#i'm always a no-skip for theme songs

[snallavanta]

theme songs always make me feel some type of way

[fairyysoup]

i can see you

♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

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

Hawkins High, September 1984

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

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

You stare a lot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you wish you could kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hawkins High, April 1985

Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t even think he knew your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The guy’s a fucking douche.”

“Tell me about it.”

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

“Billy Hargrove?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prom Night, May 1985

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

Except, well.

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sulking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?”

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

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

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

“Kelly Palmer.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I hope not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve Harrington is touching your face.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“STEVE??!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wherever there is, it’s not with you.

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

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

Starcourt Mall, June 1985

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

“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you ready?”

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

What did you say? What did he say?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can dig a few sprinkles.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You like it a lot. 

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

“What? No, I couldn’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I made it up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.

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

Family Video, March 1986

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, right after I last saw you?”

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

“I wish.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And again.

And again.

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

Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.” 

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

Logan Sawyer.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh my fucking god.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great. I’ll have that, please.” 

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

“Are you serious?” Theo snaps. 

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

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

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

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

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

Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”

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

“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”

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

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

“My father owns the company.”

“Right.” God, help me. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”

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

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

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

“You just said-”

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

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

“It was fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t have to ask him twice.

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

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

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

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

“The price.”

“The price.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want him to do it all over your body.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.

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

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

“The ice cream, or the porn?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”

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

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

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

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

[fgumi]

ꕥ obviously in love; — jungwon drabble, wc: 581, genre: romance, fluff

jungwon had always been good at keeping his emotions in check during lives, but lately, fans couldn’t help but notice a shift. it was subtle at first—small smiles while singing love songs, a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. eventually, the songs became a theme. every live, another love song, each one more heartfelt than the last.

his fans caught on quickly.

"is jungwon in love or something? why is he only singing love songs??" "no way... jungwon’s got a secret crush, i can feel it!" "i'm calling it. jungwon is whipped." "can someone confirm this? because i refuse to believe he’s not singing to someone specific."

unbeknownst to them, they were absolutely right. jungwon was in love—had been ever since he met you. it hadn’t been too long, but you made him feel light, like he could take on the world. every song he sang during those lives had been for you, but he wasn’t ready to admit it just yet. not until he found the perfect way.

that’s when the idea for his cover of "yk" by cean jr. came to life. he poured himself into the project, making sure every note, every movement carried the emotions he wanted you to feel.

when the cover was released, fans were now sure of it.

"i KNEW IT! this is definitely for someone." "the way he’s looking into the camera, like he’s singing to one person... yeah, we get it, jungwon!" "this man is so in love it hurts."

you had no idea what was happening until jay sent you a link to the video with a teasing message.

jay: "guess who you’ve changed forever?"

confused, you tapped on the link, and jungwon’s face filled your screen, the familiar warmth of his voice wrapping around you as he sang and danced. the lyrics hit you like a confession, each line making your heart race.

you quickly scrolled through the fan comments, unable to hide your grin.

"why do i feel like this is a love letter?" "jungwon’s not slick, something’s going on..." "we have eyes, jungwon... and ears." "this is basically a soft launch."

jay: "told you. he’s been acting different since you came along."

your heart fluttered as you typed out a message to jungwon.

you: "so... about that cover you just released?"

a few seconds later, your phone lit up again.

jungwon: "ah, i guess you saw it..."

you could almost picture him—shy, probably running his hand through his hair, unsure if he should fully admit it.

you: "you know, the lyrics are very... pointed. was it for anyone in particular?"

a longer pause. you waited. finally, his reply came in.

jungwon: "it was for you. i wanted to say it... in a way i knew you’d understand."

you felt your heart skip a beat, warmth spreading through you as you read his message. of course, he had to make it even sweeter.

you: "well, thank you. i wouldn’t mind a live version."

you chuckled, expecting a coy response, maybe something playful. but almost instantly, a new message flashed across your screen.

jungwon: "on my way."

your breath caught as you stared at your phone. before you could even process what he said, your heart raced, imagining him already grabbing his keys and heading straight to you.

you smiled, excitement bubbling up inside. if his cover was that amazing, you could only imagine what it would feel like hearing it live, just for you.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. a/n: i both love ai and hate it. right now, i love it for bringing me this cover of "yk". ✧ comments are appreciated! ✧ !nanamlist

[merrycrisis-if]

Merry Crisis Public release

The latest chapter (27th Dec) is AVAILABLE right now for EVERYONE! :) I'm sorry that it took longer than I thought it would, but I'm so excited to finally share it and can't wait to hear what you guys think!

Crowdsourced playlist | Ko-fi / Support me

Features: 

The lead-up to the Nat surprise (!)

Visit a columbarium with your family (to commemorate your grandparents 👴👵 and relive some childhood memories!) <Flesh out your MC's family life>

OR: Skip the columbarium family trip and have lunch with Qiu (at their workplace 💼; or lunch with Shay (includes an optional boxing 🥊 session and the potential to meet someone dear to them🍲).

Meet Qiu or Shay at a 'winter'-themed  funfair/carnival in the evening (or save it for a future Nat date)🧸🎄🍻 <win stuffed animals, drink mulled wine, sit on the lawn and... experience... snow(?)>

Bonus scenes at night if you choose not to go to the funfair (e.g. board games with Joony, write a song if you're a musician etc.) 

Wordcount: 67k (this brings the total wordcount to ~220k words!)

Hope you guys enjoy the chapter! :)

And as always, a big thank you to all my beta-testers and ko-fi supporters and everyone who has continued to play and leave lovely messages <3

[mopopshop]

Ur Best Friend

Inspired by the song “Ur Best Friend” - Kehlani and Kiana Ledé (such a good song oml 🙏🏾) 

Paige x fem!OC (cause ion do that y/n stuff, no hate but I don’t🧍🏾‍♀️)

Featuring: Jalen Suggs

Words: 2k

Themes: 

-drinking

-cheating (sorry fam)

-slight sexual content

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden hue over the backyard, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. It was my boyfriend Jalen's twenty-third birthday, and I had spared no effort in planning the perfect party. A few weeks earlier, we’d just celebrated our five months, so I had to have a party to top the last. The decorations were up, the music playlist carefully curated (tons of Rod Wave and Bryson Tiller), and the scent of food filled the air.

Among the guests was Paige, Jalen's best friend since eighth grade. I've always been cordial with her, exchanging polite smiles and casual conversation whenever she was around. But something had shifted in the past few weeks. A subtle tension lingered between us, sparking whenever our eyes met, igniting something unfamiliar yet exhilarating.

She'd gotten more touchy with me as well, a hand on the lower back and a hushed "excuse me" to get past, a casual arm over the shoulder during group hangouts, a hug or two, but up until a few weeks ago, I'd seen these as nothing less than innocent.

She's a friend, you know? Jalen's friend at that, so no way in hell I'd ever try anything with her. Not to say she's not, you know... good-looking. She'd 100% be my type if it wasn't for Jalen. Paige's tall, she's blonde, she's funny, has a nice smile—did I mention tall? Sometimes she wears these glasses which make her look—

"Aniyah!!"

I'm pulled from my thoughts as my friend Gigi waves me over to her.

"Come on, we're about to sing happy birthday," she smiles and rushes over to me, grabbing my arm and dragging me into the kitchen.

As I followed Gigi into the kitchen, my heart skipped with something unfamiliar upon seeing her. Paige was already there, chatting with a few other guests and standing next to Jalen. She was wearing a grey Nike tech sweatsuit under the jacket, a white tee, her classic braided ponytail, and topped off the look with white Jordan 4’s.

As I moved through the crowd, I couldn't help but steal glances at her. At times, we made eye contact which deepened the flush in my cheeks.

I’d told Jalen earlier that week that I wanted to toast to him before we sang for the cake, and I’d prepared something ahead of time, but now as the moment approached, something about it just hadn’t felt right. In the midst of my thinking, I don’t notice Jalen coming up to me with open arms.

“Hey baby, you good?” He says with a look of worry.

I’m startled by the sound of his voice and am quickly ripped from my thoughts.

“Hey! Yeah yeah I’m fine… just hoping you like my toast,” I breathe out, praying he doesn’t press the issue.

He smiles and says nothing, placing his hand on the small of my back and directing me towards the front of the crowd… towards Paige.

I lock eyes with Paige again and I rush to look away, but as I go to look back, I notice she’s still staring.

What was this tension between us? And why was it becoming harder to ignore?

Gigi nudged me playfully, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Girl what is going on with you today, you gonna do this toast or what?”

With a deep breath, I grab my shot glass and get everyone’s attention.

“Hey y’all, before we sing happy birthday, I just wanted to make a toast to my man. Tonight, let's raise our glasses to celebrate Jalen's 23rd birthday. Jalen, you're more than just a boyfriend; you're my rock.”

Even as I say these words and the more I go on, I don’t feel as though they’re genuine. All I can do is think of Paige…

“Your kindness, strength, and passion inspire me every day. Your laughter lights up any room, and your presence warms my heart. Here's to another year of smiles, laughter, and adventures together. Happy birthday, Jalen! Cheers!”

I tip my head back and down the shot, feeling the lukewarm liquid burn its way through my throat. Bringing my head up, I catch Paige’s gaze once again, and this time I don’t look away.

Suddenly my view of her is obscured as a group of Jalen’s friends come from the hallway with his birthday cake. Everyone gathers around Jalen, me on his right side and Paige on his left while Jalen holds the cake in the middle. We quickly sing happy birthday, and he blows out his candles. He turns to me to go in for a kiss, but I catch sight of Paige behind him and end up swerving his kiss.

“Yo.. seriously you good babe?” Jalen spews sort of irritated.

“Fine! I’m fine,” I squeak out, “Just…”

My gaze falls over to Paige, seeing her fight back a smile or maybe a chuckle at the sight of me rejecting Jalen’s kiss.

“… distracted.”

“Uh.. cool, okay,” I see him look to his friend group.

“I’m just gonna go and talk with the boys for a minute,” and he presses a brief kiss to my cheek.

“Have fun!” I turn around and try to yell over the music, but I can tell he’s already forgotten about me.

When I look back, I see Paige again. She makes prolonged eye contact then trails her eyes to the porch outside. Cocking her head towards the door as if to say “let’s talk out here” and promptly turns around and heads out the back doors.

I wait a few minutes before heading out to follow her because as much as I long to talk with her, I’m not trying to look desperate. Slowly but surely, I make my way over to the doors, pushing them open to see Paige leaning with her forearms on the railing.

“What are you following me out here for?” Paige teases turning her head with a smirk. I laugh quietly, not knowing how to continue the conversation.

She stands up straight, turning around to face me, leaning her back on the railing, crossing her feet and arms.

“You're trying to be shy so bad, get your ass over here,” She laughs.

I throw my hands up defensively, my voice pitching up a little bit, “I’m not being shy! I just don’t know what to say right now.”

Paige reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling me entirely too close to her. “You don’t have to be so weird, it’s just me,” she says softly while caressing my fingers.

“I just- I.. I don’t know! Everything’s just so complicated right now,” I confess.

“Well talk to me about it,” she continues caressing my fingers, which makes it increasingly hard to think straight.

“I can’t.”

“Why not, mamas?”

That god damn nickname.

“I can’t because it’s about you.”

“What about me?”

“I can’t say! I just- it’s like- If I say how I really feel about.. you know everything, It’s gonna be real, and I’m not sure if I want it to be real.”

“Ma, you’re not making any sense right now.”

“I know!” I throw my hands up in frustration, I feel hot and flustered, and Paige being less than two feet from me isn’t making it any better.

Paige grabs my chin, bringing me closer and forcing eye contact.

“Hey, hey, look at me. Seriously breathe through it, you’re okay,” She says calming me down. “Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

I take a deep breath and back away from Paige slightly, letting the word vomit take its course.

“Every time I see you, my heart races, and my palms get all sweaty. I try to play it cool, you know. But let's be real, I am desperate. Desperate to talk to you, to be near you, to just be in your presence. And when I finally gather the courage to make my way over to you, my knees feel like jelly, and my words get all jumbled up. But you! You just stand there with that smirk on your face, teasing me, and you know you have this effect on me, you love it. I know you do.

And then you show up to Jalen’s party, making all the faces and giving me ‘fuck me’ eyes, and it’s just- it’s a lot to deal with! So I come out here to shut it down, but you make it so fucking hard by pulling me closer, rubbing my fingers and shit, making it impossible for me to think straight. And then by asking me what's on my mind, what's bothering me, you’ve become a better partner to me in ten minutes than Jalen ever has in these past five months.

And I know I should just spill my heart out to you, which I quite literally am doing right now, and tell you how I feel and hope for the best. But it's not that simple. I am scared, scared of losing you, of ruining our friendship, of making things awkward between us. But I can't help the way I feel, Paige. I just feel like the biggest asshole for doing this to Jalen because even though he’s not the best boyfriend, he’s still a good guy. I don’t know…”

I take a deep breath after that, looking at Paige’s face for any sign of disgust.

“Aniyah, I…” she starts.

“See, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I told you it was stupid! I knew you didn’t feel the same, and I opened my mouth anyways,” I quickly backtrack.

“Paige, I’m sorry, I’m just acting all crazy because Gigi’s birthday dinner's in a few days, and I have an early exam tomorrow, just super busy with things! Again, so sorry I-“

I’m quickly cut off by the feeling of Paige’s lips crashing onto mine and her arms wrapping around my waist.

“Don’t apologize for anything,” she breathes out in between kisses.

After a good minute or two of deep kisses, we break apart with our foreheads touching. I bring my arms around her neck while hers stay around my waist, rubbing the material of my black mini dress.

The air around us feels charged with electricity as we stand there, our breaths mingling in the warm night air. Paige's touch sends shivers down my spine, and I find myself lost in the moment, forgetting everything else except her and the connection between us.

"Aniyah," Paige whispers, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of music and chatter from the party.

"Yeah?" I respond softly, my heart still racing from the intensity of our kiss.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she admits, her blue eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation or regret.

“Same,” I smile, and we both laugh.

“This… this is not a good idea,” I sigh out.

“Probably,” she jokes. “But I really wanna kiss you again, so maybe let’s have this conversation in the morning,” Paige tilts her head back down to kiss me again.

I squeal, “Paige! Hold on, Jalen’s still here. So is literally everyone else.”

“C’monnn.. Jalen’s probably blacked out or cross-faded by now. Let’s just sneak past everybody…” She leans down, kissing up my neck.

“I… Paige..” I breathe out.

“Hm?”

“Seriously.. hold on two seconds. Just let me check on him.”

She rolls her eyes sassily, gripping my waist again, “Fine.”

I pull her hands off my waist, interlocking our fingers and dragging her with me back into the house full of drunken young adults. We continue to weave our way through the house finally getting to the room packed full of loud frat guys, including Jalen.

As Paige predicted, Jalen’s 6’3 self passed out on the couch surrounded by his friends in equal states.

“I fuckin’ told you dude,” Paige nudges me with her elbow.

“Shut up!” I laugh turning around and pushing her back slightly.

She grips my wrist, pulling me into her body. “Now can we…? You know..” she says smirking.

I burst out laughing, “Yes! Jesus, you—horndog.”

“The fuck is a horndog, bruh?” She replies chuckling.

“Girl I don’t know! And by the way, don’t call me ‘bruh’ when you’re trying to shove your fingers ins-“

Slapping a hand over my mouth, “Okay okay!”

We both laugh to ourselves as we stumble up the stairs with our mouths attached, bumping into walls and pictures along the way. Finally reaching my room and falling through the doorway.

[tsukimefuku]

old regrets and guilt ridden pasts (2) ꕥ higuruma hiromi

part 1 → this part → part 3 (soon) | mdni!

summary: you get home, only to find that hiromi is there ready to talk after your failed attempt to open up about your past. he intends to confront you on that, among other things.

tags: +18!, non-explicit! sex scenes, implied smut, f!reader, established relationship higuruma x reader, little to no cursing, reader is kind of emotionally stunted, romance, mentions of death, grief, angst, fluff, hurt + comfort (a lot of comfort, this is healing).

wc: 1.8k

notes etc.: heavy spoilers for "sand and snow" readers. this might be the loveliest thing i've written to date. thank you so much @redlikerozez for betaing it 🧡 written to the sound of running up that hill (kate bush) and heart skipped a beat (the xx) - the second one is the song that inspired the main scene. as always, i write flawed characters that can (and will) sometimes be assholes, but they're trying their best.

ꕥ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

When you came inside your apartment, there were no lights on. However, from the open door to your bedroom, you could see that Hiromi was laying down on your bed, probably fast asleep by this point.

Defeated, you left your things on the table and silently got in the room, stepping inside the bathroom to wash away all the grime and dirt (and hurt) from a godawful day.

'Godawful day' is definitely a good name for having memories of people long gone stirred up and thrown at your face, reviving your grief all over again.

You were still feeling guilty for not having talked to Hiromi about it, unable to not shut him out, yet again.

Why do I keep doing this? I'm such a jerk.

Upon finishing your shower, you came back into the room, and slid yourself into comfortable clothing before laying down beside him. Hiromi had his back turned to you, but he must've felt you on the bed, because he didn't take long to roll himself on the mattress and look at you.

He seemed upset, and with good reason.

"You could have entrusted me with your pain too, you know," Hiromi began, not giving you much time to muster up anything to say. Not even a good night.

You exhaled slowly, trying to collect your thoughts around it all. This day was an absolute rollercoaster of emotions.

"For you to learn my pain, I’d have to explain it, and I just... It is hard to explain exactly what happened and remembering that day," you offered. "Aside from me, Nanami is the only one who also saw it happen."

Hiromi considered what you said for a moment, but you could see the resolute way in which he softly shook his head.

"Still. I can’t fight you every step of the way for you to let me in. I’m your boyfriend."

The word lingered in the atmosphere around you.

He was, in fact, your boyfriend. You had been dating for a while then.

"We’re supposed to share these kinds of things so that we can be there for each other," he stated, a chide with a plead for understanding, while his thumb came up to press softly against your chin.

"I… I know. I’m sorry."

And you were, truly and deeply sorry, for everything. For pushing him into going along with that stupid idea of letting you inside his domain to get rid of your cursed technique temporarily, for retreating back into yourself when things grew dire, and for not letting him in when he expressly asked you to.

"What are you so afraid of?" Hiromi asked, in earnest.

You took some time to think about his question.

What were you so afraid of, after all, that you couldn't let him in — or at least felt like it, many times? 

Then, you realized.

"I'm scared that… That you will leave me too," you began, "I'm terrified that I will have opened myself up, all vulnerable and shit, and then for some reason, I'm left alone again. That's a recurring theme in my life."

"My love, in case that ever happens, keeping me at arms length won’t make it hurt any less."

You chuckled bitterly.

"Funny you should say that. I said the same thing earlier today."

Hiromi edged himself closer softly under the covers, approaching you gently.

"It takes one to know one, right?" he offered, in a kind and loving voice.

"I guess it does," you answered with a minute smile on your face.

"So, will you let me in now?" he inquired, holding your gaze. "Please."

You knew he'd surely be aware of at least the gist of the story, due to the evidence inside the envelope he never got to open before you confessed to your brother's "murder".

Still, it was different. He had to hear you say it, tell him the whole story.

So, you inhaled deeply, ready to dive in the murky lake of your past, before proceeding.

"My brother. He was…" considering for a moment, there was no word that could really convey it. Not entirely. You settled for "everything."

A sigh.

"He was… The sun to my moon. My brother was the laughter, the joy, the silly jokes, the shoes thrown around the house, the noise, the annoyance, the smell of curry in the kitchen, the helping hand, the coming home to, no matter how dire things got."

Silence.

"And then, in one night, there was… none of him anymore. Nothing, just his cold dead body laying on the ground."

A moment that felt like ten.

"I… We were twins, and a part of me, I guess… just died with him. I don’t think I’ll ever get it back. So here I am, still living with this hole inside me, where some piece used to be. His piece."

Hiromi stayed quiet for a second, pulling your knuckles kindly against his lips.

"My sun is gone, and I'm drifting, untethered. I…" You took a heavy huff of air inside your lungs. Yet, you were still breathless, the ache weighing on your thorax like a hydraulic press.

"This grief is like a tar pit, and no matter what I do, this faceless monster just keeps sucking me under." 

Your last words dropped to the drum of a eulogy, the one you never got to do.

His palm descended lightly on your cheek as the night breeze gently brushed over the window. The room was dark, dimly lit by moonlight and streetlamps bleeding through the curtain, but it became remarkably quiet. Silent.

Cotton filled ears while the world stopped moving for a second, waiting under a muted heartbeat.

One. Two. Three. Four beats.

His gaze softened — rather than darkened — as his lips approached, all pacify, and yearning, and empathy, and commiseration. Upon contact, your eyes fluttered into a deeper dimness, letting your mind drift around, away and back again, as he began his first attempt to tether you.

You may have lost your sun, but you wouldn't keep drifting away, not anymore.

He wouldn't let that happen.

My love…

Yes?

Eyes on me.

One. Two. Three. Four beats.

Okay.

Dexterous hands pulled you back to Earth, drawing you deeper into his orbit when they fit themselves securely and unfaltering against your waist.

Warm digits kneaded over the celestial wanderer drowned in the tar pit of painful remembrance.

Your senses thickened, your pupils grew wider, and your touch found the nape of his neck, seeking the halo of his comfort.

He was always so comfortable.

Just like coming home to.

He felt at home in you, too.

Another kiss. Gentler. Kinder.

The dark against your fluttered-shut eyelids didn't steal you away from him again, though. He had placed himself firmly around you, with an inevitable gravitational pull, all understanding, warm and welcoming, with the soft press of his entire body against yours.

Your senses heightened — you smelled him, touched him, heard him, felt him. The rhythm of his breath, now softly hitched. His chest, up and down, pulsing with longing. His skin, silvery glow under the moonlight. 

Hiromi smelled…

Well, he smelled like Hiromi.

The best smell there was.

Earthly bound, finally.

His mouth, teeth, lips, all made their way to slit themselves against the edge of your jaw.

May I?

Please.

One, two, three, four beats.

A sharp exhale leaves your lips as his teeth sink against the softness of your chin, crawling up to your mouth, hot breaths mixing with one another, two stardust clouds melting together.

He bit your bottom lip and let it go, then brushed his own mouth against yours. So feathery. So delicate.

Another kiss.

You lock against each other with little to no exploration — you've walked these paths before. You do so with the soft embrace of familiarity. The velvety reassurance of known lovers.

All to the gravitational beat that surrounded you both.

You grasped each other's hands against your clothes, and gentle as could be, the fabric slowly unraveled itself from your bodies, sliding their delicate way down the floor, forgotten.

Hiromi began nosing his way down your skin, but your hands cupped his jaw, pulling him back.

A pause.

Four heartbeats.

Eyes on me, remember?

A huff, almost a laugh, and the kindest peck.

Okay, my love.

His hand made its way under the duvet, all electric, and liquid, and cold, and hot, pressing the air out of your lungs. He was happy to inhale you in, open-mouthed and muddy, as you hitched and whimpered to his rhythm.

You were quick to fall apart, undoing to him, arching your entire body. Almost losing yourself.

But he pulled you back, the other hand resting over your shoulder blades, remembering you.

Eyes on me.

As you tried descending yourself, he held you back. 

This time, it would be all about you.

Gently pulling you under, his thumbs brushed against your shoulders with tenderness. His eyes flickered with trepidation and affection, as your foreheads pressed to one another. Hiromi pushed and sunk slowly into you, hooked nose snuggled beside yours.

To say he was making love to you wouldn’t be wrong, but paled in comparison to this.

He was loving you tenderly, honestly, just so you could take some of that love he poured into you and give it to yourself, filling the gaping hole left behind by an abrupt absence. The forever and always empty seat in the front row of your life.

He pleaded internally, please, may this be enough.

He was loving you so wholeheartedly, giving you all the warmth you offered to most people but yourself, that you could’ve wept — you probably did, the dampening on his cheek brushing against yours made that evident.

"Touch me." Love me.

"Yes." I do. I will.

Hiromi tried, kind and gentle, loving this grief into vanishing, willing it into non-existence. 

My love. My whole, entire love.

But he couldn't, it was engraved in black all over your flesh, your bones, and your soul.

Each kiss while he wrapped his arms around you, tucking you underneath him, was an attempt at chipping away on your armor of pain and loss.

As he rocked your hips gently, he imprinted on your skin every inch of affection you needed to soothe yourself, but you were finding it difficult to pick up these pieces and ensemble the puzzle.

You found it hard to let all your guilt go, after all. It was already an old companion of sorts.

Drinking your voice in as you tipped over the fall, he thought for a moment, could I steal her pain away?

He'd do it in a single heartbeat if he could, if only to repay you for saving him after he had gone past the point of no return.

Some days after that, coming back to this moment, you would finally understand other people's shortcomings from a deeply personal and subjective perspective.

It was hard, after all, being forgiven without forgiving yourself.

Tag list (that I keep forgetting, sorry): @yammy-yammy-yama @g-kleran @otomesass

Reblog divider by @benkeibear

[mayariviolet]

𝐏𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐞𝐚 / 𝐈’𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐧.

Episode Two of First Love / Late Spring.

summary: “You believe me like a god; I'll destroy you like I am.” // “Please don’t look at me. I can see it in your eyes; he keeps looking at me. Tell me, what have you done?” //

-

Some letters that were addressed to you dated before and after Suguru defected, still in their sealed envelopes.

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cw: f!reader x Geto, mentions of murder, blood, mental instability, swearing, suggestive themes, angst, Geto being over protective.

a/n: Hi… sorry it took me so long to update this my cousin died in March and I haven’t been the same since… Thank you all for being so patient! Also, so sorry if I forgot to tag someone on this update. My mind has been all over the place. Gonna also link the songs the titles are based on so y’all can see the vision fr. Also on Ao3.

wc: 5.9k

🏷️: @jeanboyjean @tacobellfreshavocado @r0ckst4rjk

August 2007

One week before he defected.

Dear Friend,

Do you ever think about that saying, "people are captains of their own fate?" I do. Then again, what about those who think they're "captains of their fate." Or even worse- a fully prepared fool who still gets it wrong. Where do these people end up? Were they predestined to fail?

Anyhow, I think I'm about to make a big mistake.

Well, I've been thinking about this decision for a while. In general, I've been thinking a lot. You've probably noticed my absent stares and maybe you said something in regards to how I look. But I'm having trouble remembering. If you didn't notice, I don't blame you. Even though I want you to notice. You've been going gone through a lot. But then again, so have I.

Yuki and I had a conversation that stuck with me. If you're wondering, it's not about what my kind of woman is. I'm still embarrassed that you overheard that. Even more so, I didn't give a direct answer. However, I don't think my coy, halfway glances at you gave away too much…

When you pulled Haibara away for something I can't remember now (I think you were asking me to come take a look at your door), Yuki plopped down next to me. She was spread out obnoxiously, and my eyes were too heavy to see her expression.

Thus, I was resigned to her rants and entertained some of her ideas. Somewhere in that conversation it brought to light some questions that had been rattling around my brain after what happened with Rika. I'm trying to push away those uncertainties.

I should clear the air right now- you did what you could. What happened or did not happen is not your fault. I will tell you that a million times- however many you need.

If anything, it's my fault for not being there for you. I will always be there for you. It might be in a way that doesn't make sense, but I am there nonetheless.

Sorry about making excuses and skipping our movie nights. Sleeping has been difficult. Maybe it's because you're not here. I don't want you to worry about me- but I also do at the same time. It's an odd feeling, wanting something or someone, having multiple opportunities to do something about it, and letting time slip you by either way.

As I'm writing this, I remember a conversation with your mom about how "right now time is your friend. But later, time will be your enemy."

Maybe tomorrow we can have a conversation about how I'm feeling. I always feel at ease talking to you.

I hope that feeling is mutual.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

Four days before he defected.

Dear Friend,

Uhm, unfortunately, our conversation did not… go well. That's putting it lightly. When I told you about my plan, the expression plastered on your face was something I would carry with me forever. It was agonizing to see you look at me with such disgust.

My chest was tightening, and I could feel you pulling at my hair sharply as you braided it before letting go. Watching you stomp out of my bedroom door through the reflection of my rickety vanity mirror, I have never felt worse in my life, but at the same time, so firm in the choice I'm making—a paradox in real time.

I didn't say it in my last letter, but I'm leaving Jujutsu Society and this bullshit mission made by people who probably need help wiping their ass.

Sorry, that last part was a little profane, but I know you agree with it. I mean, what good is there in protecting people who don't even appreciate what you do? I spent a lot of time reflecting on what happened in the last year and a half, outweighing the pros and cons. The pros obviously involved you, but the cons also involved you.

There's also the fact that I spend a lot of time sitting in my dark room- until the sun is barrelling over the horizon and seeping into my blinds. I wish you had been there during those moments. I'll think about our childhood, your birthday party, how we began writing letters, the day we got recruited to become Jujutsu sorcerers and the overwhelming optimism you had.

We had an opportunity to escape that hell hole town, and we took it without even thinking that staying there might have been less painful than leaving. Sure, we had a couple of surface-level friends, but at the end of the day, we had each other.

God, I wish that was enough.

I think about how happy people must be living in their ignorance, and I get angry again. So, I write. Primarily to you, even though I never express my frustrations. I'm infuriated that no matter what we do, how much we I excorsise curses (that, if born from my own emotions, would definitely be a Special Grade in its own right), it's not enough for those gas bags.

Yes, I might be considered one of the 'strongest,' but I don't want to be, at least, for people who don't deserve it. It's annoying, though, how you've maintained your optimism all of these years.

I shouldn't say annoying.

It's endearing how you want to nurture the world I want to burn to the ground. Well, 'burning to the ground' is a little extreme. I should say I want to make the world a better place for you and me, not those monkeys.

Emphasis on only for you and me.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

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September 2007

The day he defected.

Dear Friend,

Well, what's done is done. I'm leaving today. I'd like to say that I'm going without any regrets, but I have one stupid thing sticking around my head. Yaga asked if there was anyone who might be interested in accompanying me on this mission I've been assigned. He kept glancing over my shoulder.

I didn't need to turn around to see who he was talking about. You and Satoru were doing some training or something of the sort. My fist tightened when Satoru told you a stupid joke, and you laughed.

I mean, he's not that funny…

I wasn't mad that you were laughing at his joke, obviously. I was furious because, for the first time since we were kids, I felt disconnected from my body. To be honest, I've been feeling like this for a while. Like I was floating above it all, and what I saw was a future without us, me, you.

You should know by now what I told Yaga.

I'll leave my door open with a note in the hopes you can understand. Or even better yet, come find me after this mission is done.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

Two and a half weeks after he defected.

Dear Friend,

Sorry I haven't written in a while. I've been preoccupied with this mission and tying up some loose ends. I'll explain later, please don't mind the blood on this letter. I didn't write for a while since I half expected to see you with flushed cheeks chasing after me.

I should've known better than to wait for you.

Alas, laying low due to tying up said loose ends is proving to be quite time-consuming. So here's a recap of what I've gotten up to:

Finished the mission (easy work)

Adopted twin girls (not easy work)

Visited our hometown

Saw my parents (not easy work)

Visited your parents (kind of easy work?)

I checked in on that grandma we used to help (unfortunately, she's sick, so my visit was brief).

I explained to my parents the predicament I've found myself in (See the part where I said 'not easy work').

Argued with my parents and then yours.

Settled into my childhood bedroom from complete exhaustion of arguing with those monkeys.

Set a plan to finish up with my loose ends…

I hope you're well. The rain is washing away any residual blood (not mine) on my things. I'll have to stop by a pharmacy to get some hydrogen peroxide to lift any stains the rain might miss.

Drink some tea, and get some sleep. If you're missing me like I am missing you, just sleep with that sweater I gave you. Although it's not me, I hope it will be enough in the meantime. In a roundabout way, it's like I'm still there holding you while you sleep, right? At least, that's how I like to think about it.

Don't worry. I'm not mad that you kept it; I always thought it looked better on you than it did on me.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru

(P.S.) My letters will be spread more from here on out. I don't want to accidentally leave anything that might make it easier for someone to find my whereabouts. That doesn't mean I'm not thinking about you. I'm always thinking about you.

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October 2007

One month after he defected.

Dear Friend,

It feels like every time I write to you, I apologize for not saying enough. Which is funny, because that's how we I started writing letters to each other in the first place. Well, kinda. From now on, I'll keep my apologies to a minimum.

It's hard to keep track of the days that are passing, but I know that by now, Satoru has told you what I've done. It's completely necessary, by the way.

Killing my parents. Killing yours. Killing that grandmother. She was sick anyway.

I would like to think I put her out of her misery. I killed whatever remained of that god-forsaken, hell-hole town. I'll spare the details of what happened when I exterminated our my old life.

Just know that I had no remorse for killing your father and only a little for your mother. They died knowing you were okay and, unfortunately, with a smile on their face. I was surprised that they didn't immediately turn into curses. I guess you've been talking to them. Or were talking to them.

When I left that town bloodied and empty, I felt like a bird finally escaping a circus master's cage. Doing all of this will make it easier to forget. It was the closing chapter of a book I had no pleasure in reading. Please don't thank me for what I've done.

Right now, Mimiko and Nanako (the twin girls I saved during that mission) are having a hard time sleeping. I'm watching their furrowed brows and how their mouths twitch in their sleep. I guess even in their dreams, they can't rest. Sounds like someone I know knew.

In about five minutes, one of them will wake up and then another. I'll need to tend to their troubled minds soon enough. Before that happens, I will say sorry one last time. Sorry.

Knowing you, you're probably waiting up for me, probably in your room, probably waiting with Satoru, whose sweaty palms and jittery disposition betray his cool facade.

Maybe Satoru will take my absence as an opportunity to teach you about Digimon. It will be nice for you to take up another hobby. Or get into gardening again. I remember how much you wanted to start.

Eat well, get some sleep (or try to), and be kind to yourself. At least enough for both of us. Hell knows I haven't done that in a while.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

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November 2007

Two months since he defected.

Dear Friend,

There was something in my last letter that I forgot to mention. It was one of the things that I told Satoru. I said that I hated righteous people- which is true to some capacity.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

Two and a half months after he defected.

Dear Friend,

We're getting rain again. I realized that I might be repeating the same mistakes as your monkey parents by being too proud to lease a decent place. But things are getting harder to maneuver through what little connections to jujutsu society I have without tipping off any higher-ups. Mei Mei offered me some jobs that she said 'wasn't worth her time for the money.'

I guess I'm worthless.

But money is money, and I have two daughters now. Is it possible for curses to smell even worse when the holidays come around? I suppose so- with all the lonely people without any family to celebrate with. You can't help but think that they may have isolated themselves. I don't blame them.

Long story short, I've scraped up enough money to lease a place away from the higher-ups. Should I start looking for furniture made by sorcerers? Or should I swallow my pride and just buy some mid-tier premade stuff? Second hand? But then again- there's the issue of residual curse energy. But I could always take care of that.

I'm feeling exhausted again.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

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February 3rd 2008

Six months after he defected.

Dear Friend,

Maybe it's the nostalgia, maybe it's the first birthday I'm celebrating without you, but I keep reliving that weekend prior to it all. That house in Okinawa. The moon was hanging in the sky while the stars pricked the darkness, shining brightly. Sounds of waves crashing against the rocky shore, pulling whatever footprints or human error into the black abyss.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky. You insisted that Satoru get some sleep and that we take turns keeping watch. He shook his head and stupidly emphasized that he was fine. Satoru's heavily lidded expression did very little to disguise his fatigue- both of us could tell.

I was watching you, and you were watching him. I felt sick.

Satoru suggested that you get some rest first since you planned the whole trip for Rika, and you scowled before trudging over to the couch, insisting that you weren't tired. I wanted to grab your face and kiss that annoyance away, over and over again- maybe a little more. When you inevitably passed out, I glanced over to Satoru, who looked more alert now that you were asleep. It was like the task of keeping Rika alive had the same level of importance as dog sitting.

I wondered if you ever noticed. Or noticed that I've shared that same expression since we were kids.

I guess there's no use in ruminating. Today, I ran some errands, nothing major. I had a cake that Mimiko and Nanako decorated; they started calling me 'Papa Geto.' It's sweet.

I forgot to mention that while I was rearranging some furniture, a journal that I have kept since we were kids got knocked down from a bookshelf and pathetically fell on the ground. Mimiko and Nanako bolted like a feral tanuki.

I was mildly horrified at what they might have seen (before remembering that they aren't super great at reading yet, and then I relaxed slightly).

What happened next was probably worse than some scribbled preteen angst. They found the picture of us on your birthday, where I had your birthday cake all over my face. That was the first of many years when my parents bought you a birthday cake.

My girls laughed at me (why is it that when a child laughs at you, it's exponentially more mortifying than if an adult was?) but were incredibly kind to you.

After scolding them for not respecting other people's belongings (ironic given the subject matter of the photo), they apologized and asked who the 'pretty girl' in the picture was.

Embarrassment was replaced with excitement as I got to talk about you.

Anyhow, the money I've made from expelling curses prior to defecting is depleting rather quickly, so I need to come up with some plan.

Sincerely,

Suguru.

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April 2008

Eight months since he defected.

Dear,

Dear Friend,

Spring is here, and I have taken over the former Star Plasma Vessel Church, or cult, or whatever those idiots called it. In addition to having some stable footing, there's a roof over my head that I don't have to thank some monkey landlord for giving me it. It's very cozy, to say the least. Which I think was the realtors code for 'small and borderline inhabitable.'

It'll be some time before I'm able to build a decent following, but those who decided to stay will do so for now. Mimiko and Nanako are being homeschooled for the time being- until I find a school that is okay with my standards.

I was grocery shopping the other day, and I found some green tea that you might like. Before I could even think, it was in my basket next to some sugary cereal for my girls. I was mentally shooting myself in the foot because I'm on a budget (at least for a while).

I don't even like green tea, for goodness sake. But that night, I found myself fixing two cups, one with a dollop of sweetened condensed milk and a spoonful of honey, stirred counter-clockwise. The other one was disgustingly plain, and I steeped the leaves a little too long.

I drank the plain tea, stewing in my impulsivity. The other cup was a milky brown; it was unappealing and painfully sweet, yet I found a warmth spilling over me. I must have been half asleep, but somewhere in my delirium, I thought I heard you scold me for taking a sip of your drink.

My eyes shot open immediately, and I frantically looked around the kitchen. Had some monkey snuck up on me? I shudder at the thought. But that wasn't the case. Just my mind playing tricks on me. I should get more sleep.

I hope you've been getting some, too- you need to get stronger. Anyway, I finished the rest of my tea and grabbed the other cup, which was ice cold. I poured the drink and watched it trickle down the steel sink- before crawling into bed.

I don't know why I thought that was worth mentioning.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

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June 2008

Ten months since he defected.

Dear Friend,

Do you ever think about how dreams can be worse than reality? Writing that down seems silly because you know more than anyone, and considering I've held you until we fell asleep, I should know the answer. In truth, whenever I held you, I thought it would be a good opportunity to say things to you that I couldn't do while you were awake, as if these letters weren't enough!

I used to say really embarrassing things and a sadistic part of me wished you would wake up and ask me if I really meant what I said- but I digress.

It's hard to distinguish alcohol-laced dreams (brought upon by terrible dates the girls have insisted I go on) from memories. All that to say, I had a vivid dream (?) of how I think my first kiss went.

Autumn had brought about a cool night and an impulsive decision to sneak into an amusement park. We drunkenly went on this massive Ferris wheel, and you pulled out a cigarette and offered me a drag. I said no, and for some reason, we got into an argument and then sat in silence.

At some point, I thought to myself, "When will this ride stop?" then, by some miracle, it did! We sat in silence, and then I started smoking a cigarette too. Maybe because it felt cold in my dream, but the warm glow of nicotine and your body kept me warm. Then I kissed you.

Writing about this now… it's too clear to just be a dream. I hope it wasn't a dream. My youth seems so distant compared to where I am now.

The humidity is so oppressive. I feel like I'm soaking in my own sweat. It seems a little facetious to say that now. I keep recalling pockets of my adolescence. It's kind of like a gum packet you thought was empty, but when you go to dispose of it- there are actually three pieces left.

There's poetry in that somewhere, not to mansplain. Obviously.

Excuse my tangents; I'm still trying to recruit new curse users, not to mention pacifying the congregation at my Church, and my mind is so disorganized.

What's new, though?

Sincerely and with love always,

Suguru.

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September 2008

One year since he defected.

Dear, Friend,

Dear Friend,

I went on a walk the other day. The sun was just rising above the horizon, nothing was open, and everything was quiet except for the few stragglers who had missed the last train. Some of them reeked of curses and desperation; it's enough to make a person grow a second stomach and throw it back up.

I did collect some in passing (in case I need it later), but I found no joy in helping others who can't even help themselves. This is what we sorcerers were made for, right? Cleaning up shit that's not even ours? I'm getting sidetracked again.

If you're wondering about my influence over the former Star Plasma Church- it's going okay. Slowly but surely, I'll get a more extensive following. I cannot remember if I told you this, but I have decided to promote myself as a monk. I am relying on word of mouth and exorcising curses or "performing miracles," to gain some trust.

Anyhow, if I'm going to exorcise these curses, I'll make sure to get a steady income. I am a father, after all. Hopefully, there's something else to gain from that. But I can only do this for so long. Please remind me to think of a more permanent solution.

The sun is rising again.

Sincerely and with love always,

Suguru.

(P.S.) I know you can't ever remind me of anything, really, but like always I feel a little more at ease writing this down.

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December 2008

One year after, he defected.

Dear Friend,

Merry Christmas. Or, happy holidays. I've been keeping busy, and I hope you have been, too. Technically, this is my second Christmas / Holiday without you. It's still as weird as the first.

Actually, I don't know if it will ever get comfortable.

People say that the holidays are the worst for people like me. Exacerbated loneliness and the weather all contribute to an increase in curses. It's great money, but how useful is that?

I mean, you could have all the money in the world and still be miserable. Recently, I've started to gain traction from this stout millionaire who always seems to have a gang of curses around at all times.

We met by an unfortunate yet beneficial accident. Apparently, he's one of the few dimwits who can see curses. He's been aimlessly wandering about, trying to find someone to help, but no one believed him.

I was taking the girls to an optometrist appointment, and while I was finishing some paperwork, I overheard this screeching. Curiosity took over me, so I snuck a glance into the room behind the secretary's desk.

There was a massive commotion with several doctors trying to reassure that man I was talking about before. It turns out that he could see curses, and when no one was looking, I exorcised them for him. It was second nature to help someone so pathetic. He kept on calling me a miracle worker- insane! I guess I've been like that since I was little… However, he kept thanking me, and an idea popped into my head:

If I can get a steady number of people to pay for my miracles, I could make an obscene amount of money and have better insurance for separation from the higher-ups.

This man seems to come from money or considerable influence. Maybe he can be my test case. It's getting late now, so I should get some rest. I have to dress up as Santa for Mimiko and Nanako.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and a Happy Birthday to Satoru.

Sincerely,

Suguru.

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March 2009

Two years since he defected.

Dear Friend,

Recently, I went on a hike. It was okay and long. The ground was wet, and when I got home, I found mud everywhere. I'll tell you about the trail. It was beautiful. A murmuring stream, the wind dancing through the budding trees and a dusty rose sky. You would have loved the flowers. Whenever I see anything flourishing after a tough season, I think about you.

Despite being filled with tourists, non-sorcerers, and whatever, I was able to enjoy the sunset. Mimiko and Nanako had extra tutoring lessons, so I took advantage of the little free time I had. However, after being constantly bombarded with questions about anything and seemingly endless children's movies, the quiet that followed disturbed me.

Once I reached the end of the trail, I found myself eager to see my girls. But the hike was long, and I thought it would be a waste if I didn't stay for a minute or two. I thought it would be nice to take some pictures, so I did that before locating a place to sit. I found a wooden bench tucked underneath this wisteria tree (how it grew there is a mystery). My mind wandered aimlessly; funnily enough, I just now remembered we had that assignment due before I left.

I apologize for not doing my part. Do you think we could still submit it? Haha.

Anyways, while sitting on a bench, I overheard two people talking. It was a boring conversation, definitely not worth eavesdropping on (you'd probably say otherwise), but for whatever reason, I decided to tune into the tail end of their conversation.

One of them had been blurting out facts in order to keep a dead conversation going. Some of it was interesting, but most of them were things that they probably saw on a popsicle stick. Their friend nodded along, listening intently. This went on for a while until the one who kept spewing facts (let's call them popsicles) said something along the lines of:

"Have you ever thought about how we're a mosaic of every person we've ever met, talked to, or loved?"

Even though I don't know them (nor do I care to), that was probably the most intellectual thing they've ever said in their lives. I thought to myself and laughed.

But then I felt a sort of heaviness in my chest. The more I observed them from my peripheral, the more I could see bits and pieces of the habits they shared. How they playfully hit one another after cracking a joke, covering their mouth after saying something slightly offensive. It made me nostalgic.

On my way back down the trail, I thought about you. It was nearly dark now. I thought about how if I was a mosaic of everyone I ever loved:

"How many pieces of you make up my whole?"

"Which parts of me do you keep?"

I'm glad I'm never sending these letters; I'm probably better off not knowing these answers.

Sincerely and with love,

Suguru.

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November 2010

Three years since he defected.

Dear Friend,

I've realized that it's not love I felt for you but obsession. It's harsh, cruel and painful to put you through that. For me, you were never home. That much is true. Which isn't to say you weren't something. You are a temple, and I am a sinner. If I were to step into the Holy Land you so graciously keep tidy, I would only desecrate it with my ideals.

Unfortunately, I do not want to bathe in the river to clean myself of these thoughts. So, I will seek refuge elsewhere. You deserve that after everything.

Sincerely,

Suguru

══════════════════

April 2015

Eight years since he defected.

Dear Friend,

I don't think I'll ever get tired of writing to you. Even though you'll never read these, it's stupid how only now have I realized what your father meant when he said it was easier to write things than to say them out loud. Time really is my enemy now. My previous letters mentioned how well Mimiko and Nanako are doing in school. I just thought I would say that again. I'm so incredibly proud of them.

Maybe by now, you have kids of your own- I know that you'll treat them with kindness rather than the contempt your father displayed. I thought about my parents again and their role in my life, but not for long.

You probably saw them as a safe place; to me, they were just there. A starting point to the inevitable destruction brought about by my existence. Did you know that I thought I could always save them? They trusted me to do so and keep you safe as well. Funny how life throws us around.

Work is exhausting, and during the slower days, I let my mind wander to the possible outcomes had I stayed at Jujutsu Tech. Would I be a teacher? Would I be a good teacher? Are we both teachers? You're a patient person- I know that you would be a good teacher. A faculty favourite. How promising would my students be? What would our daily routine be like? How often do we get to see each other in between classes? Are we still friends?

Are we together?

Are we in love?

From what I've gathered, you've taken a bit of a leave…

I'll save myself the hurt of writing the reason why. We both know, and unfortunately, I understand.

There's a storm barrelling towards the Church. Actually, they've issued a squall warning. The skies are rolling with grey plump clouds. I wish I could tell you what a squall is- it sounds dumb, but apparently, it's dangerous.

Sincerely,

Suguru.

══════════════════

September 2016

Nine years since he defected.

Dear Friend,

Allies seem to come from the most unlikely places. That man I was talking about before turned out to be a great asset. I've gotten more followers and even an assistant out of it! If you're wondering, yes, it's vital.

One thing I hate more than people who cannot use jujutsu is paperwork. It takes up so much of my time. Luckily, my secretary has been doing most of the heavy lifting now. We've been working long hours together, and to be honest, I don't mind. She's smart and beautiful. Her attitude kind of reminds me of you.

Sorry about the short letters- historically, mine have been longer than yours, but I have been planning something big that needs my attention. Not to mention, Mimiko and Nanako are entering their phase where everything I do seems to make them cringe.

Years ago, I said that children laughing at you was more mortifying than adults. I still believe that to be true; however, both cannot hold a candle to the shame and quickly depleting self-worth a couple of teenagers laughing at you but promptly saying, "Oh, it's nothing" can do.

My family is growing, not in the way yours is. Or so I've heard.

It fills me with so much joy to be surrounded by other like-minded people. People who believe that in order to obtain peace or a brief period of one- non-curse users should cease to be.

My heart is overflowing- but there's still a piece where you always will be.

Sincerely,

Suguru.

══════════════════

November 2017

Ten years since he defected.

Dear Friend,

Do you ever think about who gets to determine the natural outcome of anything? Is it fate? Is it man? I suppose it's hard to say since answers vary from person to person. I would like to think that it's around sixty percent individual choice and forty percent chance.

I mentioned years ago about a man who could see curses; well, yesterday, I killed him. His use to me finally ran its course. I do thank him for all he's done and the people he's brought to me. My plans are coming to fruition. The Higher Ups have been tracking my movements and expanding my influence. I bet you have already had a debrief on what to expect.

I could see how, on your end, I'm being irrational or unreasonable. But I argue that cleansing the world of non-sorcerers is the only solution. Ending their suffering will put an end to ours.

But God, what I would pay to hear what Yaga is saying! He's probably wearing those stupid sunglasses and cursing. Satoru has asked me to meet with him- probably to ask me, yet again, if I'm really going through with the Night Parade.

My answer remains firm: yes. He's probably going to tell me to stop and think about you.

Like I've said before and like I always tell Satoru, I always think about you. When I meet with Satoru, I'll ask him if he can pass along how I want to see you. The girls are calling me to take them out, so I'll perform my fatherly duties.

I hope you'll say yes. I need to see you at least once.

Sincerely,

Suguru.

══════════════════

December 2017

Three days before the Night Parade of 100 Demons.

Dear,

I must be some sort of pervert to believe that you would run away with me. I don't think pervert is the right word, but that's how I felt right then and there when you rejected me. In all fairness, I couldn't think appropriately after seeing you.

Then again, you must have some masochistic tendencies to agree to meet with me. Your hair looked beautiful, and the way the cigarette burning a bright cherry red hung on your cracked lips reminded me of that night on the Ferris Wheel, which, in fact, did happen.

I came across some old letters to confirm my hazy memory. When the snowflakes landed on your eyelashes, I just about melted, like when the sleepy snow makes its warm welcome for spring. The moon was casting shadows on your tired but beautiful face. You had a glow that made hearing you curse me out a tad more bearable.

But I'm rambling. You couldn't think about going to Shinjuku, right? I could never stop you, even more so now, but I can't back down. Not even for you- which I think was detrimental for us both ten years ago and now.

Seeing you standing next to Satoru, cursing at me, with his hand placed firmly on your hips with a face full of disdain, I think I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But that's not a proper death. You should be standing next to me!

I watched you walk away in the dark night with a sense of urgency, a new purpose. You will probably fight in your own way, but please let me do this.

I'm not asking you- I am begging you to let me take care of you one last time.

You might not believe me, but everything I have done until now, all the blood I have shed, has been for you. I promise I will spare your children (to be fair, raiding the Gojo estate would be a waste of good sorcerers), but I can't make any promises for anyone else who stands in my way.

It seems contradictory, but I know what I am doing is right.

When I write to you again, it will be something you can read- in the new world, and we will have all the time in the world. No longer beholden to curses, only each other.

Sincerely and with all my love,

Suguru.

a/n: Suguru Geto. The man that you were and the man that you became. I love you either way, my beautiful raven-haired, purple-eyed princess. We’re about half way there! Thank you all for being so patient these last couple of months🤍. Also, apologies for any inconsistencies, I have tried my best to remember the details of this story wah!

══════════════════

© Please do not copy or replicate my work. Inspiration is appreciated, but credit properly! ♡

[heybiji]

In reference to the last ask you posted! Do you mind going over your tips on role-playing as that active-type character and/or digging up the thread of conversation it seems the original asker was referring to? I'm so interested in your experience role-playing for both prep in possibly joining a game someday and also bc it sounds like such good character creation and general writing advice!!!! I tried checking you blog but didnt turn up anything that touched pn it more (No worries if not though!)

Sorry for this late response!

My advice is make characters that create opportunities for story.

Reacting to a story is fun! Reacting to a character is fun! But if you're always reacting then you're creating opportunity for other characters to react, so sometimes you gotta Act to let the other characters and the story React.

To do this, characters should all want something. And not something vague (like "to be happy"), it should be something more tangible, more specific, and everything else can stem from there. It'll guide your character naturally. It's their Motivation.

More under the cut (or skip to the end for more standard advice)

For example, my dnd character Dandelion wanted more than anything to go home. "Going home" meant a lot of things, yeah it means being happy, it means he wants to be with his family, it means he wants to be loved, it means he wants to feel safe, it means he wants to belong somewhere, but the tangible idea is "go home."

Because I knew this is what he wanted most of all it guided all his actions, and his actions for better or for worse all made sense because of it (and I made it clear that was what he wanted "on-screen" on multiple occasions). So anything that involved the idea of getting home would activate him, and he'd also deeply empathize with anyone and anything else away from home/away from family. Giving him one strong, clear motivation instantly made him an active participant in the story. This made him active with other characters too, any mention of home, any mention of family, any idea of not belonging, it drew him toward them.

(as a DM now this is also what I need more than anything, what's your hook? how can I tempt you? how can I make your character move forward? how can I make your character react? also characters that create opportunity for story take a LOT of work off the DM's shoulders in my experience, it shows you're engaged and it feels less like dragging a cat around on a leash haha like "are you enjoying this? do you want this? i don't know! please give me something!")

my more standard advice?

Be a good listener

Be present (in the moment)

Be curious

Be the biggest fan of all the characters

Put your story on-screen frequently, give people the opportunity to react to it and join in on it (this can be as simple as "my character's body language changes at the mention of 'home')

Create opportunities for the other characters to have their story on-screen (ask them questions! if you know what the character's buttons are and it makes sense in the moment, press them! listen to what they're saying, pay attention to what they're doing, and react to it)

Interact with the world! Interact with each other! And make these things mean something to your character!

Your character should make mistakes. Mistakes create opportunity for everyone.

If there's a genre, or theme, play toward them earnestly.

The more you RP, the better you'll get at it! It's a process and that's okay!

my little tip for knowing whether your character is Active vs Reactive: if the story were a musical, do they have an I Want song? do they have multiple moments for songs within the narrative? have they shared a duet with another character? do their songs change, evolve? songs happen for important moments in a musical so if you're not contributing to important moments, it may mean you're reacting more than you're acting. which is fine if you're playing a game solo and are granted access to the narrative by virtue of being the designated main character, but because RPing is collaborative storytelling, everyone should be doing their part!

[strongheartneteyam]

[ credits of the Neteyam pic go to cinetrix ]

Champagne Problems

Part 6

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!reader

CW: a lot of angst, tension between neteyam and reader, heartbroken neteyam, sexual tension, heartbroken reader, insecure neteyam, jealous reader, neteyam just won't leave reader's head, hurt/comfort (?), TRIGGER WARNING for some sensitive themes like reader showing signs of low self steem and not thinking she's worth it, friend group dynamic among reader, adeline and kate, kiri being sweet, reader misses neteyam and regrets dumping him, reader thinks she's protecting neteyam from hurt by staying away from him, spider makes an appearance, kiri being protective over neteyam's feelings, reader tells kiri she likes neteyam. Tell me if there's more, pls.

Here I come, finally updating this incredibly angsty fanfiction :') I hope y'all enjoy this. Writing this fic breaks my heart, guys… it feels raw, honestly. Maybe I'm just speaking like this bc I'm on my period + I'm listening to a sad Taylor Swift song but omg my heart aches rn

Not proofread. I'm sorry, babies, I'm dead rn. So freaking sleepy and finishing this at 5 am bc my mind just wouldn't let me sleep and kept forcing me to think about and write this chapter.

Part 5: The sand hurts my feelings

𓇼

It hits different 'cause it's you

I used to switch out these Kens, I'd just ghost

Rip the Band-Aid off and skip town like an asshole outlaw

Freedom felt like summer then on the coast

Now the sun burns my heart and the sand hurts my feelings

And I never don't cry at the bar

Yeah, my sadness is contagious

Hits Different (Taylor Swift)

𓇼

"Hey." Neteyam greeted you in a dry tone. He found it hard to look into your eyes so he just gazed rapidly into them and then kept his eyes on the ground.

His heart was broken, aching and his pride was shattered. Neteyam hated to see everybody around him looking at him with pity in their faces, knowing that he had been dumped by the girl he loved. He wondered if the boys - Lo'ak, Rotxo and Ao'nung - looked down on him now. Neteyam suddenly felt like he was not a good hypothetical mate. He had always thought he would make a good, reliable and loving mate to the girl he would one day choose to be his but you made him start doubting that after last night. He knew it was probably stupid but still he couldn't seem to get rid of those feelings.

You tried to hide your uneasiness but it was written all over your face.

"Hi." You answered Neteyam, your heart pounding in your chest, anxiety leaving your hands cold.

The pain you were causing Neteyam could be easily seen in the way his jaw clenched, in the way he weirdly looked insecure instead of confident as he always seemed to be. You wanted to say "I'm sorry", you wanted to say "Maybe I did the wrong thing when I refused to become your mate" but you had seen him with Munì. It was useless now, anyway.

Lo'ak looked at Neteyam, then back at you and then he would redo the whole thing all over again, like he was waiting for the both of you to exchange more words. Poor thing. He seemed even more tense than Neteyam and you.

"Rotxo, Ao'nung" Neteyam rapidly called, looking now at the Metkayina boys "Tonowari is waiting for us. Clan business." His voice was serious and seemed slightly annoyed, his face stern 

You wondered if Neteyam said "clan business" instead of giving more detail because you were sitting there too and he was mad at you. Well, you didn't blame him if that's how he felt. You deserved it. You could have been nicer to him this morning.

"Let's go!" Lo'ak spoke loudly, like he was trying to get out of that awkward situation as fast as he could

"Chill out, forest boy. We're going." Ao'nung teased and Rotxo laughed 

"I'm Metkayina now, fish lips. Stop calling me that." Lo'ak responded 

Frenemies indeed.

The boys left and your gaze was fixed on Neteyam's back as he walked away next to the other Metkayina. As you looked down at the beach floor, you wished that ache inside you would just vanish but life doesn't work that way.

When you looked up, you saw Tsireya's and Kiri's big feline eyes fixed on your face. It scared the crap out of you. They seemed even wider now.

"What?!" You sounded legitimately startled

"Neteyam told me and Lo'ak he was gonna ask you to be his mate at the party." Kiri stated

"And how the hell did every person in this tribe find out about that? Did he tell them too?" You didn't mean to sound rude but you really were overwhelmed by the situation

"It's just me, my brother and Rotxo. Only we know, other than Kiri and Lo'ak. My stupid brother overheard Kiri asking Neteyam how it had went, what answer you had given to Neteyam and he told Rotxo. I saw them laughing like idiots and asked what was so funny. That's when Ao'nung told me." Tsireya said, like she was sorry about the fact that so many people knew about yours and Neteyam's intimate business

𓇼

The day after that, you and the girls went back to Hell's Gate. You decided it was better to leave things the way they were. To let Neteyam have a nice, healthy and proper relationship with someone of his own kind. Like your father always used to say, na'vi and humans will never be equal. But he meant it in a derogatory way, with prejudice against the na'vi in his words while you meant something totally different. It was just natural that na'vi would marry other na'vi, not a human. The differences between both cultures did not just speak loud, they actually shouted like a mad person. You knew you could never get accustomed to being a na'vi male's mate. Not even if that male was Neteyam and just thinking about leaving him behind, thinking that you felt absolutely nothing for him, made you feel a burning, painful sensation in your heart. And of course Neteyam would be better off with an emotionally stable mate. Munì seemed perfect for him. 

You totally did not feel anger boiling inside your guts anytime you thought about her stupid smiles and giggles back when she was talking to him at the beach. She would make him happy and you were totally happy for them. The next step for you would be actually believing the words you just thought.

𓇼

One month and a few days had passed. You felt grateful that you had been able to dodge all the demands to go conduct scientific researches on the Metkayina tribe that you had received until now, asking to exchange positions with colleagues and staying in the lab, doing paperwork instead. You were doing everything in your power to avoid Neteyam. But you could never seem to be able to avoid the pain that washed over your body and the tears that wanted to come out - but never actually did because you were always strong enough to hold them back - whenever a sad love song started playing in your earbuds or in one of your friend's phones. It seemed like every fucking dumb love song reminded you of him.

After Kiri sent you a message almost begging you to go visit her, making you feel guilty and saying that she missed you a lot and now that she had her own marui, you just had to go to the reef and see it, you couldn't say "no". She was being too adorable and you missed her too. You asked Kiri if Kate and Adeline could come along and she excitedly agreed, so, the three of you used your next couple of days off to travel to the Metkayina beach again. It was a blessing that Neteyam had traveled to the Omatikaya tribe to see his grandmother Mo'at and was gonna be gone for a while, as Kiri had guaranteed you.

Kiri always had a very human side to her, just like Lo'ak. Neteyam didn't even seem like he was half human at times. He was extremely proud to be na'vi and wore his indigenous culture with honor all over himself. You could never see Neteyam asking to have his own place. He was too attached to his family - and you thought that was extremely cute. It wasn't traditional amongst the na'vi for an unmated young girl to leave her family's marui like that but Kiri was clever and she found a way to get what she wanted out of her parents.

𓇼

Adeline, Kate and you woke up as early as the Pandoran skies got clear and dragged your sleepy and tired asses to the Metkayina tribe. Being a scientist would never not leave a person overworked and exhausted. Like most mornings, you had drank way too much caffeine already for such an early hour in the day.

"Girl, how do you always look so beautiful? I could never." You pointed out as you watched Adeline make two thin braids to frame her round, delicate face and put her black curly hair in a voluminous bun on the top of her head, while the both of you were inside the science team's helicopter, heading to the Metkayina reef.

You had always found Adeline extremely pretty with her dark skin, voluptuous figure and feminine style. She always made sure to look cute.

"I don't know. I guess I'm God's favorite." She joked around and the both of you started to laugh

Adeline was also funny. She could put a smile in your face anytime, even when you were sad. You considered her a sister from another mother.

"You guys are stupid." Kate teased as she was laughing too and holding an energy drink filled with caffeine in her pale hand. She'd drink those often to help wake her up.

Kate's long, blonde, wavy hair fell gracefully over her chest. Her eyes were blue and she was tall and had an athletic but slim body. Damn, you only had breathtaking friends.

𓇼

Kate and Adeline had decided to take a nap after lunch in Kiri's marui and they asked if you would come too but you refused as you were far too restless to be able to sleep. That beach brought back too many memories…

So, now you found yourself sitting in the sand, watching the ocean waves break as they hit the shore with Kiri by your side. She had managed to make you say the truth about why you seemed so troubled.

"Yeah, (y/n), you fucked up big time." Kiri stated with that aura of wisdom beyond her years that only herself knew how to effortlessly exude.

You wanted to dig a hole in the sand under your feet and jump inside of it, hiding and never coming back up again. Of course you'd fuck it up with Neteyam. You had a cursed tendency to self sabotage. You did not know if being so freaking aware of it made you better or if it actually made you worse.

"Are you mad at me?" You ask nervously with furrowed eyebrows 

"(y/n)! It's not my feelings that you should be worried about! It's not my heart that you broke." Kiri scolded you as she looked at you with those big feline yellow eyes like she was actually horrified. You felt so bad for thinking it was kind of funny. "I know you don't wanna be Neteyam's mate but do you not care about him at all? Not even a little bit? He hasn't been the same ever since you dumped him and left. Poor thing can barely go train with dad. I think I saw him sniffing while hiding one of these days. Eywa knows that prideful teylu" (edible Pandoran bug) "would never cry in front of us."

"I swear I didn't mean to be cruel. I just did not know… how to react. It was sudden, you know? It's like, I don't know… a cultural shock? Humans don't go around asking people they just met to marry them. Or… become their mates." It would never feel normal to say "mates" to you

Apparently you had acted just like Kat Stratford in 10 Things I Hate About You, when she would cold heartedly refuse Patrick Verona over and over again. You used to always watch that vintage movie with Tracy. It was one of her favorites. 

"Don't act like it was the first time you two had met. Neteyam stared at you all the time when you came to our tribe. I swear to Eywa I've never seen him nervous to talk to a girl before but you have a power over my brother… it's fucking crazy to watch actually. He's like a needy, dumb dog drooling over you when he looks at you. It's even freaky." Kiri couldn't hold it back so she burst into laughter, hiding her mouth with her big but delicate hand

You were nervous as fuck but you started to laugh too. It seemed like the nervousness and guilt and tense vibe of the situation only made it worse, making everything even more funny and absurd.

"You know the worst part of it all?" You looked at her like a child who just broke their mom's most precious vase

"Great Mother, don't tell me there's more." Kiri said, incredulous

"I think I like Neteyam." You confessed like you were a good catholic girl confessing her sins to a priest

"You like him?!" She almost screamed

"You don't need to declare it out loud for the whole reef to hear!" You got slightly mad

"You teylu!" She smirked as she moved her head from side to side in disapproval "Why the hell did you dump him then?"

"I don't know, Kiri. Don't judge me, okay?" You put both your hands over your face, hiding it and moving your head from side to side yourself this time. 

At least you knew your attitude had been controversial and confusing to say the least. They say the first steps to recovery are realizing and admitting you're insane.

𓇼

It was now eclipse. You were inside Kiri's home with her and your human friends. Kate and Adeline were finishing unpacking their bags.

"Guys, I'm going out for some fresh air, okay?" You said, trying to find an excuse to get out of that marui filled with girls - human and na'vi.

"You've been acting weird lately." Adeline pointed out "Spending too much time alone."

Kiri discreetly looked at you with a look of concern in her face, as she was the only one of the girls who knew the reason behind your strange demeanor.

"I just need some air. I'll be back soon." You spoke as you walked towards the door of the marui

"Don't go in the ocean! It could be dangerous!" Kate yelled. She was the "mom friend" of the group.

"I know!" You laughed "I'm not stupid. I'm a scientist too. But thanks for your concern."

You walked through the beach for a while, trying to take a certain tall, handsome blue alien out of your mind when you saw Spider walking in the area too. He waved at you and you waved back.

You weren't as close to Spider as you were to Kiri and Lo'ak but you did love his company.

You sat on the sand with him, looking at the ocean, just like you had done with Kiri earlier and you two started to catch up and eventually the talk got deeper, more philosophical.

"Don't you feel crazy, Spider? Living among beings of another species? Don't you feel… left out?" Your eyes looked at him with genuine doubt in them

"I do, sometimes." He sighs "Especially because of how Mrs Sully acts towards me, at times" the both of you laughed quickly "But this place is my home. I was born in Pandora, I know nowhere else that I could call home. And also, I grew up around Lo'ak, Kiri, Neteyam and Tuk. They're family to me, even if not related by blood. It doesn't really matter in the end, family are the ones who are there for you. Not your bloodline." 

"Oh my God, I totally agree!" You rapidly say in a slight loud tone, chuckling, like you wanted to emphasize how much you shared the same opinion with him

"So..." You pondered if you should tell him or not "Neteyam talked to me last-"

"Yeah, I know. Ao'nung told me." Spider interrupted

"Of course he did..." You rolled your eyes and sighed. So everybody knew already...

Spider chuckled softly.

"Anyways, Neteyam calls me tawtute. I think it's funny that he calls me "human", but in na'vi"

"Yeah, that's him being affectionate towards you. He likes you. A lot." Spider pointed out

You stoped smiling and your heart started feeling painful.

"He probably hates me now, actually. I totally blew it off. I was really insensitive towards him." Shame and regret covered your face, as you were crestfallen

"Have you ever thought about apologizing?"

"Yeah, of course I have. Many times. I just…" You hesitated "I guess I can't face him now."

"Oh, c'mon. I know you can do it. Isn't it worse to be feeling guilty and sad and let Neteyam think you don't feel sorry for hurting him?"

"You have a point, Spider. God, I hate it when you're right." You laughed and slapped his arm softly, in a playful manner

𓇼

Adeline and Kate slept peacefully next to you, each one of them in a different mat - but the three mats had been placed next to the other. You, on the other hand, hadn't been able to sleep well in almost two months. Kiri told you and the girls she was gonna stay up and she now was, at the corner of the marui, making herself a new beaded necklace in the light of a tiny fire she had lit up.

As you laid quietly in your mat with your eyes closed but wide awake, you heard footsteps inside the marui. You could not believe it when you opened your eyes and you saw it was Neteyam. His tall, slender figure and head full of thin braids that danced in the air as he moved made you recognize him immediately, even in the dark of the eclipse.

Damn! Wasn't he supposed to be in the Omatikaya tribe right now? And what the hell was he even doing here instead of going to his parents' marui?

𓇼

Taglist:

@iman-lu

@leaveitbythewave

@creepytoes88

@live-laugh-neteyam

@swaggygurlbae

@neteluvr

@layla2-49

@a-blog-name-2003

@lala-1516

@jakesullyfatjuicypeen

@yeosxxx

@iaratezaewa

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 18: Balls (Bullet Train)

Sometimes (oftentimes) it's true that all you need are Balls. I personally absolutely love Balls. I'm a big fan! Ekhem. Today I'm using the help of (I mean, copying most of the passages from it) my earlier Balls rant that I have written down after my first listen of it back in January. I really love this album and I don't want to completely skip over saying a couple words on it at least but I really don't think I have the headspace to write anything very good for it today. I'll still try though!

So yeah, Balls. It's a great album, fun and chill (in my sense of what I call and consider chill anyway), consistent, as Sparks albums tend to be, and as I suspected / hoped it does fit this specific vibe of driving around at night somewhere city-like and illuminated. Or being on a train deep at night and looking at the world zooming by (if you'd even see much of it on a train at night anyway.....). And I do think that it's not so dissimilar to Gratsax (I'd say now that it's definitely darker and moodier than its predecessor...). So it's interesting to think about how it's considered to be one of the "weak" ones (by music reviewers at least) while Gratsax is so beloved in comparision.

I will admit, I don't really know what the big problem with this album could be. As I said, it's fun, it has the melodies, it has the energy, it has the theatricality (I like seeing how more and more orchestral instruments such as strings are being incorporated into the music, in a way the jump into Lil' Beethoven two years later doesn't come of as THAT much of a shock because of this. The evolution of sound here is fascinating!) I really like the intense beats, just as much as the more laid-back and moodier pieces. And there's lots of gold to be found in the lyrics department as always.

One more thing I wanna say is that at some point I wondered if this music sounds older than it is. Maybe it does? But then I remembered that this was 2000 and honestly when I think about it, there just IS something about this album that fits so well with the Y2K image and vibe and all. Sparks 2000 and all that.

Favourite songs (and other highlights):

Balls: I mean. It's Balls.

Scheherazade: absolutely LOVE this one and I had the strangest impression of it sounding very familiar when I first heard it. Months later I found out that it was just briefly featured in TSB so I think that explains it (I will talk more about my TSB viewings on TSB day. EVERYTHING has to be explained in excruciating detail, lmao)

The Calm Before The Storm: bugsonas 4ever. Song itself is amazing too

How To Get Your Ass Kicked: how can a song about getting your ass kicked be so pleasant and relaxing, it always keeps cracking me up, how perfect that is actually

Bullet Train: I love it how introducing the topic of the song with a "It's the [topic of the song]" is a reoccurring theme on this album. Thank you Sparks for this ode to technology and art (these lyrics always have me giggling). And also it just goes hard as heck

It's Educational: a perfect fusion of / sequel to I Thought I Told You To Wait In The Car and Progress (it's mostly the vocal delivery that reminds me of the latter)

The Angels: such an odd one here but I still like it a lot, I apparently said that it sounds "surprisingly mainstream for Sparks but somehow in a positive way". It's very sweet and I absolutely love how Russell sings here, it's so different from what we're used to but that only makes it hit you even more in the feels, lol. And I actually prefer the alternative version of this song that's featured as a bonus track, and I do think that's in big part because you can hear Russell better on it (or that was my first impression of it at least and it kind of stuck)

[stuffnonsenseandotherthings]

In my spare time, when I'm not watching dramas I'm either reading books or watching people talking about books on YouTube. One tradition I've always really enjoyed is their "Mid-Year Freak Out" tag, especially because I like the idea of getting a chance to reflect on the year so far as well as look to the year ahead.

This year I thought I'd combine my two passions and use (and in some cases alter) the prompts for my own use, i.e. so that I can talk about dramas rather than books.

The only rule: answer the questions (and go wild I guess).

And we start the list with the biggest risk! No The Trainee is nowhere near finished and, no I have no idea how it's going to finish (it's GMMTV it could drop the ball through the floor and into the earth's core for all I know) but, if it manages to keep going the way it's going, I'm going to absolutely love it. I've mentioned before that The Trainee reminds me a lot of Misaeng, what I haven't said is that Misaeng is my (tied) favourite drama of all time and if The Trainee can get anywhere close to making me feel like I did the first time I watched Misaeng (which it is so far) then it's on to a winning formula.

So far it's got everything I look for in a drama: a solid cast with excellent chemistry, a plot that focuses on the little battles of everyday life, and an excellent mix of fast friendship and slow burn romance with plenty of character development along the way. It also doesn't hurt that it's got the balance between slapstick-funny and emotional tension pretty much bang on either.

I can't get this drama or it's characters out of my head and I am deeply, deeply, invested in where things are going next so, as a nod to the hold it has on me and my hope that I've found a new all-time fave, The Trainee is my favourite drama so far so GMMTV DO NOT LET ME DOWN.

Thai BL opening themes can be very hit or miss for me (I won't lie, I have skipped many an opening sequence because I can't stand the song) but Wandee Goodday's "Fan With Benefit" caught my ear the first time I heard it and refused to leave me alone after that. I think I listened to it on repeat for at least 2 weeks and then at least once a day after that.

It's fun, it's flirty, it's got a chorus I like to dance to and it has now found itself on my "Songs to Cook Dinner To" playlist (I don't know if that says more about the song or how I cook dinner).

Now if only the drama lived up to its theme song...

Last Twilight would have been on this list had I not dropped it in December and, as a result, rendered it ineligible for a 2024 drama. I'm still absolutely fuming about how badly it let its audience down and how terribly it handled an extremely nuisanced topic to the point its final messaging was almost harmful.

I'm not going to get into this in too much detail because my frustrations have been voiced much more eloquently by people @lurkingshan and @twig-tea. I will say, however, that I loved the first 6(?) episodes of Wandee Goodday and I'm really sad about how much I didn't enjoy the rest of the drama.

There were a lot of things to like (and a lot of potential) right from the start: two couples with great chemistry, an ace character with actual depth and dimension, really sweet relationships (both familial and friendships), and the foundations for some interesting explorations of various interpersonal dynamics. Unfortunately none of these things really got followed through on and instead Wandee decided to go dark (with topics like mental health, sexual assault, loss and grief, parental neglect and abandonment to name a few) and do it badly. I don't mind if a show wants to explore difficult topics, in fact I really appreciate it, but what I won't tolerate is a drama introducing those topics as central plot points and then skimming over them in the most superficial way possible.

If you can't be bothered to put in the effort to properly research/explore difficult topics, do not include them in your drama.

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS SHOW SINCE IT FIRST GOT ANNOUNCED. Which unfortunate because I was so excited for it I got stressed about it living up to my expectations (or not) and then couldn't watch it when it came out. It's annoying, it happens, I know how to fix it.

Anyway, I've given it some space, I've dealt with the other things that were making me stressed and I am now ready to devour it give it a go.

I have long been a fan of Ahn Pan Seok's works and I really appreciate his directorial style, the themes he chooses to tackle, and the way in which he explores his topics of choice. I will fully acknowledge his work is not for everyone; he favours slow (extremely slow) stories with characters and plots who are realistic to a frustrating (and sometimes infuriating) degree. You also need to have a pretty in depth understanding of Korean society and its problems, taboos and concerns to fully understand the underlying messages of his dramas and the structures/beliefs/views he's critiquing. That being said, for me that is the perfect recipe for a drama that's going to claw itself into my brain and stay there.

Secret Love Affair, One Spring Night, and Something in the Rain all had a lasting impact on me and, thanks to @lurkingshan's posts, I'm pretty sure Midnight Romance in Hagwon will join them.

It may come as a surprise after the last entry but I actually try quite hard to not get hyped about upcoming releases, mainly to avoid creating any expectations which can then be disappointed. I like to go in with as open a mind as possible.

As a result, there are a few upcoming releases I'm keeping an eye on but none I'd say I'm properly "anticipating" (á la Midnight Romance in Hagwon). The closest I can get is Monster Next Door which I am genuinely excited for and which I plan to watch from day 1.

I'm not completely sure why I'm looking forward to it so much, I think it's because I do love a good opposites attract, foes-to-hoes dynamic and Monster Next Door seems like it's going to offer that to me in spades alongside a serving of comedy and a sprinkling of heat. Bring the introvert-extrovert pairing and let me watch them be stupidly whipped for each other, it's all I need for now.

Technically all of the dramas on my Want to Watch list because I want to clear it but I'm aware that that's a bit of a reach.... If anyone can spot any dramas on here that you think I should prioritize (or dramas you think I should scrap), recommendations would be appreciated.

I also want to watch more Japanese BLs. The few I've got through, I've enjoyed and, for a lot of them, I've already read and loved the source manga so I know I'll enjoy the plot. Unfortunately I really struggle with the short episodes (30 minutes is not long enough for me to get invested) and that I have to commit to binging them and can't watch them while they're airing, which is a whole other issue. I'm thinking of focussing on Japanese GL for now as a hook (I'm not enjoying the current Thai GL line up and I'm running out of Korean GL I can find online) so I guess the dramas I "need" to watch are She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat and Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko.

* Biggest surprise

* Newest favourite actor/director/writer/producer

* Most beautiful drama

* Newest fictional crush

* Newest favourite character

* A drama that made you cry

* A drama that made you happy

And there you have it! Lightly tagging @lurkingshan @twig-tea and @italianpersonwithashippersheart but no pressure! Anyone else who wants to do this, feel free! Just tag me so I can gather more recs to make my To Watch list even longer.

[paledoptera]

SHADOWFELL SAGA CONTENT ARCHIVE (POST 2/2)

welcome back to the shadowfell content archive!

this is going to be the second (and hopefully last) post! keep in mind the "parts" are going to be a lot more brief than the first post, the early game was pretty fleshed out but the rest was pretty much just vague ideas.

in addition to content that would have eventually come out, i'm also gonna be showing off a couple of early drafts and ideas that got cut!!!

SO:

INTERMISSION: BATTLE TIME!!!

so this was the original draft shiiv sent me for "smackdown". for the two tracks they contributed to the game (smackdown & pasta la vista, which you can hear in the last content archive post) they basically made a full song with temporary instrumentation, then i went back and remade the song with more toby fox-y instrumentation. they are FANTASTIC at music writing and i actually kinda love this original version of smackdown, it has some unique charm in how bitcrushed it is

i don't really have much to comment about the battle system, but i'll quickly run through how it would've worked:

basically, it'd be the mario & luigi battle system but with a few small changes.

solo attacks would be weak attacks that cost little BP (bone power)

bros attacks would be strong attacks that cost lots of BP

you can skip your turn and regain BP by using a "pass" action command. this would be the main way to recover BP

i think one flaw in mario & luigi is that BP being a somewhat limited resource kind of force you to use solo (jump/hammer) moves rather than your COOL and hard to master bros moves. i feel like BP being an UNlimited resource would kind of remedy that

here are some ideas we had for bros attacks

(in bone blast, papyrus' gaster blaster would have been FRANK from papyrus belief <3)

yaboinando made this amazing concept for an attack based off of an old "dark darker yet darker" fan animation

last thing i have to say about the battle system: we actually had another form of "bros move" planned out. the whole game is food themed, so i figured it was only natural that a cooking move would be in the game!

PART 4: MOUNT CERAMIA

this area's name actually hovered between "mount ceramic" and "mount ceramia" for a while. i ended up choosing ceramia cuz i thought it sounded more mountain-y the theme is pretty unfinished, but i really like how it sounds anyways. i wanted to establish "our maiden voyage" as the overarching "area theme" for the whole game, but i thought a more percussive and tribal-sounding version of it would be cool for the mountain area

mount ceramia is a giant mountain made of plates and mugs. who would've thought!! i wanted to make a joke about "tectonic plates" here. i liked the section in superstar saga where you climb a giant mountain, which is prob the biggest inspiration of this area.

early on in the area, you meet IMPACT, a skeleton oc with a giant bone club

he was mostly a joke character, but i liked him. he was kinda like a big dumb caveman-y guy. funnily enough, i never envisioned him as a boss or villain. he was always going to be an ally.

(i didn't make it very far in the writing process of his theme song!!)

i can't be bothered to make a whole google doc for his short introduction script, so i'll just copy-paste it to here. (his text was going to be comedically large)

Impact: IMPACT!!! Impact: I AM IMPACT Impact: THE ONE WHO BONKS Papyrus: HELLO IMPACT! IT'S NICE TO- Impact: IMPACT PLAGUED BY Impact: TERRIBLE EGGPLANTS Impact: THEY HARD LIKE ROCKS Impact: AND RUIN MY GARDEN Papyrus: AH, A SKELETON IN DISTRESS! Papyrus: NO MATTER, THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS HERE TO HELP! (papyrus materializes a bone in his hand) Papyrus: I'LL SMASH THESE EGGPLANTS VALIANTLY LIKE- (papyrus swings his bone at the eggplant, it bounces off. he keeps trying) Papyrus: …LIKE SO!! Papyrus: LIKE SO!!! (the bone he's holding cracks) sans: you're cracking me up. Papyrus: SHUT IT SANS! Impact: YOU ARE BABBY BONES. Impact: WEAK LIKE TWIG! Impact: NEED MORE CALCIUM Impact: VITAMINS ARE GOOD. (impact tosses a heavy bone club at papyrus) Impact: THESE ARE REAL BONES. Impact: BONE CLUBS. Impact: IMPACT MADE THEM MYSELF. Impact: THESE ARE REAL BONKABLE. Impact: HELP ME BONK THE EGGPLANTS Impact: AND THEY ARE YOURS. the bone clubs would have basically been this game's replacement for the hammers in m&l. i liked the idea of papyrus and sans just hitting shit with comedically large bones like cavemen

this area was very egg-centric for some reason. i think it's because i got the whole "smashing-plates" thing into my head and wanted to smash other stuff.

PART 5: CARRION ISLES

in earlier versions of the game, the brightwater floats were actually called the carrion isles. i thought that name was too grim for such a brightly colored area though, so i pushed it forward!!!

i don't have any concept art for carrion, but i'd picture it as a collection of super stormy scary piers with constant thunder and scary intense music. it'd have that core-thing going where it'd have really intense area music that keeps playing in the battles.

(enemy designs by the fantastic yaboinando!)

this area was very fuzzy in my head. i wasn't really sure what to do with it, but i wanted some kind of semi sheriff minigame or battle at the end of this. the basic idea i had was that there'd be a "pirate king" and that semi would ally with them, maybe there'd be some kind of silly cannon battle between you on ferryperson's (now repaired) ship and them. another idea i had was that the "pirate king" could have been undyne, who fell into the dark world way after sans and papyrus did. they'd initially be allied with semi, but as soon as she sees her "enemies" are sans and papyrus she jumps ship and joins you on your adventure. i'm not sure how that would work with the rest of the game though!!!

one thing for certain is that after the silly battle, there'd be a big intense betrayal scene where ferryperson fights you. i SWEAR i had some concept art of this but i can't find this. it'd have ferryperson on a giant wave while papyrus and sans are floating on the collapsed remains of their boat though. kinda like this.

this theme was somewhat inspired by alphys takes action, funnily enough. i like how it sounds, though it is very unfinished

(edit) FOUND IT!!!!

this is VERY very early concept art, back when the game had more of an undertale-y UI. originally sans was actually going to be the only one in this battle since papyrus was held hostage, it'd be the thing to push him into finally fighting properly

PART 6: STEEL CALDERA & ZARELLA RESORT

quick warning!!! everything beyond this point is very fuzzy. we had NONE of this solidly planned out

this is the closest thing we have to a theme for steel caldera. it would've been a magma-y volcano area! originally this area was actually called "steamworks" and was a purple-pinkish retro-futuristic city, but undertale yellow came out and i thought it'd look like a ripoff so i trashed that idea lol

in the original script, caldera was also called "mt zarella" but i thought that sounded lame

i had a brief idea for a skeleton in undyne's knight armor called "ROMAN OF STEEL" who was gonna be the main villain for this arc, sort of a big egotistical tough-guy character.

zarella resort was gonna be the part-2 to this area, a fancy italian resort next to the volcano with heavy mafia connections.

r.v pine made some fantastic designs for the cheese mafia that i still LOVE

there was gonna be a meta joke in the resort where papyrus & sans expect to get firehand and thunderhand, but the ancient sites that those powers come from were knocked down and turned into a tourist attraction. some mafia employee goes "I'm sorry, but hand powers have been privatized."

the arc ends with papyrus getting a neverending bottle of hot sauce that he just kind of carries around and uses as a "fire" attack

INTERMISSION: MID-GAME SEMI FIGHT

early on i envisioned some kind of semi-emotional moment where sans and papyrus meet another skeleton with this big western wagon, then they sit by a campfire and talk, then go to sleep. when they wake up, semi sheriff is chasing them with his own wagon, and there'd be this massive battle. i swear i have concept art of this too but i ACTUALLY can't find it this time

PART 7: CAPRESE JUNGLE

this was a very weird area. it was gonna be a jungle based on salad i swear everything i came up with for this area came from some schizo hallucination because i don't remember coming up with any of this.

here are some iterations this strange area went through:

the area was ruled by a fancy skeleton with a fancy feathered hat called "Arial Noire". she spoke french and was a necromancer

the area was ruled by dinosaurs, like papyrus' dino egg oatmeal. there would be a part where semi tries to ambush you, but accidentally shoots a baby dino in its egg and then the baby dino gets pissed and fights papyrus and sans

the area was ruled by a flowey knockoff called "Peppermint".

PART 8: QUICK ROUNDUP OF OTHER AREAS

here are some other area ideas i had for the late-game:

sugarspice peaks, an area with cliffs and moths and stuff. i didn't actually put much thought into this area, i just wanted moths in the game. in the light world this would have been a cupboard

the badlands. this area would have started as a return to flavortown, that ends in a giant journey to catch the IMPASTA, the bandit who framed papyrus & sans and caused semi sheriff to hunt you down throughout the entire game. after you catch impasta, semi sheriff joins your party.

steampunk glacier, basically just the fridge in the light world. this would have been a heavy parallel to "joke's end" in superstar saga. i think paps & sans would have been seperated from semi sheriff (and possibly undyne) for the first half of this section, then they all meet back up near the end. sans also gets a shitty hand power, being a few cubes of dry ice that he just throws at people's eyes

PART 9: WATERFALL PALACE & FINAL BOSS

so, this is something that's oddly personal to me because the stupid, STUPID idea i had for the final boss was my entire motivation to create this game.

the waterfall palace area would be a standard area-before-final-boss-area. in the light world it would be the comedically tall kitchen sink.

at the top of the tower, there'd be a giant faucet with running water and the "dark lord", the overarching villain for this whole thing. you find the "dark lord" and fight him. a theme similar to "in the final" from bowser's inside story would play, but then the boss would be incredibly underwhelming. he'd die in like 3 hits... at which point he reveals he's not the ACTUAL dark lord, and he was just pretending to do so for status. he'd turn off the faucet... and then a giant door would reveal itself behind the great waterfall.

papyrus, sans and semi sheriff would walk through the door... and see a japanese temple.

and then, the ground rumbles.

the FINAL BOSS of this entire adventure would have been a GIGANTIC ANNOYING DOG WITH THREE HEADS. an ANNOYING CERBERUS if you will

you don't understand. the idea of this is so fucking hilarious to me. imagine going on this entire adventure just for the final boss to be an annoying dog joke. this is the first ever idea i thought of for this fucking fangame and i worked backwards from there and thought up EVERYTHING ELSE. JUST to fit the puzzle pieces together for this finale. i thought it would be so fucking funny to troll the players like this.

to bring the joke even further, in most mario & luigi games, you have to collect 8 pieces of some kind of ancient-mythical-powerful-artifact. in this game i decided on "ingredients for the legendary linguine", a bunch of seemingly magical ingredients that come together to make this uber powerful relic of a meal. there was gonna be this dramatic scene halfway through the cerberus fight where papyrus assembles the linguine, throws it at the boss and then NOTHING HAPPENS. a big point of the boss would also be that it'd think papyrus, sans & semi's attacks are just play-fighting, but once they deal enough damage then it'd get angry and just curbstomp them both and they'd seemingly be pretty much dead.

there would be this big power-of-friendship scene where sans, papyrus and semi revive, and then a giant three-headed gaster blaster dragon would be assembled from the bones of their attacks, and there'd be a bowsers-inside-story style giant battle where the megalo dragon finally defeats the annoying dog

and that, my friends, would be the ending of my half-shitpost game, because i think that would have been amazing and hilarious, but unfortunately that reality will never come to fruition.

thank you all for the support. since i posted the first half of this archive i saw a twitter thread posted about the game's cancellation. it's pretty humbling, and dare i say almost inspiring seeing how many people liked the concept so much and were saddened by its cancellation. i have a big problem with announcing projects too soon and then having to cancel them when i inevitably loose motivation, so to avoid this i'll probably be dead quiet on any future big projects until i can release SOMETHING to do with them, whether that's a demo or trailer or anything else. i hope to see you all in whatever project i start next!

SHADOWFELL SAGA ARCHIVE: PART 1 - PART 2

[romanarose]

If You Wanna Be Wild: Chapter 4

Co-written with @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

Javier Peña x Latina!sex worker!informant!Reader x Santiago Garcia

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Summary: Javier confronts Santi, but Candy has Santi's back; we get a little insight into Santi's childhood and what makes him this way.

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it.

For the record, this is a fic that takes place in the drug trade and deals with the darker side of humanity, so anything from Narco's and Triple Frontier is liable to be discussed or mentioned here. This is your warning. This is not a dark fic nor is it centered around dark themes like Leather and Lace or Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside, but they are open to be talked about.

Reader has a nick name: Candy. Not her real name just what she goes by on her profession. Much of the inspo for this and for the title came from the Bruce Springsteen song “Candy’s room” so check it out for the vibes.

Reader speaks Spanish and had hair. I've decided Candy is just latina bc she's a sex worker in Colombia so this is what I'm doing. Reader also has curly hair and dark skin.

ADDITIONAL WARNING!: I'm adding implied covert incest to the warnings. If you don't know what it is, it's NOT the same as physical/sexual, its where the child has a relationship with a parent that is more like spouses than parent/child. I'll leave more to google. In the context of this fic, Santi's mom parentified Santi, made him the "man of the house", treated him like a husband and relied on him to help pay bills.

Thank you as always to my beloved Fen <3 I couldn't do this without your encouragement.

A short 1.8 words

Support writers! Reblog and comment!

**************

“GARCIA!” Javi chased after the young man, running down the stairs. Santi moved fast with his youth, but Javi’s longer legs gained an advantage, skipping stairs and eventually catching Santi and slamming him against the wall.

“I’m sorry!”

“You’re damn right you are! How did you get her number?”

“Your book!”

“You’re going through my shit, Garcia?”

Candy’s voice rang at the top of the stairs, her robe and wild curls flowing as she transcended down the stairs. “Let him go!” 

Javi backed up, letting go of Santi’s shirt with a shove. “You stay the hell away from her!” He said to Santiago.

“Excuse me?” Candy stood in front of Santi, crossing her arms over her robe to protect her modesty, for whatever that was worth. “He is my client, and if he wants to see me, he can see me! You don’t own me!”

Jaci sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose with a huff. “That’s not what I meant. He’s a DEA agent-”

“And you aren’t?”

“He’s not going to be careful! Candy, you sleep with dangerous men, men we are after! If he’s not subtle, you both end up dead!”

“And screaming out his name in my stairwell is being subtle?” 

Javi didn’t have a response, chewing on his cheeks and Santi tried to excuse himself. “I’m just, I’m going to go.” But Candy caught his hand. 

“Santi, sweetheart, it’s okay, we can go back upstairs. You paid me, sweetie.”

He was still avoidant. “No, it’s okay, I reserved the time, I-I’ll just go… yeah- fuck,” he shook his head and tried to go.

Santi pulled away again, but Candy held on: tight but gentle. 

Javi tried to nudge him on. “Go on out of here-”

“I’m sorry-” Santi tried to apologize to the floor when the door opened, and an old woman in a black lace vale shuffled in.

Candy dropped Santi’s hand in favor of wrapping her robe better. “Hola, Señora Perez.”

The old woman eyes Santi and Javi, then looks at Candy. “You alright here, mija?”

With a soft smile, Candy assures her. “Si, Señora, gracias. El,” She nodded to Javi with a glare. “él se va.”

Señora Perez nodded, placing a withered hand on Candy’s shoulder and turning her away from the two boys. “Mija, have I ever told you about my grandson?”

Candy held back a laugh. “No, Señora.”

“He’s a nice young man, a church going boy.” She touched the cross around her neck. “If I may offer some advice, I would suggest you find some different company.” She glanced at Santi and Javi who both avoided her eyes, then back to Candy’s expensive, flowing robe. “And perhaps some more clothes.” Señora Perez patted Candy’s shoulder and moved on towards her door.

Candy muttered “Garcias, Senora” and everyone waited in silence until her apartment door was closed before Candy turned to Santi, as soothing as ever. “Would you like to come back upstairs with me?”

Santi seemed to be considering it when Javier butted in. “Garcia, don’t you fucking-”

“Enough! You are not in charge of him!” Candy shouted before grabbing Javi’s arm and pulling him out the front door and closing it behind her. “What are you doing?” She asked, unsure why Javi was acting this way. 

But Javi didn’t know himself. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew she saw other men. Hell, he saw plenty of other women himself. Was it that he saw Candy with another man? Was it that the man was Santi? Or was it what he was claiming, that Santiago couldn’t be careful, that he couldn’t protect her? Yeah that was it. It certainly wasn’t the bubbling jealous at the idea that Santi was fucking her, holding her, that she kissed his plush lips- uh, that he kissed her plush lips. No, Javier Peña was jealous. 

Instead of divulging all this, Javi diverted. “What are you doing with him? He’s just a kid.”

She scoffed at him. “He’s 25, plenty old enough.”

“Yeah, old enough to get sex from bars, or a nice girlfriend not-” Javi stopped, but it was too late.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “A prostitute? You can say it, Javi. I’m aware of my job title.” 

“Candy, baby, that’s not what I meant-”

Candy rolled her eyes, her hand reaching for the door. “Call me whenever, Javi, but you leave that boy alone.”

She opened the door and Javi only got a peak at Santi, connecting eyes before the door shut in Javi’s face as he took a step forward.

*

Santi watched as Javi walked towards the door, and when it shut he was certain Javi would open it… but he didn’t, and eventually the sound of descending footsteps signaled he left.

“Santiago? Can I call you that now?” She asked as she approached him carefully, with that soft smile that always put Santi at ease. Santi kept looking at the door. “I knew that was your name, before. Knew you worked for the DEA, didn’t know you were Javi’s partner.”

Finally, Santi turned toward her. “Can we not talk about him?”

“Sure. Would you like to go back upstairs with me?” Candy extended her hand that Santi took. She smiled wider. “Let’s go, handsome.”

As they ascended the stairs, Santi’s nerves were through the roof. He felt guilt, like he’d been caught. Santi never got caught before, because he’s never done anything wrong. The pressure from such a young age to be good, to do right, to be the man of the house… it carried over. Santi got his first job at 8 with a paper route he held for years until he found a less than legal job at 13 in a kitchen. The job had so many health code violations and safety hazards, Santi’s arms and legs were burned and cut with scars he now passed off as from the military. He had wounds from there too, but that was primarily the scar down his neck from the bullet that almost killed him, and a few in the chest that went straight through. Frankie said the 4th bullet you don’t even really notice anymore. Santi’s fourth bullet he didn’t feel because he thought he was dead.

All his life he’d needed to do right. His older sister, she was the problem child, the one causing mami problems… Santi loved her too. Elena had her own troubles, their father leaving severely affected her and she sought out that healing from men way too old for her. By the time she entered college, she was a full blown feminist and was teaching Santi all she knew. For his sister’s part, Elena was insistent that Santi be a good man. He learned a lot of valuable lessons about consent and how to treat a woman, not that he had much opportunity to use it.

Santi had become the man of the house when their dad left, his mother treating him like a husband some days. She called him her esposito; her little husband. She’d stay up late at night with him on the couch talking, talking to him about how his father did her wrong, her troubles at work or church… Sometimes it made him feel special, but often it just made him feel worried. He felt like all the problems were his to fix. Elena got into college on scholarship. She’d been a part of a women’s group and had worked hard to save up… Every dime Santi made in his youth went to his mom, so when it came time for adulthood, he couldn’t afford the luxury of college. Santi enlisted in the army at 17, sending home chunks of his paycheck to his mom until the day she died.

The pressure to be good, to be right, to never mess up even the slightest… it manifested in anxiety that Santiago pushed down and down and down… it was bubbling up right now, gurgling in his stomach and in the bile at his throat.

Mami would not approve. She was violently against Elena’s premarital sex, and had told him he could not be like her. God forbid she knew he was seeing a prostitute. Did she know? Was she watching him? Did she know of all the meet ups they'd had this month? Elena wouldn’t approve either, she thought prostitution was degrading to women and that men that sought out prostitutes were objectifying them… this act with Candy was desecrating the two opinions he valued most.

But he didn’t want to stop.

“Do you want to have sex, or would you rather just talk?”

Santi turned to her, confused at that statement. “I thought… do you…”

Her smile changed from soft and assuring to bright and joyful. “Talk? Yes Santiago I can do more than suck dick.”

Panic swept through him. He didn’t want her to think of him like that. She was special to him. He wasn’t stupid, he knew they weren’t dating, but he didn’t just value her for her body. “No! Oh god no, Candy I don’t think of you like that, fuck- you’re- I”

“Santiago.” She placed her comforting hands on his shoulder, a hunt of worry in her eyes. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m just teasing you. Breathe, can you do that for me? In your nose, out your mouth…”

Santi did as she said, and slowly calmed down. “I’m sorry, I just…” When she cocked an eyebrow in concern again, Santi collected his thoughts better. “I enjoy your company. P-physical or not.”

Her reassuring smile was back. “Well I’m glad. I enjoy yours too.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No I’m not.” She frowned ever-so slightly, but unlike his mother he didn’t automatically feel like the frown was his fault or his problem to fix. “Santiago…” Candy took his hand, leading him to the small loveseat and sitting down. “I have a lot of different kinds of men here. I hope that isn’t shocking to say, but I do.” With a gentle nudge to his shoulder, Santi smiled again. “You’d be surprised how many men just want to talk. It’s a lot of them. Before or after sex, but sometimes that’s all we do. I like talking to them, getting to know them. And Santi?” She kissed his cheek and giggled at the tickle of his mustache. “I like getting to know you.”

So Santi stayed there with Candy curled up and lying against his chest on the love seat, just talking. She calmed him. He liked being with her, just being. He knew it was an act, at least part of it. She was paid to be here… but Santi couldn’t help feeling for her, wanting to be with her… With Candy, Santi felt like he could actually be himself, he could be that version of himself he was with Frankie, Benny, Will, and slowly but surely Javi, even if today set him back. Fuck, what was Javi going to say at work tomorrow? Would he yell at him again, get him fired for soliciting prostitutes or for going through his things, would he request a new partner- Santi’s finger wrapped around one of Candy’s curls, carefully letting the lock slip through his fingers as to not to mess them up… he found himself grounded again. That could wait until tomorrow. Candy mattered now.

*******************

Check out the playlist!!! Lots of fleetwood mac and eagles!

Prescious baby Santi <3

Now tell me...

please tell me why in the comments and reblogs! I love to here your thoughts on who had better chemistry, who would work better, who needs to work on themselves etc bc they both got their issues, Javi is a sad slut and Santi is a sad baby.

Thank you so so much for reading!!!

And I want to add, to all my readers effect by the war, whether you or your family or friends, I'm praying for your safety. I don't know how much that means to you, but it's what I have <3

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings@whatthefishh @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolboo @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @axshadows @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleur @ninebluehearts @puglover12 @sub-aro @laiisleitte @itspdameronthings @heareball @comfortlessjoy @csarab615 @calaveramangonda @bit-dodgy-innit @stevngrant @nanfafnan @kirsteng42

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c2. 'The urgency.'

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, eating disorders, depression.

song to listen to when reading this: The Chain, Fleetwood Mac.

abstract: this is Jude, this is a little bit of information about me since you care so much, I don't even know you… anyway yes, I really like being mysterious, what you gonna do about it, punch me in the face? I'm not even real, grow the fuck up. see ya.

Sometimes, she just fucking hated her life. She supposed it was normal like that, it happened to everyone to absolutely fucking despise their lives, no? She wakes at the same hour everyday, does her makeup. Not too much, not too little to show she was sleep deprived and got high last night. Her identity was concealed under eyeliner and blush. She looks like a doll. She likes her makeup, she's quite good at it. She plays with her hairstyles, sometimes a bun, sometimes braids, sometimes loose with a headband, depending on the mood. She walks her dog and cleans his poop. Jinx, a 5 month old Belgian Malinois she adopted when she moved. She found him at a shelter for abused puppies, he was the last one to get adopted. She decided to take him, she planned to move to the countryside soon anyways. Gaining his trust was one of her biggest accomplishments, now the dog had a bit of an attachment issue, but they were working on getting better together. She drives to work with the same 4 playlists playing in her car. Old rock, Frank Ocean, some Italian songs here and there.

She always comes in dressed in dark colours, dark red, dark blue or black. She has 10 male patients and 8 female soldiers. Some of them are combat medics, some snipers. Demolition experts. She works 'till lunch time, eats alone, sometimes skips lunch just to make her body feel something and indulge in disordered eating, then goes outside to smoke and comes back in. After the afternoon sessions, she sometimes has groups together for some group therapy. Then she usually goes home and smokes weed while she cooks her dinner, she acts like she's in MasterChef, puts on music and pours herself a glass of wine 'Quando sei qui con me' she sings to her dog, 'Questa stanza non ha più pareti, ma alberi'. Jinx doesn't even know Italian. Two times a week, she teaches ballet at a local dance school. 13 year old is not old enough to be on point shoes. It's her favourite time of the week though. She gets to finally have control of a situation, she gets some respect. 13 year olds, a fucking nightmare… She gets to tell them what to do and correct their arms, their feet, their posture and they listen! They do, and they like her, they say thank you Alba, see you next week! They learn her choreographies, they follow her lead when she explains a new variation. They even like the songs she chooses for warm up. Mostly Abba.

Alba is not her real name, but they don't know that. A gift from Laswell, when she started working for her. A sparkly new identity, English ID and nice documents that prove she's an English citizen, born in Southampton. She's not. Kept a little bit of Italian in the fake name. She hasn't been in Italy in close to five years. She went on vacation alone in Tuscany once, just to feel her country again for a second. She is not in contact with her family, last message from her sister was three years ago, it went 'I hope you're alive.' Her mother taught her violence. To be in power. To be beautiful and kind. To never ever trust someone who wouldn't give their life for you. Her mother taught her loyalty, respect. She used to never cry as a child. She loved to know stuff, to read about planets. She would kill lizards in the backyard with her little brother, who died young. She saw her first gun at 13. Now, her name is not Alba and it sure isn't Jude. Or Judy, as some patients call her. They know it's a callsign, a code name, everyone has one, especially in the task forces. Hers is Jude. 'Jude looks like an angel, but her words have thorns'. That's what Billy Lunette had to say about her. Billy had been her favourite patient for the whole of 2021. He had PTSD, he had night terrors and was in a mental hospital for schizophrenia symptoms for a while. He wouldn't take his medication, he would smoke, he was a mess. He listened to her though. She was the only one who visited him in the hospital. She showed him he could trust her and he completely lost himself in her. He would call her at 3 in the morning, drop by her office too many times per day, developed a bit of a codependency, but she was able to help him through his pain. He would do research about the treatments, the medicine, cognitive behavioural therapy. Billy was happy now. He was grateful to have had her and she was grateful that Billy had been a great patient. Big challenge. Billy was her biggest accomplishment, and proof of the fact she wasn't completely useless in the army.

She didn't work for the entirety of 2022. She had an accident with one of the patients, classified information. She survived, but man was it hard to live after that day... Spent time with her dog, visited a friend in San Francisco, taught ballet. Price and Laswell felt so guilty they continued to pay her even if she wasn't working. Why she decided to come back she really didn't know. She thinks the truth is she likes helping people, makes her feel good. She likes the crazy stories and that she had a reputation at the base, she was starting to be respected. She craved that. And it really started to bore her, the routine. Until Arash. Seeing Arash so frighted and tense was new, he was a calm and polite gentlemen. She saw an invisible string tying his story and his damned pilgrimage book to the mission she knew had failed in the Middle East. Now, it was a little bit of a stretch. So she did her little research, put her Sherlock hat on, lit a cigarette and started digging.

She had fun, until things really started clocking. He was missing his doctor appointments on purpose on specific dates, to go do what? Call someone? She couldn't steal his phone. Send letters? She tried the post office but found out nothing. The bank really did give her his statements, which was pure luck. He had set his personal security questions as his birthday and his mother's name, which she knew, because he told her. She knew everything about him, even his social security number. Arash really trusted her and she had an incredible memory for unnecessary details. Also, he left his wallet on the couch in her office countless times, it’s not that she looked, it was just there and she remembered. When she saw him stressed and fidgety she knew he was hiding something. She kept a straight face, 'Arash, we can really talk about whatever you want, you know' and he would interrupt her 'You don't understand. The urgency!', he continued to say. She really didn't want to tell Price herself, she would have preferred for Laswell to do it. She took extra time in the morning to get ready that day. She was going in a separate area she knew very little about, and nobody knew who she was. Sometimes people mistook her for someone's wife, or daughter. She chose her outfit accordingly, she wanted to seem professional. She wore a sports bra. There was nothing to look at anyways. She didn't put on lipstick, not even the nude one. She was used to being underestimated, and being looked down at. She was also used to raising her voice and presenting herself as stoic and cold. She knew perfectly how to be violence. She noticed a familiar face once she opened the door of the briefing room. A familiar face mask. The skull guy, she had seen him before. Was he the guy…

She could't get distracted. Her little mission went smoothly. She always knew Price liked her and feared her at the same time, and when it came to his little soldier boys, she really didn't care what they thought. The guy from the day of her accident even spoke to her. Poor thing. She was really amused no one told him about the reason why she didn't want to go home alone. He did really good that night, she remembers him well. He didn't try to speak too much, he sounded gentle. A gentle giant. Unfortunately for him, no one was gonna tell him about that day. When she left the room, she went straight home. She doubted someone would ever contact her again about the situation, they would handle it themselves, and probably very badly. She was driving to her ballet lesson, still thinking they all looked so confused by her words. They were probably gonna do a stupid interrogation, or rather do nothing and wait for the next mission to be a shit show. Imbecilli.

'Alright girls, one more time please!' At least she had her little ballerinas to cheer her up. She had them warm up, she usually did the warm up routine with them. She walked between the four rows of kids at the barre, delivering her corrections. Jennifer usually had stiff hands, and she was tense in her shoulders. Kyla had a beautiful turnout but she often confused her arms positions. The jetes routine, they always forgot that one. 'It's three in front and switch… guys I'm not gonna repeat myself'. She thought she sounded rude sometimes, but 13 year old American girls were a nightmare to work with. Last month, she even had to deal with poor Gemma being bullied in the changing rooms. 'I'm gonna say this just once, three in the front, switch to the back.' she liked demonstrating, felt like she was taking lessons herself. 'Ta-ra, ta-ra, ta-da. And we're gonna hold here' she lifted herself on her toes and attached her right pointed foot to her knee. She let go of the barre, holding her balance on one foot. 'Passè.' she said. The girls groaned. 'The more you complain the more I'm gonna make you stay like this girls. We're gonna do one minute.' She went to the side of the room, to play the music 'From the top.'

notes: translation of the song: 'Quando sei qui con me' when you're with me, 'Questa stanza non ha più pareti, ma alberi', this room doesn't have walls no more, it has trees.

notes: Alba means something specific!

translation: imbecilli, means imbeciles.

notes: let me know what you think !! <3

love, mare.

taglist:

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[taylortruther]

The way almost EVERY single line in YLM can be related to a previous like she wrote about Joe is INSANE. Like YLM is basically the song that would most fit the theme of Midnights (reflecting on the past and integrating it into the present) and guess what? She left it out (for reasons that I understand).

Here we go;

You say I don't understand and I say I know you don't// Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

We thought a cure would come through in time now I fear it won't// I thought the plane was goimg down, how'd you turn it right around?

Remember looking at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light...now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time// The entirety of Daylight duh

Remember looking at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light...now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time// The entirety of Daylight duh

Do I throw out everything we built or keep it //I am an architect I'm drawing up the plans (I'm reaching here I know)

I'm getting tired even for a phoenix always rising from the ashes // I am ash from your fire

Mending all her gashes // is this the end of all the endings, my broke bones are mending

You might just have dealt the final blow // Darling this was just as hard as when they pulled me apart (these two lines feel so similar to me)

Stop you're losing me (I hope I never lose you) I can't find a pulse my heart won't start anymore// he got my heartbeat skipping down 16th avenue

Every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes// after the storm something was born on the 4th of July

How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying// There's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough

I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick // I gave SO MANY SIGNS

My face was GREY but you wouldn't admit that we were sick // I don't like anticipating my face in a RED flush (I could write an essay about just this grey/red parallel but nvm)

And the air is thick with loss and indecision//clearing the air I breathed in the smoke

I know my pain is such an imposition // You don't really read into my melancholia // Always taking up too much space or time // I'm not your problem anymore

Now you're running down the hallway // I heard your key turn in the door down the hallway // You were standing hollow eyed in the hallway

And you know what they all say "you don't know what you've got until it's gone" // he better lock it down or I won't stick around 'cause good ones never wait

How long could we be a sad song // each bar plays our song

Till we were too far gone to bring back to life // Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

I gave you all my best mes, my endless empathy // I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best// After giving you the best I had, tell me what to give after that?

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier // All the bloodshed, crimson clover // And if I bleed you'll be the last to know // soldier down on that icy ground

Fighting in only your army // I'd sit with you in the trenches

Frontlines don't you ignore me // I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me

I'm the best thing at this party // best believe I'm still bejeweled when I walk in the room, I can still make the whole place shimmer

And I wouldn't marry me either // She would've made a lovely bride // I'd marry you with paper rings // all they keep asking me is if I'm gonna be your bride // the entire bridge of Lover

A pathological people pleaser // what a shame she's fucked in the head // mirrorball tm // my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Who only wanted you to see her // Walking with his head down, I'm the one he's walking to

And I'm fading thinking DO SOMETHING BABE // Some boys are trying too hard he don't try at all though

SAY SOMETHING // You don't ever say too much

LOSE SOMETHING BABE RISK SOMETHING // this ain't for the best

CHOOSE SOMETHING BABE I'VE GOT NOTHING TO BELIEVE // stood on the cliffside screaming "give me a reason"

i have nothing intelligent to say but I LOVE THIS, let's discuss

[twirlingsmilingwriting]

Hunger Games Men as Taylor Swift Songs

Idk if this is kinda odd to post but I'm a person who loves music and every song I listen to paints a scene in my head and I've been getting super into hunger games lately so a lot of the songs I've been listening to have reminded me of the characters. Specifically, my delulu self can imagine being in certain romantic situations with them based on the situations happening in these songs. For the sake of continuity, we will use songs from Ms. Taylor. I wanna write little one shots inspired by these situations. I already wrote the Snow one today so maybe I'll continue.

tldr- these are Taylor swift songs that reminded me of what it might be like to be in a relationship with these characters.

Peeta Mellark

Jump Then Fall- Taylor Swift, Fearless

"The bottom's gonna drop out from under our feet, I'll catch you"

Honestly I was thinking 'Mine' at first but I felt like Peeta HAD to have a song off of Fearless. He is the human embodiment of sunshine to me and Fearless as an album is gold, bright, and holds a theme of puppy love throughout it. All of those things just SCREAM Peeta Mellark to me. 'Jump Then Fall' is a song that is relatively vague in terms of story telling lyrics but it is about loving someone and being happy just to see them happy and wanting to be there for your partner no matter what. I feel like Peeta is that kind of ride or die lover. Even after the capital had brainwashed him into hating Katniss he still found his way back into loving her again anyways. He is a lover you can trust. He truly would stick through it all so it's okay to 'Jump Then Fall'.

(Story Idea: Kinda toying with a cute little fluff where the reader and Peeta are going swimming at a lake or something. I have another idea for him too but it's apart of the Finnick X Reader X Peeta story I'm theorizing)

Gale Hawthorn

Better man- Taylor Swift, Red

"But your jealousy, I can hear it now talking down to me like I'd always be around you push my love away like it was some kind of loaded gun, you never thought I'd run."

Firstly, Red is my favorite album. Sorry had to get that out of the way. Gale honestly, ugh there was so much potential here. I think as the movies progressed he started to lose his empathy and grew a more selfish shell. Better Man really reminds me of what Katniss might have been thinking with him. He would've been the one if he was a better man.

(Story idea: reader contemplating their relationship with Gale a month or two after the break up and reliving the memories of the past that are gloomy and haunted over by the fact that, Gale really wasn't ready for a relationship. They ponder over things until coming to the disheartening conclusion that brought them to breaking it off in the first place, it really could've worked out if he was a better man.

Also possibly a part two of that with a tooth rotting fluff about Gale going through some character development and becoming a better man and then they get back together)

Finnick Odair

Starlight- Taylor swift, Red

"He said "Look at you, worrying too much about things you can't change, You'll spend your whole life singing the blues if you keep thinking that way"

Ahehehe Finnicks my favorite. It was hard to pick just one for him but I went with Starlight because he is just such a charmer. Starlight is a song about a whirlwind sort of romance where you are at a party and doing some silly things and you're falling in love. I can totally imagine this happening with Finnick. You meet at a capital party, run off together and start creating some chaos and fall in love. There's specific lines that remind me of him like the "he was trying to skip rocks on the ocean saying to me, "don't you see the starlight"". I could totally see Finnick doing that and just truly being a charming man and finding those little bits of joy in the messed up life given to him. I could see this also being a sort of sheltered reader and it being their first party and he helps them loosen up and have fun.

Honestly, its hard for me to pinpoint just one song for him because so many remind me of him so here are some honorable mentions.

Holy Ground- Same kinda vibe as Starlight

Forever Winter- he has trauma and I can help him. Ours- Finnicks Reputation makes your family question if you should be with him but you know him truly and they can't take whats ours

Mine- A LOT OF PEOPLE THINK THIS ONE BECAUSE OF THE "I remember we were sitting there by the water" line but the rest of the song doesn't fit him

Paper Rings- They wanna get married but Finnick can't because of the capitals uh plan with him so they have a little ceremony with just themselves and some friends and paper rings before the events of Catching Fire and then they decide to run off to district 13 to be together for real

Coriolanus Snow

Tolerate It- Taylor Swift, Evermore

"I know my love should be celebrated, but you Tolerate it"

honestly this was the one that inspired me to do this post. I already wrote this story because I CANT HELP MYSELF! This song was playing in my car after I watched tbosas and it was just painting this whole picture of how the person Snow ended up marrying after Lucy Gray must have felt. I'm pretty sure there was that line in the book too that was talking about how Snow never wanted to fall in love again because he felt so out of control and how he would marry someone he didn't love so that he never had to feel that way again. it was something like that. So Tolerate It sounds like the total POV of his next partner. The song itself is about a relationship with a power imbalance where the person singing the song is giving their absolute all for the love, affection, and praise of their partner and their partner gives them nothing in return. The term "Tolerate It" also is insinuating that the person the narrator is in love with is mildly annoyed with the things the singer is doing for them. They simply deal with it but are never impressed and that just gave me snow vibes.

LET ME KNOW IF I SHOULD SO A PART TWO WITH OTHER CHARACTERS (recommendations open :') ) OR OTHER ARTISTS. I listen to all genres fr.

Thank you for readings and let me know if you liked any of the ideas I suggested and if I should write them!

<3