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moonlitwitchdaisy · 1 month ago

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Last Christmas, I Gave You My A**

❅ summary: Last year, Gojo Satoru had been a good boy. Well, he’d at least tried. And in return, you gave him the one thing he’d been wanting for a long time. Your ass. That Christmas night was unforgettable for both of you, and you’d promised him that if he could manage to be a good boy again this year, you’d gladly give him what he wanted once more. But could your boyfriend really pull it off? Would he follow to the rules and earn his “dream ass” this Christmas, or would he mess things up like always and end up on the naughty list?

❅ pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

❅ word count: 5.1k

❅ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 modern au, naughty gojo is trying to be a good boy for reader, mature language, gojo is doing the "jingle bell rock dance," mean girls fan gojo, use of pet names, teasing, kissing, santa-elf roleplaying, dom/sub dynamic (reader is the dom hehe), oral sex (only f receiving because gojo been a naughty boy this year!), anal fingering, using handcuffs, cowgirl, unprotected sex, anal sex, needy gojo (i love when men beg), pussydrunk gojo

❅ a little note: gojo is so silly and boyfriend material hehe

Entering December officially means it’s time to dive into Christmas preparations. You had a million tasks to handle, especially since you were dating a Christmas-obsessed boyfriend, making everything needlessly extra. Right now, you were planning this year’s Christmas.

Or rather, Gojo wasn’t even letting you speak.

“Alright, now that we’ve finalized the menu, let’s move on to this year’s tree decorating theme. Last year’s snow theme was fantastic, but we have to outdo ourselves every year,” your boyfriend said, scribbling ideas onto the notepad in front of him, completely lost in thought. You, on the other hand, were bored out of your mind, listening to him ramble. Suddenly, he looked up from the paper, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh, baby! I just had the most amazing idea!”

You chuckled at his enthusiasm. “Hmm, what’s on your mind?”

“I thought, why don’t we combine love and Christmas? We could do a red-themed tree! Oh, oh, oh! We could even paint the tree red! God, I’m such a genius,” Gojo declared as he started furiously jotting down his brilliant ideas.

“How exactly do you plan on painting the tree red, love?” you asked.

“Oh, that’s the easiest part. Just trust me. This year is going to be the best one yet,” he replied confidently.

When it came to Christmas, this man turned into a completely different person. Normally, Gojo couldn’t even be bothered to take notes, but during the holiday season, he meticulously planned every detail and somehow managed to assign you tasks in the most efficient way. If only every day could be Christmas.

“Well, now that we’ve somewhat handled the tree situation, it’s time for the most important task of all!” His gaze shifted to you, and a wide grin spread across his face.

Oh, you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Toru, I already—”

“CHRISTMAS GIFTS!!!”

Oh, God… This man truly had no sense of subtlety when it came to gifts.

“You’re such a child, Toru.”

“Oh, come on, baby. Gifts are the best part of Christmas! And besides, you don’t have to be a kid to love presents.”

He wasn’t wrong at this one because you also got very happy when you received gifts.

Gojo’s smile grew even bigger as he looked at you with an excited twinkle in his eye. “So, what did you get me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Toru? If you had listened to me, I would’ve told you that I already got your gifts. You sent me your list a month ago.”

“Upsiee… Did I really?”

You rolled your eyes. This man had a way of driving you insane. “Yes. Yes, you did.”

“Come on, you know how long I’ve wanted the Super Mario Express Train LEGO set. Remember…”

“Oh, here we go again,” you muttered. He must have told you this story a thousand times by now. The even crazier part? You had been there to witness it firsthand.

That day, he stood in line for four hours just to get that train set. And because he was terrified of being alone, he dragged you along with him. When the doors finally opened, he grabbed your hand with one hand while shoving past children with the other. They had only stocked four of those sets, and according to Gojo’s calculations, there was only one left by the time he reached the shelf. Just as he grabbed the last box, a small child grabbed it at the same time.

You’d seen him lose his mind before, but that moment might have been the most terrifying. He shouted, “It’s mine you brat!” at the kid while you begged him not to fight with a child.

“And in the end, as you know, I let that little brat have it.” He crossed his arms, pouting. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you that day! Ever since then, every time I try to get the set, it’s always sold out. But luckily, my beautiful, perfect girlfriend must have found it for me, seeing as how she’s glaring at me to shut up right now.”

He was right again. His dramatics had made you desperate for him to stop talking.

“My bank account might’ve taken a little hit because of you,” you admitted. The list of gifts he’d sent you had definitely put a dent in your savings.

He waved dismissively. “I’m worth every penny, baby.”

He really was.

“You’re lucky that even tough you were naughty this year, I still got you those gifts.”

He got up from where he was sitting and came over to where you were leaning against the kitchen counter. “You know you like me being naughty.” He closed the distance, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Because if I were a good boy…” His lips trailed from your forehead to your cheek. “I wouldn’t fuck you in ways you couldn’t even dream of.” His lips moved to your neck, leaving you breathless.

“Toru…”

“Yes, baby?” he replied, his voice low.

Barely above a whisper, you managed, “Don’t tease me.”

Of course, he did the exact opposite, kissing and licking the softest spot on your neck. “What happens if I don’t? Do I get on the naughty list of the sexiest Santa in the world? If I know that Santa well, I think she’ll still give me whatever I want. Especially…” His large hands gripped your hips and gave them a soft squeeze. “The gift I want most.”

You obviously knew what he wanted most. Even on his gift list, he’d written, “MY DREAM ASS” surrounded by exclamation points and hearts. Could he make it any more obvious?

Last year, you’d tried anal for the first time. Honestly, in your three years together, you didn’t understand why you’d waited so long. Knowing how badly Gojo had wanted to fuck your ass, you’d given him the best Christmas gift of his life, even though he’d been a very naughty boy that year.

And my God, the two of you had the best sex of your lives.

You’d done it a few times since then, but Christmas was special to Gojo, and the sex you had on that day was always more passionate, especially when his big cock was stretching your tight asshole.

When you saw “your ass” at the top of his gift list this year, you’d laughed out loud. You knew he’d write it, but this time, it wasn’t going to be so easy for him to get it.

Because naughty kids couldn’t always win.

“Don’t be so sure of yourself, Toru.” You cupped your boyfriend’s face in your hands. “Rumor has it Santa won’t give you the gift you want most because you haven’t been a good boy.”

“Huh, nonsense! She always gives me what I want.”

You let go of his face and adopted a serious tone. “Careful, love. If you push your luck any further, not only will you miss out on your favorite gift, but you might not get anything else either!”

Finally realizing you were serious, Gojo’s eyes widened in shock. “W-What? Baby, please… You’re the most amazing, stunning, sexy Santa in the world with the softest, most perfect ass. You wouldn’t do this to me.”

“Try me.”

Dropping to his knees, he clasped your legs and pouted dramatically. “I can be good! Please, please! I’ll do anything you want. I don’t want to be a naughty boy anymore. I’ll do whatever Santa wants. All I want is the number one gift on my list.”

A victorious smirk spread across your face. Your plan was working perfectly. “Well, since you insist…” You pulled out a red piece of paper labeled “Gojo Satoru’s 4 Tasks for Being a Good Boy.” “You know I hadn’t given you my gift list yet.”

His eyes sparkled with excitement as he stared at the paper in your hand. “Yes, yes, baby. Whatever you want, I’ll get it. I don’t care how much it costs. Consider it done.”

You laughed at how clueless he was about what he was agreeing to. “I’m not sure these are exactly items to buy… but I’d say there’s plenty of work for you to do.” You handed the paper to Gojo, who eagerly unfolded it, only to have his jaw drop in disbelief.

“Baby, what is this?”

“Oh, I’m sure the title explains it, but if you can’t read—”

“Don’t worry, I can read just fine. But what the hell is this?”

The consequences of not being a good boy this year.

“Well, I thought about it, and as the most amazing, stunning, and sexy Santa in the world, I created a special fast-track good-boy program just for you. This way, even if you haven’t been good this year, you still have a chance to earn the gift you want most. Last year, you got it easy, but this year, you need to complete a few tasks to make your Santa happy.”

Still kneeling, Gojo stared at the list before slowly standing and looking at you with wide, incredulous eyes. “Are you trying to torture me?”

“No. I just think you’ve gotten too used to getting everything your way.” Rising onto your tiptoes, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Remember this, Satoru: if you want to earn the most precious things, you have to be a good boy.”

When you pulled back, you caught sight of his flushed cheeks. No matter how dominant he usually was (especially in bed) your occasional moments of control never failed to fluster him. And you found it irresistibly cute.

“Sweetheart, did you really think a lot while preparing this list?” He glanced at the first item and read aloud: “Task 1: Apologize to the kid you fought with at the LEGO store.” His expression turned sour. “God, how am I supposed to find that kid? And there’s no way I’m apologizing to that little brat.”

“You’re lucky I ran into the kid and his mom when I was getting your LEGO set. Surprisingly, he remembered me and had a lot to say about you. After cursing you out, his mom insisted her son deserves a genuine apology.”

Gojo scoffed. “What a bitch.”

In a warning tone, you said, “Watch it, Satoru, or you won’t get what you want at all.”

Realizing his mistake, he looked at you with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry…”

“Anyway, I took her number and promised you’d deliver a proper apology.”

“Fine. Give me your phone, and I’ll call her right—”

“Oh no. If you think a phone call will cut it, you’re dead wrong, Toru. I’ll send you her number, and you’ll arrange to meet them somewhere nice. Apologize to the kid properly—maybe buy him a LEGO set or treat them to a meal. It’s up to you. But by the end of the day, I want to hear from her that you’ve apologized appropriately.”

Gojo was not pleased. Apologizing was one of his least favorite things to do, and now he had to do it to the kid who took the LEGO set he wanted most.

“Fine, I’ll do it. I’ll apologize to that brat. But only… only for your ass.”

“That’s not the only task on the list, Toru.”

He rolled his eyes and read the second item: “Task 2: Take an unforgettable Christmas photo. Must include: 1. Gojo Satoru must be naked!!!! 2. Use a Polaroid camera. 3. Showcase a Christmas theme (Get creative ♡).” He smirked at you before continuing. “So, uh, what exactly is this photo going to be used for?”

This time, it was your turn to blush. “That’s… not important.”

Of course, you planned to use it for a little personal pleasure during lonely moments.

Gojo’s knowing laugh made your cheeks burn brighter, but he moved on to the next task: “Task 3: Perform the ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ dance from Mean Girls on Christmas Eve.”

“Lucky for you, I know how much you love Mean Girls. And I know you’ll blow that bitch Regina out of the water with your moves.”

“Damn right, baby. I’ll rock your world with my dace that night.” He gave you a quick kiss before reading the final task: “Task 4: Santa-elf roleplay. Costumes and props will be provided by Gojo Satoru’s amazing girlfriend.” Looking back at you with sparkling eyes, he said, “God, I’ve never wanted to be a good boy more in my life. I’m in. For the gift I want most, I’ll be the best boy Santa’s ever seen.”

“Alright, Gojo Satoru. Let the good-boy operation begin.”

“Hell yeah. Good boys are the best.”

Whether or not that was true would be revealed on Christmas.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

Christmas Eve had arrived in the blink of an eye. You and your boyfriend had been preparing food together since morning. Over the years, it had become a tradition to celebrate Christmas Eve with dinner, followed by opening presents on Christmas morning and spending the rest of the day celebrating in bed.

That’s where the real Christmas magic happened.

Around 8 PM, after finishing dinner and before diving into your main Christmas fun, you thought some hot chocolate would be perfect. As you were preparing the drinks in the kitchen together, a warmth spread through you as a pair of arms wrapped around your waist from behind. Your boyfriend’s familiar scent, mixed with his cologne, sent shivers down your spine.

“So, are you ready for my spectacular show?” he whispered, planting a soft kiss on your neck.

As you topped the mugs with marshmallows, you replied, “I think this might be the best Christmas night of my life.”

“I’ll do my best to make sure you never forget it. Like I promised, I’m going to be a good boy.”

Gojo was really taking this seriously. He had already completed the first task successfully. Last week, after getting the number from you, he reached out to the mom of the kid he had fought with at the LEGO store and arranged to meet him to apologize. Somehow, by the end of that meeting, they had become buddies, and Gojo even brought the kid over to your house to show off his LEGO collection. You had no idea how that happened, but in the end, your boyfriend had gained a new friend.

“I have to admit, you really kept your word. And you even gained a new friend while trying to be a good boy.”

Gojo let go of your waist, took the mug you handed him, and began praising his new friend with excitement. “Baby, that kid is seriously cool. Okay, maybe not as cool as you, but I never thought I’d like him this much.”

Carrying your hot chocolates into the living room, you sat on the couch and took a small sip. Noticing Gojo’s gaze fixed on the gifts under the tree, you realized he was probably about to pounce on them if you didn’t stop him. “Toru, don’t even think about it! We always open gifts in the morning.”

Realizing his plan was foiled, Gojo gave you a pouty look. “But I want to open them. Especially the one I want the most.”

“Then finish your tasks, love.”

He took a deep breath before standing up and pulling something out of his pocket, trying to hide it from your view.

You knew what it was. Something you’d been dreaming of for a long time.

“Before I hand over this precious photo, I’d like to thank my best friend Suguru for helping me take it. He also helped wrap me in ribbon. Now, if you’re ready, on the count of three, I’ll show you the amazing photo you’ll be using for, well, your moments.”

“TORU!!!”

“1… 2… 3!” Excitedly, he flipped the polaroid photo toward you, leaving you speechless.

You knew you had a handsome boyfriend—Gojo was undeniably attractive. But this photo was on a whole new level.

He was wrapped in a large red ribbon, his hands and body elegantly tied. And yes, even his sizable cock had its own little red bow. On his face was that signature smirk, the one that screamed he knew exactly how sexy he was.

This might just be your favorite task yet.

“Judging by your reaction, I’d say you like it, baby.”

“I-I really do,” you stammered.

Gojo leaned in to press a long, wet kiss to your lips before pulling back, resting his forehead against yours. “Use it whenever you want. If you’d like, I can take a hundred more like this. I love being your gift.”

“Toru…”

“So, do I get my most desired gift after completing the last task?”

Overwhelmed by the moment, you closed your eyes before answering. “Yes. That was the plan, but did you forget your dance performance?”

Pulling back instantly, Gojo grinned. “Baby, get ready to watch the dance of your life. I’ve been secretly practicing every day while you were at work, and trust me, I’m better than that bitch Regina.”

His excitement made you smile. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”

“Okay, okay, now go to our bedroom and stay there until I call you! Don’t come out until I say so!” He practically dragged you off the couch, pushing you into the bedroom before shutting the door and disappearing.

You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of performance he had planned. He was clearly taking this seriously. He really wanted your ass. Not that it would’ve mattered—you would’ve given it to him anyway. But making him work for it was just too entertaining.

Especially since you had some great plans for the final task.

About ten minutes later, you heard him call for you. Stepping out of the bedroom and into the living room, you noticed the lights were off, save for the glow of your Christmas tree (which, yes, he had actually painted red). Suddenly, music began playing, and Gojo appeared in the middle of the room.

As “Jingle Bell Rock” played, he started performing the exact dance from Mean Girls. From the girls’ outfits to the arm movements to the hip sways—everything was identical.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter, and when Gojo caught sight of your joy, he smiled softly, clearly pleased to see you enjoying yourself.

Just like in the movie, the music suddenly cut out, only for Pitbull’s “Give Me Everything” to start playing. Abandoning all sexy moves, Gojo began doing ridiculous breakdance moves, leaving you doubled over with tears streaming down your face.

You were currently watching the world’s most absurd yet entertaining dance performance. Your boyfriend, dressed in a slutty Santa costume, was rolling around on the floor. Occasionally, his skirt would lift, revealing his boxers—an unexpected bonus to the show.

When the song ended, he struck a bizarre pose and froze. You burst into applause, running to him and jumping into his arms. Cupping his face, you pulled him into a feverish kiss.

You really loved this man. He was the only person who would do this for you. Not just to get the gift he wanted most, but if you looked him in the eyes and simply asked, he’d agree to anything. He could never say no to you.

As his arms wrapped around your waist, he pulled you even closer. Within seconds, you found yourself lying back on the couch as Gojo broke the kiss.

“Did you like it?” He rubbed his nose against yours, his warm breath grazing your lips.

“I loved it. It was incredible. That bitch Regina has so much to learn from you.”

“Damn right, yeah.” He pressed his lips back to yours, kissing you passionately, full of heat and excitement.

Lost in the moment, you let yourself be swept away, but then the thought of his next task broke through your haze. This time, you were the one to pull back from the kiss.

“T-Toru…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you ready for your final task?”

“The Santa-elf roleplay? Baby, I was born ready. I can’t wait to see your elf costume.”

Oh, it seemed he didn’t realize he’d be the elf.

“Toru, my love… I hate to break it to you, but you’re going to be the elf.”

“Excuse me?” He sat up abruptly, shocked.

“You heard me right.”

“But I’m already wearing the sexy Santa costume. I thought—”

You sat up from where you were lying, smirking mischievously at your boyfriend. “As the most beautiful, sexy Santa with the softest, ass in the world, if I’m going to give you the gift you want most, Satoru, I think I should be the one wearing this costume.”

You took his hand, nodding toward the hallway for him to follow.

His excited eyes locked on yours as you led him to your bedroom, and your heart pounded like it might burst out of your chest. You had never done something like this before. Normally, you loved letting him take control. But tonight, you were calling all the shots.

Once in the bedroom, you pulled out the elf costume you’d been hiding from him for weeks and handed it to him. “Go to the bathroom, change into this, and only come back when I call for you. The moment you walk into this room wearing that costume, you’ll be my little elf slave. So don’t even think about doing anything that might upset Santa. Got it?”

“Yes ma'am.” Gojo stared at you, mesmerized, before taking the elf costume and fake ears from your hands and heading to the bathroom. In the meantime, you took off your Christmas-themed pajamas and slipped into your sexy Santa costume. After putting on the hat, you lit a few new Christmas-themed candles to set the mood in the room.

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you called out, “You can come in now.”

Within seconds, the door opened, and Gojo stepped into the room in the green elf costume, complete with the pointy ears. His eyes wandered from your chest, where the tight top accentuated your breasts, down to the skirt that barely covered your ass, and then to your legs.

You could already feel the heat of his gaze imagining all the ways he wanted to fuck you.

Standing next to the bed, you gestured for him to come closer. Like an obedient little elf, he followed your command and stood in front of you.

“I know how hard you’ve worked this year, my little elf. As you know, it’s Christmas Eve, and after midnight, we have gifts to deliver.” Your hands began tracing his chest. “But I also want to make sure my special elves get their rewards. As my best worker, it’s my duty to give you your gift.”

“I live to serve, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, what is the gift you want most, my little elf?”

Gojo swallowed hard. “I-I, uh…”

Your hands paused their movement and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. “You what? Answer me, or you won’t get what you want.”

“Your ass, ma’am,” he blurted out.

“My ass, huh? Do you think you’ve earned it?”

With an eager voice, he replied, “I was naughty this year, but I promise I’ll give your ass the best attention it’s ever had, ma’am.”

His answer made your already wet pussy throb even more. But before he could fuck your tight hole, you had something else in mind for his talented mouth.

“The best attention, huh? Can you give the same to my wet pussy?”

“Absolutely, ma’am.”

“Then get on your knees, my little elf.”

Without hesitation, your boyfriend dropped to his knees, looking up at you, waiting for his next command.

“Lift my skirt.”

His large hands found the hem of your skirt and slowly raised it, revealing your bare, glistening pussy. You knew he was internally battling to keep his composure.

“Do you want to taste it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice filled with longing.

You ran your fingers through his hair, gently stroking it before giving your permission. “Then do it.”

Without wasting another second, Gojo buried his head between your legs and began licking you.

His tongue traced small circles around your clit, making your legs tremble with each pass. Your hands gripped his hair tighter, pulling him closer. You wanted more, needed his tongue to explore every inch of you.

“F-fuck… suck it!” Normally, you’d remember to say “please” because you knew how much he loved hearing it, but tonight, you were in control.

When Gojo’s lips wrapped around your clit and his tongue added pressure, you couldn’t help but let out a sharp cry. Each second he sucked, his tongue teasingly flicked against your most sensitive spot, pushing you closer to the edge.

“God… I didn’t know elves were this good with their tongues—AH, GOD, JUST LIKE THAT.”

When he slid his tongue into your pussy, your head fell back. Your hands tugged at his hair as his tongue moved in and out, making you crave his big cock even more.

“Stick your finger—your finger in my ass. Ugh… stretch it out before I let you fuck it. And don’t stop licking me.”

With a hot breath against your pussy, he replied, “As you wish, ma’am.”

His hand slid from your thigh to your ass, and he began circling your tight hole with his finger before slowly pushing it inside.

“Mhhhmph… fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moaned, overwhelmed by the mix of sensations.

He didn’t let up. While his finger stretched your ass, his tongue continued working on your pussy, planting noisy kisses on your clit. When his tongue found your sweet spot again, he sucked hard, sending you spiraling toward your orgasm.

“I’m gonna come in your mouth… ugh, don’t stop—I’m so close!”

“Please, come in my mouth,” Gojo begged, his voice dripping with need.

A few more swipes of his tongue and a deep thrust of his finger pushed you over the edge. With a scream, you came hard into his mouth, your legs shaking as your climax overwhelmed you.

All you wanted now was to kiss him and feel his big cock inside you.

When he finally pulled his head back from between your legs, his face was glistening with your wetness. You pulled him up to you, crashing your lips against his. Satoru stayed still, letting you take the lead, not daring to do anything that might disrupt your control.

When you pulled back to speak, both your lips were slick from saliva and your juices. “Lie on the bed and put your hands above your head.”

He looked into your eyes and you saw the burning desire in his blue gaze. You knew how much he wanted this.

Without hesitation, he lay down on the bed, clasping his hands above his head. From the nightstand, you grabbed the Christmas-themed handcuffs you’d bought and secured his wrists to the headboard.

“Now you’re completely mine, my little elf slave.” You climbed on top of him, pulling down the green pants of his costume. “Remember, there’s no pleasure for you tonight. You were a bad boy this year, so the only thing you’re getting is my tight ass.”

Pulling his pants and boxers off, you grabbed his hard cock, running your fingers over the tip.

“F-fuck…” Gojo gasped, a string of curses leaving his lips.

In a sharp tone, you warned, “You don’t speak unless I give you permission.”

He nodded obediently, his lips sealed. Aligning your ass with his cock, you lifted your skirt and slowly lowered yourself onto him, letting out a loud moan as he stretched you open.

“I can’t even—God, I can’t even talk.” You paused for a moment to adjust before starting to move, rocking your hips up and down in small motions.

“You’ve been waiting for this all year, haven’t you? Now—ah, God, now take what you’ve been dreaming of.” you said, your voice breathy as your movements quickened.

“Y-yes, ma’am. You’re the best gift I could ever have,” Gojo groaned deeply.

“Yes, I’m the best gift—for you. Only I can give you this,” you panted, feeling the fullness of his cock inside you.

Every nerve in your body was alive, overwhelmed by the sensation of his thick cock stretching your ass. The sound of your ass slapping against him only spurred you to move faster. His balls hit against your skin, sending waves of pleasure through you.

Throwing your head back, you moved your hips even faster. “Are you close, my little elf?”

“Yes, ma’am… oh, so—so close,” he said, his voice strained, his eyes shut tight.

“Then be a good elf and—ah, God, come for me… come for me now!”

With a few final bounces, you felt his release fill you, the warmth spilling into you as you collapsed onto his chest.

Both of you were panting, your breaths uneven as you tried to come down from the high. After a few minutes of resting, you lifted your head to look at him, your mischievous but obedient boyfriend. “Merry Christmas, my love.” You kissed him softly, savoring the moment.

Gojo was still catching his breath. “To you too, baby. Luckily, Santa gave me the gift I wanted most. I think I might actually enjoy being a good boy.”

Your fingers gently stroked his cheeks as you chuckled. “You definitely deserved it. Santa would do anything for you.”

“And I’d do anything for her. Also, baby, I realized I get extra hard when you’re the one in control.”

“Oh, you liked it, huh?” You placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Yep. Let’s do this every year. But next year, I want to be Santa. This costume was so itchy.”

Your lips curled into a smile as you continued to leave small kisses on his cheek. “Deal.”

“In that case, untie me, and let’s put our pajamas back on and watch Mean Girls while drinking hot chocolate.” Mean Girls was probably your favorite movie as a couple. You watched it at least once a month.

While untying the cuffs, you said, “I don’t think the hot chocolate is hot anymore.”

Freed from the handcuffs, Gojo rubbed his wrists where the marks were. “Then I’ll just have something else that’s hot.”

“Like soup—HEY, TORU!” Before you could finish your sentence, you suddenly found yourself on your back as he climbed on top of you, grinning mischievously.

“Something better than soup.” As he lowered his head and made his way between your legs again, you realized you’d be staying in bed a little longer.

In that moment, you were reminded once again how much you loved him, whether he was good or naughty all year long.

But deep down, you’d always love him more when he was naughty.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

gojo satoru art by @1004_shvn on X

dividers by @strangergraphics @cxltbr1de

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 10 months ago

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Pairing: Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Tropes: Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

Song Inspiration For The Series: You Call It Madness But I Call It Love By Russ Columbo

Series Playlist (Spotify)🥀

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters fluctuate between past and present, beginning in 1934. SPOILERS FOR THE BOYS S3

Chapter 1: You Shouldn't Have Answered the Door

Chapter 2: Late Night Visitor

Chapter 3: Summer Has to End Someday

Chapter 4: It's My Party and I'll Eat Cake If I Want To

Chapter 5: The Man, The Myth, The Legend

Chapter 6: Batter Up

Chapter 7: Are We Old Friends Or Old Enemies?

Chapter 8: Jealousy Doesn't Look Good On Anybody Except...

Chapter 9: Wedding Bells or Gong of Destruction?

Chapter 10: How Did It End Up Like This?

Chapter 11: I Can't Think With You Yelling At Me!

Chapter 12: My Heart Is Beating For You Constantly

Chapter 13: You Made A Plaything Out of Romance

Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of

Chapter 15: What Do You Know About Love?

Chapter 16: Please Come Back To Me

Chapter 17: How Could I Ever Forget?

Chapter 18: First Impressions Are Often Correct

Chapter 19: I Know Who You Are

Chapter 20: You Were There

Chapter 21: Try To Understand

Chapter 22: I May Be Right Or I May Be Crazy

Chapter 23: Extreme Makeover Backyard Edition

Chapter 24: What The Past Held

Chapter 25: Are Family Reunions Always This Awkward?

Chapter 26: I Hate You, I Love You

Chapter 27: Take Me Back To The Beginning

Epilogue: True Love Is Hard To Find

Last Updated: 10/08/2024 (Series Complete)

One Shots:

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?: All you wanted was for Ben to have a nice Thanksgiving, but when your daughter brings her new boyfriend over, all hell brakes loose!

[Extras]

Chapter 7.5: The Only Escape (Unused)

Happy Halloween! (Takes Place After Main Series)

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126 @simplyfixated @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444

@lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn

@lifeonawhim @liuope @brynanna @carpenterswife

@xxannyxx

@babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit @valryomen @cassieriddle713 @shaggzthatsnottheworm

@lil-soup @ej13928 @topstory21 @boywivlove

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@vivre-dans-la-nuit @megara0224 @daisy-the-quake @thesilmarillionblog @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

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@octoazzy @modiddys-blog @marmie-noir @practicallylivesonline @impala67stellawinchester

@everlove @dangerousgardenchild

(Photos on mood board from Pinterest)

#jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys fanfic #the boys series #soldier boy #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys amazon #jensen ackles #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fic #the boys season 3 #jackles #billy butcher #homelander #hughie campbell #the boys #You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

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finelinefae · 9 months ago

Text

sick bug [tattooH x innocenty/n]

synopsis: y/n works too hard and harry just wants her to be okay

word count: 3.5k

contains: fluff

a/n: hope u enjoy the first of many blurbs for flower !!

. . .

Y/N never ever, ever gets sick.

Ever since she was a little girl she had always had a strong immune system and even when she had the slightest hint of a cold, she’d gulp down a few pills and get on with her day.

It was a trait within her family to never let anything stop you from working, not even a sick bug. She distinctly remembers the first and only time she had caught something during high school. She had been one of the last people to catch a bug that had been travelling around groups of students and it just so happened to be during exam season.

Despite the hammering headache and the constant shivers, she went straight to school to complete her exams after her mother had given her herbal medicine she couldn’t seem to name- that she believed had some kind of magical healing properties- and a packet of ibuprofen.

Now that she ran a flower shop most days of the week, getting sick was a total inconvenience. There was always too much to do and not enough days in the week, so getting sick would just be a waste of time that could be used to get things done.

That’s what she kept telling herself, over and over, as she blew her nose into a tissue for the third time in the last ten minutes and swallowed two headache pills to ease the throbbing in her skull.

She was arranging flowers into vases as customers wandered around the shop. Her eyes could barely focus on the flowers she was cutting and arranging; she was constantly taking them all out and starting again. What was meant to be four vases of perfectly arranged flowers, was only one.

She was uncomfortably warm. Even though she had layered herself with three jumpers, she did so only because there were moments when she would suddenly feel cold and shivery. The heating was constantly up and down despite the fact it was the beginning of spring.

This was another reason she couldn’t allow herself to get rest. Spring was the busiest season, flowers were beginning to bloom and people were rushing to buy new flowers for the season to decorate with or send to loved ones.

There was just too much all at once and being sick was not allowed.

The morning had gone by in a blur - literally. Y/N couldn’t seem to remember who walked in and out of the shop too busy thinking about not throwing up every five minutes. It seemed the only person who could gain her attention as he walked past the shop window, was her tattooed boyfriend next door.

She quickly pulled out her purse and took out a pressed powder to powder her nose with, hoping it would hide the redness of it. She stretched her cheeks and forced the biggest smile she possibly could when the bell rang and Harry stepped in through the door.

In his hand, he had her bento lunchbox that he had prepared for her the night before like he always did because she seemingly always forgot to eat whenever she worked. “Hi flower,” His voice was like warm soup that soothed her belly.

“Hi Harry,” She walked into his arms and nuzzled her face into his soft, fuzzy sweatshirt. He smelt like pine and ink and all the things she loved that made her feel warm and cosy. Her arms wrapped around his middle as her eyes fluttered shut, she could have drifted off as his hands pressed against her back, playing with the ends of her hair.

“Y’ tired sweet girl?” He murmured, “Working so hard?”

Y/N squeezed him tighter, wanting to mould herself into him so she’d never have to leave the comfort of his warmth, “Not really,” She lied, finally looking up at him.

Harry held her face in his hands and brushed the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone, “Remember we’re going out tonight so don’t work too much,” He warned her, knowing she was prone to working herself too hard and passing out once they stepped into his or her apartment.

Y/N’s stomach plummeted. She’d completely forgotten that Harry had asked her to come with him to a birthday dinner down at a bar that evening. She had made a mental note earlier in the week to pick out an outfit but had completely forgotten about the entire thing. She felt awful especially since Harry had been looking forward to introducing her to some of his friends and just spending time together in general. It was all the more reason why she had to hide her sickness, just until the end of the night.

“I won’t,” She forced a smile, “For the rest of the day I’ll sit right here and won’t move a muscle,”

Harry chuckled, “Yeah? Sit there and look pretty? Tha’s not so hard for you m’love,” His lips pressed against her forehead. She hoped he couldn’t feel how warm she was. “C’mon flower, made y’ favourite for lunch.”

By the end of the day, Y/N had hoped she'd feel a bit better, enough to join dinner at least, but she felt even worse than she did in the morning.

Her movements were slow as she closed the shop for another day, trying not to move so much or she’d feel her stomach turn. The mere idea of going out, let alone eating something with her upset stomach, made her feel queasy but she’d push through for Harry.

She had little energy to tidy everything completely so she pushed it all to one side and switched the lights off before locking up. Harry wouldn’t be finished with work for another hour which gave her some time to pick out an outfit before the dinner party.

With laboured breaths, she ascended the steps to her apartment, each step feeling heavier than the last, until finally, she reached her front door and pushed it open. Marshall rubbed against her leg as she tried to kick her shoes off of her aching feet, “Hi Marshy,” She mumbled, stumbling over to her bedroom and straight to her wardrobe.

She plucked a few things off of the hangers, none of them matched or looked fancy enough for dinner, but she wanted something comfortable. Her eyes glanced at her bed as she held the dresses up before the mirror. It looked so inviting, all made up and cosy. She'd been longing for a nap all day and maybe if she took one now she’d gain some of her energy back for dinner.

With a sigh, Y/N dropped the clothes on the floor and succumbed to the temptation of her bed. She pulled out her phone and set a timer for twenty minutes, knowing Harry wouldn’t be back before then.

As she slipped under the covers, the warmth and comfort of her bed enveloped her. It was what she had been seeking all day - to cocoon herself in blankets and fall asleep so she didn’t have to deal with being sick. Her eyes fluttered shut and it wasn’t long before she drifted off into a much-needed nap, hoping it would ease the discomfort she had been feeling all day.

. . .

“Flower,” His voice was in her dreams, “Can y’ wake up f’ me a sec?”

Y/N frowned, feeling something cool and damp pressed against her forehead. Soft kisses press against her exposed arm, “Harry?” She mumbled, her eyes slowly opening only to realise she wasn’t dreaming of him at all.

He was right there in front of her, sitting on the edge of her bed and pressing a damp cloth against her forehead. “There’s m’ pretty girl,” He cooed.

“You’re here,” She sighed, her eyes groggy from sleep and her head heavy against her pillow. She reached for the hand that wasn’t holding the cloth, clutching it to her chest.

“M here, lovie,” He sighed, “I wish y’ would have told me y’ weren’t feeling good.”

“I’m fine,” Y/N lies, her eyes falling shut again to block out the light in the room.

“Y sure about that flower? Found you up here passed out when I came to pick y’ up for dinner,” The word seemed to trigger Y/N’s memory as she shot up in bed, ignoring the pulsing of her head and the way the room spun.

“The dinner! Harry, we can still go, I set an alarm and we still have time, I made sure of it.” Her head whipped in the direction of the clothes she had left on the floor.

Two hands curled around her wrists to pull her attention away from the thoughts that were whirring in her mind, “Baby,” He murmured, “The dinner started an hour ago. I told them we couldn’t go as soon as I found you lying here all feverish.”

Y/N’s lips parted, registering his words as he waited patiently for her to respond. Suddenly, her eyes burned until tears began falling from them, rolling down her cheeks. Harry’s eyes widened, cupping her face in his hands and wiping away her tears before they could even fall onto the duvet. “I-I’m sorry Harry,” She cried, “I know you were so excited to go to dinner with your friends. I never get sick, I don’t understand why this is happening.”

Harry’s eyes softened as she clung onto him, “Flower,” His heart was hurting for her. He always knew she worked hard, he saw it every day with his own eyes, but not to this extent. He figured this was from more than just a sick bug and that she’d been over-exhorting herself to the point where her body was turning against her to get some rest, “Hey, what are these tears for hmmm? No more cryin’ m’love.” He kissed her tears away, tasting the saltiness on the tip of his tongue.

“‘Course I was excited for dinner,” A fresh set of tears filled Y/N’s eyes but Harry quickly continued, “But only because I like spending time with you. M’ friends will still be there but you are always, always, my first priority in everything.”

“You’re not mad?” She whimpers, feeling more angry at herself than anything.

“Not about tha’ but I am a little angry y’ didn’t tell me y’ weren’t feeling good. Never seen someone so warm in m’ life flower, scared me half to death.” He was trying to be stern with her but he couldn’t help but also show his worry for her. “Think you’ve been working yourself a little too hard hmmm?” He stroked her head, pushing her hair back from her sweaty forehead.

“I haven’t been sick in so long,” She admits, “I was hoping it would go away by the end of the day but, honestly Harry, I feel terrible. M’ throat is all scratchy and my tummy hurts too.”

“Think y’ body jus’ needs a well-needed break from all tha’ running about you do. Honestly Flower, never seen anyone work as hard as you do.” He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Gonna let me take care of y’ tonight?”

She nods, relaxing at his words of comfort, “Okay Harry,” She whispers.

The corner of his lip twitches, “What am I going to do with you?” He sighs, completely in love with her. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against hers, not minding the warmth radiating from her in fact he welcomed it, “You’re everything to me. Can’t have y’ getting sick.”

Her eyes fluttered shut feeling his cool breath blow against her lips like he was trying to breathe new air into her to get rid of the sickness, “I really am sorry for not being honest and for the dinner.”

“S okay but y’ tell me from now on? Everyday okay? Tell me the truth about how y’ feeling,” He needed that from her and she promised she’d give it to him.

He smiled when he received a quick nod in response to his request, “Alright then, are y’ hungry? Want something to eat?” He asked.

“Not really,” Y/N pouts, the thought of food didn’t exactly appease her stomach right now.

“Y’ don’t want soup? I make a mean cup of soup, flower. I hear it can cure even the worst of sicknesses.” Her eyes squint and he’s desperately holding himself back from rubbing his thumb over the dark circles under her eyes.

“What kind of soup?” She questions, her eyebrows furrowing.

He leans forward, puckering his lips against her top lip, “S a secret.” He murmurs.

“Can I help make it?” Her eyes round because she knows it will persuade him - it always does.

“You can sit down and keep me company but I don’t want you up and about.” She sighs but accepts the answer and holds her arms open. Harry smiles and lifts her up, his arms under her butt as her legs wrap around his waist.

He walks to her kitchen and places her on the kitchen counter, moving around to the different cupboards as though he owned the place. He knew exactly where she kept everything, gathering ingredients to create the delicious soup he knew she would love because it had all her favourite things hidden in the recipe.

Once the soup is cooked, he pours two servings into pink, china bowls and places them at the coffee table in front of the couch. He helps Y/N, carrying her over and sitting her in her spot and tossing a blanket over her legs. “Want me to put on y’ show, love?” He asks, referring to her comfort show Gravity Falls.

“Yes please,” She replies, politely.

Y/N picks up the spoon that feels like it weighs more than it does and sips some of the soup she watched Harry make. “Mmm Harry, it’s delicious!” She hums, taking another spoonful.

“Yeah?” He grins proudly at her reaction.

“I already feel much better,” She nodded. He knows she’s feeding his ego but he accepts it all the same.

When they’re both finished eating, he takes both of their bowls and goes to tidy them up, leaving Y/N lying on the couch under a blanket he’d put over her. He hears her tired giggles when something funny happens on the small television, his heart aching at the raspiness of her voice but he’s happy she’s no longer upset. He also cleans up the dishes from this morning and does some of her laundry too, wanting her to rest as much as possible in the upcoming days.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. A notification appears from the group chat he was in with the friends they were meant to go to dinner with. Pictures of them at dinner pop up, his eyes glancing over to his girlfriend as he sends a quick reply. He walks over to her and finds her no longer in the sweater she was once wearing but completely stripped down to just her underwear. Her eyes gaze up at him, “S too hot,” She sighs, her cheeks bright pink.

He tugs off his shirt and pulls it over his head, nudging her over to lie in the spot beside her. The couch was much too small so she ended up laying half on top of him, her head resting over his heart and her palm over his chest. His thumb slides under the waistband of her panties as it brushes the skin on her waist.

She mindlessly played with the chain around his neck and his lips quirked every time he’d spot the small inking on her arm whenever she moved it a certain angle. “I love you,” He murmured, kissing the top of her head. He couldn’t remember if he had told her already but either way, he wanted to tell her.

Y/N craned her neck to look up at him, his palm pushing back the hair from her face, “I love you too,” She puckered her lips and he leaned forward to kiss her.

Halfway through the first season, light snores fell from the girl lying across his chest. Harry carefully manoeuvred himself to grab the remote control and switch the TV off. He gently moved her enough so he could stand up and hooked his arms around her to carry her to her bedroom.

“Harry,” Y/N mumbled as he lay her on her mattress. She reached out for him, needing his close proximity to stay relaxed.

“M right here, lovie,” He reached for her hand that she held out for him and kissed the back of it, “I’m just gonna get you a glass of water.” Y/N liked having a glass of water on her bedside table in case she got thirsty in the night. He remembered the first time he stayed around her apartment and she forgot to grab one before she went to sleep. She woke Harry up in the middle of the night to ask him if he could come with her to the kitchen because it was too dark for her to go by herself.

“You’ll come back?” She pouts, half asleep.

“I’ll be back in thirty seconds, flower. Y’ can count if y’ want to.” He chuckles when she starts counting, whispering softly as he walks to the kitchen.

He comes back before she reaches thirty with a glass of tap water clenched in his fingers. He places it on her side of the bed - because they have those now and he was obsessed. Hers was always the right in both his and her bed and his was always the left.

“Told you,” He says as he lays beneath the blanket in the bed beside her.

“You did,” She hums, curling into his side once he’s settled, “How come you’re always right?”

He cradles her in his arms as she buries her face in his neck, wanting to be as close to him as possible. “M not always right but I think M right about you most of the time. You’re all I know, flower, I know how to love you and take care of you.”

She sighs blissfully, he can feel her eyelashes against his neck as they flutter open and close like she’s trying to fight off sleep, “There you go again, right as always.”

He laughs, “Rest now baby, you’ll be back t’ watering y’ flowers and being my noisy neighbour in no time.”

He knows she’s asleep from the lack of sassy responses he gets.

. . .

“This is pretty,” Harry tugged on her skirt as she walked past him sitting on the chair at the front desk holding a bouquet of flowers. She looked beautiful every day but after days of being sick and in bed, she was practically glowing with fresh energy as she moved around the shop. Her hair was in a high ponytail with a white bow secured around it, she wore a dress with puffy sleeves that swayed as she moved, and her heels clicked against the ground with every step she made.

The flower shop had been closed during the time Y/N was sick. She was beyond stressed about it the first few days, worried that she would be so behind on her work the longer the shop was closed, but Harry made sure everything would be alright. He suggested she keep the shop closed for the whole week so that she could work on the things she needed to before opening it again.

As much as he wanted to stay with her, Y/N insisted he go to work in the day, especially since the most she would be doing was sleeping. He worried about her often in the day, he couldn’t help it, and he hadn’t realised how big of a presence she was until she wasn’t there anymore. He couldn’t hear the chiming of the bell as people walked in and out of the flower shop and he missed the clicking of her heels against the floor as she walked into his shop to eat lunch with him or sneak around the back buildings to kiss him.

“Thank you, I bought it online a few days ago,” She gleamed as he rubbed the fabric between his fingers.

“Ahh,” He smirked, “So y’ were buying pretty dresses instead of sleeping whilst I was down here working?”

“Something like that,” She shrugged, biting her lip.

He yawned his head falling forward to rest against her stomach. She ran her fingers through his curls, “Are you tired?” She asks.

“Hmmm,” His eyes flutter shut at the sensation of her hands in his hair.

“Harry?” She frowns, holding his face in her hands as she tilts his head back. Her hand cups his forehead, “You’re burning up.”

“I am?” He sighs.

Y/N’s eyes soften, “You are,” She replies, “Seems as though it’s my turn to take care of you now,”

Harry grins lazily, “I like the sound of that, Flower.��

#harry styles fic rec #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #fanfiction #fanfic rec #writing #harry styles writing #harry styles blog #harry styles one shot #one direction #harry edward styles

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fairyysoup · 1 year ago

Text

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 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.”

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.)

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #roses*

4K notes · View notes

blimpintime · 3 months ago

Text

cursed : azriel x reader

in which azriel has a crush on a witch, and thinks she cursed him.

warnings: none (unedited)

word count: 1.4k

“She’s quite the character huh?” Cassian says to Azriel, staring at you. He grunts in response wondering why you are currently in a handstand competition with a couple of kids in the middle of town. Kind of in awe how your little black dress didn't fall down to your face with you being upside down, but that's a perk of being a witch, he thinks.

As if you heard them talking about you, your gaze finds theirs. You grin and then lose balance and gracefully fall out of the handstand. It being the last day of summer did make it a cool one but still having been outside with a summer camp of kids you were quite dewy with sweat. Your face was flushed and damp as you made your way towards the two men.

“Hi Cassian!” You say with a grin, you turn and look at Azriel, your smile falling into a smaller one. “Spymaster.” You nod. Cassian lets a chuckle slip through at Az’s blank face. You were always like this with him. He never fully understood why. You kept him at a distance always but managed to be involved in every one else’s business. He often thought it was because you could not stand him. And then he thought you were terrified of him, because let’s face it, that was more believable.

You were making small talk with Cassian when Azriel started to get lost in his mind thinking of you and how it seemed you teased him on occasion. With your little quips here and there. Constantly smelling like those fresh baked chocolate-chip muffins that were his guilty pleasure to eat when he got back from long missions

He noticed eventually that Cassian had walked away from you two when a group of kids started playing tag with him. He turned to look at you where you decided to sit on the grass, he made a quick decision to sit next to you. Both of you were silent, but for once it was comfortable.

The path leading up to your small little house on the bank of the Sidra was always well lit at night. Glowing with purple and orange lanterns their reflection makes it seem brighter than it was that night. Your house was on the smaller side (still fairly large all considering.) But you loved to host seasonal parties due to them being in connection with your magic and since summer was ending and fall was starting, it was the perfect time to throw one of your celebrations.

Currently the Inner Circle is in your living room drinking and eating food you have made for them. Your familiar, Silly the tabby cat, has made their home on Azriel’s lap. He doesn’t seem to mind though. Gently petting the cat's soft fur. You stare at them from the kitchen with a soft smile on your face.

“You could just tell him you know.” Nesta says from behind you, scaring the absolute shit out of you. You place a hand over your chest and let out a deep breath. “Nesta, I’m going to put a bell on you.” She laughs lightly as you scrunch up your nose.

“I am not joking though.” She says softly, and you look back at him now playing with Silly on the couch. “He can’t even stand to be in the same room as me for more than ten minutes. There is no way I could tell him how I feel.” She hums in response.

“I think you’d be surprised.” And then she walks back out to sit with Cassian. You did deeply care about Azriel, borderline loved him. You felt connected to him in a way you couldn’t describe, just that your soul was at peace with him. Your magic proved that theory too. It sometimes appears to you in colorful hazes around people.

Every color had a different meaning, the majority of the Inner Circle had a warm orange around them. Your magic had to be newer or just not have a written history because there is barely any research on what these colors mean. However, you chalked it up to orange meaning some of the most important people in your life. Azriel though, he had a beautiful blue humming around him almost constantly for you, and you had no idea what that meant.

You must have been lost in thought for a while because the next person to scare you was Rhys with Nyx on his hip. He was building another plate for Feyre and Nyx to pick off of.

“You okay?” He asked you softly. Nyx’s grubby hands reaching for the fresh food on the plate, you and Rhys both grin at that. You nod your head in response to his earlier question.

“Maybe ask him to hang out with you?” He says, like it's that easy. You shake your head, “I don’t know about that.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to try.” You watch him leave the kitchen and decide it's time to do the same.

You follow Rhys back into your living space, where it's warm of laughter and love. You sit down on the only open seat, which happens to be on the couch next to Azriel. Silly runs over to your lap and demands petting. You look down at the orange cat with love and when you look back up you meet Azriel’s puzzled stare.

“What?” You ask him softly, nudging the cat off your lap gently. You turn to fully face him when he abruptly stands up. He grabs your arm and pulls you towards the outside.

“We will be back.” He says gruffly towards everybody, dragging you along.

“Please for the love of Mother, take your time.” Cassian says with a cheeky grin, “We have bets placed.” to which earns him a vulgar gesture from both you and Azriel.

When you go outside he drags you closer to the river and further from the house. Probably to avoid prying ears and eyes, but with everyone’s magic you go ahead and place a sound proofing spell over the two of you.

“Is everything alright Azriel?” You ask him after a moment of silence. He turns back around to look at you with something close to… fear?

“So, what is it?” You look at him deadpanned and tilt your head in confusion.

“What spell did you place on me? Why, when I go to sleep I think about how I hope you had a good day. When I wake up I wonder if you actually ate breakfast and not forgetting after you have your morning coffee. And tonight, I wonder where you go when this party is mainly in celebration for you and I am busy playing with your cat and not with you.” He gets out in one breath. I stare at him for a moment and when I open my mouth he interrupts me again,

“Why is it when you are near my hands shake less and my worries ease but when you are gone I crave your scent. What curse? What spell?” Azriel genuinely looks shaken for a moment, and for a second so do you.

“I didn’t know you felt that way too, Azriel.” You say and approach him with a soft smile. When you guys finally make eye contact though something inside you both, snaps. Your eyes widen and so do his. Mate.

You let out a little giggle that eventually turns into a full laugh. “You thought I cursed you?” You say through giggles, “I thought you hated me Az.”

“Ah, well that goes both ways.” He responded with a smile. You look at him in confusion. “I could never hate you.”

“You couldn’t stand to be near me.” He quips back.

“No. You couldn’t stand to be near me.” You say and jokingly sniff at him. He shakes his head and grins. “We are both stupid.” You nod your head in agreement.

“A couple of stupid mates, huh.” You look up at him, now leaning shoulder to shoulder.

“Yeah something like that.” And then he kisses you.

Warm lips slotting over yours softly, you both start getting a little more heated with each other. Hands finding their way into your hair while yours go around his neck. His lips softly biting yours and then pulling away. You arch and reach up on your tiptoes in a feat of chasing his lips. He grins at you, puts his hands on your cheeks and kisses your nose.

“Let’s go back inside.” He whispers and leans back, as if he’s afraid that this will all be a dream if one of you speaks too loudly.

“I am kicking everyone out the minute we get back inside.” You whisper back and kiss his collar bone.

“That sounds great to me.” he says and with that you both walk back to your house holding hands.

a/n: so this was completely self indulgent, I wanted a cozy azriel fic!

please tell me what you think!

I don't own any characters that sarah j. mass created.

#acotar #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #azriel x yn #azriel spymaster #acotar fluff #acotar fanfiction #cozy azriel fanfic

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grantmentis · 1 month ago

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PWHL 2024-2025 Primer

It's that time of year again folks. PWHL starts on November 30th.

The sections of this primer are: What is the PWHL, Where can I watch, Rules/League Structure, Official league pages, journalists to follow, and an introduction to each team (what they did last year, who's on the team, notable players, you should root for them if you..)

What is the PWHL?

The Professional Women's Hockey League was created in 2023 and launched in January 2024. It is currently the sole professional women's hockey league in North America.

Heading into the 2024-2025 season, the PWHL has six teams: The Toronto Sceptres, Boston Fleet, Minnesota Frost, New York Sires, Montréal Victoire, and Ottawa Charge. Each team plays 30 regular season games per team. You can find the full season schedule here.

Where can I watch?

Disclaimer; We don't have an official 100% confirmation on the American and non-North American ones yet, just reports from journalists who I do deem trustworthy. I will edit any changes and highlight them in bold if necessary.

On Television/Streaming

Canadian fans will have games on TSN and its affiliates (such as TSN+) primarily, with select games on CBC and Prime video.

French broadcasts of Montreal games can be found on RDS (18), Radio-Canada (6) on ICI TÉLÉ and ICI TOU.TV

Full streaming/television schedule for Canada

All fans not in Canada are available to stream on the PWHL Youtube regardless of location (so if you're "in market" there's no black outs like there is NHL games)

UPDATE: SOME games are now on Twitch instead of YouTube for non Canadian viewers, which can be accessed on the PWHL.com

Last year regional games were held on: Bally Sports North in Minnesota, NESN/NESN+ in Boston, MSG/MSG+ in New York, Sportnet Pittsburgh has carried select games. Not 100% confirmed this will be the case last year. Even if your regional sports network carries it, however, you should be able to access it on Youtube in America

In Person

Toronto and New York (sort of) have new locations this year

Toronto Scepters play at Coca-Cola Coliseum

Ottawa Charge play at TD Place

Montréal Victoire play at Place Bell

Boston Fleet play at Tsongas Center (Lowell, MA)

Minnesota Frost play at Xcel Energy Center

New York Sirens will play at Prudential Center (Newark, NJ)

There are also many neutral site games this year including Detroit, Quebec City, Raleigh, Vancouver, Denver, Buffalo, St. Louis, and Seattle that you can read about here

What are the rules? The League Structures?

Who makes the playoffs and what do they look like?

Please keep in mind that with such a young league, it's possible this will be tinkered with.

Each game is worth three points: 3 for a regulation win, 2 for an overtime win, and 1 for an overtime loss

Last year, the PWHL had 4 of the 6 teams make the playoffs. The number one seed got to choose their opponent between the third and fourth seed.

All series were best of five series, the two semi finals and then the finals.

Rules

If you are an NHL fan looking to jump in, here are the differences in the PWHL. The rulebook is also here.

Bodychecking is allowed in the PWHL, so long as it is done in an attempt to play the puck or gain possession. While women's hockey has always been physical, bodychecking at this level is fairly new, the SDHL in Sweden started to allow it just in 2021 and then the PWHL last year, so refs and players are adjusting in how they're going to draw the line between legal and illegal. This is also not the case in international competition, so it is a little different than the olympics or worlds if you are used to watching those.

The PWHL has a "jailbreak rule" which means that if you are shorthanded and score, the penalty ends.

In shootouts, a player can go as many times as they'd like.

New this year is the "No Escape" rule where players of a penalized team are required to stay on the ice to start the penalty kill.

Coaches can challenge delay of game puck over glass penalties.

Hits to the head, headbutting, and grabbing an opponents helmet strap, throat protector, or hair is an automatic major penalty and game misconduct.

What are the official social media pages? Who are good people to follow?

Official league pages:

PWHL: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

There's also a unofficial bluesky bot that re-posts all of the PWHL X content

Sceptres: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

Fleet: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

Victoire: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

Frost: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

Sirens: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

Charge: Instagram / Twitter / Tiktok / Youtube / Website

News and Journalists:

This is not a comprehensive list, just a starter pack! feel free to add any recommendations in the comments.

Kyle Cushman: Works for the score, covers the whole league (as well as some nhl), keeps public statistical information. The Score author page / Twitter / Bluesky

The Ice Garden: Long time women's hockey publication. I'd also recommend going through their contributor/author page and following them individually! Website / Twitter / Bluesky

Hailey Salvian: Long time reporter for the Athletic for women's hockey Twitter

Kenzie Lalonde: TSN reporter based in Montreal covering PWHL among others, also does play by play Twitter

Rick Menning: Local reporter for the Sirens Twitter

Kelsea Durham: Local reporter for the Boston Fleet for Inside the Rink Linktree

Christine Roger: French-Canadian reporter, who posts in French, mainly about Montreal Twitter

PWHL Report: Content aggregator for if you don't want to follow a bunch individually and really the only one i've seen post stuff to Instagram Twitter / Instagram

Who are the Boston Fleet?

The Boston Fleet were last years runner up in the league.

Their roster can be viewed here, with updates to be expected in the next few days as training camp cuts and contract being signed, the waiver period starting for teams to sign players that got cut from other teams training camps, and final rosters are made.

Notable players: Hilary Knight (captain), Aerin Frankel (Star goalie), Alina Müller (Swiss hockey star), Hannah Bilka (first round pick this last draft.)

You should root for this team if: You like defense-first hockey, strong New England college hockey connections, rooting for the youngest ice hockey player to win an olympic medal (Alina Müller), a player who got a custom outfit for pride night (Jamie Lee Rattray), Jewish hockey icons (Aerin Fankel), and players who are also podcasters and make a lot of tiktoks (Lexi Adzija and Taylor Girard)

Who are the Montréal Victoire?

The Montréal Victoire finished second in the standings last year, where

Live roster viewable here with expected updates the next few days

Notable players: Marie Philip-Poulin, Laura Stacey, Erin Ambrose, Ann-Renée Desbiens (all four are long time Team Canada legends), Lina Ljungblom (young Swedish superstar), Mikyla Grant Mentis and Kennedy Marchmand (both former PHF MVPs)

You should root for this team if: You love two way defensive minded centers, rooting for the league favorite, star players who are married to each other (Poulin and Stacey), short defenders (5'1 Amanda Boulier and 5'2 Cayla Barnes), post game victory dances, I dont even know how to describe this but heres grant mentis and Lásková watching golf i have to put it here

Who are the Toronto Sceptres?

The Sceptres were the first place team in the PWHL last year.

Roster here, once again will change this week

Notable players: Natalie Spooner (league MVP and long time team Canada player), Sarah Nurse (Olympic record holder for points and top scorer), Julia Gosling (first round pick), CJ Jackson (backup goaltender, social media darling, and LGBT activist), Renata Fast (top defender for both PWHL and Team Canada)

You should root for this team if you: love all the Team Canada players who grew up outside Quebec and also the coaches (all but three players are Canadian and many have played internationally for Canada, the coaching/management also largely from team canada and shares stylistic similarities), are interested in Nursey Nights (Sarah Nurse's collaboration with Black Girl Hockey Club during Toronto Sceptres games!), want to root for the other league favorites, love noted pancake enthusiasts (Kali Flanagan), or if you're more on the savory side, love a hot dog enthusiast (CJ)

Who are the Ottawa Charge?

The Ottawa Charge finished fifth in the league last season

Roster here with updates to come

Notable players: Brianne Jenner (team Canada and captain of Ottawa), Emily Clark (top scorer), Kateřina Mrázová (top scorer and Czech national team icon), Danielle Serdachny (second overall pick), Ronja Savolainen (Finnish national team mainstay and SDHL icon)

You should root for this team if you: Have an interest in Czech players (Mrázová, Vanišová, Tejralová), you like podcasting players (but gay this time), enjoy a team that regularly updates their youtube channel and does a fan fest and has some of the best player created content, like a team that is not afraid to make bold roster moves

Who are the Minnesota Frost?

The Minnesota Frost are your inaugural PWHL champions!

Here is a live, updating roster

Notable players: Kendall Coyne (Captain, Team USA), Taylor Heise (last years #1 overall pick and one of the leagues scorer), Grace Zumwinkle (also a top scorer), Nicole Hensley (star goalie and also Team USA starting goaltender typically), Michela Cava (extensive experience as top player in PHF, SDHL, and Russia.)

You should root for this team if you: Have a lot of midwest pride and like teams in the WCHA, value speed when watching hockey, like players with unconventional paths to stardom (Hensley, who played at Lindenwood in college and made team USA only after college finished), want to root for the ultimate playoff sicko (Michela Cava, who has 4 championships across four leagues, two finals MVPs, and is over a point per game combining all playoffs), like franchise cornerstones who are besties and call each other 'the dog to their cat" and vice versa (Heise and Zumwinkle)

Who are the New York Sirens?

The New York Sirens finished last in the PWHL last year

Roster with updates to come

Notable players: Abby Roque, Alex Carpenter (both team usa and PWHL top scorers), Corinne Schroeder (had the best goaltending season in PHF history in 2023 and followed it up by having one of the best PWHL seasons despite a tough workload), Sarah Fillier (first overall pick this year, team Canada star), Maja Nylén Persson (round two pick, SDHL best defender of the year last year, team Sweden's #1 defender), Noora Tulus (finnish national team star and one of the best SDHL players of all time.)

You should root for this team if you: want to see a team really build itself up from the ground floor, as theres a lot of roster turnover this year and a new coaching staff, with a lot of exciting draftees. like a team that has a little more physicality/grit. want to maximize the number of crossovers with other professional sports teams possible, like the nickname pizza rats. Want to enjoy some of the best mic'd up content (Roque)

#pwhl #boston fleet #minnesota frost #montréal victoire #toronto sceptres #ottawa charge #new york sirens #hockey #women's hockey #scheduled post..lets hope no news comes out between when im scheduling and when its posted #long post

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ashwhowrites · 5 months ago

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Hi, Can you do a Steve harrington x freak!reader where the reader has always liked him since he was king Steve but then he embarrassed them so they avoided him ever since until either season 3 or 4, where Steve is trying to win them back with the help of Eddie, their best friend. Happy ending please!!! Thank you!!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Soft spot

Y/N knew liking Steve was a horrible idea, but she fell anyway. She liked him before he became King Steve, and unfortunately liked him during that phase.

He did not feel the same. Instead, he publicly embarrassed her. Even though it happened years ago, she could still feel the burn of embarrassment. And the fact she never got an apology from him might have been a factor as to why she can't get over it.

Then he graduated and she didn't have to relive it. She kept clear of him around town, not wanting him to find something else he disliked about her. She was doing a damn great job at it, until Eddie.

Eddie and Y/N were best friends and ran hellfire together. One thing that started their friendship was their dislike for Steve. And now? Eddie and Steve somehow became friends, and it pissed Y/N off.

She was hurt and betrayed that Eddie would be friends with him, but Eddie kept preaching that Steve was different. But how was Eddie so sure? What if he changed back within a second. She still had a soft for Steve and knew that part of her would win. That meant she was going to fight as much as she could.

As for Steve, he never forgot about her once he graduated. She was out of sight and in his mind, her name always rang a bell.

She was talking with Eddie, her smile so wide and beautiful. Steve couldn't help but stare in awe as she looked memorizing doing something so simple. Then her eyes moved to his, and he froze. He gulped as her eyes went into slits before she looked back at Eddie. Steve almost felt jealous of her soft eyes when she looked at Eddie. He wanted her to look at him like that too.

After Eddie bid her goodbye, he walked over to Steve.

"Ready to go?" Eddie asked, clueless to Steve's personal battle.

"Uh yeah, but quick question," Steve said, Eddie turned his head to listen. "How do I get Y/N to like me?"

~~~

Eddie warned Steve it would be a long ride to get Y/N to forgive him, and he was okay with that.

Y/N worked at the arcade, and Steve happily drove Dustin and the gang to play. As they went wild, he made his way over to the counter. She was leaning over the counter, looking bored as he walked up. But once she saw him, she stood tall.

"Hi, Y/N right?" Steve asked, already throwing on his charming smile

"That's what the name tag says," She said, sass on her tongue. Steve looked down at her chest, her name tag clear as day.

"Right," Steve said, rubbing his jaw as he tried to figure out what to say next. "Look, I'll just cut to the chase-"

"No need to, I'm not interested in anything you have to say," she said cutting him off. She smirked, loving that she got to embarrass him instead.

"That's fair, but please?" He tried. She tried to look away from his desperate brown eyes.

"Please? King Steve begs now?" Y/N asked, her smirk growing more and more.

"I'm not King Steve anymore. I grew up and left that stupid ego behind." Steve said, his voice serious. "I want to apologize and maybe start over?"

Y/N felt her heart race, but she couldn't get sucked in by his charm and puppy eyes. "Why all of a sudden? Because you and Eddie are friends? Just because you two are friends, does not mean we need to be friends."

"I've never seen you around, but you are now and I want to fix this." He said as he pointed between them.

"You mean never noticed me around," Y/N snapped, "and nothing to fix because I'm not interested in ever talking to you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." She walked out from behind the counter and took off.

Steve sighed, not happy with how that interaction went.

~~~

Eddie and Y/N talked about the next campaign as they walked to his van. The night was chilly as it was nearly eight pm. Y/N sighed as Steve's car was parked next to them, Dustin in the front seat.

"Hi, again," Steve said with a smile, leaning slightly out of his window.

Y/N rolled her eyes and got into the van, slamming the door shut before he could speak again.

Eddie shrugged his shoulders with a slight smile. He secretly enjoyed the treatment she gave Steve.

~~~

Y/N sighed as Eddie dragged her through the party. Sometimes she hated how much she loved Eddie and agreed to do anything for him.

"Deal will be like an hour tops, then we'll leave," Eddie promised. Y/N sighed louder but kept walking. Eddie found a table outside and took her a seat, Y/N left to grab them a drink.

She walked into the crowded kitchen and filled up two cups with some type of liquor she didn't even know.

"Need a hand?" Steve's voice came from behind her. His mouth was right in her ear, his breath made her shiver.

She turned around, sighing as she prepared to deal with him again.

"Nope, I'm all good," she said, preparing to leave but he softly grabbed her arm to stop her. He yanked her so her body was against his. She was so close that she smelled his cologne and the beer on his breath. His skin glowed under the dim lights, and she tried not to memorize the freckles and moles on his face.

"You aren't leaving until we talk," he demanded. Y/N tried to stand her ground, tried to act like his touch, his voice, and his body had no control over her.

"I told you I don't want to talk," she snapped, but her body didn't move.

"Fine, then listen." He said, moving his grip down to her hand as he walked her into the nearest room with a door.

He closed the door behind him, now both in a random bedroom.

"I'm meant to be here with Eddie," Y/N said, one last attempt to leave but he didn't move away from the door.

"Eddie will be fine for two seconds," Steve mumbled. Y/N placed the drinks on the nightstand and crossed her arms.

"What do you want from me, Steve? Why can't you leave me alone?" She asked

"I'm sorry for what I did in high school. I'm sorry I said those things about you in front of a crowd. You never deserved that. I was a dick and too prideful to admit I was wrong, but I'm not anymore." He began to walk towards her, "I'm not him anymore. I've changed, but the one thing that never changed was my feelings for you."

Y/N froze as the last words fell from his lips. He was now right in front of her, soft doe eyes staring into hers.

She broke the eye contact, licking her lips as she cleared her throat. She looked around the room before she looked at him again.

"Munson told me all about your suspicion and that you don't believe that I've changed. But I can prove it to you if you give me the chance." He spoke softly and quietly.

"What feelings?" she whispered, her voice cracked as her throat dried up. She felt nervous under his strong gaze.

"I've had feelings for you for years. I know I fucked up my chance the first time. Being popular was too important and I forced myself to pick Nancy. I tried so hard to make her you," she gulped as his left hand cupped her cheek. His thumb rubbed her cheek, and she hated that she felt herself melting into it. "No one could be you."

Y/N collected herself and pushed him off.

"That doesn't make sense!" She argued, her skin was growing hot. "You have these huge feelings for me? I put myself out there for you! I asked you to the dance and you rejected me way crueler than I could have imagined. Now that you lost your title and realized you peaked in high school, now you want me? Now I'm safe to go after? You haven't changed. You are still shallow and selfish." Her words didn't deflect Steve. Her angry body was toe to toe with him, she breathed heavily but all he could focus on was how close her lips were to his.

"I can't change the past, Y/N. If I could, I would in a second. But please at least give us a chance. What if we could be really good together? I know you still have feelings for me. Here's another chance for both of us to see where these feelings can take us."

"How the fuck do you know what I feel? You don't know me."

"You wouldn't have spent years hating me if you didn't still want me." He said a smug look on his face that she wanted to smack off. "You wouldn't still be standing here, trying to deny me if you didn't like me. It would have been easy to leave me here, but it's hard isn't it? A part of you wants me to suffer, which I understand and deserve. But what does the other part of you say?"

She bit her tongue as she thought. She knew everything he said was right. Her pride wants to leave him in this bedroom alone. But he followed his pride and it left him hurt. If she followed her pride, wouldn't she have the same outcome?

"The other part," she started, holding herself in her arms, "doesn't want to let you go for a second time." She admitted she looked down at their shoes. She could feel water in her eyes but she tried to keep it back. "I already know what life is like hating you," she looked up. He was hanging on to every word, his lips parted as he waited. "And my stupid heart wants to know what it's like to love you." A tear slipped and she wiped it away before it fell. "I hate that I want you."

She sniffled, and Steve quickly held her face in his hands. He leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as he felt her breath hitting his lips.

"Let me heal you. I can fix this for us." He promised. She closed her eyes as more tears fell. "I'm sorry, so sorry."

Before she could say anything, she felt lips against hers. She sighed at how soft his lips felt, but how strong the kiss was. It made her breathless. She tangled her hands in his hair as she let herself go. She'd wanted this since she was sixteen, she needed to go for it.

Kissing Steve was better than she ever dreamed. His hands moved down to her waist, pushing her further against him. The kiss grew hot and heavy as they desperately clung to each other.

Y/N would always have that soft spot for Steve.

#steve harrington fluff #steve stranger things #steve harrington #steve Harrington x reader #steve Harrington x female reader #steve Harrington angst #steve Harrington x female reader angst #ashwhowrites #steve harrington requests #steve Harrington fluff x reader #steve Harrington angst x reader

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pricelessemotion · 1 year ago

Text

poltergeists for sidekicks | E.M.

summary: [2.3k] the kids drag eddie to the halloween store where you happen to work.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, pining, eddie being a lovestruck idiot, r wears big prescription glasses and is described as having messy hair

a/n: happy halloween! here’s something i’ve been working on for ages just in time for the end of spooky szn! xoxo

masterlist

Eddie doesn’t hate Halloween.

He used to love Halloween. He likes autumn. He likes watching the leaves change colors. He can appreciate the novelty of a hot apple cider and a hay ride. Hell, ever since he was old enough to go trick or treating, he reveled in it. Free candy and all he had to do was put on a costume and say three magic words? Sign him up.

As he got older, he started to like Halloween for a slightly different reason. Don’t get him wrong, he still liked the free candy, but he liked the excuse to be someone else for a night. He liked how he could throw on a Michael Meyers mask and go door-to-door and be greeted with glee and sweets.

It does a funny thing to a kid’s self-esteem, being treated better when he’s wearing the face of a fictional serial killer.

Now, though, Eddie Munson is decidedly too old for trick or treating. He’s resigned himself to spending the holiday like it was any other day by spending the night in his room, playing guitar, and coming up with new campaign ideas.

Which is exactly what he was doing when three freshmen started pounding down the door of the trailer demanding entry. Within moments, they are practically on their hands and knees asking, nay begging, for the older boy to take them to get last-minute Halloween costumes.

“Aren’t you guys too old to go trick or treating?”

“This is why we need to go to the store! If we wear masks, no one will be able to tell how old we are, hence extending our years of candy collecting.” Dustin explains, matter of factly.

Eddie sighs, leaning back into the sofa, steepling his fingers together. “What’s in it for me?”

The three boys huddle together, conspiring in a manner that is not dissimilar to the way they plan their counterstrikes during Hellfire. They nod in sync, turning around so that Lucas is standing front and center, flanked by the two other boys.

“That one girl you like is working there.”

Eddie remains stone-faced, quipping sarcastically, “That’s very specific.”

Mike lets out an exasperated groan, threading his fingers through his hair before yanking at the ends in frustration. “Y’know, the weird one. Coke bottle glasses, messy hair, always holding a book?”

Lucas’ eyes widen. Dustin smacks Mike on the chest and the hollow sound rings out through the empty trailer. They all start talking over each other, with two of them berating the third for A. being insensitive and B. expecting a good outcome from said insensitivity.

Eddie wants to make a comment that your hair is not messy, it’s actually more voluminous. Besides, his hair is messy and he likes to think it makes him look badass. The glasses comment was a little unfair. Sure, the frames are a similar shade to the iconic green of the bottles of Coca-Cola. But the magnification was endearing, leaning more towards doe-eyed than bug. Unfortunately, Eddie did not consider that while he was observing you, someone might’ve been observing him.

The assurance of your presence is how Eddie ends up here, parked outside of a hardware store turned seasonal shop. He’s helping his friends. He’s supporting a local business and therefore contributing to the local economy! You being here is just a bonus.

A bell rings above them as he swings open the door, the motion setting off a scratchy pre-recorded cackle. He’s gotta hand it to whoever is running the store. They’ve gone out of their way to transform the dingy overhead fluorescents and worn-out linoleum into something that actually resembles an eerie boutique.

“Welcome in! I’ll be right witch you!” Your voice lilts out from the depths.

You appear out of the darkness, expertly weaving under fake cobwebs and pushing aside fanciful drapes that have no doubt been strung up precariously around the store to add to the ambiance. You’ve got a witch’s hat on, tall and black and pointy, which further explains the pun you greeted them with.

“How can I help you?” You smile brightly, adjusting your glasses.

The younger boys barely spare you a glance, just a chorus of we’re good! before running off to the other side of the store, where all of the costumes are located.

You barely blink at their rudeness. Whether that’s indicative of your experience in customer service or due to your generally sunny disposition, Eddie isn’t sure. You turn your smile and magnified gaze at him, “What about you?”

Eddie startles only slightly. He begins to peek over his shoulder as if there’s somebody else in the mostly deserted store that you could be talking to. What about him?

“Oh, I don’t need anything. I just came here with–” He gestures vaguely in the direction that the boys wandered off to. “The little shits that left me in the dust.”

You bark out a laugh, a small smile settling on your lips. “It’s sweet of you to help them out.”

Eddie only blushes in response, murmuring a quiet it’s nothing, scratching the back of his neck like he might find a switch that’ll make him remember how to talk like a normal human being.

“Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

You pick up a clipboard and a pen and start leisurely strolling down the decor aisle, making inconsequential markings on the paper. Whenever you come across gaps in the shelves you reach back into them, pulling the products to the front edge with a concentration that is quite adorable.

He’s definitely staring by now. Feigning interest in a skull-shaped candy bowl, Eddie scrambles for something, anything to keep the conversation going. “I’m surprised you’re not busier.”

“You just missed the afternoon rush.” You say, straightening a pair of plastic tarantulas that have gone askew. “Not too many people came today, though. I guess they realized that it’s so close to the holiday that the shelves would be picked over.”

“Really?”

You shrug, “I think by October 30th, most people figure if they’re gonna dress up, they’d rather just pull together something from their closets than spend money. We’re actually busier the day after Halloween because everything gets marked down and people want cheap candy.”

“Makes sense.” He nods. “So, I take it you’re a big fan of Halloween?”

Your smile is apprehensive as if you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you. Your fingers brush the brim of the witch’s hat. “What gave me away?”

He falls into step beside you, clasping his hands behind his back and puffing out his chest. “I just had a feeling.” Then, feeling much braver than usual, he adds, “I like your outfit.”

You look at him again, clutching the clipboard to your chest. For once, your eyes are leaning more towards bug-eyed. The black velvet dress has draped sleeves and a skirt that swishes with every step. Orange and black striped tights protect your legs from the inevitable chill that comes with October in Indiana. “You do?”

“I do.” He insists, “It totally adds to the magical vibe. If you told me that you were an actual witch and this was just something you do to pass the time I’d one hundred percent believe you.”

All apprehension has slipped off your face, replaced by a genuine smile that cracks open his chest. “Thanks…” You trail off.

“Eddie.” He supplies.

“Well thank you, Eddie. I’d tell you my name but I’m guessing I don’t have to.” You say, rubbing the plastic name plate on your chest.

Eddie does know your name, but it isn’t because of your name tag. He was far too proud to ask around for your name, and far too afraid of rejection to ask you himself. He’d been lucky enough to get a library book right after you. He’d pulled the weathered paper from the slip, seen your name at the bottom of the checkout card, traced the loopy letters with the pad of his fingers. It had definitely been more than a little pathetic.

Eddie coughs, clearing his throat, trying to maintain any semblance of nonchalance. “Do you have any plans for Halloween?”

Your face slowly lifts from the clipboard, twirling your pen between swift fingers polished in a deep burgundy. Directing your gaze at him, you peer through dark lashes and Eddie’s never been more thankful for the inventor of coke bottle glasses. The magnification allows him to see the spark of intrigue dancing across your pupils.

“I was just gonna stay home. Maybe help my mom pass out candy.” The implication of the last sentence seems to hit you. You look down again, scrunching up your nose. Eddie finds it endearing how your first instinct is honesty rather than anything else.

“Cool. That’s cool,” Eddie says in a manner that is decidedly uncool. He fiddles with his rings before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Actually, I was wondering if—”

Suddenly, Eddie feels stupid for getting lost in your eyes and not paying attention to his surroundings. Maybe then he would’ve noticed how the linoleum got ever so slightly softer under the soles of worn-out boots. He would’ve seen the cloaked figure looming in the alcove, waiting for some unwitting soul to step on the pressure plate.

Unfortunately, Eddie did not see any of those things. The poltergeist, or ghost, or whatever the fuck it is swings out. He stumbles backward, releasing a shriek that is so high-pitched, that he wonders if he should start tapping into his upper range. Maybe it would add more texture to Corroded Coffin’s Tuesday night sets.

Instinctively, his arms fly backward, as if to protect you. He stumbles right into you, and he’s sure that if you didn’t grab his waist from behind, you would’ve fallen right over. Unfortunately, the movement has both of you careening back into a shelf, sending bags of overpriced candy and shitty Halloween decorations tumbling to the ground in a cascade of all things creepy and corny. He quickly spins around.

“Shit, are you–”

“I’m so sorry!”

“I should’ve warned you–”

At that moment, chests heaving and hearts racing, you both seem to realize that your hands are still grazing Eddie’s waist. You spring apart, scrambling to clean up the display, haphazardly grabbing the fallen items and placing them back in their rightful places on the shelves. Among them is your hat, another casualty of the calamity.

“I should’ve warned you,” You say again, slightly out of breath. “That thing nearly scares me to death every other day.”

“It’s fine. I should’ve paid attention to where I was walking. It just added to the whole spooktacular experience.” He picks up the hat from the floor, dusting it off. “I think this belongs to you.”

You give a bashful smile, but instead of putting the accessory in your outstretched hand, he gingerly places it on top of your head. Your glasses have slid down your nose from bending over to clean up his mess, and his thumbs gently push the joints of the frames until they’re sitting in their rightful place.

“There,” He punctuates his statement with a resolute tug on your hat, making sure it’s securely on your head. “Perfect.”

You preen at him, eyes sparkling, before you cast them down at the floor. Dustin comes running around the corner, closely followed by Mike and Lucas. All of them are carrying armfuls of miscellaneous Halloween supplies, obviously alarmed at the clamor, but not alarmed enough that they didn’t take their sweet time coming from the opposite end of the store. Eddie takes advantage of your bashfulness and distinctly shoots them a look that says get the hell out of here. Dustin’s eyes dart between the two of you before they widen and his mouth forms a small oh. He sends Eddie an exaggerated wink, walking backward in order to not interrupt the private moment, dragging his two friends along with him.

“Thanks,” You smile at him. “For protecting me. I know who to bring with me if I ever want to walk through a haunted house.”

He gives a lopsided grin, “My pleasure.”

“Ahem.” You clear your throat, “Anyways, what are your plans for Halloween?”

This is it. This is the moment that Eddie has been waiting for since he put down his guitar and his notebook and opened the trailer door.

“That depends.” He clasps his hands behind his back, jutting his chin up in the air. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“I get off at four.”

“The Hawk is doing this continuous horror movie marathon. Maybe you would want to go?” Eddie’s fingers are practically vibrating with excitement. He nearly forgets the most important part. “With me? I mean— Only if you like horror movies, I just figured because I’ve seen you walking around with that Stephen King novel. NOT that I’ve been watching you or anything!”

You let out a small giggle. The fact that you’re laughing and smiling is a good sign, even if it is slightly at his expense. He decides to lean into self-deprecation, hoping it’ll seem more charming than desperate.

“I’d say I don’t scare easily, but I think we’d both know that’s a lie by now.”

You scribble something near the bottom of the paper on the clipboard, delicately folding it and ripping it off before placing it in Eddie’s palm.

“Well, I’ve heard horror movies are less scary if you have someone to hold your hand.”

It doesn’t even matter that a ghost animatronic essentially acted as his wingman. The note with your number on it sits heavily in his pocket, thumb tracing over looped ink. Even though it’s cold as shit, he embarrassed himself, and signs of the spooky season decorate every corner, Eddie has a smile that rivals even the best of jack-o-lanterns.

As Eddie turns off towards the dirt path that leads to Forrest Hills Trailer Park, the smile still hasn’t faded.

For once, the streets of Hawkins seem a little less haunted.

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #mimi wrote ✍️#poltergeists for sidekicks

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after-the-end-times · 8 days ago

Text

Is it Christmas Magic or is it Love?

For @steddieholidaydrabbles Prompt: Hot Chocolate ☕ Rating: G ☕Words: 1000 ☕ cw: none ☕ Tags: Getting Together, single dad Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Sometimes just having someone help feels like magic, Eddie hears what Steve's really saying and does something about it Ao3

Steve pushed rewind on the vhs player and sat back down on the couch, the blue of the tv screen lighting up the room and the sounds of Eddie and Robin shuffling around coming from the speaker of the phone Steve had pulled to the couch.

“You know, I kinda wish Santa and all that Christmas magic stuff was really real.” Steve said wistfully, thinking about how much easier Christmas would be if he didn’t have to be in charge of every single aspect of creating Christmas memories for his daughter.

“Um, what? You don’t think that’d be pretty creepy in real life?” Robin asks skeptically. They, and Eddie, had just finished their monthly movie night via speakerphone, Christmas themed since it was December, and Steve thought it’d actually be pretty handy if some nice old guy in town really was secretly Santa. Except,

“Ok, maybe you have a point about the whole ‘always knowing what you’re doing’ or ‘sneaking into houses in the dead of night’ thing being creepy.” He glances over at the boxes with the tree and decorations that still needed to be put up at some point. “Still. Would be nice.”

“What’d be nice?” Eddie asks.

He sounds like he’s honestly wondering, so Steve takes a moment to try to explain it.

“I suppose...it’d be nice to have the help, you know? If “Santa” could just take something off my plate so I wouldn’t have to do everything? Like, I would love if Santa could actually just magically know what Annabelle wants even after she changes her mind fifty times and then just poof! magic it here.”

He pauses, trying to articulate this other feeling he gets on Christmas morning, without sounding too woe is me. “Also, sometimes- Ugh! Nevermind.”

He tips over on the couch, pressing his palms to he eyes.

“No, what is it?” Eddie asks, his voice gentle in the silence of Steve’s living room.

“So, I guess...you know, it’s not like I got all those Christmasy traditions for very long when I was a kid, right? I mean, we did stuff, but it wasn’t, you know, just us, doing little things throughout the month, watching movies, going skating, making popcorn garland, and all that, right? And I love doing all those things for and with Belle, I really do! But, also,” He hesitates a moment, because this feels too vulnerable. But it’s just Robin and Eddie, so, “I want that? To feel that wonder and magic she feels.”

“Steve”

Oh no, that was Robin’s concerned voice.

“You know what? I think I’m just being mopey. ‘Tis the season, right? So, just ignore me. I’m the parent, so it’s my job to create magical moments, not- Anyway! When are you guys getting to town?”

🎄🎄🎄

Robin couldn’t get work off until the week of Christmas, but Eddie’s book tour was suddenly redirected, so he was staying with Wayne for most of December. Steve was excited to have him in town, but also assumed Eddie would still be too busy to do much with him and Belle. Steve knows his friends love his kid, but he also knows that not everyone wants to hang out with a 6yo running amok, hanging off him, or trying to run off with strangers at the mall play place.

But oh, how wrong he was.

The moment Eddie got into town, he called to ask if Steve and Belle were free. Which, they were, so Eddie came right over to hang out while Steve did kid laundry. He took one look at the boxes in the living room and asked Belle if she wanted to help put up the tree and decorate the house. By the end of his visit, the whole house felt like Christmas. The tree lit up the room with glowing light, showing off six years of kid ornaments, and now, after an hour of crafting, a handful of Steve, Belle, and Eddie ornaments.

A few days later, Steve was at work when Eddie showed up bringing him a large hot chocolate and, somehow, leaving with Steve’s shopping list of gifts. He’s honestly still not sure how it happened, but either way Steve definitely didn’t expect to get home after school pickup to find Eddie at home working on dinner, and bags of gifts tucked away in Steve’s bedroom.

The next weekend, Steve had planned on taking Belle to see Santa at the mall, but the entire day had gone wrong. And Steve just could not imagine standing in an hour long line with a squiggly 6yo, even if it’s the only day that works if he wants to include the photos with their Christmas cards.

Just as he’s seriously thinking of calling it, there’s a knock at the door. Eddie had finished that day’s book signing at a local bookstore and driven by to see if he could catch them before they headed out. Somehow, just having Eddie there made going to the mall seem not too bad.

The line was just as long as Steve feared, but he and Eddie took turns walking Belle around while the other held their spot in line, so it really wasn’t too bad. Steve was getting close to the front when he saw Eddie and Belle coming through the crowd; She was holding Eddie’s hand, looking very serious about whatever she was saying, Eddie slightly bent over so he could hear her, and Steve felt his breath catch in his throat and his eyes suddenly stung with emotion. Oh.

Steve pulls Eddie in to join them for their family photo with Santa.

Driving home, Eddie detours around the neighborhood, slowing down at brightly decorated houses to ooh and ahh with Belle, pointing out snowmen and Santas and reindeer.

Steve looks at him and reaches a hand over. This is what he wants, what he’s been missing. Not some Christmas magic that suddenly fixes everything for him, but this, him. Smiling over at Steve, Eddie links their hands.

#steddie holiday drabbles #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steve x eddie #I guess I have a writing tag now

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rileyslibrary · 2 years ago

Note

thinking about: reader injuring themselves during training (literally the smallest paper cut) and ghost over-dramatically carrying them to the medics because they “can’t walk” <3 <3 <3

Hey anon, I really liked your request, so I decided to spice it up a little (not in a naughty way, but in the “I-too-was-in-the-mood-to-over-exaggerate-the-living-sh!t-out-of-it-just-like-Ghost” way). I hope you don’t mind. Here, *passes you the story the way grandmas give birthday money*

———————————————————————

It was a goddamn obstacle course, and a simple one at that. They called it “routine training,” aimed to remind soldiers like you of your fundamental training principles while keeping you physically fit and mentally sharp. You’ve done it many times before, so it shouldn’t be a problem now, right?

Wrong.

This time, Lt. Riley summoned you to serve as a role model for the recruits. “Show them how it’s done,” Ghost said in his deep voice, to which you agreed with a seemingly disinterested shrug. It was a cocky, arrogant shrug that you later regretted for many reasons—far more than the number of times you had run that obstacle course.

See, you’ve never practised with so many people looking at you. And although you’ve completed the course with your teammates before, you have never been asked to act as a “demonstrator” in front of a crowd of eager eyes. Eyes that stare at you right now, admiring the seasoned soldier standing before them, waiting to see how you’d perform the track. You were an expert in their minds, a higher-up, so you wanted to give it your best and finish it in record time, just like a proper master would—just like Ghost would like you to.

As Lt. Riley finishes briefing the soldiers, he redirects their attention towards you. You, in response, begin to stretch your neck, arms, and legs and nod at Ghost, signalling that you’re ready. He nods back and blows the whistle through his balaclava.

The obstacle course begins with a row of five walls, each more challenging than the last. Despite the increasing difficulty, you summon all your skills and athleticism, and with a combination of agility and strength, you clear each of the five walls. You turn to look at Ghost, who stands proudly with his hands crossed in front of his chest. Good job, you.

The next challenge is a mud pit with barbed wire on top. It’s challenging if you don’t know the technique, but that doesn’t apply to you since you’ve mastered it. You quickly move through the second course, sliding with your back to the ground and carefully avoiding the barbed wire. As you pull yourself out of the pit, you feel a slight scratch on your knee from the barbed wire, but that doesn’t affect your ability to complete the course.

With the second challenge behind you, you reach the final obstacle: a 10-metre rope with a bell at the top. Climbing the rope and ringing the bell marks the end of the track.

As you pull yourself up the rope, you can hear Ghost’s thundering voice in the background, desperate and distressed, as if the world is about to end. You see him waving you down, but you’re determined to reach the top and shake the bell before sliding down, victorious. Your landing may not be as graceful as you imagined it, since you fell on your back, but that doesn’t matter; you did everything perfectly. You shift your attention to the recruits, who are now looking at Ghost, drawn by his frantic sprint towards you, followed by his dramatic slide to the ground.

“MEDIC!” Ghost yells as he grabs your knee and inspects it, “SOLDIER DOWN!”

You look at your knee to discover the source of all this urgency: it’s a scratch, a teeny tiny one, caused by the barbed wire you just passed. There is blood, as you would expect from a fresh wound, but nothing that would require the services of a medical professional or the attention of a hundred recruits.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT MEDIC?” he repeats and clasps your head with both hands. “Shhhh,” he murmurs, “it’s okay; everything will be okay.”

“Everything is okay, Lieutenant,” you reassure him with your face squeezed between his hands.

But he hears none of it. He pulls down your lower eyelids, peering into your eyes to inspect God knows what. He then turns to face the crowd. ‘Someone call for the medic!’ he cries, shifting his gaze to you and caressing your hair. ‘The poor thing is talking nonsense.’

He removes his scarf and begins wiping the blood off your knee. He starts giving you an impromptu pep talk, saying things like, ‘I won’t let anything happen to you’ and ‘Remember, pain is just weakness leaving the body.’ Embarrassed by the attention, you lie on the ground and cover your face with your hands. So much for the triumphant finale of completing the task.

The medic rushes over, grasping your leg to examine the wound, but Ghost slaps their hand and warns him not to touch you.

“He can’t provide consultation, Lieutenant,” you explain as you throw your hands in the air. “You called for him; at least let him do his job.”

He considers it, then turns to the medic. “Perhaps it’s better if we take this inside,” he says, sweeping you up in his arms and cradling you as if you’re injured beyond repair.

You put your palm to your temple and hide your face in embarrassment as he carries you bridal-style through the sea of soldiers. He yells for them to let him through, and you apologise to the recruits, explaining that it’s nothing but a scratch.

“I can walk, you know,” you mumble at Ghost as you smile at the soldiers.

“Have you tried?” he asks.

“No, you didn’t let me.”

“Exactly,” he replies, “no need to risk it.”

You reach the medical facility, and he gently places you on the hospital bed.

“They need a tetanus shot,” he orders the medic. “They scratched themselves on the barbed wire.”

The medic carefully listens to Ghost’s instructions and nods. He asks him to step outside so he can proceed with the treatment.

“I’ll be behind that curtain if you need me,” he informs you and walks behind the partition.

As the medic checks your wound, Ghost peers through the curtain, assessing the procedure. He makes unnecessary comments to the medic, asking him if “he’s sure he’s doing it right,” and the doctor reminds him that “he’s been patching up soldiers for years now.”

“It’s okay, Ghost,” you shout, trying to diffuse the situation. “The medic knows what he’s doing; let him work in peace.” You turn to the medic and lower your voice. “I’m really sorry,” you whisper, and he chuckles.

“That’s alright,” he says, putting on his gloves. “That’s how the lieutenant is, you know: he wants to look tough, but when he cares about someone, he goes all out.”

“Is that it?” You ask and look at Ghost’s shadow at the partition, eagerly pacing back and forth.

“Trust me,” the medic whispers, “you’re lucky to have him on your side.”

“Huh. I never thought about it that way.” You contemplate, “If we involve him in the process, do you think it will help him relax and stop biting his nails through his covered mouth?”

The medic lets out another chuckle. “It’ll certainly help,” he admits, “but it’d be best if you did it.”

You nod and straighten up. “Hey, Lt.?” You ask, and he immediately pops out of the curtain.

“The medic is about to apply some alcohol solution on my knee, and he said it might hurt a little,” you explain. “Would you mind sitting next to me for support?” You ask and pat the bed,

Without giving it a second thought, Ghost hurries over and sits beside you. He takes your hand in his and looks you straight in the eyes.

“You’re safe,” he states and turns to the medic, who is trying to suppress a laugh, “let’s do this.”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost cod mwii #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost call of duty #ghost cod mw2

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sinsmockingbird · 11 months ago

Text

KITTEN IN HEAT | Lynette

PAIRING: Lynette x GN!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, NSFW, Dom!Reader, Sub!Character, Reader has a cock, Heat, Breeding, Scratching

AUTHORS NOTE: The sweetest baby that I love with all my heart. Lynette deserves nothing but the best, I stand by that.

LYNETTE TOLD you everything. She always had since the first day you both became official. She'd tell you how her day went, how she was feeling, and she'd tell you about her wants. She told you everything, everything but this.

You noticed something was off with Lynette the moment you had woken up that morning. She had a sort of... distant look in her eyes, and it always seemed like she wasn't entirely present. She was more quiet- more so than she usually is, really only giving you yes or no answers or just a nod or shake of her head. But nothing rang more alarm bells in your head than just how clingy she was being with you.

Lynette wasn't always big with physical affection. She wasn't opposed to it by any means, and would accept any you give her if you initiate it. She never initiated any sort of hugging or even hand holding, she always waited for you to do it. Yet, here she was, practically glued to you as she curled herself up in your lap, hands clutching onto the front of your shirt.

"Lyn, is something wrong?" You asked for the 10th time that day since you first saw her. You glanced down at her, not being able to meet her eyes considering she had buried her face into your chest.

Lynette didn't respond, and she made no indication that she had even heard you. You frowned, moving to pull her off your lap to get up from the couch, and immediately she made a sound of protest. You flinched when you felt her nails dig so deep into your shirt they were pressing into your skin, and for a moment you thought she'd break through it.

"Lynette," You said her name with a bit more force that made her momentarily pause, giving you enough time to pull her off you and settle her onto the couch besides you. "What the hell is going on with you?"

You held her arms firmly against her sides, looming over her and making sure she wouldn't be able to wiggle out of your hold. You finally got a good look at her face after hours of her having into buried against you. Her face was flushed red and covered in a light layer of sweat, her pupils dilated, and you could hear her heavy breathing.

Your eyes widened, finally realizing that something was indeed wrong, "Lynette what's wrong, please talk to me."

"I-" Lynette opened her mouth momentarily before quickly closing it, her gaze averting away from your face as she tried to wiggle around in your hold once again, but you kept it firm.

"Lynette," You said her name once again, your voice slightly raised and serious as you looked at her with pleading eyes. You were utterly worried about her at this point.

She froze again, and you could tell she was having a debate with herself in her head, and you waited for her to respond, and when she did, you didn't know how to react. "I'm in heat."

You simply just... froze at her words, your confusion clear as you tried to understand what exactly she meant by being "in heat." Lynette ended up using the opportunity to finally wiggle out from your grip, and you didn't have much time process before she was pushing you flat onto your back onto the couch. She moved to curl herself back up into a ball, lying on your stomach and chest, her hands gripping at your shirt.

"W-What are you-" You pursed your lips, just deciding to not fight back and allow Lynette to lay on you. She was clearly intent on doing so, and you had a feeling it was because of this heat thing. "What do you mean, "'I'm in heat?'"

Lynette pursed her lips, thinking over her words for a reply very carefully. She had never talked to you about this before, and she honestly wasn't sure on how to, especially not when she was currently in the middle of one.

"It means it's breeding season for cats, and considering I'm, well," Lynette's tail thumped softly against your tail, letting you know what she meant.

"I- I see," You muttered, allowing her words to sink in and allow yourself to understand on what she meant.

Considering Lynette had quite a bit of cat qualities to her, it would make sense to you that she would experience some sort of reaction to the breeding season. It would explain how she was acting very unusual with you, and would explain some other things. But as you thought over it more, one realization came to you, and you felt your face flush when you hesitantly spoke up.

"Does this mean your, uhm, sexually aroused right now..?" You tentatively asked, and you felt her body slightly arch up against you.

Lynette was quiet, and for a moment you thought you had somehow pushed her too far with the question, but then you heard her mumble a simple, "Yes."

You noddes your head at her answer, your face flushing even more at the new knowledge you had, before asking her one last question, "Can I help you with that?"

Lynette's ears perked up, and she subtly shifted her head slightly on your chest, her eyes widening slightly. "Y-You want to?"

"If it means I can make you feel more comfortable, then yes." You answered without hesitation, your voice gentle as you moved a hand up to scratch behind one of her ears, causing her to let out a small sound of approval.

"...Okay," Lynette nodded her head, agreeing to allow you to help her.

She was hesitant to move off of you for a moment, but eventually did. Once you were up and off the couch, you grabbed her hand and began tugging her towards your bedroom. You could tell she was eager by the way she stuck close to you and by the swishing of her tail.

Once entering your bedroom, you close the door and move to kiss her softly, and slowly. When you felt her wanting to deepen the kiss, you do, and from there it only escalates more and more until the kiss is sloppy and desperate.

"P-Please..!" Lynette whined against your lips, jumping up and wrapping her arms and legs around you, and you barely caught her as you carry her over to the bed.

"Okay-" You breath, dropping her down on your bed, and pinning her beneath your body, kissing her deeply and desperately, your hands moving to begin undoing her clothing. "Okay, shh, m'gonna help."

You don't really bother with undoing her top, mostly focusing your attention on undoing her bottoms. Once they were pulled down her legs, you hastily began undoing your pants, hissing as you felt Lynette's nails dragging down your arms in desperation.

She let out needy whimpers and whines, mouth agape as you finally free your cock from your pants. She pants, her cunt aching between her legs even more, the intensity of her heat becoming all too much. It's almost excruciating, the pain and heat coursing through her body.

"P-Please-!" Lynette whimpers, bucking her hips up against you, her pupils blown as she looks at you with a begging face. "P-Put it in!"

You dip a hand down between her legs first, checking to see if she was wet enough, and to your surprise, she was soaked. You hear her choke on a moan at the feeling of your fingers dragging through her folds, gathering up her slick before moving to lathering up your cock in it, while moving to position it at her entrance.

The second you press your tip into her, her back is arching off the bed with a loud cry, her body so sensitive from hours of suffering through the intense heat coursing through her body. You move to hold her close, pressing gentle kisses against her face, while pushing deeper into her before giving her some thrusts.

"F-Fuck, so wet and tight," You groaned, feeling her slick coating your cock quickly the more you thrusted in, and you swore she felt more tighter around you than normal.

"M-More-!" Lynette begged, her hands clinging onto your shoulders, digging her nails through your shirt and into your skin.

The pain made you hiss, but you didn't stop, not when you could see the agony of pleasure coursing through Lynette's face. So you thrust faster, pushing yourself deeper and deeper inside her tight pussy, spreading her perfectly to fit your cock.

You groan, pressing your face into her neck at the feeling of her wrapped around you. It felt so good, the way she was so tight, and all for you. The feeling made you not want to leave her, to keep her stuffed full of your cock just so you could feel her tightness for longer.

"O-Oh, Archons!" Lynette whined, pressing her body up against you, eyes rolling back in her head as she reaches her first orgasm quickly.

It's not surprising to you, considering she must have been holding all of this in all day, and finally being able to have this pleasure... makes sense why she was cumming all over your cock. It was long and intense, leaving Lynette shaking and unable to breath till it finally died down, and she could feel your gentle thrusts again.

"You okay?" You asked, your voice soft as you rocked your cock in and out of her gently, letting her feel every inch of it inside her, something that made her whimper through her gasps of breath.

"K-Keep going," Is the only thing Lynette responded with, moving to wrap her shaking arms around your neck and her legs around your waist.

Being all but trapped against Lynette, you obliged and began picking up your thrusts once again, and it didn't take you long to get back into the swift pace you had before. Small, but sharp thrusts deep into her, perfect to make her body erupt with pleasure as well as allow you to feel her tightness squeezing around you.

It felt amazing, and you didn't want to pull out, even when your orgasm was building more and more. You grunted, clenching your jaw as you felt that coil in your stomach, but you didn't want to stop, didn't want to pull out of her.

"Aghh, g-gonna-" You bury your face into her neck, grunting and unable to form the words you needed to say, but she knew, she understood.

"Inside!" Lynette quickly gasped, tightening her body around you and holding you closer, making sure you couldn't pull away. "P-Please, inside!"

Hearing her beg you to cum inside me fueled a fire inside you that you didn't know you had. With sudden brutal thrusts, your hips stuttered, until you pushing all of your length inside her and letting go, grunting into her neck.

A dopey smile spread across Lynette's face when she felt your cum filling her up. She layed there, shaking and moaning as she came with you, focusing on the feeling of your warm cum. You were left groaning and panting, wrapping your arms around her waist and tugging her closer to you, wanting to shove every drop of your cum into her.

Once you finished, you couldn't help but collapse on top of her, panting to catch your breath, eyes shutting as you focused on the feeling of being buried inside Lynette, a few words utteres from your mouth, "Gonna be the cutest mommy."

It had her freezing for a moment, her heart beating quickly in her chest, before you tail thumped against the bed, her joy from your words not being able to be held in. You smiled against her shoulder as you felt her nuzzling her face into your hair affectionately, a soft purr beginning to be heard.

Thoughts of having a family, kids of your own went through your head, a silent love passing between you both as you relished in one another's arms.

ENDING NOTES: May have rushed the end a bit, apologies, I just couldn't find a good fitting end to write.

#*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟsins writings #genshin impact #genshin smut #lynette #genshin!lynette #sub!lynette #lynette x reader #lynette x you

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halcy0n-skies · 4 months ago

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synopsis: gojo likes buying flowers for you.

a/n: just something short! Maybe I'll do a series of sorts with this and a few other characters.

When it comes to flowers, Gojo Satoru is always one to go big. No matter the season, the occasion, or your mood, you can always expect a large bouquet that’ll take up half of whatever counter you place it on.

When it’s spring, growing into warm summer, he’ll spend some time browsing through different local florists as he walks home. Hundreds of people pass him by as he scrolls through different business names…that is, before he habitually walks into the same one he always goes to. The light ding of the furin chime swaying in the wind easily blends with the high-pitched ring of the brass bell hung above the door.

Summer is always his favourite time to come in here, mainly because everything smells so sweet. Handmade bouquets burst from each shelf, a multi-coloured tapestry of amber, scarlet, lilac, and cerulean. It’s styled in light woods and deep reds, not unlike the shinto shrine near Tokyo Tower. The first few times he came in here, he was somewhat overwhelmed: it was like they stuffed every flower field in Furano into one room.

A surprising feat, considering who he is.

However, the more he visited, the better he got. Both with picking up what flowers you liked, and when the shop got a new stock.

Considering it’s not public knowledge, they’re always surprised to see his face in the early morning when they’re still unloading and sorting it.

(He says he has a work thing earlier than usual, but, in reality, he’s already in the store picking out flowers for you.)

Aside from it smelling so damn good–he did say mainly, didn’t he?–he loves coming here in summer because there is always an unsuspecting student working a summer job. If he were completely honest, other than seeing the pure joy on your face when you receive them, either in person or through photos if he’s away–though he always prefers seeing your reactions in real time–the reaction from the florists is practically his favourite part.

So, when he casually slips out his credit card and asks for a bouquet of a hundred roses, he has to steel himself not to smile too hard or laugh at how far the kid’s jaw drops.

It gets even better when he asks for some ribbon–the expensive stuff lined with silver thread. No matter the flowers, he almost always goes for light blue or white. It may or may not fuel his already large ego when you compliment it.

Sure, it’s somewhat awkward to take home–even with all the times he’s bought big ones like this and decided to carry them back himself–but nothing compares to the unmistakably dumbfounded–yet happy–look on your face.

He’s bought them for you many times, but your reaction never changes. It never fails to make his heart swell.

It’s not always roses, though. He’s trawled through enough terrible romance films over the years to know that it gets old.

When he sees the old ones wilting in their vase–both of you having left them long enough to get as much out of them as possible–he’ll find some time to walk down to that same florist shop and note down all of your favourite flowers. He’s pretty sure the usual workers have got a list or something in the back rooms of what he usually orders, because each time he does, they just raise an eyebrow and state, “Fifteen minutes, sir.” with a curt nod.

Never in his life did he think he’d become that predictable.

In winter, when Tokyo’s goliath skyscrapers seem more ice-topped mountains than buildings, and when the sakura’s branches are heavy with pearly snow, he’ll always go for something colourful.

While he doesn’t mind the cold, finds the snow–on the increasingly rare occasion that it does snow–quite delightful, especially when it gets cold enough to give him an easy excuse to cuddle with you on the couch, he hates how dreary everything ends up looking. Knows you aren’t too fond of it, too.

So, he happily brightens your apartment with flowers: the large red roses disappear, and are instead replaced with small, soft memories of summer.

Seasons aside, your favourite time to receive flowers is when he hasn’t been home in a while. Rest assured, surrounded by the ceramic roofs of Kyoto or the soft sand of Okinawa, he’s thinking of you.

Designing a bouquet based on floral meanings is rare for him. Very rare. He sits down with the florist and their archaic leather book which knows the words inscribed on each petal of each flower, and hand arranges it himself. Even if he complains he doesn’t know shit about it, they always turn out beautiful.

If you were to ask him why he doesn’t do it often–since a gift with an intricate meaning hand crafted by himself is such a thoughtful way to show his love–he’d say he doesn’t need complex, well thought presents to show how he feels.

Your heart may be the most complicated organ in your body–he knows it each time he listens to the thrum of your blood–and the gentle hum of your soul may never truly be touched by anything but his eyes, but he knows his affections have no need to be as elaborate.

Loving you is easy. He hopes his roses and red carnations let you know that.

#kay writes #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #fluff #jjk fluff #female reader #male reader #gender neautral reader #headcanon #<- kind of? I guess it is

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literaryslapshot · 1 year ago

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LOVESTRUCK, WENT STRAIGHT TO MY HEAD ⎯ S. CROSBY

y/n just wants the best for her son, she thinks the program rule of no freshmen players on varsity is stupid. she just did what any mother would do...right?

coach!sidney crosby x teacher!single mom!reader

warnings: angst, smut (fingering, handjob, sex on a table), somewhat of an inappropriate relationship, single parent content, light talk of divorce, lowkey based off of "slut!" by taylor swift

word count: 4,244

a/n: look at that....i do still know how to write

The bitterness of the coffee wasn’t doing it’s job. On her third cup and it’s not even ten in the morning, Y/N waits for the next period of students to walk through her door. Taking in one of the few moments of silence she has, she refreshes the page on the sports page on the school website, itching to see her son’s name.

Carter had tryouts with the hockey team last week, he had been talking about it since the beginning of the month. He was training every day to make varsity; in leagues ever since he was ten years old every single coach and spectator could not brag enough on how much talent he had. Y/N was pressured to send him across the country, even out of the country, to go to the top hockey camps but as a single mother she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to send her baby off to some strangers for a few months, and she couldn't afford to move away from family either.

But her heart dropped as she refreshed the page, pulled up this season's roster, and saw her son’s name and number on the junior varsity roster instead of varsity. She didn’t understand it, she was told by the coaches herself that he was the best kid on the ice that day. Why didn’t he make varsity?

Her questions were interrupted by students flooding into the classroom for the start of the next period. She pulled herself out of her thoughts to then teach this class period. Reluctantly though.

The final bell rang and that meant she was done for the day. Saying goodbye to her students Y/N started to gather papers and put them in the “to grade” folder to take home with her before tidying up some areas of the room. She anticipated her son’s arrival. Ever since moving up to high school he always stopped by her room at the end of the day to talk about school and help her carry things to her car.

“I didn’t make it.” Carter said as a greeting when he walked in the empty room. His face was defeated, his tall slender frame was slumped over in sadness and his eyes welling with tears. Out of all people Y/N knew and saw how hard he worked to make varsity his freshman year. He skated over fifty laps a day, worked on shots in the garage until way past dusk, he also started to lift more weights.

“Oh baby, c’mere,” Y/N pulled her much taller son in for a hug. There he broke and rested into his mother's arms like a little kid again. He softly cried before pulling away.

“I don’t get it mom, they told me i’d make it for sure, why would he tell me-” “Don’t worry about it son, I will talk to the coach first thing in the morning. I promise. But for now you have to play the cards you were dealt,” Y/N consoled her son in the way moms know how. Gathering her bags she gave the heaviest one to Carter to help carry out the building. They continued chatting on the way to her car, talking about school and homework he had for the week. Carter was a special kid, he deeply cared about his grade and education. He remembers promising his mom when he was younger that if he ever got to play hockey in college that he would get his degree and not go to the draft early.

Carter was a momma’s boy through and through. His dad lived an hour away so he spent the weekends there twice a month, but he’s at his mom’s house the rest of the time. Carter is also protective of his mom too. He never told her this, but he’s beat in a couple boys’ faces because they made some lewd comments about her. He’s respectful of her, more than any other man on earth ever has been. Y/N is very proud of how she’s raised her son.

“Okay son, go to practice. Have a positive attitude, don’t do anything stupid okay? I know you’re frustrated but just go into practice and do you, maybe they got you mixed up with someone else. But-” she saw his facial expressions change and get tense, she knew that he was still angry inside, “hey, don’t get mad at them. Wait until I talk and then you and I will figure something out.”

They walked in opposite directions, Carter to the athletic building and Y/N back to the school for one more item in her classroom. Hustling as best she can so she can get home, she runs into the person she didn’t want to speak to until in the morning. Coach Crosby.

She felt her body coil and tense up in anger at just the sight. She was supposed to wait until morning, but her tongue got the best of her.

“Coach! Hey, can I ask you a quick question?” she pulls him to the side, into an empty classroom where the teacher had left for the day.

“What’s up?” Sidney asked, sitting down on one of the wooden desks. He was wearing black joggers, a tight pullover with a school cap on. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how the material of his clothing clung to his toned body. He had been out of the professional league for at least two years, but he still kept up the physical shape of his body, and it was obvious by the way his pants were stretching at the seams on his thighs.

“I really don’t want to be that parent, but can you tell me why Carter didn’t make varsity?” Sidney cocks his head to the side. He’s only been on sight three months and he’s already dealing with this.

“Well, it’s my understanding that freshmen must be on the JV team, no matter how good they are. That rule was put in place before I got here.” He explained while crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles making his pullover look incredibly small on his frame. “He’s a good kid though, he’ll make great improvements this year and I'll look forward to having him on varsity next year.” Sidney said, trying to end the conversation and smooth things over.

“But…you’re the new coach. This is your program now, not someone else’s.” Y/N couldn’t really understand what he was getting at. Did he not see the potential in her son that everyone seemed to say? Did he not see the great player, the great athlete that Carter was? Maybe it was just her being a mother, and so obviously her child is the best compared to other kids. But she swore she didn’t want to be like those parents. She remembers being a kid in youth sports herself and hated parents who thought their kid should be player of the week every week. In her mind, she needed to earn player of the week because of her work ethic, not because her parents were board members.

“Right but I'm not trying to ruffle any feathers my first year. This is barely my program, I need to establish relationships before I change things here,” Y/N takes a step closer to Sidney, her hands folded in front of her.

“But you’re Sidney Crosby, who can say no to you?” God she feels horrible for doing this, she feels like…like some junior league mom whose husband has nothing between his ears. But she thinks, if she can just rile him up for a minute, startle him, then he’ll change his mind and put Carter on varsity. That’s her end goal, get her son feeling better. If that means pretending to be a horny college student again, so be it. “I mean really, they had to give you this job cause they trust you. So obviously you can do what you want, like putting my son on your varsity team.”

He sighs, looking down at his shoes. He knows what she’s doing…and he can’t believe it’s sort of working. He hasn’t had a woman flirt with him in heaven knows how long. He doesn’t even know how to respond to such a thing anymore. His life for the past almost twenty years has been nothing but hockey. Sidney’s family has been asking him for a long time when he is going to settle down with someone, but nobody ever scratched that itch quite like hockey did. But now? That he’s got a woman in front of him, a gorgeous one at that, who’s buttering him up? Maybe he’ll give in…just to see what it feels like.

“Your son is a hell of a player, Y/N. He really could go far,” His words got heavier as she got closer, he could smell her perfume, he could feel her breath, he could see her chest move up and down with every huff she took- “so put him on your team, Coach.” she put her hand on his chest softly and she sighed feeling his stern muscles. “C’mon, what’s it gonna take? Dinner and a show?”

His eyes, dark and blown, looked into hers and if he remembers what the term eye fucking means then that’s exactly what they were doing. His breaths became short but heavy as she left a heavy hand on his chest. She rubbed her thumb over his cheek, trying her best to work her charm that she used to have. She hopes she’s still got it.

He thinks, thinks, and thinks. This is a bad decision.

“My place, six thirty tomorrow evening. Give me your best sales pitch, and we’ll see about the show.”

Sidney stands up and for a brief second his nose bumps hers, an innocent touch but it makes him take a deep breath in to calm himself down. He exits the empty class room and takes long strides to get to practice, glancing at his watch he’s already a few minutes behind.

She’s eternally grateful that Carter is with his dad this weekend. How could she explain to him that she’s not really going on a date…but she’s going to his coach's house with plans to seduce him..but again it’s not a date. Of course, she’d have to leave out the seducing part. She put on her best dress that she had, it was pretty simple but it hugged her figure nicely. She made sure to spritz some extra perfume on as well.

The drive to Sidney’s house is silent, it’s her having fake conversations in her head about what to say or what not to say. Debating on if her seduction speech was still on date or if it’s too cheesy now. She suddenly feels like she lives in the lowest tax bracket possible when entering his neighborhood; she's never seen so many fake lawns before. She’s actually never been on this side of town much, except to look at christmas lights when Carter was younger. Now that he’s older he doesn’t care for that stuff anymore.

“Nice place you’ve got,” she said walking into his entry way. To her surprise Sidney dressed up a little bit, wearing a button up with a nice pair of slacks, the top two buttons undone for visual purposes of course. He takes her coat and her purse, hanging it up by the door. “What’s on the menu?”

“Well, I figured I'd go simple with just spaghetti and toast, with dessert to follow if that’s okay.” Sidney went into his pantry and pulled out a bottle of red wine. “This okay?” He holds the bottle in the air and she nods her head, sitting at his kitchen bar watching him pour a glass. She takes a glance at the label and she’s taken back. On her teacher salary she definitely can’t afford that brand.

Maybe she’s in over her head here- she didn’t think about any of this stuff. Suddenly she’s this woman who doesn’t have much to her name, sitting in a millionaire’s kitchen drinking wine that costs well over two hundred dollars- but damn if it doesn’t taste good.

They make small talk before heading into the dining room where he sets dinner onto the table for her, such a gentleman. Continuing the semi dull conversation she thanks him for making a meal for her, joking that she’s never had a man make dinner for her. Only half true, her dad growing up would make dinners for her family. But when she married Carter’s dad, she was the chef in the family. Not that she was complaining, it was just odd for her to be on the reverse side for the first time in a while.

“I am sorry about that idiotic rule, Y/N. Carter can easily be a varsity player.” Sidney broke the minute silence after finishing off his second glass of wine that night. She huffs, finishing her plate and scooting it away from her on the table. Was she really about to do this?

“Is there anything I can do, sidney? C’mon my boy’s in shambles, he’s thinking that he’s not as good as everyone makes him out to be,” Y/N reaches her hand out to rest on his softly. “Is there anything I can do?”

Y/N hoped he knew what she was implying and that she didn’t have to say it out loud.

And he did.

He understood every word she said and the words that were left unsaid. He knew what she was implying and he knew what she was getting at. But Sidney hated that he was willing to do what she wanted. Y/N was leaning forward on the table, getting close enough to Sidney where he could smell her perfume and her lotion mixed together, he could see a couple small freckles up close as he couldn’t see them from a bit further away.

There were no words exchanged between them, his eyes kept drifting from her tinted lips to her lustful eyes, back and forth a couple times before resting his hand on her cheek and pressing his lips against hers gently. Immediately he felt a rush of arousal- it’s just a kiss, really? He silently asked himself. He hadn’t gotten this aroused in a while, a long while.

Both parties leaned into the kiss, wanting and aching for more. They tasted wine on each other and felt each other’s temperature begin to rise. Sidney got out of his chair, lips still connected to hers, and got closer. She stood up, one hand cupping his chin and the other resting on his chest, and she leaned against the dining table. She hadn’t made out with someone in years, she hopes she’s doing it right.

She gets pushed onto the table just by the force of his body so now she’s sitting on the wooden table, Sidney standing in between her legs with both of his hands cupping her face. He doesn’t care if he seems desperate or if he seems needy, or if this is totally wrong and against almost all of the words he signed in his contract, he can’t seem to get enough of her. Sidney feels her play with the buttons of his shirt and how she begins to pull the shirt up and out of his dress pants. It was easy since he wasn’t wearing a belt.

He didn’t even know that she completely unbuttoned his shirt until he felt her hands roam all over his naked chest, her hands slowly raking up and down his toned muscles. He takes a breath and scans her body. Her skin is hot to the touch, her eyes are completely blown now and her lips are parted. “How do I get this off you?” he asked, taking a fist of the hem of her dress.

“There's a tie in the back,” she huffed out, not able to take her hands off his body. Plus, she wants him to take it off of her.

“You tied this yourself?” he asked in shock, surprised at how she tied such a perfect bow on her back with such thin strings.

“I’ve been tying, zipping, buttoning my dresses myself for the past twelve years now, safe to say I got pretty good at it.” God- has she been alone for the past twelve years? Nobody to love on, kiss on, touch on this wonderful body of hers? Sidney takes in a sharp breath when he pulls the dress off of her and he gives her body a quick scan over. Wearing a strapless bra that she’s almost spilling out of, she has on silk leopard print panties that he can’t help but notice a significant damp spot on.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, hands roaming over her soft skin. “Don’t make fun of me, it’s been a long time since I've hooked up with someone.” because that’s just what this is, a hookup. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I haven’t since I got divorced, so it's the same here.” she hooks her leg around his pulling him closer. He pressed his lips against hers again this time most softly. His hand goes down to play with the hem of her panties, “you sure about this?”

“Very sure, don’t mess with a pissed off mama sidney.” she pulls him down with her as she lays down on the table. He kisses down her body, she arches her back and lets him take her bra off. Tossing it onto the floor Sidney wraps his lips around one of her hardened nipples. She lets out a heavenly sounding moan at the action.

It’s been so long she could cum just from Sidney doing this for a couple minutes longer. One hand slips down over her clothed cunt, rubbing her sensitive and wet area. She arches her body into his, already she’s lost in a great euphoric high that she can’t even mumble words. All that’s coming out is moans and gasps.

He removes his mouth and Sidney stands up, she watches up on her elbows as he takes his pants off and removes his boxers. She bites her lip at the size - the sight - of his hardened dick in his hand. She reaches out for it herself, “you’ll give me what I want, and I promise you won’t regret it.” he thought for a moment too long, she began to doubt herself but he spoke up, “deal.”

She licks her hand before taking a grip on his cock. Slowly she starts stroking up and down, keeping harsh eye contact with sidney. She gives him a nice squeeze and a twist of her hand which makes him throw his head back in pleasure. He can only do so much with his hand, it’s nice to have someone else for a change. Y/N scoots closer to him on the table, with one of his hands he works his hand over one of her breasts softly massaging it. She leans into his touch and continues to work her hands over his hard cock.

He moves his hand from her breast down and slips it into her soaked panties. At first his fingers were a little cold but they quickly warmed up after being immersed in her sex. He circles around her clit a couple times, getting familiar with the female body again. He explores for a minute or two, his middle finger teasing her hole. The more he teases her the harder her grip gets on his cock. He pulls his hand out of her panties, they’ve never broken eye contact this whole time and he sucks everything off of his hand. God that was hot.

Sidney removes her hand from his cock fearing if she kept going he would cum all over her hand and that wasn’t what he wanted to do. He’s panting heavy now, his body forming sweat on his forehead. He pushes her down onto the table with a palm on her chest lining his cock up with her entrance, “wait do I need any-”

She chuckles, “that ship sailed a while ago, just fuck me like you mean it coach.”

With her permission she slides in and she lets out a long, loud, moan as he does it. He wants to hear that on repeat for the rest of his life, he swears. Sidney puts both hands on her hips, keeping her body steady as he rocks in and out of her, his hips meeting her every time.

Sidney allows to feel himself in her warm, wet walls. He throws his head back in pleasure and she shuts her eyes tight. Her hands come up to her breasts to add to the pleasure, fingers pinching both of her nipples as she feels his huge cock pump in and out of her small hole. He feels like he’s three feet deep inside of her, he feels lost in how good she feels. His head grows foggy each time he squeezes her.

Sidney hits the spongy spot in her tight cunt that made her gasp out in pleasure, she sang his name like a chant over and over which made him fuck her harder and harder. She warned him about her orgasm and he did the same, begging her to cum with him. A few more pumps of his cock he spilled his heavy load inside of her and she moaned loudly like a queen when he did. He pulled his cock out of her, watching his load spill out with it.

Maybe it was the post orgasm haze she was in, maybe it was the lovestruck feeling she had the minute they began making out, but minutes later she’s standing between him and the cold shower wall. His forehead pressed against hers. His fingers knuckle deep in her cunt and a hand wrapped around her throat as hot water rained down on either of them, her cunt squeezing his thick fingers while she couldn’t even say anything but his name. That’s exactly what he wanted.

The hot shower water kept her eyes shut but she knew that he was gazing at her. He was in awe of her facial expressions, how she bit her lip through a smile with every jerk he made with his hand, when she furrowed her eyebrows when she was on the edge of cumming, and how she cocked her head to the side while he kissed around her neck silently asking for more.

He took his hand away from her pussy, licking the honey off his fingers. He stayed that close to her though knowing her legs were probably jello and she wasn’t able to stand for at least a minute or two.

She took a deep breath, “got what you wanted?” she asked in a joking tone, moving her hand up and down his chest in the hot steamy shower. He chuckled, his hands never leaving her body. He palmed her breasts, he seemed to have a thing for those she contemplated, heavy lustful eyes staring into hers.

“How many more you got in you?” he asked, spreading her legs with his thigh.

“I can give you as much as you want.” Y/N answered, her hands slowly roaming down lower and lower on his chest and stomach.

“Then no, I didn’t get what I want yet.”

She woke up in Sidney’s bed the next morning with messy hair and sore muscles. Looking over on the nightstand the clock read 8:02 AM. She was glad that it was a Saturday and she was able to sleep in. She saw that Sidney was still asleep, he laid on his stomach with his head facing the other way. Looking over his back, studying the freckles, the faded scars. Y/N wants to stay in this moment for as long as she can.

She hates to admit but she really fell for Sidney. Not because of how skilled he was in bed, or because he could do wicked things with his hands, but she shared a few heartfelt conversations with him before tryouts even began.

He cared for the kids at school, the kids he taught and the kids he coached. He had a heart for the coming generation. He wanted them to have someone in their corner, and some kids don’t have that at home and he wants to be that. She got lovestruck in the past few months, sure she never planned on sleeping with him, she felt young again with how big of a crush she had. It went straight to her head, it all moved so fast.

God if her mother were still here she could just hear the word “slut!” come out of her mouth if her mom found out what happened. But she wouldn’t care. She enjoyed it, and she was sure Sidney enjoyed it too.

But still, she can’t help but think to herself what did I just do?

Sidney turns his head and sees that she’s also awake. Raising up he sees the time, 8:10. He doesn’t even care that he missed his morning workout session an hour late. He puts his arm around her and pulls her closer to him, tucking his head in her neck. With dry lips Sidney placed a tender lingering kiss on her hot skin.

It might be worth it for once, she thinks.

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