this is?” 

“Do you usually have to tell me more than once?” Spencer says lightly. 

“Ask your licence to carry.” 

You’d laugh, his wit quick and poor Spencer a good sport, but your head feels heavy with a forming upset. Like your mind has turned to thick porridge. You woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but you don’t feel angry, more magnificently empty. Nothing is touching beyond your surface level. 

“Thank you, sir,” Spencer says. 

You ignore the weight of a gaze on you while you click through your emails, prioritising what needs to be answered before the end of the day, the end of the week, and the end of the month as Hotch taught you to. You double click an email chain from a consult you’d been assigned from out of state and reread your response, nervous that your lack of confidence today might have shone through blunt wording. Hotch is looped into the chain —he can correct any glaring errors should you have made them. 

“Hey,” Hotch says when you don’t look up. He doesn’t use your name, and he doesn’t need to. “I’d like to talk to you. Let’s go up to my office.” 

“Can I have a half hour to work through my emails?” you ask apologetically.

“I’d prefer we talk now. Any overdue reply can be blamed on me,” he says. 

The way he talks is natural to him but perhaps strange if it were another person, with another disposition. You know Hotch to be both gentle and stern at once. His tone leaves little room for debate, but it reassures you to hear the measured cadence of each word without rush. The openness of his expression is similarly comforting, and though he doesn’t know it —you would never own up to feeling this way, verbally or physically— you’d quite like to be comforted by him. Even if he takes you to the office to reprimand you, you’ll at least have been near him for long enough to forget your odd aching. 

Hotch doesn’t walk until you do, taking each step by side until he gets to the office, where he opens the door to encourage you in. 

You drift a few feet inward, shoes soft on clean, crisp carpeting. Hotch closes the door, where he stands momentarily, silence held.

“Everything okay?” you ask. 

Hotch pulls out one of the two black chairs in front of his desk and gestures for you to sit. “Everything’s okay,” he says, standing back to give you space to sit, his hand moving to rest on the back of the chair as you sit. It whines as you shift to see him. “With me, everything’s okay. How about you?” 

“Everything’s fine with me.” 

You’d pad your explanation out if you didn’t think he was about to tell you what you’re in the brig for. No one likes a nervous Nelly. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. 

You glance at his hand behind you and he moves it swiftly. “Hotch?” you ask tentatively. 

“I’ve noticed you aren’t yourself today.” 

“I’m completely myself.” 

“It’s not like you to stare into space.” He frowns. “I want to sit down because I don’t like towering over you, but I don’t want you to internalise this as a meeting.” 

“You’re not towering over me, Hotch.

His frown doesn’t ebb. “…We each have our own unique levy to carry the weight of, I know that. But it’s not… nice, to see you like this. I’d like to know what’s wrong.” 

Again, no nonsense and reassuring at once. 

Maybe he is towering a little. You avert your gaze from his, feeling uncharacteristically meek for a weak moment. 

“I think I woke up mixed up,” you confess eventually, picking at a stray thread on your skirt until the tips of your fingers burn. “Like, nothing happened to upset me, but I…” 

“You do feel upset.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

“You’re not sure why?” 

“Not really. I think that–” You lick your lips nervously, not finding the right words, wanting to be vulnerable and simultaneously reluctant to show him anything he might not like. “I think it’s lots of smaller things and they’re layering on top of each other. Do you get that?” 

“All the time. Though usually my way of dealing with it is less pleasant for others.” He looks down at you steadily. “And yours,” —he aims enough fondness at you to stop your heart— “is self-contained. But I don't want you to think you’re walking through life unseen.” 

“Unseen,” you repeat. 

He stands very still. “Can I touch your face?” he asks quietly. 

You don’t know why he’d ask, but you say, “Yes, please.” 

“Please,” he says. You’re repeating each other. The air in the room feels thicker as he lifts his hand to your cheek and cups it gently. “When you’re upset, I notice. I can’t help but notice.” Your face lists into his palm slowly, worried he’ll move, but he holds you and he watches you with care. “Is there anything I can do to make it all feel better?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “No?” 

You close your eyes. “No,” you say, matching his volume. 

“I don’t know what to do now,” he murmurs. 

“Sorry, I’m okay,” you say, asking yourself to move away from his touch, but unable to force it, “I’m gonna…” 

It’s a boundary crossed, but you and Hotch are good at that. He’s constantly treating you with more sweetness than a boss should show toward his employee, and you eat it up despite every instinct in you that says you shouldn’t. So you won’t tell him you’ve had a bad day until he asks, and even then, you have nothing permanent to offer him for fixing, and still he’ll hold your face and make it feel ordinary. Like he’s touched you a hundred times, something about it feels right, and real. Your cheek feels softer under his tracing thumb. You could fall asleep in his hands. 

“How can I make you feel better?” he asks again. 

“It’s not that bad.” 

“But what can I do?” 

You want to ask for a hug, but even the idea of it is too much to think about. Miss Independent admitting she needs more than this? When it’s already more than you should have? 

Profilers profile, and somehow you give yourself away. 

“Come on,” he says softly. 

He hugs you. His hand falls from your face to your shoulder, wrapping behind it, encompassing you in a strong arm as he bends down to embrace you fully. 

“I wish you’d ask for more,” he says, his free arm slinking between your arm and side, hand to your back, encouraging you to hug him back. 

You don’t know what to do with your arms. Each movement feels stilted, but Hotch makes up for it. He hugs you without inhibition, like he’s wanted to do it for a long, long time. 

[sweetimpurity]

☽༓･˚⁺‧͙ day 11! yayayy! I blacked out for this one 🥵

wc: 2.2k cw: bondage, breeding ;) enjoy!! ☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

“Shit…” He sighs. Running a hand through his hair, the talons peeking out slightly. They’ve been coming out and going back in all day, little pin pricks aching at his fingertips. Sensitive when he touches anything, pissing him off. Like he can’t control it. He’s been cooped up in his office all day. 

“Lyla. Update.” He demands in monotone, brow furrowed and focusing on the levels and charts on the holographic screen in front of him. The hovering pixels refresh as the levels increase and decrease. Numbers calculating. “They’re on their way back… just finishing some cleanup.” She replies. Hovering over his desk before settling, ‘leaning’ on a coffee mug from a few days ago. He hasn’t done anything, hasn’t eaten or drank anything since you left on that damn mission three days ago.  He should have remembered. That this specific time would have him aching for you. And now you’ve been gone. It’s his own damn fault and he’s been beating himself up over it. Feeling heavy, feverish, angry. He’s been tracking his levels every hour. Hormones and brain activity. Why must his warped genetics plague him in this way?

“Lyla I…I thought the serum was supposed to help…” He sighs, brow twitching, eyes closing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It will… but you only took one dose. It’ll be more effective after a few more.” She replies. Watching him with a raised brow. His behavior. 

He sighs again, a slight growl in the back of his throat. Pacing back and forth on his platform and crossing his beefy arms, like trapping his restless hands under them. Finally sitting down in his chair. His legs spread wide. It’s the only way with the pressure in his loins. With the need to be released. He’s in rut. As embarrassing as it is. And you’re not here. It’s like the perfect storm. 

“Oh- just landed…” Lyla chirps, popping up by him and displaying the portal chamber surveillance footage right in front of his face. Too close to his face, lighting his angry features up in a yellow glow. “Lyla!” He growls, trying to grab at her pixelated form. His hand went right through. But his eyes finally land on your form. Walking through the main portal alongside some other spider people. The team he sent you with. You’ve just entered the building and he can already smell you. Your pheromones. You’re floors and floors down and he’s already getting hard. The pressure in his suit tightening. “Lyla. Go.” 

She giggles. Floating around, teasing him. She’s all too familiar with his behavior by now. She puts up with so much. “Have fun, bossman…” She snarks, her hologram dissipating in front of his frowny face. A huff of relief leaving him once she’s gone. Leaving him alone. Waiting for you. 

He groans. The ache. His cock hard and hurting for you. Glancing over his shoulder at the door. Not yet. His hands go down, cupping his erection, only to whine softly at the pain he inflicts. Just the smallest of touches and he’s keeling over in his desk chair. “Ay… Fuck…” He sighs. Sharp canines biting down hard on his lip.

“Heyyyy!” Your voice breaks through the silence of his office. Your scent is stronger than ever when you push the door open. The stimulation goes straight to his dick, like it’s begging for your heat. Begging to be soothed in your slick warmth. Desperate to fill you up. To mate. To breed you. 

“Oh my god, you should have seen me out there… I was pretty good if I do say so myself… got the bad guy and all that. Even got a few common crooks while we were staking out…” You explain, jumping up on his platform. Bringing the box of equipment to his desk and setting it down. It’ll need to be cleaned and assessed. Some pieces to be fixed before they go back in rotation. 

His eyes darken. Watching you walk by. He’s glad you’re back. Of course. He loves you. But his mind isn’t on that right now. Right now he’s thinking about how good you’d look swollen and full of his babies. Full of his cock. Dripping with his potent seed. 

“Ben was a perfect alternative, he stepped in and really helped us out… Peter thought so too…” You keep going. Going over everything that happened over the past few days. “That’s… good…” He manages to say. His voice low and hushed, a croak. Watching your back, your ass. Moving from behind the chair, standing a few feet behind you now. He swallows hard. 

You glance up at his screens. He must have been busy as always. Keeping himself busy. Your hands slow down as you place machinery pieces on his desk from the mission supply. Spider senses tingling. 

In a matter of seconds, he’s pressing up against you. His chest against your back and his nose burying in your hair, in your neck. Inhaling your scent. His hearing picks up on the rise in your heart rate. The way you react to him. 

“Missed me, hm?” You hum, smiling and leaning into him. 

“More than you know…” He huffs. Pressing himself into your ass. Letting you feel just how needy he is. Your suspicions were correct. It’s that time again. Your senses never let you down. 

“That’s good because I missed you…” You whisper. Coaxing him. Leaning your head back on his shoulder. Letting him grind into your ass. Rubbing his erection into the soft plushness. And you hear the releases of breath from his lips, like he’s been pent up so long. “I love you…” He whispers by your ear. One of his big hands wrapping around, splaying across your tummy, imagining himself burying deep, all the way to your womb. 

“I love you too…” You can’t help but smile, rubbing back against him, hearing the slight hiss at the back of his throat. “Remember that…” He hums, something of a warning. The words stir something inside you. And you know what’s to come. This kind of fuck only comes once in a blue moon. Because normal Miguel would never allow himself to be so cruel. 

“Remember.” He hums in your ear. Turning dials on his watch this whole time. Smashing the screen and your suit instantly retracts. The confrontation of the cold on your skin makes you shiver. It’s too much for him. Your scent is stronger than ever. His dick leaking and crying to be inside you already. A strong hand on your back pushes you down to the desk. Tits smooshing and tummy contracting on the cold glass surface. A shiver and gasp filling your body. His hands work fast. White stringy webs leaving his wrists. Letting them bind and wrap around you. Working them around your torso, across your breasts. His webs, decorating your skin, wrapping you up. He wraps them around your wrists like ropes, only stronger, harder to break. Beautiful web designs scatter along your arms, wrapped around your body like a fly in a spider’s web. Like you’re the spider’s final meal. A loud thwip and he’s mounting webs on two opposite walls, letting it connect to your arms and spreading them wide. You can’t escape, you can barely move. Hanging, dangling, ever so slightly. With only the desk under your belly for support. But then there’s his hands. 

His big warm hands, suddenly bare of his suit. His dark tanned skin, fingers running up your hips, down your ass and delivering a gentle smack. Making you whine. Your pussy aching for him at this point. And he can smell it. He can smell your slick, he can almost taste it in the air. Like a drug he knows by taste alone. It’s taking all his willpower not to pound into you just yet. But the rut does not cloud his judgment to that extent. He could never forget that he loves you and would never dream of hurting you. Tying you up in his webs, that’s a different story. 

His hand wraps around, fingers running up your slit, parting your folds and collecting your slick on his fingers. Bring the fingertips to his mouth to wet them further, tasting you and groaning. “Oh baby- fuck so good… so so good…” He mumbles, his hand going back down between your thighs and running along your slippery sex. His fingers teasing your hole before plunging inside. Making you shiver and shake. Pulling on the webs you’re restrained in. One finger, then two. Dripping down his fingers and onto the desk. His hormone levels are off the charts. His mind going crazy. Wanting to come. Wanting to spill his seed but needing it to be inside you. He won’t waste it. He needs to get you pregnant.

“Oh Miguel!! Ah! Mm-ngh…!” His fingers work their magic, bringing you to glorious orgasm. Your juices dripping down his knuckles as you moan and whine. The webs straining and tensing under the pressure of your pull. Panting for breath, your knees pulling up and hitting against the edge of his desk. Bent over, tied up and needy for more. 

When you come down from the high, his fingers pull free. Bringing his fingers to his lips. He’s quiet. In a trance. Hazy and half gone and he hasn’t even gotten to the good part yet. His eyes flutter and roll back at the taste of you on his tongue. Sucking on his fingers ravenously and you can only hear the sucking sounds mixed with his groans. Crimson eyes blowing wide, bashing his watch for his suit to disappear entirely. Instantly grinding his hard, pulsing dick along your puffy pussy. Teasing his tip around your entrance and sucking on his fingers like it soothes him. Pacifies his ache even a little bit. 

“Baby- babe you want… I want- you’re so good, baby, taste so good…” He murmurs incoherently, whining. Pushing his cock through your folds, up to your clit, making your toes curl, knees drawing up. Wrapping your hands around the webs binding you. “Ngh just take it all, okay? I’ll fill you up and-and… and… Dios…ah, te amo tanto… no puedo vivir sin ti…” He whimpers. The softness of your pussy against his needy tip makes him crumble. Keeling over and pressing his mouth to your shoulder. Massaging his dick through your slick. Savoring the feeling for a moment longer. “Ay mami…” 

He bites down on your shoulder. Using his fingers to guide his cock to your core and slipping in. His brain short circuiting at the tight wet pressure. “Fuck!” He growls, instantly spurting hot white. His voice hoarse and needy. Grabbing your hips in the front and pushing in all the way to the hilt. Pushing you up the desk, the webs straining as your arms pull. His body practically mounting yours. Stretching you out on his girth in one go. Pulling a shrill cry from your lips, moaning at the warmth flooding your belly. “Ngh-Miguel! Ohhhh….”

“Oh yes…” He hisses. Finding relief in final release. Who gives a shit if he didn’t get two pumps in before it happened. He’ll pump you with much more cum before the night is over.  

He pulls back, drawing aching whimpers from your lips. Trying to soothe you with kisses to your shoulder blades, your neck. Collecting your hair into his hand and gently pulling back. Moaning as he does it. And he plunges back in, molding you around his cock. Slipping in easier with his cum loosening you up. “T-todo lo que siempre he necesitado, mami…” His sweet words make your heart flutter. His face tucking into your neck from behind as he pumps into you.  

Moaning as he pulls back again and thrusts back in deep. Working up a rhythm, holding your hair back. His other hand wraps around to your clit, rubbing with tenderness in a stark contrast to his powerful pumps. Webs straining, the tension threatening to break the strands as you cry out for him. Legs shaking and trembling. His own moans are broken and hoarse. Full of need and desperation. All he can think of is filling you up. His cum, his DNA tainting you, mixing with yours. Making babies. Lots of them. The image of you full of his children makes him crazy. “You’ll be such a pretty mami, baby… so pretty, so so so…” He pants. His hips slapping your ass with every push, like wild animals in the jungle. His spider half taking over completely. Your soft whimpering moans fill his ears. His words shooting right to your core, making your eyes roll back and gushing on him. Crying out for him and the webs snap! Your arms dropping and you’d fall flat on the desk if he didn't grab you in time. Pulling you to his chest, pumping into you even faster. Climbing up on the desk and kneeling down for leverage. Pushing your body down to arch for him. Pounding into you with unending power. Even after you come, he doesn’t stop. Pulling one more trembling orgasm from you before he’s spurting once more. Filling you just like he promised. Finally stopping with a huff. His mind mostly gone but there’s part of him left, just for you. 

“You okay, mama? Look at me…” He whispers, turning you over gently. Admiring that look on your face. That fucked out smile. “Te amo… needa make sure it sticks…” 

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[chariaki]

I like you!

Yuji x fem!reader

It took you a while to actually notice Yuji Itadori. Although, yes, you are close friends, you never really read into his gestures too deeply, since he is friendly to everyone.

Over the past few years, you failed to notice the way he dyes his hair only pink for the reason that you said you liked it on him, the way the same colour rises to his cheeks when you ruffle his hair and call him a "cutie pie", the way he focuses on you instead of the lesson you were teaching him, and especially the way his body flinches, ears red, and pants bulged up whenever you hug him tightly.

Nobara talked to you about Yuji when you had a sleepover at her place. The girl talk helped you confirm your rising suspicion about him. Yuji Itadori has a crush on you!

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Okay! Lets get this straight:

Yuji Itadori, 18 years old, male. Just your ordinary teenager. Been friends with him for more than 10 years, friendly, sweet, funny and his most prominent characteristics are: his pink hair, his muscular build and.... his crush. on. you.

This realization made you think about him for weeks. It made you think about you and him. And what surprises you is that you didn't feel an ounce of discomfort thinking about Yuji as a possible boyfriend. You even thought of him in all sorts of ways.

A few weeks has gone by and you found it entertaining to just stare at him. Your body turned to him, eyes shamelessly focused on him. You always thought of Yuji as cute. But now...He actually looks so handsome.

You admire the way his eyes are sharply focused on reading a manga, the way his brows furrow in frustration from the plot, the way his cheek shows the bulge of his tongue. He makes a click sound. And suddenly, you're eyes fall to his arms, he wasn't even trying yet his muscles are just so evident. It's proof of his diligent hard work.

You stood up and walked to his desk, bending your body forward to to meet his face.

"Yujiiii"

You whispered. Your face so close to his that you can smell his perfume and, with his ears red, you're sure he can smell yours too. Not to mention the way his eyes momentarily looked down to your chest and back up to your face so fast, you could've missed it if you blinked!

But you didn't. You saw it and it made you want to tease him more.

"Let's go home?"

"Uhh... Yeah. Sure!"

He hurriedly packs up his things and stands up behind you with his hand carrying his backpack. When he sees that you were done with your stuff, he effortlessly slings your bag on his back. A habit he developed since he always walked home with you. Yuji didn't want your pretty body to be tired from carrying such a heavy bag.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The walk home was as usual, you, talking excitedly about your day and him looking at you, smiling. Occasionally, Yuji would also beam about his video games, monster movies and the times Megumi slapped and scolded him for doing something stupid. It was a routine day for you and so you wanted to make a difference.

"Yuuu, wanna go grab ice cream? My treat!" You beam up at him, eyes mischevious and playful.

"Okei okeii!!!"

The two of you approached your favorite ice cream truck. You and Yuji had been buying their ice creams ever since you were kids. The owner had practically watched you grow up.

"Well if it isn't my favorite lovebirds!"

"'Sup, Uncle!!" Yuji greeted. You always wondered why he called you guys that and you denied it every time. You also failed to notice that Yuji didn't mind the nickname and is even happy to hear it. And now you know why.

"Hiii, Uncleee! We'll have our usual" You greeted, turning around to find Yuji lingering behind you. His tall figure smilling down at you as his hand takes out money from his oocket and pays for the ice cream.

"Heyyyy!!! I told you I was going to pay!" You pouted at him.

He poked your cheek and bended his knees to level his face with yours. "Hehe. I got it. Besides, we can celebrate the day you didn't deny it. " He smiled and patted your head.

"Deny what?" You ask while looking at Yuji grabbing your ice creams and the receipt, walking towards the nearby table and placing your bags down. He looks at you from his seat and pats the seat next to him.

"The"Lovebirds" ....Just kidding!" He exclaims while happily biting into his ice cream.

He had ice cream on his nose.

"Hmmmm"

You say smirking. You scooted closer to him, inching your face near his face. Yuji's eyes widen, body leaning back to lengthen the space between your faces. You don't give in and leaned closer even more.

He's so adorable. A blush rises to his cheeks and ears in the same color as his hair. You loved it when he did that.

What amuses you is when he closed his eyes.

You took this opportunity to kiss his nose, licking away the ice cream.

"Mmm!! Strawberry. Heh."

Yuji slowly opened his eyes, dumbfounded.

"H-huh?! HUHHH??"

Poor boy collapsed backward, back landing on the wooden bench. Ice cream falling on the grass.

The owner laughed loudly, witnessing everything that unfolded.

"Yuji? You alright there?" You chuckled.

"Uhhhhhh.... give me a minute yn.. " He mumbled, arms covering his face while he layed still,cheast heaving up and down.

After what you assumed to be five minutes, Yuji slowly rose up, cheeks and ears still pink, a hand touching the place where you kissed him.

"Uhh....I-"

"Yuji." You smiled at him, amused at his flustered state.

"W-wait, Yn. Please let me go first."

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

"I like you."

Your eyes widened.

He confessed! You thought to yourself. You stayed silent, now you're the one who's flustered.

WHO wouldn't be when Yuji Itadori is looking at you with such emotion in his eyes. He's so focused on you, patiently awaiting for your response.

"You don't have to reply now of course! I just.... I just wanted you to know. I really do like you, yn. Have liked you since the first time you took me here to buy ice cream, still liked you even when you ranted about your old crush, and I'm pretty damn sure I'll continue liking or fucking loving you even if you turn me down."

He hold such intense eye contact. Determination in his eyes, in contrast to the red in his ears and the constant pink in his cheeks that gives away his embarrassment.

You rested your head on his chest, hiding your flustered face and looking away from his inteses gaze. You're sure you turned into a tomato too.

"Mm mike kyu chew"

You mumbled against his chest, feeling his heartbeat race through his uniform.

"Hm? I didn't get that, Yn." Yuji questioned, rubbing your arms on your side with his big hands then gently pulling you up to face him.

His eyes widened, lips broke into a big smile.

"Y-your all red!!" His eyes crinkled and his loud, beautiful laugh escaped his lips.

"Hmph! I LIKE YOU TOO, OKAY!"

You exclaimed. Embarrassment visible in your voice.

"You do?" Yuji beamed and leaned his face close in anticipation.

"I do." You couldn't help but smile as you squished his cheeks, your ice cream long discarded. He leaned in your touch.

"I like you more."

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

This fic is inspired by @smsm22!! 💛

[pocket-of-sunshine24]

Home For The Holidays (S.H. x Reader)

Summary: Steve and the reader were inseparable as kids, but when high school hit, Steve became "King Steve," and their friendship fell apart. After graduation, the reader leaves Hawkins for college, trying to move on from the past.

Years later, they return home for winter break, only to be forced to confront old memories and people they thought they’d moved on from. At the top of that list is Steve Harrington. He’s changed, but is it enough for the reader to trust that he’s no longer the person who left them behind—or is there still too much pain from their past to bridge the gap?

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Angst, hurt and comfort, Steve calls reader "sunshine", fluff at the end, lots of feeling alone and left out, having to talk things out, King Steve ruins things for himself (as usual)

Authors Note: Heyyyy! Here's the full fic of the drabble I posted a few days ago. I tried to keep this gender neutral, but if you notice any mistakes please let me know. Also this is my first time ever writing a fic so please be nice, but feel free to comment feedback! Thanks for reading!

Divider created by @strangergraphics-archive

Driving through Hawkins on the way home feels bittersweet. Watching all the holiday lights flash by as you turn down your street, with memories from when you were younger flashing by just as quickly. With a deep breath you try to remind yourself that you’re only home for a couple of weeks. You can do this. It’s not like you’ll have to see him. No matter how small the town is, you know you can just stay home and avoid your old usual spots no matter how much you want to see what he’s up to now. But that boat passed a long time ago. You both made your decision. You doubt he even remembers you. With that thought you pull into your driveway, an ache for what once was sits on your chest.

The house looks the same as you remember it—nothing about Hawkins ever seems to change. The faded shutters, the cracked driveway, the overgrown rose bushes that your mom used to tend to—everything is just as it was when you left, frozen in time. But as you stand there, you feel the weight of something missing, like the town itself has stalled, unmoving, while everything you once felt here has slipped away. The memories, once vivid and full of life, now feel distant, as if they belong to someone else. You take a breath, and it feels as if you’re the only one who’s changed. Hawkins hasn’t moved, but somehow, you have. And you don’t fit anymore.

You grab your bag and step out of the car, the cool air biting at your skin as you walk toward the door. The familiar sound of your mom’s voice calls out from inside, pulling you back to reality. You’re home and you’re here to spend time with your parents, not get caught up in the past.

The evening passes in a blur of catching up, the easy chatter of family life filling the space that once seemed so comforting. But no matter how hard you try, your thoughts seem haunted by the ghost of your childhood. A tall, tanned boy with a penchant for mischief. Steve Harrington.

What had he become? Was he still the same guy who’d once made you laugh until your stomach hurt, or was he still ruling over Hawkins as King Steve like he had in high school? You didn’t know. And part of you wasn’t sure you wanted to find out. You had your own life now, a life that no longer included him. The thought should have been comforting, but instead, it gnawed at you in the quiet of the evening.

Later that night, as you lie in your old bed, the familiar creaks of the house lull you into a restless sleep. You can’t shake the feeling that you no longer belong in this space. The bed feels too small, the sheets too itchy. It’s as though Hawkins itself can sense the change in you, urging you to either fit back into the version of yourself that once belonged here—or leave for good.

The next day, you wake up feeling exhausted from the restless night. Deciding that being cooped up in your house for 2 weeks will only serve to drive you insane, you head out for a morning walk to clear your mind. You spent too many hours the night before reminiscing on what was and people from your past. You need to remind yourself why you left Hawkins in the first place.

You make your way downtown and step into the grocery store, recalling your mom’s complaint about not having any eggs for the holiday party she always hosts at the end of next week. As you pass through the doors, you welcome the warmth, a respite from the biting cold. Keeping your head down, you move quickly through the aisles, eager to grab the eggs and get out without running into anyone who might recognize you.

But as soon as you send that wish out into the universe you run into Nancy Wheeler. You freeze for a moment, your stomach dropping. Nancy, Nancy, who always had a knack for seeing through people, looks at you, her expression shifting from surprise to a hint of recognition. Her eyes flash with an emotion too quick to place. The grocery store suddenly feels smaller, and the cold of the outside world seems to creep in despite the warmth around you.

"Well, look who it is," Nancy says, her voice both familiar and slightly guarded. "I didn’t expect to see you back in town." She gives you a polite but somewhat distant smile and, you can’t tell if it’s just her usual friendliness or if there's something more beneath it.

You manage a tight smile, feeling the awkwardness settling in like a thick fog. "Yeah, just for the holidays. You know how it is." You try to sound casual, but your voice feels a little too forced.

Nancy nods, taking a step back to give you space in the aisle. Her gaze lingers for a second longer than necessary, as if waiting for something, but then she pulls a carton of milk off the shelf and places it in her basket. The silence between you both stretches, heavy with unspoken words and broken promises. Past memories bubble up of watching her and Steve through their best and worst times. Memories of Steve coming to your house drunk and crying because Nancy had said their whole relationship was bullshit.There had been so much left unsaid between them, so much hurt, that it fractured his relationships with everyone else. You suppose that’s when time started to slow to a stop in Hawkins. And now, here you are, standing in the sterile aisles of the grocery store. The years apart feel like a wall that neither you or Nancy is sure how to climb.

“So…” Nancy starts, as though she’s considering something, the words tentative. “How have you been? Really, I mean.” The question hangs in the air, and you can hear the genuine curiosity in her voice, but there's something else there, too. A carefulness.

You feel the pressure to answer, but you’re not sure where to start. What part of your life do you even mention? The life you’ve built away from Hawkins? The tangled feelings about everything you left behind? Or do you just lie, let it all slide with a simple answer?

You’re not even sure if Nancy knows about what happened between you and Steve. Do they still even talk? You’ve been so out of the loop on everything in the lives of those who stayed in Hawkins. You feel as if you’re just passing through, forced to watch as they continue on without you.

“Oh you know, I've just been busy with school, but it’s been good. It’s nice to have a break at home though,” you respond politely. Trying to figure out the best way to get out of this situation without seeming rude. You glance towards the door hoping she’ll end the conversation there and let you leave. But she continues on oblivious to your growing discomfort.

“Hey, I know you haven’t been home in a while, but you should stop by mine this Friday. I’m having a small get together with a couple friends. You’re invited if you want. I will let you know Mike and his little group will be there too because if they aren’t invited he’ll give me hell.” Your lips twitch into a genuine smile at the mention of Mike and the others. It’s been so long you wonder how they have changed, if at all, in this town stuck in time. Your heart twinges at the thought that they’ve grown since you’ve last seen them, but it was your decision to leave. Your decision to not come back until now.

With a tentative smile you say, “sure I’ll see if I can make it.” You begin to turn, having long forgotten the eggs that sent you into the store in the first place, when Nancy grabs your wrist and says, “It’s good to see you again, really it is.” Her eyes are earnest as she stares at you. It’s as if she’s trying to see something in your eyes. Or piece together a puzzle in her head. You just give her another small smile and quickly exit the store, your mind even more foggy than when you left the house this morning.

Hands shaking as you exit, the bitter cold rushes against your cheeks. You weren’t ready to see anyone from your past, let alone anyone with a connection to Steve. It’s been so long. You aren’t even sure you would recognize him if he stood right in front of you. The memories with him are precious, too precious to let go of, but the hurt has frayed them over time—left you wanting to forget even as you long to keep them close to your heart.

You mull over Nancy’s invitation for this Friday. It’s only a couple nights away. Is Steve gonna be there? Are you ready to face even more people you left behind here? You’re not sure, but maybe it’s time you tried anyway.

The rest of the week passes with no further drama. You spend lots of time with your parents getting the house ready for your mom’s annual holiday party. Setting up decorations, putting up the tree, finally getting those eggs she needed.

Everything seemed to be falling into place. You eventually let the awkward interaction with Nancy fall out of your mind as you find a small comfort in the routine with your family.

Friday creeps up on you until it’s merely two hours before Nancy’s get together. You’re freaking out. Clothes thrown all over the floor, your room a disaster zone. Nancy didn’t say much about what to wear. Did you need to dress up? Was it more casual? You were overthinking every little thing because it was easier to do that than to think about who might be in attendance at said gathering. Your heart races as you think about what might happen tonight. You force yourself to take a deep breath and square your shoulders, you’ve been running from this town, this moment for long enough, you need to face the past and the mistakes that haunt you.

You step in front of your mirror, still unsure of what you're doing. The outfit you finally settled on is simple—a nice sweater, some jeans, shoes that are neither too casual nor too formal—but nothing about it feels like it fits. The sweater clings uncomfortably, the jeans stiff—like they're not even yours anymore. You feel like you're pretending to belong here, as if all these years away haven't changed anything. You stare at your reflection just for a moment, and it feels like you’ve stepped back in time—like you’re sixteen again, about to sneak over to Steve’s for a movie night—when everything seemed so much simpler. But you’re not that girl anymore. The one who fit so perfectly in this town. You try to shake the memory from your head, but it lingers, pulling at you like a thread ready to unravel everything. For a second, you wonder if you’re making a mistake, if going to the party is just you trying to force yourself to become the girl you were before you left. To pretend that time stopped for you too after you left Hawkins. But it didn’t. Time kept going. You left, and you changed. You don’t fit here anymore, not like you did before. You don’t match. Before you can second-guess yourself, you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that facing the friends who stayed in Hawkins is the only way forward. No matter how much it hurts. With one last glance at the mirror, you grab your keys and head out the door. Your car hums softly as you drive toward Nancy's place. The familiar streets of Hawkins look the same as always, but now they feel cold, unfamiliar, as if the air is heavy with something more than just the winter chill. You arrive at the Wheeler’s house, the warm glow of lights spilling out from the windows. The faint sound of music and laughter drifts through the air, a stark contrast to the tightness in your chest. You take one last moment to yourself before stepping out of your car. And as you exit, the cold bites at your skin. It feels as though the sound of your shoes echoes louder than they should against the quiet street. You try to steady your breath, your heart racing as you work up the courage to ring the doorbell. For a second, you hesitate, the weight of everything you left behind in this town bearing down on you. Then, with a final deep breath, you press the doorbell and wait, feeling your pulse thundering in your ears. Nancy opens the door with a wide smile, looking exactly the same. The same easy confidence, the same look of someone who’s always known her place in the world. She steps aside to let you in. “Hey, you made it!” she says, her voice casual and warm. You almost feel like you belong here. Almost.

She leads you into the living room, where a few people are already gathered. It’s quiet enough to still feel intimate, but lively enough that the evening doesn’t feel awkward. Christmas lights hang everywhere, casting a soft glow that feels like a gentle embrace. The scent of cinnamon and pine lingers in the air, pulling you back to childhood holidays where her and her mom would drop off their special holiday cookies to everyone in town.

A modest Christmas tree sits in the corner, its twinkling lights offering a simple, homey feel that tugs at something deep in your chest. It feels almost like nothing’s changed, even when you know so much has. Still, the warmth of the room eases some of the tension you didn’t realize you were holding.

You glance around, trying not to draw attention to yourself. Your eyes scan the room, landing on familiar faces—Jonathan, Robin, Dustin, Max, Mike, El, and Will—all of them seem the same, but also different. Not just older, but somehow… more. More aware, more grounded. Their eyes carry a maturity that wasn’t there the last time you saw them, bickering and riding their bikes to Mike’s house, so carefree. The weight of it hits you in a way you weren’t prepared for, the ache of time missed, of them growing up without you being there for it.

But then your gaze drifts to the couch, and everything else fades. Steve Harrington in all his glory. He’s sitting there, chatting with Lucas, a beer in hand, that familiar charisma still clinging to him like a second skin. For a moment, it’s as if you can pretend you’re 13 again about to watch some corny holiday movie with him at your house.

You hadn’t expected him to look the same—tall, tanned, but a little more muscular. His hair still that perfect mix of messy and styled. But it’s the new depth in his eyes that catches you off guard. There’s a quietness there now, something behind his usual charm that wasn’t there before. And it pulls at your chest, tightens it, a knot you can’t untangle. How much has he changed? How much has he been through that you missed?

You’re not sure if he’s noticed you yet. You try to steady your breath, your mind racing for something to say, something to do to break the tension that’s suddenly hanging on you like a storm cloud. But before you can move, Nancy’s voice breaks through.

“You can grab a drink from the kitchen if you want. It’s right through there,” she says with a smile, and you nod, grateful for the excuse to put some distance between you and Steve.

You head toward the kitchen, trying not to look too much like you’re avoiding anyone. As you step in, you find yourself staring at the sink, trying to gather your thoughts. You know this feeling—this knot in your stomach that tightens every time you think about him, about the things left unsaid between you two. It's been years, and yet here you are, standing in a room where everything is the same, but nothing feels familiar. It’s like walking into a scene you've seen before, only something’s different now. The sink, the countertop, even the way the light hits the corner of the room—they should be comforting, but instead, they feel distant, like you've stumbled into a version of your past that’s been subtly altered without you realizing. You can recognize the outline of what once was, but the edges are blurred, the picture incomplete.

The changes are small, almost invisible at first glance, but they pull at you, unsettling in a way you can't quite explain. It’s as though the space itself remembers, but it’s forgotten you. It’s still Hawkins, still Nancy’s house, but it’s not the one you left behind. It’s like the place has shifted without you, and no matter how much you try to fit into this scene, you know something is different—just enough for you to feel like you don't belong anymore.

You open the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water, when the sound of footsteps behind you causes you to freeze.

The smooth timbre of a voice you once knew so well, one that used to bring you so much comfort, cuts through the air. “Didn't think I'd see you tonight.”

You turn, and there he is. Steve Harrington. Right behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his presence. He looks at you, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though there's something else in his eyes—something soft, almost vulnerable, like he's unsure how to read this situation either.

You swallow hard, struggling to find your voice. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure either.”

He chuckles, but there’s no humor in it, just a quiet kind of acknowledgment. “It’s good to see you. I mean, I—" He pauses, and then his expression softens, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. "I didn’t expect you to come back. After everything…”

His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, like an unspoken invitation. An opening to finally speak the truth about what happened between you two all those years ago — when you made the decision to leave Hawkins, when you realized you no longer fit in a town that used to feel like home.

You want to say something — anything that might clear the air or break the sudden tension between you two — but it’s hard to find the right words. The only thing that feels clear is the space between you that’s been there for so long, and it seems impossible to cross.

Even when he’s standing here right in front of you it feels as though he’s miles away. Your fingers twitch with the subconscious urge to pull him into you. You look up at his soft brown eyes and open your mouth to respond, but before you can get anything out, Nancy’s voice calls from the living room. “Hey, don’t leave me hanging in there! We’re about to start a game.”

Steve glances at the door and then back at you, his expression unreadable. “I guess we better get in there,” he says quietly, taking a step back. "It’s… good to see you again."

As he moves to leave, you feel that familiar ache in your chest, the pull to say something more, to break through the walls you’ve both built. But the moment slips away before you can.

You follow him into the living room, where the sound of laughter and chatter fills the air. Your eyes find him again, across the room, and his presence feels like an open wound you can’t quite heal. As you watch, he seems so at ease here, surrounded by the people you can tell are his family. He laughs so freely, loves so loudly. It's so evident in the playful way he knocks his shoulder into Robin's.

So much has changed about him. When you left, he wasn’t this open with anyone—not even you. You would’ve never imagined he could share such easy camaraderie with Nancy or Jonathan. But here they are, smiling together like nothing in the past ever happened.

It hurts. To know that they reached him in ways you couldn’t. It makes you feel like you were never really needed. As if it was a good thing you left. As that thought crosses your mind, you suddenly grow hot and uncomfortable. Sitting here, watching them… it feels like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be. Something you aren’t meant to be a part of. You begin to fidget with the bracelet that sits on your wrist, twisting it with a sense of urgency. As if that small, repetitive motion could somehow quiet the storm inside your head as Dustin explains an overly complicated holiday game that his long distance girlfriend Susie told him about.

When you finally manage to pull yourself from your racing thoughts and look up, you catch Steve’s gaze—his eyes fixed on the bracelet you’re nervously twisting. It’s a brief moment, but it’s enough as he looks at you with an intensity that lights up your skin, his expression searching for something in your eyes. You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but the weight of everything unsaid—everything that’s always hung between you—feels too much.

You still remember the way he used to notice the smallest things, once saying, ‘You always seem to do that when you’re overwhelmed.’ Observing your need to fidget with something when you get anxious. The memory resurfaces now, and you watch him track the movement of the bracelet, a quiet familiarity in his gaze. You clamp down on it, halting the motion, and in that instant, his eyes snap to yours, sharp and perceptive. It’s like he sees straight through your façade, into the unspoken turmoil beneath.

You find yourself holding your breath, not knowing whether to look away or keep staring. He knows you, maybe better than anyone else, and there's a quiet ache in your chest at how easily he seems to read you even now. You feel like a stranger in this house full of people, full of laughter, but with him, it feels like time has gone backwards and you’re back to being best friends sitting on his patio complaining about the English essay you have to have done before the end of the week. You’re not sure what he sees now—whether it’s the girl he once knew, or the stranger you’ve become—but his eyes linger for just a second too long.

You want to say something. To bridge this gap that feels ever growing, but the truth is, you don’t even know what you’re feeling or what you would say. It’s been so long since you last saw him and you don’t even know if he would want to hear what you have to say. So much is different now. There’s so much you don’t know about him anymore.

The sound of laughter from Robin seems to shatter the moment, pulling Steve’s attention back to her. You just sit there, frozen, your hand still gripping the bracelet like it’s the only thing keeping you anchored. The noise of the party swells around you, but it’s distant—like you’re standing on the edge of it all, watching from the outside. Everyone is laughing, caught up in their conversations, and you feel like a shadow, unnoticed, as though you’re no longer part of this world. When you finally check back in, Dustin and Lucas have started bickering over the rules of the game.

“Man, that doesn’t even make sense! Why would I have to go back to Santa’s Workshop just because Rudolph saw me walking outside? You made these rules up just so you could win!” Lucas accuses.

“I didn’t make them up! You’re just mad because you’re losing!” Dustin shoots back, pointing an accusing finger.

“Oh yeah? Well, maybe I wouldn’t be losing if you didn’t keep changing the rules halfway through! First, you say we have to find the presents, then you say the elves are watching us, and now—” Lucas waves his hands in frustration, “—I’m supposed to be stuck in Santa’s Workshop because of some imaginary reindeer?”

“It’s not imaginary! It’s part of the game!” Dustin retorts, crossing his arms. “You just don’t get it!”

“You’re cheating, that’s what you’re doing!” Lucas yells, causing a few heads to turn.

Steve, who had been half-listening, stands up. The laughter and chatter fade into a low hum in the background as he steps toward the two arguing boys, his voice calm but firm.

“Alright dipshits, enough,” Steve says, his tone brokering no argument. “We’re all here to have fun, not start World War III over a game. This is supposed to be fun for everyone.”

Dustin and Lucas both stop mid-argument, but they glare at each other, clearly unwilling to back down. Steve sighs, looking from one to the other with a raised eyebrow.

“Lucas, you’re taking this way too seriously. It’s just a game. And Dustin,” Steve turns his gaze to the other boy, “stop making up rules just to win.”

The tension between them doesn’t dissolve immediately, but there’s a subtle shift. Lucas crosses his arms, but the fire has gone out of his argument. Dustin shrugs but doesn’t speak, his posture a little less defensive.

“Look,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair, “why don’t we just take a breather, okay? If you two can’t agree on the rules, then we’ll just play something else. It’s not that big of a deal.”

After a beat, Dustin huffs, but he nods reluctantly. “Fine,” he mutters, not entirely happy, but willing to let it go for now.

Lucas lets out a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s play something else.”

Steve gives them both a half-smile, satisfied with the result. “Good. Now hug it out so we all know you still love each other,” he says with a grin.

The boys roll their eyes but give each other an awkward hug. “You’re so lame Steve,” Dustin mumbles.

“Yeah way to make things weird Harrington,” Lucas agrees.

“Hey it’s not my fault you idiots start acting like 3 year olds when it comes to playing a game. I do what I have to do to keep the peace.”

The boys give each other one last look and walk off with the rest of the younger kids to find something else to occupy their attention. Slowly, the rest of the group begins to disperse, picking out new games or chatting in small circles. Steve turns back to the others, rolling his eyes. “If we weren’t here, they would burn this house to the ground.”

“Luckily we are here so they won’t,” Nancy says with a playful twinkle in her eye.

The two of them share a look, one that feels familiar—too familiar. It’s a shared joke, an easy camaraderie that feels like it has always existed between them. You can’t help but watch, feeling a pang in your chest. The last time you saw either of them, they weren’t even speaking to each other. The breakup had left things between them fractured, awkward, and heavy. You remember the silence between them, how they'd avoided eye contact and made excuses not to be in the same room. The tension had been so thick you could almost taste it. There were so many nights where you laid awake with Steve as he cried over the broken pieces of their relationship.

It’s unsettling to see them so comfortable. You wonder when things shifted, when they went from bitter exes to whatever this is now. It used to be like walking on broken glass around them, carefully avoiding the cracks in the conversation.

Now, though? It’s like that tension never existed. The warmth between them feels natural, even easy. They seem completely at ease with one another, like nothing ever happened. The way Steve looks at her, and the way she responds—it’s not the strained politeness you expected, but the kind of closeness you’d expect from long-time friends, maybe even something more. You watch them, trying to make sense of what’s happening. It’s strange. Stranger still, is how you didn’t even know it happened. Being away for so long, leaving these people behind—they didn’t stop living. They didn’t pause their lives waiting for you to come back. They went on, found new rhythms, new routines… and now, you’re a stranger in a space you once belonged. A space that’s now filled with laughter and inside jokes, with people who’ve moved on without you.

Steve turns back to the group, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, though, it’s kind of impressive how much chaos they can create in such a short time.” He flashes a grin, and Nancy laughs, nodding in agreement.

You feel a strange twinge in your chest, as if you’re not quite sure where you fit in this new dynamic, this new version of Steve, Nancy, and everyone else . You shift in your seat, suddenly aware of how much has changed—and how much you haven’t been a part of.

Even though you made the decision to leave, you can’t help but feel hurt—like no one fought to keep you here, like no one wanted you to stay. You’ve never felt the passage of time as much as in this moment. These people sitting across from you look the same on the outside, but so much has happened since you left. So much you weren’t a part of that you don’t know how you could ever fit in their lives again.

At this realization, you feel like an imposter, trying to slip into a life that no longer belongs to you. Sitting here, watching the group interact, you feel hollow. Steve pushes a hand through his hair and laughs at something Robin says, and it’s like watching a memory play back—his familiar movements, his laughter, the ease of it all. It’s like you were once fluent in their secret language, one made of glances, gestures, and unspoken words, but now it feels like you've forgotten how to speak it, and everything feels foreign.

You wish you hadn’t come tonight. But even as the thought crosses your mind, there’s a part of you that wonders if it’s too late to turn back. You stand and head towards Nancy to say your goodbyes. Tonight has rattled your nerves and you aren’t sure you could make it through a full night of being an outsider in the lives of people you used to call friends.

“Hey Nance, I’m gonna head out. I’ve got to be up early to help my mom with preparing for the holiday thing next weekend. Thanks again for having me.” You give her a tight smile.

“Of course! So glad you could make it. Do you want me to walk you out?” She starts to stand and the rest of the group looks over curiously.

“No you don’t have to do that! I’m just parked out front. I'll be okay.” You turn with a wave to the rest of the group, actively avoiding Steve’s gaze and head out to your car. The cold has only gotten sharper since your arrival and chills you to the bone. The wind whips past your face causing tears to well up in your eyes. A sigh escapes your lips, your steps heavy as you trudge towards your car, weighed down by your thoughts.

You hear a voice call out your name in the stillness of the night. Turning, you see Steve standing at the front door, his chest rising rapidly, like he sprinted to catch you before you slipped away. He looks both relieved and hesitant, his usual confidence softened by something you can't quite place.

“Wait up! I um.. I wanted to talk to you,” he scratches at the back of his neck. A sign you know means he’s nervous. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to have a conversation with him yet, but you don’t think he’ll let you get away without getting this off his chest either.

"I—um…" he clears his throat, then looks away briefly, before meeting your eyes again. "I’m really glad you came tonight, even if… well, I know it’s probably not easy."

A tight knot forms in your chest, and all the unspoken words you’ve held inside for all these years press against your throat, desperate to spill out, but you swallow them back down. Unexpectedly, a wave of emotion crashes over you. This is the person you once bared your soul to, the one you’d talk to for hours until the sun came up, losing track of time. Now, you can’t even bring yourself to meet his eyes. The tears that the wind has coaxed threaten to fall now as you force yourself to look into his warm, honey eyes.

“Steve…” It’s one simple word, but it carries a heavy history that presses against your chest. Saying his name out loud for the first time since being back feels like your heart breaking all over again. It’s strange how right it feels falling from your lips, and yet you don’t even know him as he is now. The Steve you knew was a lanky 10-year-old who always let you win at tag. But then, in the blink of an eye that boy grew up, and in doing so, he left behind his childhood to become someone new—King Steve.

King Steve was cruel and broken. You tried to stay by his side through it all, but when Nancy broke up with him it all fell apart. At first, he leaned on you, and it seemed like you might get your Steve back. But you quickly realized that wouldn’t happen. He put up new walls, built them higher each day, and you could feel the distance between you growing wider, until one day, you woke up, and there was an ocean between you.

You still remember the first time Steve didn’t smile when he saw you, the first time his eyes didn’t light up when he saw you. You told yourself it was nothing—just a bad day—but you couldn’t shake the feeling. Slowly, you started noticing the small changes: the way his voice lost its warmth when he spoke to you, the way his laughter felt strained, as if it was something he had to force. And then one day, you realized that the person you were talking to wasn’t Steve anymore. Not the Steve who had once been a part of every second of your life. It was as if all the years you spent together didn’t matter. Like you meant nothing to him. Not even worth remembering. You thought, maybe naively, that your friendship was something stronger, something that couldn’t just fade away. But when Steve pulled back, when he let the walls rise higher and higher, it felt like the rug was pulled out from under you. The person who once knew you better than anyone else was slipping through your fingers, and you couldn’t stop it. The innate trust you had in him started to fissure and crack, breaking until there was nothing left to salvage. That abandonment, the slow and painful disintegration of something you thought would always be there, made you question everything you knew about your friendship, about yourself. It hurt so much more than you ever expected it would.

You became a shadow of yourself—once bright and eager, now a hollow version of who you used to be. You stopped going out, stopped talking to anyone. It wasn’t just that you lost Steve. You lost yourself too. You lost your spark, the fire that used to drive you, and in its place was only emptiness. You withdrew into yourself, living on autopilot. Without Steve, it felt like a part of you was missing. He wasn’t just your best friend; he was your person.

You used to be confident, full of life, and now… you weren’t sure who you were anymore. When Steve shut you out, it wasn’t just him you lost—it was that piece of yourself that only existed when you were together. You became a stranger in your own skin, unsure of who you were without him beside you. And that uncertainty, that emptiness, followed you everywhere you went. Your parents noticed, their concern growing as they saw you shrink from the world.

It took time, and a lot of self-reflection, but eventually, you realized that staying in Hawkins was only hurting you more. You weren’t healing, you were sinking deeper into the same numbness. Leaving Hawkins wasn’t a choice—it was a breaking point. It wasn’t easy, not by any means. Every part of you ached at the thought of leaving behind what little you had left of Steve, what little you had left of the past. But staying was worse. Staying meant continuing to live in the shell of a life you once had, clinging to memories that could never be relived.

So, right after graduation you packed your bags, walked away from everything you knew, and left it all behind. You needed to find yourself again, to figure out who you were on your own. No Steve, no parents, just you. You went to college as far away as you could get, and promised yourself you wouldn’t look back. Until now.

When you look at him, it feels like all the old pain surges up again—like the weight of all the years and hurt is crashing down on you. Seeing him this close, after all this time, is like opening a door to a past you never fully closed.

“Steve..” you say his name again allowing yourself this one indulgence. “I don’t know if I can do this right now.” Looking up at his face, the face that you used to think was the sun, it’s almost too much, and for a split second, the world feels impossibly small. Everything around you fades into the background as you focus on Steve, standing in front of you—so close, so real. And yet, it’s like you can’t reach him, like you’re stuck in some place between the past and the present, where nothing feels clear. He’s here, and you want to reach out, but something inside of you pulls away, reminding you of everything that happened before. “Please, just—just let me say this. I know being back here is hard. Hell, it’s hard for me, too, seeing you here. But I missed you so much. You were my best friend—the only person I could truly be myself with. I don’t want to lose the chance of having you back in my life, all because I was too much of an ass to talk to you.”

His words hit you right in the heart, and for a moment you don’t know what to say. You want to believe him. You want to believe that he means it—that this is the Steve you used to know, the one you could trust. You can feel yourself so close to forgiving him, to allowing him back into your life, but the doubt lingers—like a shadow. How can you trust that this time would be different? The memory of him pulling away, disappearing without a word, is still so fresh in your mind. It was like he vanished without a trace, and you were left standing there, wondering if you had imagined the whole thing.

“You mean so much to me. Every day that you were gone was agony. I had to live a life without you in it, and I can’t imagine doing that again. Please, let me show you that I’m not the same idiot I was in high school. I’m different now.” His voice cracks on the word "please," emotion thick in his tone.

“Steve, I want to believe you, but how can I? I haven’t seen or spoken to you since before I left for college. We’re basically strangers now. I don’t know if I can put myself through that again. It almost destroyed me the last time. I can’t go through that again.”

As you look into his eyes, you realize you're both crying. Steve takes a shaky breath, wiping his eyes, but his gaze never leaves yours. The silence stretches between you, thick with all the things left unsaid. His hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach out but is afraid of scaring you off. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he’s holding onto this moment as if it’s the last chance he’ll get.

“I’m not asking for things to go back to how they were,” he says softly, his voice steadying a little. “I know that’s impossible. But I can’t keep living like this, wondering if there’s even a chance we can get back to some version of us. Maybe it won’t be the same, but I want… I want to try. To make it right.”

You take a breath, his words creating cracks in the armour around your heart. Part of you wants to give in. It’s so easy, so tempting, to fall back into the safety of something familiar. But you know the truth. You know that the old Steve, the one you could talk to for hours, the one who was your constant, is gone. In his place is this man, this version of him who’s grown and changed. You’ve grown too. And that hurts more than anything.

"I don’t know if I’m ready," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know if I can be the person you want me to be right now."

"I’m not asking you to be anything. I just want you to let me in. Let me prove that I’ve changed. That I’m not that guy who hurt you anymore." The desperation in his eyes is almost too much to bear. You can feel the tension between you, the pull of something that used to be so easy now tangled in doubts and fears.

"You don’t know what it was like," you say, voice cracking, "what it felt like when you… when you shut me out. It wasn’t just you pulling away. I felt like I lost everything. I didn’t just lose you, Steve. I lost myself. I couldn’t get out of bed for days because I thought I had done something wrong. I kept replaying every conversation we had over and over hoping to piece together what had gone wrong. It felt like I didn’t matter to you."

Steve winces at your words, his face falling. “I never wanted that. I swear, I never wanted to make you feel that way.” His voice trembles as he steps closer, hesitantly, as if testing the waters, unsure whether you'll let him. "I was such a mess back then, I didn’t know how to fix myself after Nancy left me. I thought I was broken. That no one wanted me in their life. I felt so lost for so long. I didn’t even realize I was drowning.”

You swallow hard, the knot in your chest tightening. You can see the guilt in his eyes, but you also see the vulnerability. And despite everything, despite the hurt, you want to believe him.

"I don’t know if I can trust you again," you whisper, the words stinging as they leave your lips.

Steve flinches when you say that. "I can’t promise that things will be easy. But I can promise I’ll show you every day that I’m trying. That I want to make this work." He pauses, letting the words settle.”I’ll wait until you’re ready. Just… please give me a chance to show you."

The silence lingers, and you’re left standing there, caught between the person you once knew and the person he’s become. You want so badly to reach out, to make it all better, but you’re scared. Scared of losing him again. Scared of opening yourself up to someone who might disappear again.

“I’m not asking for all of you right now," Steve says gently, as if sensing your hesitation. "Just… a chance. A chance to prove that I can be the friend you need. A chance to show you that I’m not the same person I was.”

You don’t know what to say. So, you don’t say anything at all. You just look at him, trying to make sense of everything. The past. The present. The possibility of something in between.

“I’ll… think about it. But I can’t give you an answer right now.” The words hurt to say, like a knife in your chest, cold and sharp, twisting deeper with every second that passes. But everything is so complicated now. You don’t know him anymore, don’t know if you can trust him, and it hurts so much to have to guard yourself from him—the one person you thought you would have by your side forever.

His face falls, and you see the disappointment in his eyes, but he nods slowly. “That’s fair. Just know, if you need anything, or want to talk… my number’s the same. And I work at Family Video now. You can stop in whenever.”

His words hang in the air, and there’s a rawness in his voice that makes it hard to look him in the eye. He goes to reach out, like he wants to comfort you, but then thinks better of it. Instead, he simply says, “I do miss you. So much.”

A tear escapes, running down your face. “I miss you too, Steve,” you say, your voice shaking, but you manage a watery smile before finally opening your car door to leave.

“I promise I’ll think about it. I just need some time,” you add, your hands trembling as you grip the steering wheel. He nods silently, his eyes never leaving you as you start to drive away.

"Get home safe," he calls after you, his voice small, almost lost in the wind.

Your hands are shaking as you back out of the driveway of the Wheeler home. You notice Steve is still standing there, watching you leave, his figure growing smaller in your rearview mirror until you turn off the street.

You know you needed to have that talk with Steve about everything. But that conversation has muddled your brain. Your heart is racing, and the weight of everything hangs heavy on your chest. Steve says he wants to show you he’s different, but deep down you know: if you let him back in, he’ll become your everything again. You worked so hard to figure out who you are without him and how you fit into the world, and now that you’re back home in Hawkins, all that work seems to be crumbling down.

You spend the next few days just trying to make sense of your emotions and figure out what you want. It feels like there’s a weight pressing down on your chest, like you’re fifteen again, replaying every conversation you ever had with Steve, trying to unravel what he’s really thinking.

You’re not sure if you can trust him, but he seemed so sincere. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that pulls you in, but that only makes you more cautious. He may look like the Steve you used to know, but there’s something different about him now. An air around him, a subtle shift in his presence, like he’s grown into someone else—someone you’re not sure you recognize. And that terrifies you.

What if you’ve both changed too much? What if you’re just too different now to reconnect, to rebuild what you once had? Letting him in again feels like taking a risk, like handing him the key to your heart and hoping he doesn’t have a knife waiting to use.

After thinking it over for days and days, you decide to go over to Family Video and invite Steve to your mom’s holiday party. You spent so much time deliberating that it’s now 3 days away. As you get ready you keep having to wipe your hands on your jeans because they’re so clammy. You aren’t sure why you’re so anxious. You’re just inviting him to a party. Your mom throws it every year, and everyone in town is basically invited. Taking a deep breath, you look at yourself in the mirror and try to reassure yourself. 'This is no big deal. Just two former friends reconnecting.’ But when you glance down, your hands are still trembling. You sigh and grab your keys getting ready to face Steve.

The bell rings as you step into Family Video. Glancing around your eyes are drawn to the checkout counter and instead of seeing Steve like you expected you find Robin, looking bored out of her mind as she flips through a magazine. She glances up at you as you walk over. “Oh hey! How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you since Nancy’s party.” She gives you a knowing look, the kind of look that makes you wonder if she knows more about what happened that night than you’d like.

“Oh, um yeah… just been stuck at home helping my parents.” You twist your bracelet nervously, eyes flicking around the space as you clear your throat, trying to gather your thoughts. You still haven’t figured out how to ask her where Steve is, when he steps out from the back room. It’s as though you summoned him with a single thought.

“Hey Rob, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure Dustin used my login to extend his movie rental again. I swear that kid will be the death of me.” He says as he walks out, pulling on his vest. Once his eyes find you, his face lights up, and he breaks out into a wide smile.

“Hey! What’re you doing here?” His voice is so full of joy it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. You glance at Robin, who stands behind the counter with a teasing glint in her eye. She looks at Steve, then back at you, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“I’m just gonna do some inventory in the back. Stevie buddy, you watch the counter while I’m gone.” She turns to leave, but not without muttering under her breath, “Try not to make a complete fool of yourself this time, dingus.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but his smile stays soft and warm. He turns back to you, his gaze is so intense you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

“So, what’s up? You here to pick out a movie? I’ve got a couple I think you might like.” His voice is steady, but there’s a spark there that makes you swallow hard, unsure of how to respond.

“No, actually, I um, I wanted to invite you to my parents’ annual holiday party this Friday.” You force the words out in a rush, nervousness spilling from you. “I know it’s only three days away and you were probably going to come anyway because, you know, it’s kind of a town tradition, but I—uh, I just wanted to invite you because you were really nice the other night and I’ve been thinking things over. I do want to try to be friends again, but I’m just a little nervous, so… I figured this could be a good first step?” You finish the sentence with a nervous chuckle, hoping he didn’t notice how much you just word-vomited in his direction. Your face heats up even more as you glance up at him, half-expecting him to laugh at you. But instead, his eyes light up with amusement, and he grins.

“Thanks, Sunshine, I’d love to go.” His voice is teasing, but there’s an undeniable warmth in his tone, that same old fondness you haven’t heard in years.

Your heart skips a beat at the old nickname. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips before you can stop it. You never thought you’d hear it again—and part of you is surprised to know that Steve still remembers it, even after all this time.

“Okay, good.” You swallow, trying to steady yourself. “Well, then… I guess I’ll see you there.” You turn to leave, but then his hand is gently on your wrist, and you freeze. His touch burns through the fabric of your sleeve, a searing heat that rushes to your chest, making your breath hitch. It’s been so long since he’s touched you like this, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed.

Your eyes widen as you stare down at where his hand rests on your wrist, the heat from his skin making your pulse race. When he realizes what he’s done, he immediately pulls back, a flush creeping up his neck to his cheeks.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” he says quickly, his voice softening. “Thank you for giving me a chance. I know this is just a party, but… you didn’t have to come all the way here just to invite me. This means a lot to me, and I want to prove to you that you can trust me.” His eyes meet yours with such sincerity, the emotion so raw it almost takes your breath away. “So, thank you—for letting me.”

Again, it feels like you’re seeing your Steve from so many years ago, and it’s like time hasn’t passed at all. The familiar, easy banter between the two of you feels comforting. You return his smile and say, “Of course. I want to get to know the you now, in the present. The Steve who’s friends with literal children and Robin Buckley. Nothing against her, she’s just way too cool for you, Harrington.”

“Hey, I’m way cooler than Robin could ever be!” he jokes, his grin wide and teasing.

You hear Robin’s voice float in from a few aisles over, “You wish, dingus!”

A small laugh escapes you, and you notice Steve’s entire demeanor shift—his shoulders relax, his smile grows, and there's a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. It's as if the sound of your laugh has put him completely at ease.

“Well, if she’s cooler than me, does that make me adjacently cool?” Steve asks with a sly smile, still holding that lighthearted tone.

“Sure, Steve,” you reply with a grin, your voice a little more carefree than before. After a few more exchanges, you find yourself waving goodbye and walking out of Family Video, feeling lighter than you have in days. It’s strange, but something has shifted in the air between you two. Maybe, just maybe, things could be okay between you again.

The whole drive home, you can’t help but smile. It feels like a small but important step forward. As you count down the days until the holiday party, you think about how it could be the beginning of something new. A new chapter. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe that maybe this time, things will be different.

The days fly by as you help your parents get ready for the holiday party. Your mom pulls out all the stops every year, but this time it feels like she’s taken it to a new level. The house is filled with decorations, and you half expect fireworks to go off and a dance number to break out. You keep that thought to yourself, though. God knows your mom would absolutely consider it if she knew how much her enthusiasm makes you feel like you're starring in a holiday special.

By the time Friday rolls around, you’ve lost track of the days completely. You’re so focused on getting every detail just right—helping your mom with the decorations, making sure everything is in place. She’s been running around in a tizzy since the morning, clutching a clipboard like a drill sergeant, barking out orders for the workers she hired to set everything up. You can practically see the pressure mounting on her as she insists, this party has to be perfect.

“Mom, you know you don’t have to do all of this just because I’m home this year,” you say as you watch her direct the placement of a giant ice sculpture—a snowflake, naturally.

“Yes I do, sweetie! This is the first time in four years that my baby’s back home, and I will not let it be anything less than perfect,” she says, practically vibrating with excitement. “Now, please go help your father with the garlands.”

You look over at her, still juggling a thousand things at once, and can’t help but smile. It’s hard to stay irritated at her energy; she’s just trying to make everything perfect. But you’re already thinking ahead to the evening, knowing you’ll spend the whole time playing the role of “dutiful child,” smiling politely at the family you haven’t seen in forever, while your mind lingers on the invitation you extended to Steve.

The pressure of the night ahead weighs on you, but you nod and make your way to find your dad, who’s untangling garlands and muttering about how nothing ever goes right when it’s time to decorate.

A few hours before the party is set to start, you head upstairs to get ready. The moment your foot hits the bottom step, it suddenly hits you—Steve is going to be here. Steve Harrington. Your heart stutters in your chest, and you nearly trip on the stairs, your body betraying the flurry of thoughts in your head.

You hadn’t fully processed this fact until now. Sure, you knew he was coming, but the thought was more a presence you couldn’t shake as you got ready throughout the day. Now, his arrival was just a few hours away, and the thought settled heavily in your chest. You could feel the flutter of nerves, the tightness in your throat, the pulse of doubt that made it hard to breathe. How would tonight go? You wanted to give him a chance, you really did. But the weight of the past hung on your shoulders.

Despite yourself, there was that tiny spark of hope flickering inside you—a hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d be the man you’d always thought he would be. But what if you were wrong? What if the person you once knew is gone, and all that remains of him is a memory that only you carry, a memory fading in the quiet spaces between what was and what is now?

You stand in front of your closet, staring at the array of clothes like you’re trying to decode some secret message. What do you wear when you’re trying to look casual but also somehow impress the guy who used to be your best friend? Maybe boots. Maybe a chunky sweater. You huff a small laugh at yourself. You’re definitely overthinking this. Your mind and heart race, the possibility of seeing Steve again churning up all sorts of emotions. The truth is, if tonight doesn’t go well, you’re terrified of losing him again.

After getting dressed, you step out into the backyard, hoping a few deep breaths will calm you down. The cool evening air brushes against your skin, and you listen to your parents putting finishing touches on the house, their chatter a steady hum in the background. You close your eyes letting the noise fade as you try to quiet the chaos inside your mind. Tonight will be fine. It has to be.

Soon enough, the party is in full swing. You’ve barely had time to catch your breath before the neighbors and your parents’ friends sweep you into their orbit. You’re the guest of honor, they say, and everyone wants a piece of you. There are too many familiar faces, too many questions. You try your best to smile, to be charming, to make small talk. But it’s all a blur, like you’re watching it happen to someone else.

Lost in thought, you barely notice the warm hand that lands on your shoulder, grounding you in the present.

“Hey, stranger,” Steve’s voice whispers in your ear.

You jump and spin around at the sound of his greeting. He looks… devastating. His hair, as always, is meticulously styled but looks soft, somehow. He’s wearing a pair of dark-wash jeans that hug his thighs in all the right ways. His shirt is a soft blue button-up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. In one word—perfection. If you could, you would have paintings made of the way he looks right now: the twinkle of the lights catching in his eyes, the flush of his cheeks from the cold, and the soft scent of eggnog mixed with something distinctly Steve.

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush off how flustered you feel. “Geez, Steve, you really know how to sneak up on me.” You attempt to sound casual, but he’s standing so close and you can feel the heat of his arm resting on your shoulder, burning through the fabric of your sweater. And yet, a warmth settles in your chest, like the missing piece that made everything feel out of place was the absence of Steve at your side.

“Sorry to spook you, Sunshine, but you looked a little lost standing here all by yourself. It’s my duty to make sure you have the best time tonight, especially since it’s your first holiday party since you left.”

“Oh, how kind of you, Steve. My knight in shining armour,” you tease, but the words feel lighter than they should. In reality, you’re relieved Steve has decided to stay by your side tonight. You’re not sure you could’ve handled a whole evening of your parents parading you around like a show dog. You know it’s just because they’re proud of you and have missed you, but it’s exhausting. What you really want is to spend time with Steve—just the two of you, getting to know the man he’s become since you left.

Steve takes your hand, pulling you toward the kitchen with an ease that feels both nostalgic and surreal. He’s been here before, countless times as a kid, and the familiarity of it all catches you off guard. Everything about tonight, about him, feels like stepping back in time.

He grabs two glasses from the cabinet, pours a drink for each of you, and hands one over. "I don’t know about you, but after all that forced small talk, I could really use something stronger."

You laugh softly, accepting the drink, and clink your glass against his. "We both deserve this. Cheers to surviving our parents’ social events."

The quiet clink of the glasses feels almost like a reset, an unspoken acknowledgment that the weight of the night—of the past—is slowly starting to lift. You both step outside, into the backyard, where the cool night air cuts through the still heat of the house. The contrast is almost soothing.

As you settle onto the swing set your parents gave you so many Christmases ago, a sense of calm settles over you. The air feels fresher out here, more open, and the gentle creak of the chains is oddly comforting. Steve leans against them, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar warmth, but something is different now—there’s a hesitation there, a quiet understanding that feels new.

"So…" Steve begins, his voice soft as he swirls his drink, "I still remember how much you used to love these parties. You’d dress up as an elf, and your dad would play Santa. Your mom was Mrs. Claus, and you’d talk about it for weeks before the big night."

You smile, a soft, bittersweet laugh escaping you as you look up at the twinkling string lights that fill the yard. "Yeah, it was a big deal back then. My mom always goes all out, even now, like she has something to prove every year." You pause, letting the memory settle. "It’s nice to be home, even if it’s a bit of a whirlwind." You turn to face Steve, your eyes scanning his face, noting how much he’s changed, how much time has passed. But his smile, his laugh, they’re all the same. "How about you? How’ve you been?"

Steve chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. "You know me, same old same old. After high school, I didn’t really know what I was doing with my life. But, I made it through. Just… took some time to figure things out. I had to work out who I wanted to be and who I didn’t."

He pauses, taking a slow sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on the glass as if searching for something in it. Then, with a small, almost sad smile, he looks back at you. "But of course, some things never change. My dad still thinks I’m a failure and a disappointment. My mom, on the other hand, hardly talks to me unless it’s about dad."

You can hear the hurt in his voice, but there’s a quiet strength behind it now—like he’s made peace with something difficult.

"I had to realize," he continues, his eyes steady, "that even though they’re my parents, I get to pick who I call family." He pauses, letting the weight of his words hang in the air for a moment. "My real family… are the kids, Rob, and Nance."

Your heart aches for him. You know Steve always longed for the approval of his parents, but they never gave him the love or recognition he deserved. It’s something that’s weighed on him his whole life. You remember how hard he worked to prove himself, and yet they never showed interest. But now, at least, he’s surrounded by people who truly see him—Robin, Nancy, the kids. They get to witness the real Steve, the one who’s found his place.

Surprisingly, a sharp pang of jealousy twists in your chest. They get to see him. The real him. And you’re not even part of his world anymore. You try to ignore the ache that forms in your throat. You’re trying, aren’t you? Trying to be a part of Steve’s world again.

You feel the shift in the air. "It’s weird how much life has changed since high school huh?"

Steve lets out a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah, weird isn’t the word I’d use. But it’s true. I’m not the same guy I was back then." He hesitates, his gaze flickering up to meet yours, like he’s uncertain about what comes next. "And… I guess neither are you."

You shift uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. There’s a part of you that wishes things were simpler, that the time apart hadn’t complicated everything. But then, you both need to be honest if there's any chance of moving forward.

The conversation hangs in the air, thick with unspoken things. You take a deep breath, knowing this moment can’t be avoided anymore. "Steve," you say quietly, "we need to talk about what happened. About… everything with you and me… what happened after you and Nancy broke up.”

Steve visibly stiffens at the mention of it. His gaze drops to the ground, and you can see the tension in his shoulders. There's a long silence, and then he lets out a breath, like he's been holding it for too long. Finally, his eyes meet yours, and there's something raw in his expression—vulnerability mixed with regret.

"I figured we’d get here eventually," he says, his voice quieter than usual. He looks at his drink before continuing. “I know you probably hated me after that. And I get it—I was a mess. But I never meant for it to hurt you the way it did.”

Your heart tightens at his words. Even though you’d tried to talk things out last week, something about this moment feels like the real beginning of the conversation—the part where everything comes into focus. “It wasn’t just the breakup, Steve. It was how everything went down. The way you… distanced yourself after. It felt like you didn’t even trust me enough to tell me what happened. We were supposed to be best friends, but you just shut me out. You didn’t even try to explain anything. Why didn’t you let me in?”

He winces, and his eyes fill with guilt. It’s the first time you’ve seen this side of him in so long. The Steve you knew in high school was always wrapped in confidence, hiding behind his jokes and easy charm. But now? Now, there’s a heaviness to his shoulders, a softness to his eyes.

“I didn’t know how,” he admits, his voice low, almost fragile. “I was falling apart. So caught up in everything that happened with Nancy. There were things we both said that made me rethink everything about my relationship with her—hell, about myself, about anyone. The last thing I wanted was for you to see that side of me, the part that was so lost and confused. I pushed everyone away, including you, and I regret it everyday.”

The weight of his words presses down on you. You don’t know how to respond. It’s like you’re seeing Steve in a way you’ve never seen him before—raw, unguarded, unsure.

You nod, your throat tight, feeling the years of silence between you both finally unraveling. “I get it,” you say softly. “But it didn’t make it any easier. You just… disappeared, Steve. You went from being the person I trusted the most, to someone I couldn’t even reach. And that… that hurt. A lot.”

He looks down at his drink again, fidgeting with the glass. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I never wanted to hurt you. I was trying so hard to be what I thought my dad wanted, what Tommy and Carol wanted. I was so caught up in my head, I couldn’t see what I was doing to the people who mattered most. What I was doing to you.”

His gaze lifts, locking with yours, and the emotion in his eyes is so raw, so intense, that it’s almost too much to bear. You find it hard to keep looking at him, the weight of his words pressing down on you. He looks at you, really looks at you, as if silently searching for a way to make you understand.

You pause, trying to process his words, and something clicks in your mind. The way he’s talking, the weight of his regret—it feels like there’s something he’s not saying, something left unsaid but hanging between you like an open wound.

You think back on what he said earlier. Your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "What did you and Nancy talk about that made you rethink things?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably, his eyes looking anywhere but at you. There’s a beat of silence before he responds, his words careful, almost guarded. “We talked about… a lot of things, I guess. Things we never really said to each other when we were together. But mostly… it was about the way I let people in, or didn't. And… you.”

The word hangs in the air, and you wonder if you heard him correctly. “Me?” you ask, the uncertainty in your voice betraying how much his admission shakes you. "What do you mean by that?”

He meets your gaze again, his eyes heavy with meaning. “You were… always more than just a friend to me. I think I just didn’t know how to see it, how to understand it, back then. Nancy saw it before I did. But I wasn’t ready to deal with it. I thought it was just me being confused, but… I guess I was confused about more than I realized.”

His confession leaves you breathless. There's a rushing in your ears, a pressure in your chest, as you try to process everything he's just said. The weight of his words settles over you. Suddenly, everything feels different—the way he’d look at you, the small gestures, the things he never said but made you feel—now, it all makes sense.

You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself, your voice barely a whisper. “So, you… you cared about me, as more than just a friend?” The question feels absurd, yet you have to ask it, just to hear him say it, to make sure you’re not imagining it.

Steve exhales sharply, his hand running through his hair, “I’ve always cared about you. More than I ever let myself admit. But after everything, I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know how to make sense of my feelings. My girlfriend has just broken up with me after telling me our whole relationship was bullshit—said I wasn’t in love with her, but with you, my best friend.” He shakes his head, as if still processing the words. I was struggling to hold it together. I couldn’t think straight, let alone try to talk to you about it.”

The truth finally hits you, and it’s like a light switch flicking on. It’s not something either of you planned, not something either of you expected, but here it is—Steve’s feelings for you were there all along, buried beneath all the confusion, the distance, and everything you both went through. You’re left reeling, trying to figure out what this means for you now. Neither of you are the same people you were back in high school, but you can’t deny the pounding in your chest or the way your body heats when you’re close to him. It's a strange mix of emotions—part relief, part panic—and it leaves you questioning everything.

You don’t know how to feel, or even what you should feel. So many years apart have complicated things beyond recognition. You know you cared about Steve deeply when you were kids, but was it love? You aren’t even sure you know what love is.

But as you sit there in the quiet of the backyard, with the sound of the party just barely audible in the distance, your mind starts to drift.

You remember the way Steve used to look at you, like you were the only person in the room. How he used to make you laugh until your sides ached whenever you were sad, and how he always had your back, no matter what. You remember his confidence, even when it seemed like he was faking it. He was always trying to make everyone happy, and you made sure that he was happy too.

And then you think of how he is now. Not the flashy, show-off King Steve from high school, but a man who knows what he wants and what he believes in. You see the way he stands by his friends, how loyal he is to them—how protective he is of everyone he cares about. You realize that, somewhere along the way, Steve shifted from trying to meet others' expectations to defining his own way forward.

It hits you, slow and steady, as you look over at him—his cheeks flushed from the cold and the weight of his confession. Maybe this warmth you’re feeling has been there all along, quietly waiting beneath the years of silence and distance. Maybe Steve was never just your friend. Maybe, deep down, he’s always been more. He was always the one who mattered most, so perhaps it’s not so surprising that he’s become the one you love, even when you didn’t realize it. The way he’s changed has made you see him in a new light—he’s not the person he used to be, but he’s become someone better, someone you can't help but want to fall for.

You swallow, trying to clear the lump in your throat, before turning to him. “Steve,” you say softly, your voice barely a whisper in the cool night air, “I- I care about you too… as more than a friend."

His eyes widen just a fraction, and it feels like the world pauses. Then, slowly, a soft smile curves on his lips. “Yeah?” he asks, his voice quiet and unsure, like he’s testing the waters.

You nod, feeling warmth spread through your chest as you admit it out loud. “Yeah. Looking back, how could I not? You were my best friend for so long.” You offer him a shaky smile, one that says everything you can’t put into words. It’s not just the way you feel when he’s near, or how he makes you laugh without trying, but something deeper—something that’s been buried for years. When he pushed you away, when everything fell apart between you two, it hurt. But it also made you realize how much you missed him, how much you cared. The space between you now feels like it’s filled with all the lessons time taught you both, the things you learned in the years apart.

And now, here he is. Not the same person he was, but someone who’s been through struggles, someone who’s grown stronger, more sure of who he is and who he wants to be. The fact that you’re finally talking, finally being open with each other, feels like you’ve crossed some invisible line. It’s not just about moving past the past; it’s about being ready to be honest with each other, and with yourselves.

You can’t stop yourself now. The words slip out, raw and true. “You’ve changed, Steve, but so have I. I think we needed that space to grow into the people we are now. We’re better for it. We can be more open now than we ever were back then.”

He exhales a long breath, his eyes softening as he looks at you, like a weight’s been lifted. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says, his voice steady now. “Because, honestly, I’ve been hoping you’d feel the same. I’ve just… been waiting for the right moment to say it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and the tension between you both starts to melt away, leaving behind something new. Something neither of you expected, but both of you needed.

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, the weight of the past few years momentarily lifting. Above, the stars glitter against the deep indigo sky, their light soft and steady. You glance at Steve, noticing the way the faint glow from the house outlines his profile—the curve of his jaw, the softness in his eyes as he gazes upward.

“It’s weird being back. It felt like I didn’t fit in Hawkins anymore,” you admit, your voice quiet.

Steve turns to you, his expression thoughtful, his gaze drifting toward the stars before settling back on you. “Maybe it’s not about fitting back in,” he says softly. “Maybe it’s about finding a way to grow here—making a space that��s yours, where you can keep becoming whoever you’re meant to be.”

The words hang between you, and your breath catches in your throat. Steve leans forward slightly, his hand brushing against yours on the swing’s chain. His fingers are warm, and the small touch sends a jolt through you.

“I can’t believe I ever let you go,” he says softly, his voice raw and vulnerable. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering for a moment.

Your heart pounds as his eyes meet yours, filled with something you can’t quite name but feel all the same. “I’ve missed you too, Steve,” you whisper into the quiet night as he closes the space between you.

The kiss is soft, tentative at first, as though he’s testing the waters. Then, as you respond, it deepens, years of unspoken words and lingering emotions pouring into the moment. The world fades away—the stars, the party, the distance you’d both felt—all of it dissolves into the warmth of his lips on yours.

When you finally pull back, Steve’s forehead rests gently against yours. His eyes are still closed, and his breath comes in soft, uneven bursts. The faint sound of the party drifts through the yard, blending with the rustle of the wind in the trees.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“Me too,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly.

As you look at him—really look at him—you feel the years of pain and uncertainty begin to loosen their grip. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something new. Something worth holding onto.

Sitting together in the quiet, you realize that maybe all those years of silence led you here, to this moment. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what it took to realize you’ve never really let go of Steve—not fully.

[lewisvinga]

the it couple | jude bellingham x fem! reader

summary; just jude and y/n being supportive w each other

fc; olivia rodrigo

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; requested ! pretend that valencia game was actually fair bc it’s still pissing me off and that should’ve been a bellingol. pero vamos a los cuartos de finalllll! ( what a horrid game tho i am terrified for the qfs, we used all our juice on girona 🕊️🕊️)

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; came to madrid a few days early before the show, guess what i found!] [caption 2; date night w pookie 🤗🤍]

camavinga replied to your story!

camavinga bring me leftovers n i want tickets to ur show.

yourusername ur a demanding man

yourusername i got y’all tickets anyways🙄 just make sure jude scores in tmrws match😒

camavinga got it 🫡

judebellingham replied to your story !

judebellingham ignore edu

yourusername how’d u know…..

judebellingham i know how that guy is😒

judebellingham u coming to tmrw match???

yourusername duh why’d you think i came 2 days early

yourusername i’ll be cheering for u w mina and fede jr & fede jr 2x😝😝

yourusername you better score 😒

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; hala madrid 🤍] [caption 2; BELLINGOOOOOL]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by yourusername, camavinga, and others !

judebellingham: +3 very important points ! #HalaMadrid🤍

yourusername: AMAZING AS ALWAYS MY LOVE🥹🥹🤍🤍

judebellingham: had my lucky charm in the stands that’s why😫

camavinga: you’re welcome , y/n. where are my concert tickets.

yourusername: i got u🤝🤝

username: bellingol

username: na na na ma heyyyy judeeee

vinijr: crack 🤩🤩

camavinga: o iluminado ⭐️

username: jude’s on fireeee

username: WE’RE WINNINF YHE LEAGUE

username: scoring despite that horrid lineup , i love u bellingol

username: jude pointing to y/n🥹they’re rlly the it couple of this generation 😫 liked by judebellingham and yourusername !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

judebellingham uploaded to his story !

[caption 1; whatta pretty lady] [caption 2; post concert s’mores & drinks 🥸]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by judebellingham, vinijr, and others !

yourusername: MADRIDDD🤍 you’re amazing as always, i love youuu🫶

judebellingham: my girlfriend is the coolest woahhh😍😍😍

yourusername: says mr. bellingol😫

username: i was there!! i loved it!

username: madrid loved you too!!

username: i was at the madrid show and they showed jude on the screen, swear he was like 😍 the whole time ☹️

username: stop I ADORE THEM😫

username: omg i rmbr and the squad was w him🥹

vinijr: loved it! liked by yourusername !

camavinga: cool.

aurelientchm: stop acting so nonchalant you lost your voice from singing every song

judebellingham: singing? more like screeching 🙄🙄

camavinga: 😒😒😒😒

yourusername: LMFAOO

username: y/n supporting jude at his match n jude supporting her at her show, they rlly are the it couple liked by yourusername and judebellingham !

[damiansgoodgirll]

Heyyyy I just read your JD X reader, who's like the baby of the group, and, omg, it was adorable.🩷🩷🩷

Could you go more into detail about A guy hitting on the reader, making them uncomfortable at the bar, and JD (specifically Rhea, but you can choose) helping them?

I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS WAS READY IN MY DRAFTS TO POST AND I NEVER POSTED IT IM SO SORRY 🥹🥹

the judgment day x reader (platonic) - jd is not in this sorry not sorry

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

‼️reader being harassed by creepy men, touching without consent, a little angst, fluff and comfort

enough is enough

“do we have to?” dominik pouted like a little baby as you and damian were looking for a place to end the night after an incredible victory on tonight’s episode of raw.

“just for a few hours” rhea tried to reason with him. in all honesty, she wanted to go out and release some stress. she wanted to spend some time with her friends apart from the company and work.

while you and damian were looking on google what club you should hit, finn was finishing getting ready.

“just a few hours” dominik reasoned with rhea and she happily smirked when she heard those words coming from his mouth.

there was this club downtown, damian thought that it would be cool to try it and you all agreed.

sandwiched between finn and dominik, damian and rhea sitting in the front as they were singing their metal songs, making you chuckle from time to time.

once you got there, damian spotted a quiet table away from the chaos of people dancing. he thought it would be perfect so you could still talk and have fun without screaming over the loud music. as you sat down and ordered some drinks, you eyed two men staring at you. thinking that they might have been fans you quickly dismissed it and sipped your drink as nothing happened. but as time passed by, you couldn’t help but feeling someone’s eyes over you, watching you.

“who wanna dance?” rhea woke you from your trance.

of course damian said yes and in less than two seconds he was already hitting the dance floor followed by rhea dragging dominik.

finn stood back, enjoying his drink as he happily watched his friends having fun. you hesitated for a minute but when you saw that those two men were nowhere to be seen - thinking that they might have left the club - you relaxed a little and joined rhea and your friends on the dance floor.

dancing and laughing with damian as rhea tried to get dominik to loose a little. finn watching you all and taking videos of you to post on his stories.

it was just a normal night with your best friends.

but it took only a minute for you to separate from the rest of the group as you went quickly to the toilet that when you came back it felt like the crowd multiplied. you couldn’t spot rhea or damian, neither dominik. you couldn’t see finn sitting at the table - you couldn’t even see the table. panicking a little you tried to make your way into the crowd, walking between drunk and sweaty bodies. the smell in the air was thick and you started feeling nauseous.

minutes of waking and yet you couldn’t spot your friends.

suddenly you felt a rough hand circling your waist, almost dragging you out of the dance floor. you couldn’t see as you were standing giving your back to that man but it was a stranger’s touch. not comforting as rhea or damian. you felt him holding you by the hips as he turned you around and pushed you into the wall, near the toilet. you recognized his face - he was one of the man who was watching you as you walked into the club - and before your mind could register what was happening, you saw the second man approaching you.

“we saw you before with your friends” the first man spoke, his eyes never leaving your face. his breath smelled like cigarette and whiskey, it was making you even more nauseous “and me and my friend wondered what is a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this” he smirked, seeing how you were trying to free yourself.

“no baby” the second man, probably the older one spoke up “you’re not going anywhere” again, with a smirk too, he tried to put fear in you.

and he was doing it right. you weren’t afraid. you were terrified. you’ve neve been in a position like that. you were a wrestler for god’s sake and yet you felt paralysed in your steps.

squirming against the man’s body, you tried too free yourself but somehow he was overpowering you, making it impossible for you to move.

“don’t touch me…” you whispered, making the men laugh. the older one moved closer to you, bringing his hand over your back, lowering until he met your butt “i said don’t fucking touch me!” you tried to scream a little louder, hoping that someone could hear you but due to the loud music, your voice was almost like a whisper.

meanwhile, rhea and damian realised that you were missing. they didn’t know for how long - one second you were there dancing with them, one second later you were gone.

“where is she?” rhea whispered scanning the room trying to look for you.

damian, who was much taller, tried to see if he could recognise you from your hair but nothing, you were nowhere to be seen.

something caught damian’s eyes. he saw two men standing in front of something or more like someone. he couldn’t see the person behind but from how the men were imposing themselves on the possible victim , made damian’s blood boil. he called rhea and pointed out the scene so she could see what was going on too.

as she was standing there next to damian, something caught her attention - she would have recognised those sparkly shoes everywhere “oh shit…it’s her” she whispered not even sure damian heard that. she sprinted off to the little corner where you were and with damian following behind, she was able to get them away from you “get lost!” she screamed. both of them laughed at her reaction, definitely not intimidated by her or damian.

“enough!” damian screamed, his voice loud made a few people turn their heads.

“why?” the old man laughed “we were just having fun.”

“i said enough!” damian screamed a little more, his voice dark “get the fuck out of here before i call the bouncer” - damian was beyond mad.

in the meantime rhea moved past the men and carefully shielded you with her body. feeling how badly you were shaking, she let you cry on her shoulder. her hand softly scratching your back “it’s okay love, you’re safe…i got you, i got you pretty girl” but her words made you cry harder.

your mind wasn’t registering that it was over and that you were finally okay.

“it’s okay beautiful…” she kept whispering. rhea saw damian dealing with the two men as he got really mad and dragged them both out of the club.

lost in her arms, she held you while you cried. helping you calm down, making sure that you were okay before moving to the boys.

“can we go back to the hotel please?” your broken voice whispered, making rhea’s heart clench.

“of course baby…let’s go” she held you by the hand as she walked out of the club with you. texting damian that you were both waiting the team outside, he called the boys to let them know that you were about to leave.

finn and dominik didn’t know what happened as they were both chatting at the table but grew immediately worried when they received that text from damian.

they saw you crying in rhea’s arms as they both met you in the parking lot.

“what happened?” finn was looking between rhea and damian, searching for an answer.

damian didn’t answer, too pissed at the men.

“two men harassed her…” rhea whispered softly, trying not to hurt you more than you already were.

“what?” both finn and dom were speechless. why didn’t they see anything?

“we’re going back to the hotel if you don’t mind” rhea’s voice was soft, calming, making you relax against her body.

all of the men nodded.

the air while damian was driving was thick. the only noise in the car were your soft cries as rhea sat next to you and kept holding you.

when you got to the hotel, rhea insisted for you to go to her room instead and you couldn’t say no. in reality you didn’t want to be left alone and being in your team presence was probably the best decision.

as you were changing in her hotel bathroom, rhea softly explained to finn and dom what happened, how the men kept touching you and wouldn’t leave you alone.

you knew she told them what happened because none of them left that room that night. finn constantly checking on you, damian trying to crack a joke from time to time, dominik offering you his snacks and rhea gently rubbing your back as you tried to fall asleep.

your cries stopped and were replaced by soft snoring that made the group laugh.

feeling safe, you let yourself doze off, trying to find peace in your dreams and trying to forget about that awful night.

[imdoingaokay]

Romanced!DAI Companions and Advisors (+ Platonic!Vivienne) when The Inquisitor returns to Skyhold late

(A/N: Heyyyy guys... I've missed you :) This past few months have been awful for me... but I'm back... teeheehee

I think this is gonna be really niche so I feel a need to explain what I was thinking??? Basically, The Inquisitor has been on a mission for a while now and they're returning extremely late at night.

Apologies for the inaccurate lore stuff, I don't think hours exist in Dragon Age because they don't have clocks? Or they do??? I dunno man I got a final tomorrow and I don't know if I'm gonna pass

Just know that the whole reason I got inspired for this was because it was late and I was imagining Vivienne watching The Inquisitor come back and her wrapping her robe around her waist like a mom watching their grown child come home from a rave or something

Once again, no beta we die like men

And happy late dragon age day, love y'all)

TW: Mentions of death

Blackwall/Thom Rainer: Unable to sleep. He’s waiting, whittling at the griffon he keeps. He doesn’t want to sleep anways, who will greet his lover? The wind? No. He’ll stay up, just for a few minutes longer, he tells himself… But soon he finds himself whittling into the early hours of the morning. That’s when there’s a stir of the guards, the whispers, and alerts are quiet, as to not wake up the many souls sleeping, but the message is clear.

His love has returned. And he will wait by the gate, a grin on his face and sleepiness in his eyes. He greedily hopes his lover may wish to sleep a few hours before the rest of Skyhold truly awakens.

Cassandra: She’s in bed, but not sleeping, reading a book. She’s trying to sleep, but her anxieties are getting to her. Somehow, ever since she got the letter saying that her love was returning, she fears even more. Her mind is plagued with images of an assassinated Inquisitor on the way back to her. Maker! Why didn’t that fool just bring her? 

Just as she scoffs, she hears something of a commotion outside. She prays for a moment, the news is good, and she throws on her armor, knowing better than to leave her room without it, and rushes to the gate. This is where her fears are put to rest as she greets her lover, a relieved smile on her face. And it is with this her sleepiness finally settles in. after a quick word, she urges her lover to rest, with or without her. All that matters that they returned.

Cullen Rutherford: He hasn’t slept since his lover left. A few moments where he stares off into space, drifting off before yanking himself back into consciousness. So it feels normal for him as he scribbles away the missives on his desk, being sure to double check each one so he didn’t accidentally write something foolish in his sleep deprived state. Somehow, in this half-dead state of his, he can hear the murmuring of guards outside of his door, and one enters. 

The guard has been ordered to inform Cullen of when they see The Inquisitor, so when they enter, Cullen knows what it’s for. And somehow, the sleepiness Cullen once had disappears, replaced with a drive he always feels when his lover returns. He rushes down the battlement steps, sure to not seem too desperate to his men. And in his excitement, he quickly meets his lover halfway on the bridge. They may be on their horse, but Cullen will happily walk back with them, looking up at them like they hold his whole world in their hands. When his lover gets off their horse, however, that is when he embraces them, a chaste kiss pressed to their cheek. This is when he finally asks them to rest with him, as his exhaustion is coming to bite him in the ass.

Dorian Pavus: Dorian has lied to himself multiple times throughout the night. He lied to himself claiming he didn’t care if he was asleep when his amatus returned from their very dangerous mission. So he lays in his bed for hours, trying to sleep. And when he can’t? He lies to himself, coming up with some excuse as to why his mind will not rest. So he waits in the library, sipping a glass of wine while attempting to read nonchalantly. Of course, he seemingly can’t. So he decides to wait on the battlements, claiming he must need some fresh air. Even though he despises how cold it is that night. 

But, somehow, without meaning to, he notices the small group of people making their way across the bridge. And, without a reason at all, a huge weight is lifted off of Dorian’s shoulders. 

He lets out a sigh and returns to the warmth of the library, happy to wait for his lover to come to him. And when he does, only then does Dorian finally agree to go to sleep. 

Iron Bull: Doesn’t sleep, but this is because he knew his lover was coming back tonight. So he waits patiently in the tavern, a ear out and ready, waiting for murmurs of The Inquisitor’s return. And when he does hear, he happily shoots up from his chair and makes his way to the gate, happy to greet his lover.

Bull was only slightly worried to be away from his lover, he knew they could handle their mission without him, but still, who knows what could happen? But the news that The Inquisitor was coming back? That was enough to settle his nerves. But seeing… and feeling his lover in his arms? That is what truly relaxes him.

Josephine Montilyet: Josephine is the only one who is asleep, she was corralled to his bedroom by Leliana, who told Josephine that she would wake her up when The Inquisitor returned. True to her word, Leliana gently shook awake a sleepy Josephine who, wrapped in a robe, quickly made her way to the empty Great Hall. She situated herself onto Vivienne’s balcony. She happily watched her lover pass the gates a promptly made their way to her, greeting her with a gentle kiss, which Leliana thankfully turned away from. Afterwards she’s happy to lead her lover to bed, as the second the pair’s heads hit the pillow, the pass effortlessly into a dreamless sleep.

Sera: Sera’s mindlessly making arrows, her door is locked, as she grew tired of Cole trying to make his way into the room to encourage Sera to talk about her anxieties surrounding her Inky leaving without her. She doesn’t even know her lover has returned until she hears the door jiggle a bit before her lover’s voice calls, “Sera, I saw the light was on, are you awake?”

This is when Sera happily throws the door open and grabs her Inky and drags them inside her room, into her arms. The two were eventually found the next morning by a messenger, who reported The Inquisitor and Sera were fast asleep in a pile of various blankets and pillows.

Solas: Solas isn’t sleeping much either, somehow he can’t take his mind off of his vhenan. He completely understand why his lover would take another person on their adventure, potentially a different mage than him. But he worries when they’re away! And there’s not much to do in Skyhold when The Inquisitor is gone. Most servants and nobles steer clear from him. He busies himself painting the various frescos in the atrium. He’s just taken a break and decided to walk along the battlements, and that’s of course, when he sees his beloved. He’s happy to walk down the stairs of the battlements and meet his lover at the gate, awaiting them with open arms. He happily leads them away, whether to their bed in their room, where Solas will leave them to rest. Or if they prefer, they can spend a bit of time in the atrium alone, Solas would be happy to hear the stories of his vhenan’s journey. 

Varric Tethras: Varric is rotating between the tavern and The Great Hall. Ever since he first got the letter from his lover, happily informing him of their return, he’s only been more nervous. Like Cassandra, he fears the image of a truly tragic hero, beaten down on the way back to the arms of their lover. 

He thinks he’s been writing too much tragedy when he firsts gets that mental image

Nevertheless, he pushes through the night.

Eventually, he’s sitting at his usual spot near the fire, unhappily grumbling to himself, sounding like a real dwarf. His mind is racing, and he can’t seem to get the thoughts to stop. So, for one last time that evening, he walks out of the hall, preparing to return to the tavern for a drink and a song from Maryden. That’s when he sees his beloved standing by the gate, quietly talking with a solider who leads their horse away. They’ve returned and they’re safe, that’s all he needed to know.

When The Inquisitor finally catches a glimpse of their lover, all they see is a bright grin spread across his face.

Varric is happy to go along with whatever The Inquisitor wants, bed, a drink, a tale by the fire, he’s just relieved they’ve returned.

Vivienne: Vivienne lies to herself. The day that she hears The Inquisitor will be returning that evening, she nods and nonchalantly walks away. Yet she finds herself constantly checking the gate everytime there is movement in that direction. She has no idea why, however. Her friend, whom she doesn’t really call friend, is taking an awful long amount of time to just get back to Skyhold. 

She justifies her musings on The Inquisitor’s safety as rationally as she can. If The Inquisitor dies, Thedas will be lost. If The Inquisitor dies, her position in court may affected. If The Inquisitor dies, she will be sad-

That is what gives her pause. She straightens her back, hands quickly going to her face as if to smooth out her frown that was previously there, and then she turns on her heel and returns to her sofa. She attempts to swallow down her fear the entire day, but as the night swiftly covers Skyhold, she finds herself unable to sleep. The moons is high in the sky when she emerges from her room, robe tightly wrapped around her. She is sure not a single soul will see her in such a… vulnerable state. She quickly makes her way to the balcony again, and stays there for what feels like an entire age. But just as she gets ready to sigh and return to a sleepless night in her bed, she hears a disturbance coming from the gate. That is where she sees The Inquisitor, alive and perhaps wrapped in the arms of lover. And with a sigh of… relief? She quietly returns to her chambers. Never speaking of this again.

[ma1dita]

heyyyy! can i get a ticket for the graveyard smash! starring steve harrington with chocolate and ice cream??

1980s horror film

[STARRING: STEVE HARRINGTON x reader ;  “Really? Now? God, you have terrible timing.” “How long have you been watching me?” ] wc: 1.3k warnings: MDNI- mentions of unspecified drugging, kidnapping, dubcon, light bondage, biting biting biting, slight p in v at the end; hot topic was first opened in 1989 but i couldn’t care less about accuracy rn okay go be horny and enjoy

monster mash-terlist

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

This happened because of an ice cream and an offer.

It was after 9pm already with Starcourt void of mindless Hawkins crowds, and the building dimmed to help the few poor souls who close up shop on $3.35 an hour.

You were a pretty thing that walked by every so often and quite frankly the only reason he’d always find himself looking in the direction of the brand new Hot Topic that opened up three stores down—powdered skin and blood red lips dressed straight out of a dark fantasy. Pretty weird—Dustin swore he’s seen a picture of you in the Dungeons and Dragons handbook. But something about you was captivating; Steve would choke on air every time your eyes would meet over the register on days his friend would drag him in to look at collectibles and game pieces. This looks like a store the freaks he used to bully would frequent more, but as he moseys around the aisles pretending to look interested in merch from bands he’s never heard of and a wall of different fishnet stockings and nose piercings—he doesn’t realize you’ve snuck up next to him.

“Find what you’re looking for?”

Steve flinches slightly when your voice cuts through a lull in the incomprehensible screamo music that reverberates through the store. He’s an oddity here, the all-American sweetheart standing against your rack of black lace and ripped jeans.

“Um, I’m not…sure,” he stutters, suave confidence quickly broken at the sight of you smirking at his discomfort. He booked it quickly after that, opting to stand outside and stare through the window while Dustin’s gummy grin greeted you with his purchase.

You haven’t left his mind since—so his way of coping was to lean against the counter of his workplace keeping his eyes peeled for a cloud of darkness to walk by.

“You’ve always wanted things you can’t have, huh dingus?” his best friend said, nudging him roughly as she chucks her sailor hat at him and swivels toward the exit, “See you tomorrow!”

“W-what? You’re not gonna help me close up?”

Robin smirks as she walks backwards, pointing in the direction of your store and grinning at his dumbfounded expression, “You got it, tough guy. Here’s your opportunity!”

And it came in the form of watching you throw your whole weight on the rolling storefront gate, grunting as it bounced back to the midway point.

Thankfully Steve was always a helpful guy, especially with pretty girls in need.

“Need a hand?”

“God, how long have you been watching me? This is embarrassing,” you laugh—and the sound of it sounds cool to the touch. Your platform boots thunked against the tile floor, his attention gravitating upwards from your stockinged legs up to the corset that pushed your ti–what is he doing here again? Steve clears his throat, looking in any other direction, licking his lips as his hands pressed against yours to push the gate shut, and it felt like magic. Electric, he thinks, and he looks at you with bated breath before asking if you want an ice cream before he closes the shop.

What a treat, right?

The last time Steve had a headache this bad, Billy Hargrove had beaten him to a pulp and given him a mild concussion.

He’s laid out and completely bare, hands and ankles bound with ropes to the posts of your bed. Blinking slowly, he realizes he can’t see much in the dim candlelight that fills your bedroom, twinkling through the gauzy fabric that hangs from your canopy. Your weight is almost comforting against the firmness of his torso if it weren’t for the fact that goosebumps cover every inch of his skin. And you’re looking down at him with your canines bared in a toothy grin.

“Been waiting for you to wake up, pretty boy,” you coo. Steve groans at the sight of you wearing nothing but moonlight, sitting atop him like a queen on her throne. He can feel his cock standing at attention and resting against the plump of your asscheeks, soft and smooth like the rest of you. Steve can’t tell if this is his worst nightmare or biggest dream come true, still in a haze as he watches your black claws for nails rake slowly up his hairy chest, index finger grazing a nipple and he hisses— a sound you’ve pulled out from deep within his core. You laugh at his utter desperation; it’s a funny thing to be wanted by someone so completely opposite of you, so good it almost feels wrong. But nothing about the way your lipstick marks dot his skin could ever feel like this was not meant to be.

“How…what ha—” he slurs, until a perfectly manicured finger taps against his open mouth, dragging the digit down towards his Adam's apple. It almost scratches at him, the stiletto shape sharp enough to pierce his jugular if you pressed down with force. Your tongue peeks out from behind your plush lips, messy and stained dark red which is now becoming your favorite color with how good Steve makes it look.

“Shhh….” you pout, “Don’t ruin it baby. Gonna make you feel good, okay?” There’s a breathiness to your voice, sounding like something out of a black and white film. Your makeup is smearing further when you bite your lip like that, staining the front of your teeth as you languidly kiss and lick at the sensitive spots on his neck, to his collarbones, and down to his nipples. Spit gurgles in his throat as Steve moans, writhing against his restraints at your actions.

And then you bite him.

Teeth sinking into the meat of his pec, Steve Harrington howls in surprise as you mark him, fingertips soothing over the indents as you place your mouth onto his open one, remembering to grind your wetness onto his cock and he’s gasping for air between kisses. The sensations are overwhelming—his brain short-circuits before kissing you back, opening up to let you devour him, teeth and tongue and spit. The balmy texture of your lipstick has made its way onto Steve’s taste buds and he swallows it whole to try and remember you in case this isn’t real.

But the hood of your clit catches on his cockhead after you swipe your hips against his and the both of you moan into each other’s throats. He has a hold on you too, even if you can’t see it. You bite his bottom lip before detaching from it, watching it swell under your constant attention. Leaning over him once more, he croaks at the feeling of your tits pressing against his chest, someone pinch him if this isn’t real—but the pain spikes through his system when you bite the soft of his neck. Again, and again, and again, hickeys mapping down his pulsepoint at your insistence. 

Steve doesn’t see it coming, the pain building at the heat in his stomach until his cock physically throbs against your folds and his vision blurs at the sensation until he feels your palms against his chest and hears you clicking your tongue.

“Really? God you have terrible timing, Stevie. I’m still having fun.”

Cum leaks between your thighs as his body twitches beneath you and you sigh, “That just won’t do, baby. You can handle it can’t you?” Your hand slithers down to cup his balls, massaging him as he spurts onto his lower stomach. There’s tears in the corner of his eyes as he pleads, “Wait…” The blood pools to the surface of his skin, sensitive to the touch. Steve’s a pretty thing underneath you, decorated in blooming bruises, and you decide that red must be his color.

He looks good enough to eat.

You hitch your leg over his hips properly mounting him as you sink yourself onto his overstimulated cock. The way your eyes roll into the back of your head, he’s not sure if he’s hurt you—and then your mouth pulls into a smile, almost as if a form of self-destruction as you lift up onto your haunches again, about to strike.

“Ready?”

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

ma1dita's monster mash is closed for requests but ongoing for the rest of october!

[lemoncrushh]

Claiming His Territory

Summary: Harry gets jealous when he thinks another guy fancies you, and he decides to claim his territory.

Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, possessiveness, angst. 18+ ONLY!

Word Count: 4960

A/N: Here's another one shot from my 2016 collection. This was originally two parts, but I've combined them into one. Obviously, this is 1D Harry, and you're spending time with him on tour.

"Hey, Y/N," you heard a voice behind you say.

You quickly twirled around to see Dylan, the new drum tech, a huge grin on his face. He was carrying pieces of the drum kit as he was apparently making his way to the stage to set it up.

"Hey, you need some help with that?" you asked him, reaching for a cymbal that was slowly slipping from under his arm.

"Thanks," Dylan nodded sheepishly.

With a giggle, you took the cymbal from him and followed him through the backstage area. Your breath hitched in your throat as you stepped onto the stage and looked out at the empty seats. You'd seen this view a few times with Harry when you would come visit him on tour, but it never ceased to take your breath away. You still didn't know how he managed to face that many people night after night.

"You can just set that right there," directed Dylan, pointing at the floor next to the toms.

"Oh, okay."

"So how long have you been with One Direction?" asked Dylan as he adjusted the bass drum where he wanted it, a lock of his long blond hair falling over his right eye. You had already admitted to yourself a couple days ago when you'd first met that he was cute. And the way he smiled at you gave you goosebumps. But you were with Harry...

"Y/N," Dylan suddenly said, making you blink.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Dylan chuckled. "Is this your first tour with them?"

Finally understanding what he was asking you, you laughed and shook your head. "I don't work for them," you explained. "I'm not part of the crew."

"Oh!" exclaimed Dylan. "I just always see you in the hall helping somebody, I thought-"

"Heyyyy there you are!" a familiar voice sounded behind you. Before you could turn around, Harry had is arms wrapped around you, his lips on your jaw. "Been lookin' everywhere for you."

You swallowed hard as Harry's mouth trailed to your ear. "Um, I was just helping Dylan with the drums."

"Who's Dyl- oh, hey mate," said Harry, acknowledging the young man's presence.

Dylan jerked his head up with a curt nod, clearly now understanding that you were indeed not part of the crew, but Harry Styles' girlfriend. He fumbled with the hi-hat stand, nearly toppling it over when Harry grabbed your butt and you let out a squeal.

"Stop," you giggled, though you leaned back against him. "We're not alone, baby."

"Then let's go be alone," he murmured in your ear.

You rolled your eyes and looked over at Dylan just as Harry began to pull you back by your arm. "See ya, Dylan."

"Yeah, sure," he nodded again.

You kind of felt bad for the guy, but you didn't have time to dwell on it as Harry jogged down the hall, taking you with him. Finally pushing open a heavy black door, he pulled you inside, locking it behind you.

"I reckon somebody has a crush on my girl," Harry smirked, sliding his hands up your waist and back down.

"Oh please," you scoffed. "He was just being friendly. And I offered to help him with the drums."

"I could see the way he looked at you, love. His eyes said it all."

"I don't think he knew I was with you," you muttered as Harry's mouth found your jaw again and he backed you into the wall.

"Well, then, let's show him so he knows."

"What do you mean?" you teased.

"I mean 'm gonna leave my mark. To show you're mine." Harry lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with fire in them. "C'mere."

Harry guided you to the nearby sofa where he pounced on you. You giggled with glee as you playfully pawed at him, helping him remove his t-shirt followed by your own.

"Tell me where," you hissed as Harry swiped his tongue across your collarbone, unclasping your bra with one hand.

"Where what, baby?" he mumbled.

"Where you're gonna leave your mark."

A deep growl rose from Harry's chest as he lifted himself up to look at you. Dropping your bra on the floor and lightly dragging his finger across your neck he whispered "here...", then he did the same down your shoulder and collarbone, "here...and here...", finally dragging it to your breast. "And here..."

"Mmmm," you sounded, reaching for him and eager for him to get started.

Devouring your neck, Harry sucked hard, the blood rising to the surface quickly. The sting only made you want more as you hastily unbuttoned his jeans for him. But Harry wasn't finished claiming his territory just yet. You clawed at his arms as he slid down to wet the top of your chest with his tongue. Leaving his next mark, you arched your back with a moan.

"Harry..." you said breathlessly. "Touch me. Please."

"Where baby?" he asked. "Right here?"

Grazing his thumb across your right nipple, Harry took your left one into his mouth, swirling his tongue across it. You let out a kitten-like cry before saying his name again. Reaching for his hand, you guided it where you wanted it between your legs.

"Ah, right there?" Harry teased as he rubbed you over your jeans. "'s that where you wanna be touched, baby?"

"Mmm hmm," you nodded with a pout.

"Then let's get these off, yeah?" he raised a brow, quickly unbuttoning your jeans.

You kicked off your shoes just in time for him to slip off your pants and underwear, leaving your naked body trembling underneath him.

"So pretty," Harry murmured, swiping his fingers up your slit. "And always so wet for me."

You nodded with a shy smile.

"This is mine, innit?" he added as you opened your legs wider.

"Yes," you replied.

"Yeah," he nodded, licking his lips.

With his free hand, Harry managed to push down his already open jeans, freeing his erection. You blinked at the sight of it, though you'd already seen it several times. Removing his fingers from your wetness momentarily, he produced a condom from his pocket and rolled it on.

"You ready for me, love?" he inquired, positioning himself between your thighs.

"Always," you said.

Harry smirked as he pushed in slowly. "Yeah ya are. Always ready. And so warm. Fuck."

His eyelids heavy, he began to thrust deep inside so you could feel all of him, stretching you to fit around him. Tiny mewls escaped your mouth as you grasped at his shoulders.

"God damn, I love the sounds you make," groaned Harry. "So fucking sexy."

Biting your bottom lip, you reached above your head to grab hold of the armrest. Then you lifted your leg up against the back of the sofa. Harry tried his best to focus on your face while he pumped, his perfect mouth open.

"You're mine, yeah?" he breathed.

You nodded. "Yes."

"Yeah. Nobody else's. All mine."

You weren't really sure where this possessiveness had come from, but you kind of liked it. You liked being Harry's. And the idea he was claiming you turned you on.

Harry lowered his head again, nibbling on your neck and sliding down to suck another tender spot, no doubt leaving another mark. You heard him moan against your skin as he thrust harder and faster. You felt yourself reach the edge, a deep rumbling in your core.

"Fuck, Harry..." you cried.

"You gonna come for me?" he asked, lifting his head to look at you again.

You nodded, your eyes wide. Hard breaths puffed out of your mouth as you grabbed his hips, guiding him deeper.

"Right there," you instructed.

Harry covered your mouth with his, slipping his tongue inside to meet yours. You felt your orgasm rip through you then as you moaned against his lips. Harry bit your bottom lip, dragging his teeth across it before releasing it. His eyes looked wild as he stared at you. You could tell he was close.

"Does it feel good?" you asked him.

"Fuck yeah, baby. That pussy's so wet and all mine."

You grinned at him. "Yes, Harry. Take it, baby."

Harry shut his eyes as he let out a quick chuckle and licked his lips. With two more thrusts he was moaning your name as he came.

You laid on the couch together for a few minutes while you tried to wait for your breaths to even out. Suddenly you heard a soft pout before you felt a wetness on your neck. Realizing Harry was licking your skin, you giggled.

"What are you doing?"

"I think I mighta got a bit carried away," he replied.

"How many are there?" you inquired.

"Um...like five?"

Your chest shook with laughter as Harry sat up. "Sorry, babe."

"I'm sure it's fine," you commented.

Harry excused himself to the restroom while you sat up and got dressed. When you stood, you walked over to a nearby mirror to inspect Harry's work. Five might have been an exaggeration, but he'd definitely left his mark on you. One particular love bite almost covered the entire left side of your neck.

"Jesus," you muttered, covering it with your hand.

"Told you," you heard Harry say behind you.

You turned to face him with a shrug. "Well you definitely got your point across."

"Are you mad?" he asked hesitantly.

"No," you shook your head, walking around him toward the bathroom.

"You sure?"

You waved your hand above your head, not bothering to turn around. "It's fine."

Shutting the door behind you, you inspected your neck and shoulders better in the bathroom mirror. You weren't exactly sure why, but the sight unnerved you. Harry wasn't known to be the jealous type. So maybe he had just been playing. Or maybe it was just the adrenaline and the height of passion that made him so animalistic. Even during the sex, you hadn't thought anything was out of the ordinary. But thinking about it now, and looking at the evidence, it sure seemed like Harry had been trying to prove something.

Was he really upset about you talking to Dylan? Had he truly had a problem with the way he looked at you? You honestly hadn't noticed anything, other than the fact that he was cute. But it wasn't like he'd been flirting, and neither had you.

What had suddenly made Harry want to be so possessive and claim his territory?

Opening the bathroom door, you stepped back into the dressing room. Harry sat on the sofa, but you barely looked at him. Instead you made your way to the exit.

"Where are you going?" you heard him ask.

"Gonna try to find a scarf or something," you replied.

"So ya are mad," remarked Harry.

"I didn't say I was mad. Did I say that?" you jerked around, your hands on your hips.

"Your tone says you're mad."

"So I have a tone now?"

Harry groaned, running a hand down his face. "Babe, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

You sighed loudly, dropping your arms. "I said it's fine, Harry. I'm not mad. It's just kind of embarrassing is all."

Harry glared at you with a set jaw. Grabbing the doorknob, you swung the heavy door open.

"I gotta go find something. I'll be back," you announced.

You made your way outside to the tour buses, stepping onto the one you'd arrived on, quickly finding your suitcase. You hadn't remembered packing any scarves, and coming up empty handed confirmed it. The next best thing was your favorite hoodie, a pink one from Victoria's Secret which didn't match your outfit, but it would have to do. Slipping it on and zipping it up, you pulled your hair over your neck and shoulders, trying your best to cover what the hoodie didn't.

Okay, so you were mad. Maybe mad wasn't the right word. Just...irritated. Perturbed. But you knew it was partially your own fault. You'd certainly had a part in Harry's assault on your skin, hell you'd even egged him on, asking where he was planning on marking you. But now you felt weird about it...almost dirty.

But what bothered you the most was that he'd done it after seeing you talking to another guy. A guy whom you paid no mind to. You thought Dylan was cute, but that was as far as it went. And Harry had never been the jealous type.

Stepping off the bus, you returned to the venue where the activity had picked up and the hallway was more crowded than before. Harry's dressing room was now empty, and for a moment you considered just sitting alone for a while until you heard your name called.

"Hey, Dylan," you said softly when you saw him coming towards you.

"Hey, um, sorry about earlier," he muttered.

"What for?"

"You know...um...I didn't know that you were...with Harry."

"Oh," you looked down at your hands. "It's okay."

"I guess maybe I should keep track of who's with whom," he grinned sheepishly.

You gazed back up at him, shaking your head. "You can't be expected to know. Besides, it's not like you were flirting with me or anything. I was just helping you with the drums."

Dylan chuckled, that same strand of blonde falling over his eye again. "Yeah, sure," he nodded. Then leaning in closer, he whispered, "Maybe I kinda was."

Biting your lip, you felt yourself blush. You weren't quite sure how to respond to that. Since being with Harry, guys hadn't been flirting with you. Or if they had, you sure as hell hadn't noticed.

"Um...okay," you muttered, absentmindedly combing your hair behind your ear. That's when you noticed Dylan's eyes widen.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, stepping back.

"What?" you asked a millisecond before you realized. He'd seen the marks.

"Guess he wasn't kiddin'," said Dylan, pointing at your neck.

Ashamed, you tilted your head and pulled your hair back over to hide Harry's love bites.

"He told me you were his," Dylan added, "But I guess he wants everyone to be aware."

You furrowed your brows. "Wait, you talked to him?"

Dylan shrugged. "If you could call it that. I didn't get much say in the matter. He just came up to me a minute ago and said, 'just so you know...Y/N is mine.' And he walked off. I didn't really take it as a threat then but..."

Your shoulders fell and your mouth went dry.

"Guess he's claimed his territory," Dylan finished before walking off, leaving you standing dumbfounded in the hallway.

"Hey, doll," greeted Lou when you entered the room designated for hair and makeup. Liam had just left the room with a short wave of his hand, and you were grateful to find it empty now except for her.

"Hi," you barely mumbled as you sunk into a chair.

"Something wrong?" she inquired as she returned a makeup brush to its caddy.

With a long sigh, you pushed your hair back to reveal the hickeys on your neck and shoulder.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Lou.

You groaned. "Help."

"Were you snogging all day? What-"

"Never mind," you got up to leave, but Lou called you back.

"I'm sorry, love, c'mere. I think I have something to cover it."

You sat back in the chair and Lou got to work putting makeup on your neck, at least the areas that were most exposed. You focused on the various cosmetics on the counter so you wouldn't have to look at her face, knowing it was probably full of shame. You appreciated her silence, however, until she finally said you were good to go.

"Thanks," you muttered as you stood, still pulling your hoodie tight around you just in case.

"Y/N," you heard Lou call as you reached the door. You turned to look at her. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded.

"Alright," she sighed. "Just know that I'm here if you ever need to chat. And anything you say never leaves this room, you hear?"

You smiled softly at her. "Thanks, Lou."

You'd just rounded the corner when a tall frame nearly bumped into you.

"Hey! Was looking for you," said Harry. "Did you find something?"

"Um...yeah," you stammered, licking your lips, grabbing the zipper pull of your hoodie and moving it up and down. "Lou helped me out with some makeup."

"Oh, right," he nodded. "Good."

"Harry, we need to talk," you gazed up at him.

He furrowed his brows, looking past you. "Show's about to start, babe."

"What did you say to Dylan?" you asked, ignoring his words.

Harry's eyes darted everywhere but at your own which told you all you needed to know. But you still wanted to hear it from his lips.

"Harry..."

"I just told him you were mine."

"Did you threaten him?"

Harry finally looked at your face, shaking his head. "No, not at all. I just wanted to make sure he knew you were taken."

"Harry, he wasn't even doing anything," you scoffed. "We were just talking. For like five minutes!"

"I've seen the way he looks at you," declared Harry in an accusing tone.

You rolled your eyes. "How does he look at me?"

"Like how I look at you!" he exclaimed.

You threw up your hands. "So fucking what?"

"I don't like it," Harry's voice dropped so low you barely heard his reply.

"Harry, what the hell is going on? You've never acted jealous before."

Harry stood up straight, his chest puffing out as he crossed his arms. "Do I have a reason to be jealous?"

Your mouth opened to retort, but you stopped. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Harry never acted like this. Never.

"You're unbelievable," you shook your head and turned to walk away. "We'll talk about this later."

"Hey, you're the one who said we needed to talk now," you felt his hand on your arm. You shook it off.

"We're not talking about this now!" you yelled through clenched teeth. You held your hands up in front of you. "I need to calm down, and you have a show to do."

"Y/N," said Harry, his tone softer now.

"Go," you pointed to the backstage area. "Your fans are waiting."

You felt the bile rise in your throat as tears threatened to release from your eyes. Turning once again, you zig zagged through the crowd whom no doubt had heard at least some of your squabble.

"Hey, doll," Lou stopped you. "You coming to sit with me?"

"Not yet," you blinked. "I need to be alone for a minute."

Without another word, Lou merely nodded, patting your arm before making her way to the family seats. You walked to Harry's dressing room, immediately locking the door behind you and lying on the sofa, finally allowing the tears to fall.

You didn't understand it. You tried your best to recall the evening's events that had let up to this. Just an hour ago you were on this same sofa as Harry fucked you, sucking on your neck and telling you how you were his. You'd liked it, his possessiveness as he claimed what was his. But the marks had left you feeling uneasy, and then to find out he actually did have a problem with Dylan...it made you wanna throw up. The look in his eyes when he asked if he had a reason to be jealous sent you over the edge. You were hurt and angry at the same time. This...this was not the Harry you knew. This was someone else.

Despite the noise on the other side of the door, you somehow managed to cry yourself to sleep. When you woke up, you sat up, realizing the concert still had half an hour left. Wiping your eyes, you used the restroom and emerged from the dressing room. You were halfway down the hall when you spotted Dylan. With an uneasy smile, you walked up to him.

"Hi," you greeted.

"I don't think you're supposed to be talking to me," he proclaimed.

You rolled your eyes and folded your arms across your chest. "What the fuck ever." Another tear escaped your eye and rolled down your cheek. As you swiped it away with the back of your hand, Dylan stepped closer to you.

"Hey," he said softly. "I was just joking."

"I know," you sniffed.

"You okay?"

"No," you replied quickly, looking up at him. "No, I'm definitely not okay."

"You wanna go somewhere and talk?"

The sounds of cheering fans and the boys singing "Story of My Life" seemed miles away.

"Yeah," you sighed, running your fingers through your hair. "But can we talk about something else? Anything else?"

Dylan grinned. "You bet. C'mon."

You sat alone on the bus, waiting for Harry. You'd decided to wait for him there instead of his dressing room. You knew he was more than likely going to be mad, or at least a little confused as to why you hadn't gone to watch the show. So, you figured you'd give him some time to cool down, take a shower and get dressed before meeting you on the bus.

After talking to Dylan, you felt a little better. He was really nice and funny and took your mind off of everything. You hoped that you could talk to Harry and assure him that you were his and he had no cause to be jealous. But when he stepped onto the bus and you caught the look on his face, you knew that had been too much to ask.

"Hey," you whispered.

With a scowl, Harry walked right past you without so much as a nod. You watched him as he headed toward the back of the bus.

"Harry..." you sounded.

Nothing. He was ignoring you. You had to admit that hurt even worse.

"Harry, talk to me please," you called.

"Oh, so now you wanna talk?" he jerked around, a horrible mean look on his face.

"Yes."

His jaw set, he closed the space between you swiftly. "Why didn't you come to watch the show?"

"Because I was upset," you replied. "I didn't feel like it."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Didn't feel like it. What were you doing?"

Stepping back, you shoved your hands in the pockets of your hoodie. "Nothing. I went to sleep in your dressing room."

Harry nodded slowly, an accusing look in his eyes. "Right."

Almost feeling frightened, you glared at him. "Harry, what the fuck is going on?"

"Why don't you tell me? One minute you're moaning my name, begging me to touch you, and the next you're embarrassed by me."

"How dare you turn this around on me! I'm not the jealous one here!" you yelled.

"I'm not bloody jealous, Y/N! You think I'm jealous of that twat?"

"Why else did you make such a point of leaving so many hickeys on me?"

"I told you got carried away!" Harry exclaimed. "I didn't mean to."

"Did you mean to go up to Dylan afterwards and threaten him?" you asked.

"I-" Harry glared at you. "Did he tell you that?"

"No," you looked down at your hands. "He just said you came up to him and told him I'm yours, and-"

"So you talked to him." It was a statement, not a question. A statement and an accusation.

"Harry, I think I can talk to whomever I choose. And you're being a little ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" Harry raised his brows.

"Yeah. And frankly, a bit scary if I'm being honest. I don't know what's gotten into you."

"Fuck!" Harry turned his back on you, his fists at his sides as he walked to the back of the bus.

Trying to keep your calm, you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Just then Niall stepped onto the bus behind you.

"Um...everythin' okay?" he inquired.

"Yeah," you bit your lip, stepping back to allow him to pass.

"Ya sure?"

About to nod, Harry turned around an answered for you. "Apparently showing your girlfriend how sexy you think she is and how proud you are to be fucking her pussy isn't allowed."

Your bottom lip trembling, you stared at Harry for a moment. "Fuck you."

"Whoa," Niall muttered as you stomped off the bus.

You could hear Harry calling after you as you ran toward the venue, but you didn't bother to turn around. Liam was just exiting the back door and Louis was halfway towards the bus, both of them stopping in their tracks to watch the scene unfold.

"Y/N!" Harry shouted. "Wait!"

"Leave me alone!" you screamed as you neared the door. "I wish we never met!"

You didn't look back as you continued to run through the hall. You stopped only when you saw Dylan emerge from behind the stage, drum pieces in his hands. Your chest heaving, you swallowed hard. Your eyes met, but you remained silent. Instead you turned toward the makeup room, finding Lou packing the rest of her products.

"Jesus, what's wrong, doll?" she asked when she saw your wild eyes.

Your knees buckling, you broke down right there. Lou reached her arms out to embrace you, allowing you to cry on her shoulder. You stayed in that position for a long time, your body shaking as you cried over and over. Lou rubbed your back, told you to let it out, and that everything was gonna be okay.

"Baby..." you suddenly heard behind you.

"Go away," you mumbled in Lou's shirt.

"Baby, I didn't mean it," said Harry. "God, you know how I feel about you."

Still keeping your back to him, you lifted your head to look at Lou. She had a kind expression on her face, silently urging you to listen to him.

"Don't you?" Harry sounded. You could tell he was closer. "Please say you do. Baby, I'm crazy about you."

Shutting your eyes, you scoffed. "Crazy about sums it up."

"I know. I deserve that."

You wiped your eyes as Lou released you from her grasp and turned you around. Harry had a somber look in his eyes, his body slack from defeat.

"I can't excuse the way I've acted," he said softly. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I've never felt like this before."

"Like what?" you asked.

"Jealous," Harry shrugged. Then he let out a slight chuckle. "Fuck me, I'm jealous. And I don't know why."

"I don't know why either, Harry. There's absolutely no reason to be jealous. I barely know that guy. And until tonight he didn't even know I wasn't part of the crew let alone your girlfriend."

Harry hung his head. "I realize that. I honestly don't know what got into me. At first I-"

Harry lifted his head then, and you heard Lou clear her throat behind you. "Let me just get this," she said, grabbing her makeup caddies. Once she left the room, Harry turned back to you.

"At first I thought it was just kinda hot, you know me claiming my territory, showing that kid - and everyone else - you belong to me. But once I was inside you...it was like something happened, some switch went off and I couldn't stop. And you were loving it too, begging me. Like I said...I got carried away. Then I could tell you were embarrassed by the marks and I'll admit, it made me mad. I didn't want you to be embarrassed. I wanted you to be proud and flaunt it in front of his face. Like 'fuck yeah, my man fucks me good'."

"Harry..." you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"I know, it sounds stupid now. But that's what was in my head then."

Licking your lips, you looked down at the floor and then back up at him. "You scared me."

"When?"

"On the bus. I've never seen you like that. I've never seen you like...any of this," you shook your head. "It's frightening, and I don't like it."

"I know, love," Harry reached for your hands. "I don't like it either. But I swear, I didn't mean what I said."

"I know," you replied softly.

"I'm hoping you didn't mean what you said either. That you wish we never met."

You sighed. "Of course I didn't, Harry. I just..."

"You just what?"

"I just..." you released your hands from his and combed a hand through your hair. "I think maybe we should cool it for a little while."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm gonna go on home earlier than I planned. I'll ask Lou if I can stay with her til tomorrow. I'm sure there's a flight I can take."

"Baby..." Harry tried to reach for you again.

You bit your lip and held up your hand. "Please, Harry. I think...I think it's best. For right now. I'll come back later. If you still want me."

"Of course I want you, Y/N. I want you now! With me!"

Covering his mouth with your finger, you silenced him. Then dropping your hand, you placed a soft kiss on his lips. "It's gonna be okay," you murmured.

"Not without you," he pouted.

You mustered up your best smile as you dragged the backs of your fingers down his cheek, then squeezed his arm. "Goodnight."

Turning on your heels, you headed back down the hall to the exit doors. You were halfway there when Harry called your name once again. Stopping, your turned around to see him standing in the middle of the hall.

"I love you," he declared.

You sucked in your lips as your insides trembled. He'd never said it before.

"I love you, too," you echoed before blowing him a kiss and walking out of the venue.

Sorry about that sad ending. I don't really remember why I decided to end it that way lol. I guess I felt more realistic with all the angst than to give it a happy ending. Also, the "I wish we never met" line was a prompt I'd received so I threw it into this story. It's pretty harsh, I know. Hope you enjoyed anyway.

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[freeluigihesbae]

𝓫𝓾𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓻 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 - 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝟑

(2,663 words)

part 1, part 2

summary:

luigi fell in love with you for those sparkling eyes where his dreams of falling in love first came true. but how did it happen?

𝗍𝗐: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

"So..." Luigi has his hand on yours, not wanting to leave.

The date, as he so confirmed, went wonderfully. The giggles were like butterflies filling the atmosphere while you noted the intensity of his stare in your eyes.

"Is this your go-to phrase when you're dumbfounded?" You smirk while still holding onto his hand. Luigi snickers in response.

"I'm smartfounded-" "That is SO fucking lame." You groan at his response, fake-disgusted at the cop-out answer he gave but he pulls back, both hands next to his head implying that he isn't guilty. You tilt your head back down, giving him a seriously? look that only made him happier.

"No, really. If I told you my resume I've got half the mind to say you'd be impressed." Luigi explains himself but two can play that game.

Especially since you want him to compliment you more.

"Yeah, but I bet you've never worked as hard your girl," you emphasize the your to which he raises his eyebrows, "doing everything with a cast on." You watch as his features soften impossibly more and you're thinking bingo.

"T-That's true." In fact, it isn't. Luigi remembers having to use crutches while preparing for the competition of a lifetime but honestly... he was willing to lie just to put you above himself.

It is an honest, selfless act.

You smile, happy that your little guilt-tripping line has worked its wonders before you remember your hangout with Ash. You check your phone and you already see a few texts.

Ash: heyyyy i miss u. i need to rant so bad istfg

Ash: Girl where tFFFF R yA i'm drunk and heartbro-Ken

You shake your head. This girl and her heartbreaks.

"Is everything alright?" Luigi cocks his head to the side, concerned about the expression on your face that changed so suddenly. You look up, immediately smiling and shaking your head.

"Oh, just a girl problem a friend of mine is having. I guess duty calls." You giggle and Luigi lets out a sigh before he stands up, extending his arm out.

"I'll walk back with you because it's getting dark and it's cold outside. Casts don't mesh too well with this...environment the universe has so cruelly subjected you to." You smile at his borderline philosophical monologue, throwing your head back in laughter and responding in equal vigor.

"Oh, whatever would I do without such a gentleman to guide me through the blazing waters of an Ivy League campus?" You stand up before he's already setting a hand on your waist and nuzzling his nose into your forehead.

"I guess we'll never know." Luigi responds and your heart soars. He couldn't give a better answer than that.

He knows it all too well.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

"Why did you get the injury in the first place?"

You and Luigi have been walking at a leisure pace for about 15 minutes, thankfully since you shot a message to Ash who was kind enough to understand, happy that you found yourself a date.

"It's such a long story but let's just say... heels, stairs, and ice. Put one and one and one together." You reply with a mock serious tone and Luigi groans, his arm around you tightening with a sense of protectiveness.

"I swear, I'll never understand the expectation women have to wear these stupid heels and dress up to look a certain way. Just use 15-in-1 body wash and call it a day." You turn around, slapping your hand over your mouth at how he managed to switch from being so sentimental to talking like, well, what you'd expect a guy to talk like.

"I'm impressed." You say, genuinely impressed.

"That's my goal." He replies.

You walked straight into that one.

"What was the event?" Luigi follows up and you find yourself half-surprised he even cares this much.

Your mind flutters away, picking out the pieces of the night.

"It was a sorority wide gala. I wasn't really up for it but my friends pushed me to come and somehow, the night ended with me regretting it altogether. I'm a homebody, honestly. I like keeping to myself and it's definitely on me for bending to the peer pressure." You respond, sighing at the stress of just thinking about the day that landed you with the case you have on now.

Luigi bends down, placing his lips on your temple for just a second before pulling off.

"If you ever need help, bambi, just remember I'm there for you." He stops but quickly adds a comment. "I wish I could've seen the dress you were in." You stare at his side-profile, wondering how his tone could change yet flow so flawlessly.

"Yeah." That's all you say, finding yourself lost in appreciating this man in his entirety.

"Yeah?" He stops walking and so do you, letting your fingers take the risk and reach over to grab his hand, pulling it closer towards your waist. He understand the assignment, gripping onto your hipbones before his other hand is drawing a line from the small of your back, up to your neck.

"Yeah." You repeat yourself, but this time, your voice is more breathy, hyper aware of the way he's touching you and staring into your eyes.

He looks dreamy, you think, the way he looks at you with not just a superficial sweep of his eyes, but as though he's looking into you, trying to grab at the pieces that make you whole and if possible, soothe and piece them together better than they just were.

Dreamy.

Unknowingly, you both start walking but the pace is even slower as you're lost in each others eyes, asking the question neither of your dared to utter.

Luigi is still looking at you but his breathing has picked up.

He's trying his very best to just take you home and drop you off but there's a pull coming from your eyes and goddamn calling you bambi didn't help him much because the purity and innocence behind that name was driving him insane.

He saw you through those lens too and somehow, it seemed to be enough for him because he barely knew you. Yet, he felt he'd known you for years and he could explain how exactly your soul and body were weaved into one.

You find your way to your dorm building, stopping in front and Luigi's lips immediately part.

"I need to kiss you." He says and you're taken aback, but the blush on your face and ever-so-slight present smile in your eyes tell him you want that too.

He comes a few inches closer while shaking his head, driving his fingers upwards and cupping your face. You take your own hands and place them overtop of his, enjoying the size difference.

"You have no clue, bambi. Your eyes are the most beautiful thing I have seen in this world. I don't care if someone showed me the world's largest diamond and held it up to the sunlight because I'd just have to turn around and look into your eyes and I'd see the light of millions of gems sparkling. I'd see galaxies valiantly painted into poems. I see so many things you don't and the more I stare into them, I-" He falters at the end and you're panting, processing the awe-inducing words that just fell from his lips that you really want to kiss.

"Luigi you- you-" You don't know what to say. That wasn't a normal compliment. It wasn't a usual compliment. Hell, it wasn't even a compliment.

That was a love letter that came straight from his adoration for you.

"What the fuck?" A sharp, broken voice cuts through the warm and giddy atmosphere that was hugging the two of you closer together. You both turn your head and you realize, it's Ash.

Your smile drops but picks up when you turn around and walk over to hug her, but in all her rage for reasons you still don't know, she pushes you back. And she pushes hard.

"You fucking BITCH!" Ash screams while you're falling back, thankful that Luigi has caught you from behind. "Ash what is wrong with you?!" Luigi raises his voice and snap at Ash, who is staring at you both in tears.

"Yeah, that's right. Let me ask YOU that." Ash is pointedly speaking to you and you're feeling tears crowding your vision.

"A-Ash I have no idea what's going on-" "You're sleeping with the guy I asked out to prom?" She interrupts your plead and your eyes go wide before you're looking at Luigi, who spares you a stare and goes back to visibly fuming at the sight of Ash in front of him.

"Get the fuck out of here Ash. You're the one who tried to pressure me into saying yes to your stupid proposal-" "Stupid? Stupid? You're trying to act like you didn't know what your friends were doing and it's your fault that I asked you Luigi!"

"STOP." You yell and watch both Ash and Luigi freeze in place.

"Ash, tell me what the fuck happened and please explain why it justified you pushing me to the ground when I have a cast on?" You put your hands on your hips, watching her eyes go wide when she realizes you have a cast. Her lips part as she stutters and explains herself.

"I-I asked Luigi out for homecoming and he said he didn't like me despite his friends making me think otherwise. I got embarrassed because he did it in front of everyone and I-I-" There's guilt written all over Ash's face and you catch it. Luigi opens his mouth but you shoot him a look, which he respects.

"Everyone who Ash?" You ask, starting to think Luigi was right.

"You know what I mean." Ash scowls lightly before continuing. "Cassidy, Rachel, our friends, and the entire hallway like-" Ash stops, waiting for you to respond.

"So you voluntarily asked him out when there were several people around and expected him to say yes and when he said no you got upset?" You asked, slightly accusatory in your tone and she nods. You then turn to Luigi.

"What did you say to her when you said no? I imagine you said more than just no, correct?" You ask Luigi and he nods, speaking his words confidently.

"I told her that I'm glad she felt comfortable enough to ask me, but that I didn't like her despite what my idiotic friends were making it seem like and that I'm sorry on their behalf, but I couldn't go out with her. I was truthful and I was respectful bam- I mean-" Luigi stops and it takes everything in you to bite back a smile. "I was respectful." Luigi ends his sentence and you hear Ash sharply exhaling.

"You still didn't explain why that justified you pushing me to the ground." You whip your head back to Ash, whose face is pale with guilt.

"I thought he would've told you. So I thought he did and I got upset you were still hanging out knowing he rejected me." Ash says, a streak of anger in her eyes when she remembers the rejection.

You shake your head in disappointment. Even if he had told her, you still would've spent time with him because it's true - Ash is in the wrong.

"You're still in the wrong Ash. He was respectful about it and you made it a bigger deal than it has to be." You finally say and Ash flexes her jaw, staring at you with contempt.

"Of course you think it's my fault. Here you are, all perfect and in order with your life when I'm trying to find my footing." You're taken aback, glancing at Luigi who raises his eyebrow, but doesn't look at you. "You're so perfect. Perfect grades perfect everything-"

"You have all that too, Ash." You cut her off, confused what her annoyance is about.

"Yeah well you know what you have and I don't? The ability to make men fold. Every man I bring back stares at your like you're a goddess and it irks me like hell. You're pretty you're perfect you're everything I want to be. I fucking hate you and don't think for a second I find you any less guilty." Ash's voice is dripping spite and jealousy, getting even worse as she watches your face change...none.

"Ash, you were my closest friend and I always looked up to your for the same exact reasons, but I never tried to make men look at me or give me attention or something. I'm always being myself and it seems like you are unable to do that, which explains your jealousy." Ash's face is still angry, but you can see her lips quivering.

"I don't care. I hate you." Ash says, trying to get a reaction out of you.

"I don't hate you Ash, but I certainly don't want to deal with your baggage. Get out of my face." You say calmly and Ash freezes before crying and walking away. You watch as she's stumbling over herself, remembering she was a bit drunk when she texted you.

Luigi finally lets out a breath and turns to face you.

"I'm proud of you standing up for yourself. You've got a clear head and a strong will bambi." Luigi smiles and you smile back at him.

"Stop, oh my god. Just telling the truth I guess. Thanks for catching me Lu." You let the nickname slip and Luigi gives you a mockingly smoldering look.

"I'm Lu now, bambina?" Your jaw drops.

'Wha-Wh-Where do you pull these from UGH!" You slap his arm before he's scooping you into his arms and in giggles and laughter, you agree.

You hand him your ID card which he scans, carrying you into the room where he sets you on your bed, paying special attention to your cast.

"When are you getting this off, bambi?" You've gotten used to the nickname now, simply answering his question.

"In a week or two. I'm bummer out because I'm going to look stupid at homecoming." You frown a bit but Luigi comes over, lightly setting his finger under your chin.

"I don't know if you'd want to come with me or not, but no matter what you choose, I'm telling you that your eyes, body, and smile make you the most stunning woman anyone will ever set their eyes on." He's leaned in now, speaking his words right over your lips and you find your hands on his t-shirt, clutching the fabric so tight your palms start to sweat.

"I-I-I-" "Need to go, bambina." Luigi pulls away and you gasp as he turns around at the door, shining a smile and walking out the door before you can say his name.

Part of your sags, shoulders falling since you thought he'd ask you out to homecoming, but the way he did it... if he really did, was frankly, underwhelming.

Was this just a fun thing for him? A date that he could brag to his friends about? But how could it be?

You're lost thinking about all the words he'd said and spun you around in ribbon with, trying to fight every urge that told you he was playing with your feelings. You bounce back on the bed before wincing.

Something sharp scratches your head and you turn around before seeing a small card, folded into two and now showing a few words inside. You frown, wondering where it came from.

The moment the card slides between your fingers, it feel thick and rich, making you wonder what was possible written on it.

bambi,

if you're willing to come to homecoming with me, keep an eye out for a package tomorrow before noon.

here's my number: xxx-xxx-xxxx

~ luigi

Your heart flutters once again, all the doubts melting away as you pull the card close to your chest.

What did this boy have in mind?

~

if you'd like to be added to my taglist, please comment beneath my pinned masterlist post on my blog!

@madkohi

[moonschocolate]

Headcanons about my current hyperfixation: THEOO!!☆

I keep stalking the 'theodore nott headcanons' tag so I might as well write my own headcanons about him

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

this man has social anxiety. prove me wrong.

when he was younger he found comfort in reading fiction books, like pjo

he 100% had an obsession with greek mythology, or mythology in general, and it's still kinda there but not like before

then growing up he got into classics

like one day he was like 'what if I read a Dostoevskij book' and that's where it all started

he prefers reading this kind of books because they teach you more

tallest boy you've ever seen, somewhat taller (only by few centimeteres) than Fred and George

he plays the cello, like kind of, he knows how to play a piece only studying it, i believe this man was never able to play a piece at first sight

surprisingly (to him) he really has a lot of things in common with Luna, when he found out he wanted to spend more time with her

he's really silent, but GOD does he ever stop thinking?? his head is loud af

enjoys being with his friends, they're used to him not shouting in their ears (unlike some other boy *cough cough* Mattheo *cough cough ... cough*)and he enjoys their company and they do too

not the type of boy to run to Spotify or whatever music app whenever he can, but he enjoys some kind of music (mostly smooth piano jazz, dramatic classical music since it's my fav, and he thinks TV girl, Lamp, Ichiko Aoba are cool)

never replies quickly, he's always late replying cuz thinks being on his phone is a complete waste of time, but it's not like he's NEVER on it

chill with Halloween but feral over Christmas (does not show it)

legos. I've said all.

YOU CANNOT TELL ME THIS MAN DOESNT HAVE HIS ROOM FULL OF STAR WARS SETS

despite enjoying english and all that kind of subjects, he is feral, and when I say feral I mean feral over maths. He loves learing new concepts because then it all makes sense and it's just so cool (explained from a person who is also feral over maths, pls tell me you get what i mean)

hyperfixations? oh so many

again, greek mythology

you could tell this man "Hey do you know about the myth of Apolloand Daphne" his eyes would light up and he would tell you the myth, his opinion, and related myths ("there's also this other myht with Apollo where he-")

A S T R O L O G Y

still greek mythology related but

he could stay hours talking about constellations

"hey do you know the myth behind the gemini constellation? No? Can I tell you about it?! Okay so-"

paper stars.

if there's a paper stripe around he'd grab it and make a paper star out of it

looks like the typa guy who'd take a lot of pictures with a canon/sony camera

when he feels anxious he'd do this thing where (get ready for the worst explanation ever) he'd put one of his nails of the right hand in between the skin and the nail of his thumb on his left hand and make the nail go left and right, still in between the skin and the nail (I ALWAYS DO THAT I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE I TRIED TO BE AS SPECIFIC AS I COULD)

He tried to go to a party since Blaise, Draco, Enzo, Theo, Pansy (basically everyone you get it)... begged him to come along

we could sum up his experience in one word

NIGHTMARE

The music was too loud, the people were to close to him, everyone was shouting, there were alcohol and drugs (he still wonders how they got literal drugs into the castle), everyone tried to dance with him and talk to him, that time he got overwhelmed tried to leave, but they were all like 'heyyyy nooo dont leaveeeee stay hereeeeee' but his friends understood it wasn't for him and Blaise went with him to his dorm, waited until he felt better then went back to the party

has never been to a party since then

smart af

like he easily surpasses draco and mione

also theo and mione are really close friends, one time they found eachother in the library reading the same book and chatting they found out they have several things in common

has a collection of stylographs, that stays in his library neatly ordinated

best sense of style (he obv got it from Blaise but he made it better)

he loves movies, he's watched movies like Dead Poets Society, Dorian Gray, but also movies about historical facts like The Darkest Hour, The King's Speech, Hidden Figures, The Pianist (I'm a sucker for this kind of movies honestly)

!! HE HAS DIMPLES !!

He loves professor Lupin, he thinks of him as Keating is dps

secretly listens to Micheal Bublè in Christmas, he loves his Christmas songs

he only buys old books, never new ones, he thinks that already used books, from decades ago, he thinks they hold stories, and it's even better when the books have annotations, maybe he'll erase them, but it's good to hear other's opinions

has a lot of vynils

used to study for his dad, now this became a habit, that's why he's the best in class

his relationship with his mom is not strong, MORE

When his mom died he was 5 so he didn't understand

when he finally knew the truth he cried for weeks, then he would occasionally go out to look at the stars, which he always admired with his mom, and cried thinking about her, thinking that she was watching him from up there

when he was like 10 he didn't cry no more, only if he ever opened up

he shared anything with her

he NEVER let ANYONE call him Teddy, he always though that is what his mom called him, and he didn't want other people to 'interfere' with that, he feels like it's their thing

despises horror movies. gets scared to death watching them, and doesnt find the lore interesting

never walks around with only socks on, has the fear of walking on water accidentally and getting his feet wet and the feeling disgustes him

also, has the whole collection of pjo books (every book. from percy jackson and the olympians to the chalice of the gods)

loves cats so much, he has two cats, but he wishes he had more

he has male brown cat named Monet and a grey cat with some beige spots and green eyes (it's mt bsf's cat, I love her - the cat - and I thought she could be a honourable mention) named Vivienne

defo has an obsession with sharks, but is even more obsessed with jellyfish, he knows a lot of scientific names for their species, for exmample Phylloriza Punctata, or Chrisaora Quinquecirrha, or Aurelia Aurelita, he's obsessed

Fav subject isn't potions, it's astronomy instead

since i live for loser!Theo, im in love with the idea of him stuttering in front of a guy/girl he finds cute or attractive, blushing and being awkward

my man absolutely doesn't know how to talk, he speaks too fast, and when ppl tell him to slow down, then he thinks he's talking too slow

if anyone fatshames any of his friends, or is racist/homophobic towards them, or just insults them, he will try to avoid throwing punches, but lets say he'll exchange a word or two with that person

if he's itchy, he scratches so hard there could be blood (a bit exaggerated but you get it)

could've been a Ravenclaw, but if he did his father would be really mad at him, so he's happy he isn't

another headcanon that I kindly stole rn from @heirofs1ytherin is that he's into poetry. LIKE 100% ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ You probably got that I love him HES MY BABY

[wonysugar]

keep talking | aeri uchinaga

synopsis : your best friend, aeri, was on tour with her fellow aespa members. she missed you a whole lot though, so you guys get on call and she asks you to talk about your day, to ramble, and to just keep on talking<3

pairing : idol!giselle x fem!reader

genre : best friends to fwb, phone call, smut!!

tags : phone sex, giselle is pretty subby in this, so yknow reader is kinda dommy, long distance, bffs to fwb, fingering, clit rubbing, dirty talk, you talk her through it ehehehe, aeri is still an aespa member, they’re on tour, and aeri has practice later help, what a bummer :((

warning : none just horny smut lol

word count : around 1.2k

a/n: this has been in my drafts since july,,, SO sorry,, but anyways i hope you enjoy this :] thank you

“a-s-a-p, babyy, hurry up, don’t be lazyy”

you heard the ringtone from your cellphone, immediately jumping on your bed from excitement as you quickly accepted the anticipated call, not even bothering to read the contact name. you’ve been planning to call her ever since she’s left the country, but she’s just been so endlessly busy recently, you couldn’t help but miss her.

immediately greeted by the voice of your best friend, aeri, a playful “heyyyy.” is what came out of your speaker.

“heyyyyy.” you sang back just as playfully, earning a giggle from her. “how is it in the uk? you having fun?” you ask, occupying your fingers by twirling and playing with your hair as she hummed. her and her band, aespa, were currently on tour. today, they landed in london, and were now getting ready for their concert tomorrow.

“it’s fun!! we landed only a few hours ago but i’m already loving the city so farrr. i went grocery shopping with ning earlier and, it was like.. so fun for no reason??” she told you, you could visualize her smile just from the way she spoke. “it would be so much more fun if you were here though, y/n..” she added, now probably pouting.

you chucked, “it’s okay, aeriii. it’s not like we’re completely separated, we have each other’s number. worst case scenario, we text a couple of times in a day.”

“but it’s not the sameee.” she whined, “seeing your best friend in person and seeing them through a screen is not the same thing at all.”

you tried reassuring her that the tour wasn’t gonna last that long, and that you both were gonna hang out as soon as it was over. she eventually agreed and shrugged the feeling off, asking about your day and how you’ve been.

“to be honest, it’s also been kinda lonely without you so i’ve just been at home in my freetime, sometimes going on walks. though i should say! listening to your music while i’m at work does help, like girl.. that shit gets me so hyped up like m-m-mamba-“ you rambled on and on, confident that she was listening to everything you were saying due to the responsive mhms she let out.

they progressively became less frequent, however, and then, at some point, they just completely stopped. you started worrying, wondering if the signal was gone or something..

“you there?” you ask.

“h-huh? y-yeah i’m still here.” she replied with a slightly shaky voice.

that didn’t sound very convincing.. was she feeling okay? before you could ask, a small noise escaped her lips. a noise that sounded like… a whimper. a whimper that was trying to held back.

“you know, we can call some other time if you don’t feel too well right no-“

“fuck y/n please don’t hang up… keep talking about whatever i don’t care but just.. please k-keep talking. i’m sorry, i’m listening i p-promise.” she interrupted in such a desperate voice, kinda whining in the process as she was breathing heavily into the mic.

you were dumbfounded. this was all so strange.. was she in danger or something? why would she ask you to just keep talking if she was, though? you just sat there for a moment, silent, a confused look plastered on your face.

until it clicked. oh.

oh.

the heavy panting.. the shake in her voice.. begging for you to keep talking.. the slight whimpering??? your stomach pleasantly twisted at the thought, was she actually..?

a smirk began to form.

“aeri..” you pause, contemplating actually asking the question. then,

“are you touching yourself right now?”

no response, just a desperate sigh. she was probably trying to think of an excuse. oh that poor girl. “oh my god you totally are.” you said, feeling like teasing her some more.

“i’m sorry y/n, i - fuck - i just missed you so- mmh..so much i couldn’t help it i’m sorry-.” she whined out.. you were imagining the look she had on her face right now, head probably buried in the pillow.

yet in another whiny voice, “this was a bad i-idea i have practice later and.. fuckfuckfuck-“ is what comes out of her mouth, almost inaudible due to how quiet she was being, careful as to not let the other members next door overhear.

you couldn’t lie, you weren’t expecting her to act like this. she never would say kinky shit to you directly, let alone do it in your company. you guys were close, so you talked about sexual things sometimes, but it was all in good fun. having her masturbate on a call got you unexpectedly and indescribably turned on.

“fuck practice aeri, describe what you’re doing.” you asked, getting undeniably hornier by every small noise she let out.

she exhaled, “i’m - ah - fingering m-myself..”

you slowly unbuttoned your jeans as you were listening to her response, “with how many fingers?” you add.

“t-two..” she panted yet again, your hand already getting into your panties and closer to your cunt.

“are you imagining they’re mine?” you spread apart your pussy lips, gently rubbing on your folds, feeling how wet you already were from her. you exhaled from relief.

she whimpered and squirmed at your words, knowing her, she was most definitely feeling embarrassed right now. then, she let out a needy mhm in response to your question as she was pumping her fingers in and out of herself.

“words, baby.” you added.

“fuck y/n - yes i am..” she quietly moaned out.

“good girl.” you praise, earning a cute little whimper from her. fuck, you couldn’t help it, hearing her pretty moans and knowing that she was touching herself to your voice made you lose it.

you inserted your own fingers into your aroused cunt, letting out a sigh of relief as you were finally doing something about the pool that was growing in between your legs ever since you figured out that your best friend was masturbating to your voice. holy shit, not even the greatest porno ever made could get you this aroused.

then, you heard a chuckle from the other side of the line. “d-did i get you horny?” she teased.

“no shit you did.” you shakily confessed as you could hear her quietly moan, “you sound so good.” you added.

“fuuck i wish i was there with you right now.” she confessed back, her voice obviously still very shaky.

“what would you - mmh - do if y-you were?” you wanted her to explain every little detail, to ramble on and on about what she was thinking of right now.

she slowed down on the fingering, as if it was really going to maximize her thinking, “w-well.. for starters..

i’d probably pin down you on the bed.. get on top of you and m-make out with you, slowly letting my - god - hands roam your entire body as i move my mouth further down. feeling the pressure from your knee in between my thighs..”

her voice started getting shakier while your cunt got just as wet hearing her describe the scene, god you needed to see her face, you needed to see how she was probably squirming at the sensation, how desperate she was getting just from imagining all of it. you needed to see it for yourself.

“aeri.” you shakily let out.

before she could even choke out a response,

“can you get on facetime?”

[babybatss-blog]

Heyyyy! How’s everything going?

If you’re up for it, I’d love to see a Sirius Black x fem reader where she’s sick or injured and he takes care of her.

Totally understandable if this doesn’t inspire you though!

Have an awesome day 🥰

DELUSIONS AND DAYDREAMS

Sirius x f!reader, 1000 words

a/n: hey anon, im doing good thank you! I hope everyone is also doing well :) this was such a cute lil fic, I hope it’s the right dosage of fluff mixed with angst for your day <3

c/w: friends with tension. Reader has a twisted ankle, smoking, sexual connotations and a confession of love.

He warned you not to do it, he really did. When you said you were going ice-skating on the black lake with your friends he told you that you’re “too clumsy for your own good”, but due to your unresolving stubbornness you went anyways. So he’s not surprised when Marlene messages him a few hours later, bluntly stating that you “twisted your ankle and need someone to come and get you.”

Without a second thought he walks down to you, throwing some weak and easily transparent excuse over his shoulders to his friends. Rest assured the moment he leaves James will make a comment on how head over heels for you he is. When he arrives, it doesn’t take him long to spot you. You’re sitting alone on the edge of the lake, snow cushioning your jeaned legs from the ground and a despondent look on your face as you watch your friends laugh and scream without you. His poor girl, you look so upset by yourself. He creeps up behind you, sitting down to meet your sniffily little figure.

“Hey darling.” He coos, the oddly romantic pet name rolling off his tongue like many times before. “Siri…” You mutter, flopping your forehead onto his shoulder weakly. Sirius chuckles, scratching your head comfortingly. “Come on, I’m taking you back to my dorm.” You groan, not even moving from your spot, but Sirius doesn’t give in easily. He never does. Instead he merely huffs, effortlessly picking you up regardless of your protests. You always tell him he’s “too much”, constantly flirting or playing with you. “I’m not going to ever get a boyfriend if you keep on doing this!” you always yell. Perhaps that’s his plan, because he’s been desperately in love with you from the day you first met.

As you walk, he ignores the judging stares of others and instead opts to focus on easing your pain.

“How bad does it hurt?”

“Like a seven out of ten.”

“Well that’s no good princess! You didn’t try any spells on it?”

“Lilly did, but I don’t think it helped much”

“I’ve got some tokes in my room, maybe that’ll help.”

“Yay!!”

When the two of you arrive, the boys are sitting in the common room, staring disappointedly at him as he carries you into his room. He knows later he’ll get some lecture by Remus about how he needs to start “putting himself first”, but he doesn’t care one bit when he sees you lying on his bed, silky hair spread out on his linen and eyes fluttering in a daze. What if he was on top of you right now, making you scream his name with that pretty little voice and scrunched up face and-

No. He can’t think about that. It’s wrong.

As promised earlier, Sirius whips out a pack of cigarettes and hands you one, smiling when you giggle in delight. The two of you sit in a blissful silence for a while, both separately enjoying the smoke and depth within both of your lungs. That is, until you break the silence with something Sirius wouldn’t even imagine in his own mind.

“Wouldn’t it be crazy if we dated?” Hah, that would be insane he thinks, respective of his own ideas. Instead Sirius just stays silent, too scared of what could blurt out of his mouth. “Cause Frank mentioned something to me the other day that got me thinking… Why did nothing ever happen between us?” Sirius darts his head up to meet you, puzzled by the question. Truthfully, he has pondered this very idea on many sleepless nights, wondering why you always went for the good, boring guys and never blushed whenever he makes some blatant flirt in your direction. He was hot, other girls tell him that all the time. And you know that you can trust him, you’ve been friends for years. But of course it never happened. Perhaps your just out of his league.

“I-I don’t know. I guess we were just never into each other like that.” He finally manages. You scoff, your half lidded eyes looking at him in jest. “That’s not true. I was crazy for you all of year one two and three.” “Wait, what?” You laugh at his shock, which quickly turns into a grimace as you moved your foot in some awkward way, forgetting it was injured. “Sirius, you could never tell? I used to pray to Merlin that you would like me back, but then you got with Daisy M and I moved on.”

Every moment, every time he cursed himself for feeling how he does and dreaming about you came crashing down on him. How could he be so stupid? In one big puff his cigarette is finished, snuffing it out onto his battered and broken bedside table and placing his head in his hands.

Although it appeared distant in his confused state, he heard your voice clearly rattling his brain as you continue to speak. “I think we could do it. Like, we could be a thing. Your hot, I’m… average and we know each other better than anyone. Plus, it would probably be easiest. Instead of wasting our time trying to find someone else.”  Sirius tries not to break down at your words, revealing it’s all he’s ever wanted. “Just a chance” he would say, “Just one chance to prove I’m worth your time.”

But before he can say any of the millions of thoughts swirling around in his head your fast asleep, the pain from earlier finally catching up with you and the cigarette ash coating his bed to the side of you.

He brushes it off, kisses your forehead and walks out.

“I love you darling.”