#it sucks to not have something really special to look forward to | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jiminrings · 10 months ago

Text

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane.

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it. “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye.

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself.

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.”

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot.

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.”

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion.

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place.

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor.

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to. You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder.

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation.

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears.

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.”

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her.

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know, try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts.

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas.

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with.

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it.

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

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punkassfrance · 5 months ago

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Focal Point - Joel Miller / Fem!Reader

NSFW, 18+ ONLY. Movie night has never been Joel's favorite Jackson community event- tonight, he's actually enjoying himself. You deserve to enjoy yourself too, right? This work contains smut, grinding, assisted masturbation, worship, hand and finger kink, mentions of spanking, feminine/afab reader, public sex, bratting/brat taming, and an established relationship.

Usually, movie night in Jackson is delightful. Fresh popcorn, good movies, a community to share something with. You try not to miss them. Joel’s not a fan of any event that involves people and leaving the house- but movie nights are one of the few things he can tolerate. Nobody looks at him, it’s dark, nobody talks to him if he gets out of the community center fast enough. Most of all, it satisfies you and Ellie’s desire to make sure he socializes. Joel drags his heels about it, but he’ll do anything for his girls.

For once, he actually seems interested in the movie. It’s a shitty action flick, one he somehow hasn’t seen yet. He usually eats these up, leans forward like the terrible special effects are just riveting. Maybe it is to him. For you, this is the blandest movie night since Maria found a box of silent movies.

You squirm beside him, watching his profile. He seems calm at least, distracted from the stressors of social interaction. Once the lights come up, the stressed lines in his forehead will reappear, but for now, he’s almost smiling. His smile is so comforting, especially considering how rare it is. They’re really only reserved for Ellie, you, or the animals hanging around the settlement. Dogs run up to him, sheep let him approach. He’s not completely heartless. You’ve learned that much at the least.

When he smiles, you know all is well. It means he’s at ease, not too concerned to crack a grin at Ellie’s dumb jokes. Something’s always concerning him. The weight of the world sits on his shoulders, and all you want is soothe the pain. Whatever it takes.

His hand rests on your thigh. It’s a comforting motion for him, you think—something to remind him you’re there, remind him you’re warm and breathing. Late at night, in your bedroom, he’ll worship your thighs like there’s nothing else on earth worth his attention—they’re one of his favorite parts of you. Here, it’s just the easiest way to show affection. He’s not too high up your leg, never enough to stir gossip, just enough to let any onlookers know you’re spoken for. It’s usually the most PDA he’ll allow.

Christ, his curls look good tonight. He hasn’t trimmed his hair since you moved to Jackson, too busy helping Ellie adjust and building a life for the three of you. It’s a full-time job, on top of the responsibilities he’s taken up around Jackson. No time for vanity among all that. He’s settling into the role of family man, even if he won’t admit it.

You sit up to whisper in his ear. “This movie sucks.”

He leans down to you. “That’s the best part.”

Relaxing into his chair, he squeezes your thigh and sighs peacefully.

The movie lost your interest a good forty minutes ago—unfortunately, you still have half an hour to go. It might not be exactly rude to go home now, you’re both in the back of the room, but you don’t want to make Joel leave when he’s finally enjoying a community event. This is a rare occasion for him—one you’re not willing to sacrifice, no matter how bored you are. It’s either this or take Joel on walks around the neighborhood to socialize like a dog, and while you might be able to get him into the collar, it’ll be harder to get him outside.

He takes his hand off your thigh to roll his sleeves up, and your mind wanders.

He’s so impressive—you watch him work all the time, admiring the body that cares for you and your community. Even his forearms draw your eye, ropy and strong. When he clenches his fists at his sides, you fight back the urge to trace the tendons and veins in his arm. It’s just one part of him, of course. Everything about him is worthy of worship, every inch of tanned skin, every bit of muscle and softness you spend your nights rediscovering.

You wrap your hand over his when he replaces it on your thigh, pulling it higher up. He doesn’t seem to notice, just settles back into his chair and rubs his thumb over the denim. The motion isn’t helping the sudden burst of energy, the heat brewing in your lower stomach. It’s more than a cerebral desire, more than knowledge that you’re the luckiest woman in Jackson. Once you get to admiring him, you’re starkly reminded that you are a human animal. A human animal that is deeply, deeply attracted to your man.

As your eyes linger on his rough, calloused hand, you feel the fever mounting.

You pull his hand again. He glances over at you, raising an eyebrow before flicking his eyes back to the screen. The final heist of the movie is beginning on screen, something Joel wouldn’t dare to miss—but his fingers twitch on your thigh. He’s onto you.

Higher and higher, his fingertips drag and catch on the texture of your jeans until his hand is so close to where you need it. It’s so warm on your upper thigh, right where it creases into your hip. Another inch or two…

You hear him exhale in the seat beside you, hand squeezing your thigh as he leans in. “Can I help you?” He glowers out of the corner of his eye, crossing his legs.

“Only if you want to.”

You’re the only two at the back of the room—nobody’s looking at you, all focused on the last tense act of the movie. There’s nothing stopping you from messing around. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?

“You’re on your own.”

You huff and look up at him. He seems to be pointedly ignoring you now, eyes fixed on the screen. He picks up his beer with his free hand and tips it back. His hand looks so big around the bottle, tensing as he sets it back down on the table beside him.

Glancing down at his hand again, your fingers trail over his bones and scars. As he releases his grip, you tenderly trace the callouses, then the lines where his palm creases.

You tug his hand upward again, nudging him between your legs. He’s so warm pressed into your damp panties, firm and perfect to rock against. His fingers twitch, but he doesn’t move to help you. No, he’s still enjoying the goddamned movie. As though his horny girlfriend isn’t grinding on his hand, practically begging for his attention. Heartless bastard.

Your legs spread slightly, giving yourself a bit more room to work with. As you rub your clit on the heel of his hand, you whimper softly into his ear, anything to tempt him into action. It’s a little tricky through your jeans, but you manage to get pressure on just the right spot.

He huffs beside you and takes another drink, glancing around the community center. The movie is nearing an end, but nobody seems to notice or care about your distraction. Thank god for it, too—his hand is too addicting to stop now. His hands embody so much of him in your mind. They work so hard on the things he loves, hold you so tight, wipe your tears, caress you when you curl up next to him in bed. Even when he chokes you out, your hands come up to hold his as your vision blurs.

“You’re a fucking brat,” he grumbles in your ear, but he makes no move to take his hand away. Your grip isn’t firm, he certainly could if he wanted to. “Better finish up quick, mi amor. Movie’s almost over.”

Struggling to hold back a moan, you turn your face to press into his shoulder. You’re not going to last nearly as long as you thought you would, too busy rutting and grinding against his hand. Probably for the best—it sounds like the villain is dying on screen. It’s about time to wrap this up.

Driven by your own stubborn defiance, you grind his knuckle right into your sensitive clit and squeak into his shoulder. Every second you feel yourself pulse, each shudder slowly working you through the rapture you’ve brought yourself.

He finally gives in, just barely, rubbing at the inseam of your jeans as you come down from the dizzying high. As solid as his will is, he loves guiding you through your orgasms- he could never resist teasing at the edge of overstimulation.

As you push his hand away, the lights come up, applause thundering through the room as the credits roll. If someone were to look at you now, all they’d see is your flushed cheeks, lips parted to catch your breath. If they watch close, they might catch the little damp spot between your legs—but if anyone tries to get a good look, Joel won’t hesitate to knock their lights out. The protective violence shouldn’t turn you on.

Shouldn’t.

He leans in, kissing your cheek and gazing at you with a calm smile before he whispers in your ear.

“When we get home, I’m going to bend you over the arm of the couch and tan your fuckin’ hide. Then I’m gonna stuff my fingers in your greedy cunt and fuck you ’til you cry.” His voice gets huskier as he finishes the thought—you chew on your lip and glance down, stifling a giggle. He’s going to have a rough time hiding the firm bulge of his cock as you walk home together.

“Bring it, old man.”

Hope you enjoyed! Find this work on AO3 or check out my about me, feel free to say hi or leave an ask/request! Thank you to @jennaispunk for taking a look at this for me before posting :3 comments are always appreciated!

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andvys · 7 months ago

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter fifteen ⭐︎ I thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?

Warnings: slight angst, fluff, a lot of fluff, alcohol consumption, clingy!reader, drunk!reader

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve gets to know a side of you, you have never shown him before, and he takes the final step towards realization.

Word count: 10k+

Author’s note: SO @hellfire--cult and I have been waiting for this chapter (and especially for the next one). I'm so happy that we're finally here, and as always I'm giving a special shoutout to my lovely Roe, who not only helped with ideas but also wrote the whole last paragraph, the drive home and all the fluff at Steve's house. Give her all the love she deserves ♡ ilysm roe thank youuuu

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Red, white and blue colors flash before your eyes, everywhere you look as you walk through the grocery store with Max. You can’t even bear to look at the holiday themed snacks and decorations on the shelves. All week, people have been preparing for a holiday, you used to love, now it’s nothing but a reminder of what you lost – of what Max lost.

You avoided going to Big Buy’s all week, for this exact reason.

But now you were the one who offered to go inside, when Eddie was the one who wanted to get the pre-drinks, you don’t even know why you did it, maybe it was to get away from Dustin’s and Lucas’s banter, or maybe you just wanted to prepare yourself for something much bigger.

The Fun Fair takes place this year, just as it did, last year. And you friends wanted to celebrate the Fourth of July there. You don’t mind, you really don’t, but every place you turn today, reminds you of a dear friend you lost.

Max walks beside you quietly. She looks around with heavy eyes and tension in her shoulders, she’s fidgeting with the bracelet that Lucas gifted to her, and keeps her eyes on the ground.

You didn’t say anything yet, not wanting to trigger any more sadness. You’re surprised that she even offered to go inside with you, she could’ve waited and stayed with the guys, but she didn’t.

“This day sucks.”

These are the first words she spoke out loud, ever since you stepped inside the store.

“Yeah,” you mumble, quietly, not knowing what to say, because all you can think about is Billy, and how he died on this exact day, one year ago, when you were still so unaware of the dark truth that lied beneath this town, when you thought that it was the fire that killed him and not one of Vecna’s creatures.

You weren’t even there, but thinking about it makes you sick and angry. You can’t even imagine what Max must’ve felt like that night. Or what she is feeling now.

When you stop in the drink aisle, you look around for the beer Eddie asked for, but instead your eyes fall on the one brand that Billy always used to buy. Sometimes he’d bring a six pack over and leave some cans in your fridge for some other time, you are pretty sure that there are still two leftover cans hidden behind all the other drinks in your fridge.

A sigh falls from your lips, “yeah, it does.”

She glances at you, sadness settling into her features, when she sees the way your eyes fill with grief.

“Billy would roll his eyes at us, right now,” she mumbles, trying to crack a joke.

A small chuckle escapes you, and you turn to look at her with a weak smile on your face, “yes, he would.”

She purses her lips as she looks at the beer, “are you gonna let me drink tonight?”

You scrunch your nose, and shake your head, “are you crazy?” You scoff, as you step forward and reach for the beers, Eddie asked for, and the ones Billy would have gotten for himself. “How about you turn twenty one first, and then I’ll let you drink.”

Max laughs at you and rolls her eyes.

“You’re not even twenty one, and you’re drinking – oh! And buying the beers with a fake ID probably!”

“Shush,” you wave your hand at her when an employee walks past you, giving you both a weird look.

“I’m very close to twenty one,” you whisper.

“You’re not even twenty yet–”

“I’m turning twenty, this year. Now stop arguing with me, and get yourself a coke or something.”

Max groans at you, “fine,” she murmurs as she follows you, “why are you even getting any drinks now when you can buy some at the Fair?”

“I’m pretty sure that Eddie doesn’t want to buy any of those overpriced drinks that taste like absolute shit.”

She snorts, “he shouldn’t even be drinking, he’s driving.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll walk you all home if he gets drunk.”

Her jaw drops, and annoyance flashes in her eyes, “are you serious–”

You laugh at the look on her face, shaking your head at her, “I’m just kidding, when does Eddie ever get drunk?” You chuckle, “he’ll have one beer tops, no more, he’ll sober up till then, and if not then uh… Steve will drive you home.”

“Okay,” she sighs, as the momentarily amusement leaves her face again, and the sadness begins to sink back in, making you much more aware of your own.

“Hey, Max?”

She turns back to you, and raises her eyebrows in question.

“If you feel overwhelmed at some point, you can find me and we can leave, at any time, okay?”

She smiles a little and nods her head.

“Okay,” she whispers, “same goes for you, if you want to leave, I’ll go with you.”

“Okay,” you smile at her, “now let’s go pay for these and get out of here,” you mumble as you gesture to the beer in your hands.

You feel relief rushing through you once you are out of the busy store again. The golden evening sun hits your skin, still blessing it with warmth, the air around you smells like summer, like fresh cut grass, hot pavement and honeysuckle. The wind kisses your skin and blows through your hair, it’s warm yet refreshing, it feels nice.

“Did you buy that for me?” Dustin grins at you, pointing at the beers when you get into the passenger seat.

Eddie glares at him through the rearview mirror.

“Very funny, Dusty Bun.”

Lucas laughs at the nickname, nudging his shoulder against Dustin’s, “Dusty Bun,” he cackles, wiggling his brows.

“Shut up, dude.”

“You kids are too young to even think about trying beer,” you glare at the three teens in the back, most specifically at Lucas, who’s had some before.

His smile falls a little, and he clears his throat, “that was one time.”

“Yeah, it better stay that way,” you point at him.

Max snorts at the glare on your face.

“Yes, mom.”

Eddie and Dustin chuckle.

Your jaw drops, and you furrow your brows at the teen who is squished between Max and Dustin.

“You act like a mom sometimes!” Lucas raises his hands up in surrender, shrugging at you.

“No, I don’t!”

“Yeah, you do, you’re mama bear,” Eddie snorts, making Dustin laugh louder.

“Yeah, you’re not fooling us with your grumpy act.”

You squint your eyes at the curly head, who is grinning happily at you.

“Just accept it, Sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, “you’re the mom of the group.”

“No, I only joined this group a few months back, there has to be a different mom–”

“Oh no, we only had single dad Steve,” Lucas giggles, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “but we got a mom and a dad now, so…”

The smug look on his face, and the teasing in his eyes, isn’t exactly hard to miss. You know exactly what he is going at, what he has been going at for the past few months now.

Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if he somehow knows about your feelings for Steve, if he always knew about them, or if he is simply just teasing and still in the dark about everything.

You are good at hiding your feelings, you always have been, no one ever found out about your feelings for Steve unless you wanted them to, but if there is someone who you wouldn’t underestimate, then it’s definitely Lucas, he is too smart for his own good, sometimes.

Eddie snorts beside you, mumbling, “mommy and daddy.”

You elbow him, into his side, earning a groan from him.

“That wasn’t very nice!” Eddie grumbles as he shoots you a glare, and presses his hand against his stomach.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Edward.”

He squints his eyes at you.

“Who is Eddie then?” Dustin asks.

“He’s the cool uncle,” Lucas shrugs.

“Damn right, now stop yapping,” Eddie mumbles as he takes a look over his shoulder, “are you ready to throw up Hot Dogs after going on the roller coaster?”

All three of them groan in disgust, scrunching up their faces, making him laugh.

You shake your head at him when he starts laughing.

“You’re such a menace.”

Eddie only chuckles at you, he starts the car and turns up the music, and he rolls down the windows before he speeds out of the parking lot.

You embrace the moments of peace before the chaos of the fair hits you, screaming children, crowds of people, and the overwhelming smell of food on every corner are something you are not looking forward to despite the hollowness in your stomach. You couldn’t get anything down the past few days, you nearly threw up this morning when you walked into the diner with Eddie, and the smell of Bacon hit you.

The wind weaves through your hair as Eddie drives down the main road.

The sound of music distracts you from your sad thoughts.

The thought of him, filling your heart with life and your soul with hope.

He grounds you in your worst moments, and he doesn’t even know it.

The fairground is alive with music and screaming children, the sound of the roller coasters moving, conversations and laughter from every corner. The dazzling lights are a stark contrast against the dark sky, the smell of food wafts through the air.

Robin and Vickie are standing next to Steve, giggling about something as they sip on their mixed beers. He is looking around, trying to catch sight of you, but you are nowhere to be found, and he is beginning to worry.

Max and El had dragged you away for a roller coaster ride, but that was over an hour ago, and he hasn’t seen you ever since.

Max had warned him before, when she reminded him of what this day means to you, of what happened a year back, of what and who you had lost.

Steve doesn’t know how you deal with grief, how you feel on these kinds of days, there are too many of them in your life. He doesn’t know how you cope, he wishes that he could be there for you and give you a shoulder to lean on – but you aren’t very good at showing your true feelings or emotions, he only saw a glimpse of the truth that you hide behind those high walls you built around yourself and he doubts that you would come to him for comfort.

A dreadful feeling is gnawing in his chest the more time passes without you being seen.

“Hey Dingus, we’re going on the Ferris Wheel,” Robin nudges his shoulder, grinning at him.

He blinks, tearing his eyes away from the crowds, he nods at his best friend.

“Sure, have fun.”

Robin furrows her brows as she takes in the sight of his frown, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he murmurs and plasters a smile on his face, “go and have fun with your girl.”

She hesitates, her smile becoming weaker now, “you should go find Eddie or Dustin.”

“Yeah, I will, in a second.”

“Your feet are not glued to the ground are they?” Vickie asks, chuckling.

“Yeah, you’ve been stuck in this spot for like thirty minutes now!” Robin exclaims as she points her ringed finger at him, eyeing the way he is leaning against the wall with tension in his body.

Steve chuckles, and brings his hand up to the side of his face, cupping his cheek for a moment, “I’m just looking out for the kids.”

Robin snorts, though she gives him a suspicious look.

“Ah, but they’re not around,” she says, tilting her head as she gestures to all the strangers that surround the field, instead of the teens.

“I told them I’d be here if they needed anything,” he shrugs and waves his hand at her, “now go and have your kiss on the top of the Ferris Wheel.”

Robin slaps his shoulder, her cheeks taking on a deep red color, as Vickie giggles behind her.

He chuckles at her, wiggling his brows and smirking at his best friend.

Robin rolls her eyes and turns away from him, she offers her hand out to the redhead, who reaches for it, though with a blush on her cheeks and a shy smile on her lips.

“See you later, Dingus,” Robin waves at Steve, not giving him the chance to respond before she drags her girl away and pushes through the crowds with her.

Steve’s eyes follow them until he can no longer see them as they get lost in the midst of the chaos. Laughing children run around, chasing each other, a group of teenage boys carrying drinks they shouldn’t be allowed to buy, two young women walk past him, giggling amongst themselves as they eye him with interest in their eyes, Steve pays no mind to them, not even bothering to spare them a look despite the very obvious glances he is getting, even as they had already passed him.

His eyes follow a different sight and his ears perk up at the sound of giggles that sound like yours, his lips twitch at the sound and his heart flutters wildly in his chest.

He pushes himself off the tree he is leaning against and turns to look around. Steve’s hazel eyes soften the moment he finally sees you.

You are standing in a circle with Eddie and his bandmates who all keep pestering you over something. Eddie leans closer to you and pinches your cheek, while Gareth jumps around you like some hyper puppy, his curls bouncing and his face flickering with amusement when you keep waving your hand at him.

Steve smiles at the giggle that falls from your lips when Eddie swats your hand away after you ruffle his curls.

He watches the way your lips move as you stare at him with a smug look on your face, saying something to him that makes him clutch his chest and gasp dramatically.

Steve shakes his head as the metalhead lunges at you and you squeal in surprise before you turn around and run off with a giggle, bolting into the crowd with Eddie and Gareth hot on your heels, while Jeff and Grant follow the three of you slowly, shaking their heads in amusement.

Surprise lingers inside of him, Steve had never seen you so playful before, he had never witnessed you letting loose and having genuine fun. You are always on guard, always hiding away behind your brooding act that is slowly becoming less and less visible.

Something has changed, something in your behavior has shifted in the past few weeks. You seem happier, you seem to smile more, you seem to be kinder to the people around you.

Your walls are still up, but the foundation has begun to crumble, just like his did.

You let him see a glimpse of something he never thought was even there, he saw your vulnerable side and your soft one, he saw how lovingly you treated your baby niece, he saw how sweet and gentle you could be – he saw the real you and it only made him weaker than ever before.

There was always a part of him that left him feeling weak whenever he was with you – it wasn’t a bad kind of weak, but it was one that scared him.

It doesn’t scare him anymore.

He embraces the weakness now.

Something, someone crashes into his chest, making him stumble back from the force, when he looks down, he finds you staring up at him, with your arms now wrapped around his waist and a softened look in your eyes as a smile rests on your lips. The dazzling, colorful lights from the rollercoaster and the ferris wheel only brighten the color of your eyes, making him get lost in them so easily.

He feels your arms around his torso, and your hands on his back, your chest is now pressed against his and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that the look in your eyes is a dreamy one as they look into his.

The warmth in his chest blooms, the smile on his lips grows bigger, something in his stomach flutters when you stand on your tippy toes and remind him of the height difference between the two of you.

“Hi Stevie,” you say softly.

He would be lying if he said, he isn’t caught off guard by the tone in your voice and the look in your eyes, by your arms that are wrapped around him and your body that is pressed against his, so tightly and intimately, despite all the eyes that could see.

“Hi Blondie,” he smiles as he slowly wraps his arms around you and acts on his feelings, when he brings you closer.

The smell of your perfume is intoxicating and it does nothing to weaken the fluttering in his stomach. You smell like the cotton candy that you had shared with Max earlier and the beer you probably had been drinking all night, which is surprising, considering how much you despise the bitter taste of beer.

“I missed you.”

His eyes widen in surprise, and his eyebrows shoot up, the fluttering in his stomach now growing even stronger than before.

You woke up in each other's arms this morning, you even sat at the kitchen table and drank your morning coffee together before you left to meet up with Eddie.

But you missed him.

You missed him, like he missed you.

Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, or maybe not – he hopes not.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

You nod, your eyes flicker to his lips, before they move back up, to meet his.

“I missed you too, Blondie.”

He nearly crumbles when your smile grows even bigger and a blush creeps up on your face, a breathy, small giggle falls from your lips. And then, you surprise him once again, when you bury your face in his chest and hug him tightly.

His heart rate picks up and his breathing becomes heavy from all the emotions inside of him.

He certainly never met this side of you before,and he never even knew that you could become much softer than what he had already seen of you.

Without looking around to make sure that you are away from prying eyes, he wraps his arms tighter around you, and hugs you in a way he wanted to all night.

Confusion, adoration and happiness floods through him, all at once.

Here he thought that this day would bring out some darkness in you, that you would hide in a corner and try to drink away your sorrows but instead the alcohol in your system brought something else out in you.

As Steve holds you in the middle of the fairground and you slide your palm over his chest, resting your hand above the place where his heart beats strongly, he feels himself falling into your embrace, losing all his vision of the people and the things before him, losing all the sounds around him, no longer feeling the ground beneath his feet – all he sees is you, all he hears is the beating of his own heart, all he feels is you, only you.

And as though, it didn’t hit him hard enough already, you place your chin on his chest and you tilt your head up to look at him, giving him a sweet smile, “kissy?” You ask, puckering your lips.

He could melt into a puddle, right then and there.

Despite not wanting to, he lets his eyes roam the space around you, making sure that none of your friends are watching, before he leans in to place a kiss on your lips – one that is way too quick for your liking, the pout that follows your puckered lips makes his heart burst.

You look at him with literal puppy eyes, glinting with a pleading look.

He almost doesn’t recognize you – you are not the Blondie that he saw a few hours back, but he is not complaining in the slightest, he really likes this side of you.

Cupping your cheeks, he rests his large palms against your skin, his fingertips getting lost in your hair as he leans down to kiss you again, smacking his lips against yours, he delivers a loud kiss, one that makes you giggle when he pulls away again and looks down at you with a lazy smile on his face.

“How much did you drink?” Steve asks, chuckling when you keep staring at him with a big smile.

“Just a little bit,” you slur, and raise your hand to show him as you furrow your brows and hold your thumb and pointer finger into an L shape, “so much.”

He laughs as he tucks your hair behind your ears, “alright.”

“I want something else now.”

“What, more alcohol?” Steve asks, raising his brows.

You shake your head, scrunching up your nose in a way that makes him smile as he looks at you adoringly.

“No, I think I had too much already.”

“Yeah, I think so too, honey,” he murmurs, the nickname rolling off his tongue easily, almost normal, “you don’t feel sick, do you?”

“No, just thirsty.”

“Alright, let’s get you something to drink then,” he says, unable to stop smiling, when you look at him this way. He moves his hands away from your face and he reaches for your hand, sliding his palm against your own, he entwines his fingers with yours, and you welcome his action, happily.

Steve isn’t drunk, he didn’t have a single sip of alcohol this evening, not a single drag of Argyle’s joint and yet, he feels as though he is under the influence of something strong, his mind is in a haze, that careless and freeing feeling lingers in his chest, happiness and giddiness rushes through him and he feels as though he is floating with you.

He can’t even find it in himself to care if anyone sees him with you like this – smiling at each other, hugging and kissing one another, holding hands, and acting like a couple. He knows your friends are here, but Steve just doesn’t give a damn – not even when Heidi walks past him with her friends and they all look at you weirdly.

He hears the hushed whispers, he sees the squinted eyes as they look you up and down and their eyes fall on your entwined fingers. He pays no mind to the way they look at him, but irritation sparks at him when they keep staring at you. He can see the judgment, and the jealousy, it’s so obvious.

Steve holds back the eyeroll and he grasps your hand tighter as he begins to drag you away from the prying eyes and the whispers of envy. He would rather kiss you and flip them off but he cannot risk this, he can’t risk you two getting caught. Rumors would circulate, words would get twisted and it would only be a matter of time until all your friends would find out.

And he isn’t ready to get caught, he isn’t ready to lose this, to lose you.

He glances down at you, seeing the smile that didn’t leave your face just yet. You are unaware to all the eyes on you, to the looks you were given, you are still holding onto his hand as tight as before, stepping closer to him when a group of boys rush past you.

You turn to him and raise your head to glance at him, shooting him a sweet smile as you squeeze his hand, causing his heart to flutter and his smile to reappear.

You are so cute like this.

He pulls you closer and shields you from anyone who brushes past you as you walk through the crowd together, getting lost in the chaotic field, where the music is louder and the people are too.

Steve looks around, trying to catch sight of the teens or Eddie and his bandmates but he only sees the town people that he couldn’t care less about while you follow him like some lost puppy, clinging to his side and looking up with big eyes, every few seconds or so.

You both get in line at the drink stall, your hands are still joined, fingers entwined and arms still pressed together. You stumble into him, prompting him to hold you a little tighter.

“I’m sorry,” you slur as you reach your free hand up to grab his arm.

“It’s fine,” he chuckles at you, adoring you a little more and more as the seconds pass.

You are drunk – not tipsy, not slightly drunk, no, you are genuinely and definitely drunk. And as he stands here with you, eying you closely and watching the way you keep looking up at him with your widened pupils and your lazy smiles, he realizes that he had never actually witnessed you being drunk – high and tipsy? Sure. But never drunk.

“Why’d you drink so much, Blondie?”

“I didn’t even drink that much,” you shrug, “I’m just not used to drinking that beer.”

Steve raises his brows, knowing how much you despise the taste of regular beer. You only drink it when it’s mixed with something.

“What kind of beer?”

You furrow your eyebrows, your eyes flash with confusion, you seemingly can’t remember the name of it.

You look down and your eyes widen when you find a discarded can on the grass, you point your finger at it, “that one.”

Steve’s eyes follow your gaze and the direction your finger is pointing at, he raises his eyebrows again.

“You don’t even like beer that much,” he mumbles and turns back to you.

“Billy did,” you shrug.

Oh.

His features relax again and his shoulders slump a little, realization flickers in his eyes.

You didn’t drink for fun, you were trying to forget about the sadness and the grief that must’ve lingered all day.

He is surprised that the alcohol didn’t have a negative effect on you. Drinking while feeling sad can worsen those emotions, the alcohol can transform them into a darker sadness or even into anger and despair.

But you seem fine, happy even.

If only he knew that he is the reason for it.

“The fireworks are about to start,” you say, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He blinks.

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

“Do you want to watch them with me?”

His heart skips a beat at the softness in your voice, at the hopeful look in your eyes and the sweet smile on your lips.

Of course he does.

“Yeah,” he smiles, nodding. “I’d love to.”

Your eyes crinkle as you beam at him, stealing his breath away with simple reactions like these.

Steve is not even sure if anyone had ever looked at him this way, no one has ever even made him feel this way, no one had ever stolen his breath away just from simply looking at him the way you do now.

You take him by surprise when you stand on your tippy toes and lean closer to him to place a kiss on his cheek, leaving him a blushing mess.

Your giggle sounds like music to his ears, your touch drives him crazy as you squeeze yourself against him and lay your head on his chest as your arms come around his torso again.

He could fall to his knees right here, right now.

Is this the real you?

Is this the side you’ve been hiding from the world?

Is this the way you would have always been with him, had you not experienced so much loss and pain?

Steve wraps his arms around you, unable to hold back from showing and giving you the affection that you are blessing him with in this moment, even when the anxiety of getting caught still lingers.

He cups your cheeks and leans closer to your ear, “where do you wanna watch the fireworks?”

“Maybe the woods? Or the big field?” You ask as you look at him with big eyes, “so we can be away from all these annoying people?”

He laughs when you gesture to the loud fairground visitors.

The lights that flicker around you kiss your beautiful face and your skin that he wants to feel on his at any time, your lips that always look so inviting, you look so delicate, so soft, so gorgeous, you look like someone that could ruin his life and right in this moment, he doesn’t even mind it, he would let you.

It hits him, in this second, it hits him just how bad he’s got it for you.

Steve Harrington is down bad.

Down bad to a point in which he almost calls you ‘my girl’ when he is about to order your drink, he catches himself just in time but he can’t hide the blush that creeps up on his face.

You don’t seem to notice though, you swing your joined hands back and forth and look around with a contentment in your relaxed features.

He hands you the ice cold pepsi after placing the ten dollar bill on the small desk, telling the teen behind the counter to keep the change.

“That was nice of you,” you say as you both start walking away from the drink stall and from the crowds.

“What, letting him keep the change?”

You nod and let go of his hand to open your can.

“Poor guy has to work on a holiday, he should get a good tip,” Steve shrugs, already missing the feeling of your hand in his, he raises his arm and wraps it around your shoulder instead, pulling you closer against him.

Your lips twitch at that, a smile forms on your face.

“Still, that was nice of you, you’re a nice guy,” you giggle.

“Well, I gotta make up for all the times I wasn’t a nice guy.”

You don’t say anything to that, you can’t. Steve doesn’t even blame you, you witnessed him in his worst moments, you were his target, more than once.

You shot back at him but your words weren’t hurtful, your insults and your jabs were never personal. You got under his skin, but not in the way he got under yours.

He truly wasn’t a nice guy to you and that might be one of his biggest regrets. He was mean, awful even and now as he looks at you, at the cute frown on your face as you pop the can, at the way you take a sip of your favorite drink and smile afterwards, he can’t understand how he could ever treat you so unkindly, how he didn’t see you before.

You might’ve been rough, snarky and unapproachable but there was never denying of how beautiful you are, how beautiful you have always been.

How come he never asked you out?

He might’ve never seen this side of you before and he only ever knew one side of you, but your snarkiness wouldn’t have kept King Steve away from you, if anything, your little act should’ve made him more intrigued.

And now he can’t help but wonder what things would have been like had he not treated you the way he did, had he asked you out and fought for a chance with you.

Could’ve things been different then?

Would you have fallen in love with him?

Would you have prevented the heartbreak that Nancy had cursed him with two years ago?

The pain from his last relationship no longer matters to Steve, not since you, but this question still lingers.

“This spot is perfect.”

You pull him out of the past and back into the presence with a tug on his hand.

Steve looks around, you are no longer surrounded by people, instead it’s the trees that are around you and him, you’re at the edge of the forest, not far enough to drown at the music and the chatter but quiet enough to hear your voice clearer now, it’s much darker out here but he can still see you well enough.

You close your eyes and drink your pepsi, completely unaware of his unwavering glances. A sigh leaves your lips and you place the now half full can on the ground before you step closer to him and reach for his hand again, taking a look at the watch around his wrist, you squint your eyes and lean down closer, “it’s about to start any minute.”

He smiles at you, nodding his head slowly, “yeah.”

Steve feels the urge to pull you tight against him, to hold you and kiss you like he never did before.

You look up and meet his eyes when you notice his staring, a smile appears on your lips, “what?” You ask with a soft giggle.

He shakes his head and shrugs, “nothing.”

You bite your lip and he wants nothing more than to grab your face and kiss you breathless.

You raise your eyebrows at him and stare back at him, stumbling over air as you try to take a step closer to him, making you both chuckle at your drunken clumsiness, your hand falls against his body, while he grabs your waist, steadying you on your own feet, “whoa, easy tiger.”

You giggle at the nickname, making his own smile widen.

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?”

You don’t even deny it, in fact, you don’t even answer the question as you keep staring up at him, keeping your hands against his chest as your eyes flicker from the spitcurl that hangs over his forehead, his eyes and his lips.

Steve’s stomach flutters just the way his heart does, his skin tingles beneath from your touches, the look in your eyes makes him want to kiss you even more.

“You’re feeling okay though, right?” He whispers as he slowly brings his hand up to the side of your face and he cups your cheek.

“Yeah, I’m okay now,” you nod, leaning into his touch, “I-I just… I miss him.”

Steve might never understand the friendship you had with Billy, he only knew the ugly sides of him but you knew more, you saw deeper, you were his friend – something Steve didn’t even know Billy had, he was sure the guy didn’t even know what the term ‘friendship’ even meant.

“And that’s okay, Blondie,” he says, giving you a sad smile, “it’s okay to miss people and to grieve for them.”

Tears well up in your eyes and your lips curl downwards.

Steve didn’t mean for this to happen, he didn’t mean to make you cry.

“Hey,” he whispers, pulling you closer as he catches the first tear with his thumb, “it’s okay, honey.”

You sniffle and roll your eyes at yourself, “he would punch me in the face for crying,” you joke.

Steve can’t help but laugh.

“And he’d make fun of me for being with you, he would like–” you pause and lean in to peck his lips, “he would smack my head if I did that in front of him!” You say with a giggle, despite the tears that still keep falling.

His cheeks heat up at the kiss, the need for more growing strong in his chest.

“He really didn’t like me, huh?”

“Not one fucking bit, Stevie,” you chuckle sadly.

Steve wonders how things would be if he was still here, would this thing between you even work out?

Would Billy keep you away from him?

“But nothing could take me away from you, he’d just have to suck it up,” you whisper as you peck his lips again, shutting down the worries in his head.

He almost feels his pulse in his throat as his heart beats faster, your words doing little to calm the beating of his heart.

“Oh?” Is the only thing he can say as all the other words freeze in his brain.

You nod as you look into his eyes deeply, refusing to break eye contact. He notices the way your chest starts moving faster as your breathing gets heavier, he sees the way your smile transforms into a nervous frown and your throat bobs as you try to come up with words.

His breath hitches in his throat when you whisper his name shakily.

“I–”

Whatever you were about to say gets lost in the wind as the loud explosion in the sky cuts you off and tears your attention away from him. The colors pop in the sky, illuminating the darkened space around you both.

You tilt your head to watch the lights that reflect in your eyes, the smile you wore before makes its way back into your pretty face, the tension in your body disappears and you relax into him again.

But while your drunken mind gets distracted by all of this so easily, Steve only really sees you. He doesn’t look up just yet, he lets himself admire you for a moment.

Your eyes light up as they meet his for a brief second, flashing with awe.

His heart could jump out of his chest from how hard it’s beating, his knees could give out any moment now.

“Look!” You beam at him as you point your finger at the blue colors.

His gaze follows yours but it returns to your face so quickly, something about you pulls him in, a magnet, a string, a strong connection – he can’t identify it yet, but he feels like his whole being yearns for you and not just sexually.

He wants to keep doing this, he wants to keep holding your hand, he wants to keep hugging you, he wants to keep spending time with you like this, he wants to stand under the night sky with you, and he especially wants to do this.

“Hey,” he whispers as he cups your cheeks with both hands, pulling your attention back to him.

You greet him with an adoring smile, “hi,” you whisper.

Steve caresses your cheek, he is starting to lean in closer, fading out the colors that flash in his peripheral vision, before his lips can even touch yours, you throw your arms around his neck and beat him to it, pressing your lips against his over and over again before you move on to both of his cheeks and even the tip of his nose as you start showering him in kisses, catching him off guard completely.

Steve giggles in surprise, his cheeks match the colors that lighten up the sky as they glow red.

And then, you finally pull him into a longer kiss.

You close your eyes and he does too, your lips start moving slowly, passionately. You rest your hands on his neck and steal his breath away by deepening the kiss as you slip your tongue into his mouth and let him have a taste of your sweetness, the cotton candy and the pepsi still linger on your lips.

Your noses bump into each other and you break the kiss with a giggle, giving him a sweet smile before you lean back in again, kissing and continuing to steal his breath away, not knowing what you have just done to his poor heart, how much life, how much hope you have filled it with.

A smile, a giggle, a simple kiss with you is all it takes for all the defense around him to crumble into dust.

Something he thought he lost seeps back into his heart, something he thought that stayed in the past and to never be touched again blooms in him.

Everything inside of him screams in joy, his stomach doing somersaults, his skin prickling from the excitement, his lips tugging into a smile even through the kiss that he deepens more and more.

This kiss is different from all the other ones you have shared before, this one means something, this one won’t lead to you tearing each other’s clothes off. No, this is just a kiss.

A kiss that means everything.

A kiss that changes everything.

You stole his breath completely and made it your own, you stole his heart, his soul, his whole being.

And the noise of the fireworks, the sparks igniting from them, match those in Steve's heart. Just exploding, bursting, burning him from inside out.

And he embraces the feeling fully.

He wants more of this, more of you.

He wants to cross a line, he wants you in a whole new way and he is no longer ashamed to admit it to himself.

It feels like forever as you stand there beneath the sparkling sky, kissing and staying in each other’s embrace as you both savor every second of this moment, only pulling away to catch your breaths before you lean back in for more.

The fireworks stop, but only those in the sky.

Your lips are still moving with each other, your tongues still mingling together, whines and whimpers fall from you – tonight, they don’t fill him with lust and need, no, tonight they fill him with adoration.

Your arms tighten around his neck, your nose is flush against his as you refuse to break the kiss but the lack of air makes it impossible and it forces you away from him, though you don’t pull away too far, only enough to catch your breath.

Steve leans his forehead against yours, slowly opening his eyes to look into yours, his heart flutters yet again when he sees how wide your eyes are, how they flicker with deep emotions.

Unable to hold back, he leans in to peck your puffy lips one more time.

“Steve,” you whisper as your hands begin to slip from his shoulders to his chest.

“Yes?”

“Can I be with you tonight?”

He furrows his brows at your question, he wants you to be with him tonight, he wants you with him every night.

“Of course, Blondie.”

You smile at him though it’s a weak one and it makes him frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, scrunching your nose.

“Are you feeling sick?” He asks, tilting your head up.

You shake your head again, “just really tired.”

Your words are still slurred, the alcohol still deep in your system.

“Let’s go home then.”

“Do you want to go?” You ask, looking at him with a cute frown on your face as you tilt your head to the side, “I-I can still wait if you want to stay here longer.”

Steve smiles at you, shaking his head, “no, I want to go home with you.”

The smile on your lips replaces the frown.

He brushes his thumb against your bottom lip and stares at you adoringly.

“Come on, we should tell Eddie.”

You pick up your discarded drink before you slide your fingers through his, intertwining your fingers with his again.

“Let’s go,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.

You follow him without a single word, walking beside him quietly as you make your way out of the woods and back into the fair where the lights are bright and he can see you better now.

It’s still just as crowded as it was before and just as loud.

Steve keeps you close, glancing at you, he notices the squinted eyes and how displeased you look by all the noises and the people around you.

He holds your hand tighter, giving it another reassuring squeeze.

“I can’t wait to go to sleep,” you mumble, taking the last few sips of your soda before you throw it into the trashcan you pass by. You wrap your free hand around his bicep and squish your cheek against it.

Steve’s smile widens, his eyes glint with nothing but fondness.

“There you are!”

Steve turns to find Eddie walking towards you both, throwing his hands up with a worried look on his face that slowly begins to disappear when he realizes that you have been with him all this time, though his eyebrows pull together when he sees your entwined hands and the closeness between you.

Steve expects you to run away from him and into your best friend’s arms, but you don’t, you stick to his side.

“Hi Eddie!” You mumble lazily as a smile appears on your face.

You all halt in your tracks once you meet in the middle.

“Hey sweets, are you okay?” He asks, eying you up and down one more time.

“Peachy!”

“Where have you been?”

Steve clears his throat, “we watched the fireworks from the woods and now I’m gonna take this one home, she’s tired.”

Eddie squints his eyes at him, giving a once over now – the way he has been doing it for some time now, like he is suspicious of his actions, like he wants to figure him out so he can protect you from him and irritates Steve.

“I can take her home,” Eddie shrugs.

“No!” You protest, clinging to Steve’s arm, you hold him tighter not wanting to be pulled away from him.

Steve chuckles softly, he looks down at you adoringly.

“Don’t worry, Eddie. I’ll take her home to sleep, maybe shove some coffee down her throat, see if that helps. I am sensing I’m having a hungover Blondie tomorrow.”

Eddie raises one eyebrow at him, he crosses his arms over his chest, defensively. And Steve notices it from the corner of his eye, causing the smile to leave his face as a frown etches into his features instead.

“I’m not doing anything if that's what you’re fucking thinking, Munson.”

Eddie raises his hands up in surrender, “sorry, can’t blame me for caring.”

That… Stings.

That actually hurts his feelings.

He may not be as close to Eddie as you are to him, but Eddie knows him well enough to know that he would never do anything like this.

“You really think I’m that disgusting?” Steve asks, not bothering to hide the hurt in his voice.

Eddie sighs.

Of course he doesn’t.

He is just protective of his best friend, of her feelings.

Neither of you notice the way you keep looking between them, completely lost and confused.

“I don’t know what kind of deal you both have, Steve, but I’m allowed to care. I would’ve given her the same look if the roles were reversed.”

“She’s not like that,” Steve argues instantly.

Eddie sighs again, uncrossing his arms, he drops them to his side as he takes a look at the sky with a long sigh.

“I know she’s not, I know you’re not. Just… take care of her…”

Steve is still hurt by Eddie’s reaction, by the accusing look in his eyes, like Steve would do anything to hurt you.

He knows that it might only be because you are his best friend, because he feels protective of you, because he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you – but to know that he was worried about you while you were with him makes him feel sick.

Steve would never do anything to hurt someone, let alone you.

“Can we go now?” You ask, looking up at him with big eyes.

A weak smile appears on his face as he looks down at you, “yeah, we can go.”

Steve doesn’t notice the way Eddie’s squinted eyes linger on him, the way he looks down at your hands, watching as Steve pulls you closer despite you being glued to his side already.

He can’t help but sigh when he sees the way you look at him, the dreaminess and the love is so evident and it worries him, your feelings for Steve worry him because he fears that he will break your heart, that he will rip it out of your chest.

Eddie is so focused on his worries, he doesn’t even see the way Steve looks at you.

“I’m gonna call you tomorrow, Eds.”

Eddie smiles at you, “yeah, alright.”

Steve nods at Eddie, only giving him a small smile as he starts pulling you away.

“Bye man,” Steve mumbles as he brushes past him.

“Bye Eddie!”

“Yeah, sleep well, sweets.” Eddie smiles, waving at you.

Walking away from the fairground and leaving behind the crowds of people and your best friend feels like a relief to Steve. He can’t move past the glances the metalhead gave to him, the worried looks he spared you as though you were in some kind of danger with him.

He can’t confront him, he can’t talk to him about it and tell him how wrong he is though, he would give away his feelings and he can’t do that.

You walk beside him quietly, not a single word falls from your lips, you just keep holding his hand, looking up at him every once in a while until you make it to his car.

Steve opens the door for you, begrudgingly letting go of you so you can get inside, he helps you buckle in your seatbelt, a surprised chuckle falls from his lips when you use the opportunity to kiss his cheek and he can’t even help himself but do the same to you, smacking his lips against your cheek to give you a loud smooch, one that makes you giggle.

He can see the tiredness in your eyes, the way you slowly blink and how you sink deeper into the car seat as you yawn.

“Let's get you into bed, honey.”

Steve keeps the music on low during the drive home, you keep dozing off as your head keeps falling to the side but every time you open your eyes again, you look at him and you keep your eyes on him, making him blush beneath your softened gaze.

And then, you make his heart swell and his chest vibrate when you place your hand on his thigh and smile at him sweetly.

Everything about you drives him crazy today.

Every glance, every touch, every word, every kiss.

You have brought something out in him, something that was buried deep inside, hidden and locked away but you have found the key, you unlocked it, you brought something back that he thought was impossible to ever resurface again and you made it yours, you made him yours, all yours.

And now, he wants to give you everything.

He wants to take care of you, he wants to shower you with affection, he wants to be the one for you.

You’re making things complicated but in the most amazing of ways, in the most beautiful of twists that he couldn’t believe would happen again for him. Your small glances are enough to turn a flame in his entire body, your hand on his thigh as he parks at his home enough to send butterflies in his stomach, butterflies that he swore died when Nancy broke his heart.

Your touch is enough to make him tremble and make his knees buckle, when he helps you out of his car, both of you laugh as you almost fall right on your ass, even with his help. He is happy. He is content. He is extremely giddy when he is with you, as if he were fourteen all over again.

Even when you are not like this, when you are not this bubbly uncaring self, he still enjoys his time with you. He enjoys the accidental snorts that make him laugh as you swat him to try to stop him from laughing. The happy delighted moans you give when you try his cooking. The out of nowhere conversations in the mornings that you two now share together.

He likes it when you put on that strong wall, it makes you look cute, it makes him want to break it down. He loves the small banter, the pretend fights when you two are with the whole group, the way you pinch his side when you walk past him when no one is looking. He adores it.

When he finally manages to get you inside, he immediately urges you into the kitchen, making you drink water, not pepsi, despite your pouts and your teary eyes which almost make him become a puddle on the floor. He also gives you a leftover chicken sandwich he had in his fridge so you would eat something to absorb the alcohol.

“Eat at least half of that.” He commands and you just grumble something, cutely so, underneath your breath as you take a bite. He knew you probably didn’t eat anything at the fair, a possible reason for your drunkenness.

“I’ll eat… if you give me a kiss.” And just like that you pucker your lips his way and his heart can barely handle it. He licks his lips before leaning towards you and placing them on yours in a soft peck, a quick one. You smile before taking the first bite, and when you swallow it seems as if it turns on the hunger in your belly because you devour that sandwich in seconds.

He hopes you keep it down your stomach for the whole night and that it helps you feel okay in the morning. He wonders how you will act tomorrow, if you’ll remember all of this, if you’ll remember how much you kissed him, how you made him feel. He should tell you… He should…

But what if it’s the alcohol doing its thing?

“Okay, let’s go to bed.” And doing so turns out to be a challenge because as soon as you finish your food and water, your eyelids start to drop. Getting you off the stool and dragging you upstairs is easy but keeping you sitting up as he tries to change you into his clothes, that is another issue.

“I don’t wanna…” You mumble as you throw yourself back down onto the mattress, chest bare. He would have gotten riled up, if it weren’t for the fact he felt domestic, fluttery, and his chuckles came out easily out of his lips when looking at you.

“You have to, it’s just the shirt, come on.” His voice is soft as he talks to you, making you raise yourself up again, sitting in front of him and raising your arms up for him to slide his shirt on you. As soon as it’s on, you bounce back and get comfortable in his pillow with a contented sigh. He smiles at you as he takes off his shirt and starts unbuckling his belt in order to get comfortable. His own tiredness is starting to take a toll on his body.

He doesn’t notice that you had turned your head to look at him again, and a wolf whistle is heard in the room, making him turn to look at you. You have a cheeky smile on your face and he feels himself blushing slightly as he laughs, taking his pants off next, leaving him in boxers only.

“As if you haven’t seen it before.” He says and it only makes you whistle again as he saunters over with a shake of his head, a smile still plastered on his lips.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t adore it everytime,” you whisper.

And that makes the smile drop, but in shock. Your words went deep, soothing over wounds that had been created long ago, and he doesn’t mean his scars. He has to clear his throat in order to walk towards the bed and get inside right next to you, only for you to immediately crawl on top of him, laying your chin on his chest, looking at him.

It holds so much adoration for some reason, a sparkle that makes Steve’s stomach turn, hope that rose in his throat like vomit, ready to come out, overwhelming him. You are looking at him as if he hung the stars for you, as if he were your only person in the entire world.

And he knows he is looking down at you in the exact same way.

“What now?”

“You’re just so pretty… It’s stupid how pretty you are.” He chuckles, making his chest rumble and for you to bounce up and down with it.

You pout but it’s followed by a smile, “it’s true, you are.”

“I’m not told that very often Blondie.” He honestly replies and that makes you raise your head up and look down at him with determination in your eyes. “Wh–”

He can’t even finish his question because your lips start going crazy on his face, but softly, caring, taking extra time on following the lines of moles he has on his jaw. He is startled, shocked, for no one ever did this to him, not even his own mother. No one ever showered him with affection, with kisses.

And as though that wasn’t sweet and surprising enough, you nuzzle your nose against his, giggling when a big smile appears on his face.

You are cute. You are so fucking cute.

It is an overwhelming feeling, one that almost makes him feel like crying.

Your lips pressed on the tip of his nose as you pulled away, a proud smile on your face, and he wonders what is going through your mind right now. If it it’s all true, fuck, he wants it all to be true. He needs it to be true. He needs and desires that you are doing all of this intentionally to him, despite the alcohol.

“There, now you know.”

You really are beautiful, so beautiful. He feels drunk on you, seeing you, feeling you… his hand rises up, not able to contain himself as it runs through the back of your head and pulls you down to his lips, letting him give you a deep kiss. A kiss that made the fireworks he saw earlier explode inside his room again.

You follow his lips with a hum, and he doesn’t want to pull away. He needs it all. He needs you. Not in the way he has been having you the past month. Not at all, not even close.

He lets you pull away, and his hand caresses your cheek, pulling your head down to rest on his chest again as your legs intertwine with his underneath the sheets. He wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating. If it bangs your head from how hard he feels his chest being hit with it.

“Sleep Blondie.” He wishes anything but that, but he needs the silence, the time alone.

“Hmm… night Stevie…” And he knows your eyes are closed, that you mumble that with the last bit of strength you had. His eyes remain on the ceiling as his mind starts working, gears going round and round, going overtime.

He had been running from the definition of the feeling, even if he knew it was there, even if he accepted everything else that came with it. He kept running and running, and now he had hit a wall.

So it’s time to stop and turn around to face you.

Steve Harrington decides to stop running as he looks down at you and his lips press at the top of your head while his arms hold you tighter. You whine in your sleep, yet your cheek nuzzles even more into his chest.

He can’t deny you anymore. Not when you look like this in his arms. Not when you peppered his face with kisses he never received. Not when he saw you in a vulnerable moment of yours. Not when he gets to see you moan in pleasure because of him. Not when he gets to see you have fun with everyone else. Not when you saved his life, going headfirst for him. Not when you already send smiles his way that make his heart stop.

And if you wake up tomorrow with a headache, he will be waiting for you with coffee in hand, an advil, and some food, ready to help you. To take care of you. He will let you lay in his bed all the time you need, all in order to make you feel better.

Because Steve Harrington started feeling again.

He likes you. He terribly and adoringly likes you… and he is afraid because–

It’s nowhere near little. Not at all.

“Can’t believe I fell for you, Blondie.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals!

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars

#dwoht — chapter fifteen #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #stranger things angst

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toxicanonymity · 3 months ago

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what do you think would happen if sweet pea found out from carter that joel's birthday is coming up? <3

raider!Joel x f! reader. angst and fluff

A/N: He would tell her Joel doesn't like to celebrate. It being outbreak day, she doesn't wonder if there's more to it. She wants to honor him. She tries really hard to think of something, find something. Nothing seems special enough. She never gets anything, and she feels awful about it.

You wake up on Joel's birthday, empty-handed. You're sniffling in his arms, little spoon as usual, and soon a tear is running down your cheek and onto his bicep. "Mm," he grunts in his sleep. You keep sniffling. "Sweet pea," he mumbles and pulls you closer.

By the time he really wakes up, you're ugly crying into his arm. It turns him on. He touches your face, catches your tears and thumbs your lips, then slowly ruts into you. You wipe your face and get up to move. He turns over on his back to watch you. You straddle his knees, bend forward, and you're just about to suck him when he lays a hand on your head and asks, "you okay, baby?" You start crying again, harder. "C'mere." He pats his chest. You settle in with your head on his chest, tears in his chest hair.

Your voice is broken. "I know it's your birthday." His chest slowly expands under your cheek. "I didn't get you anything. I really wanted to. I couldn't think of anything good enough, I wanted to give you something really special." Your crying becomes more vocal. "And I don't have anything for you."

He pets your head and allows some silence, then answers, "that's cause I got everything I need." He kisses the crown of your head. After some time of soothing you and thinking, he starts, "you," and his voice is tighter. He clears his throat. You pull back to so look up at him. It's a face you're not sure you've ever seen on him. His brows are furrowed, and there's the slightest fogginess in his eyes. He swallows, looks away for a moment, takes a deep breath through his nose, then locks in on your eyes. His deep voice is barely above a whisper. "you've given me a lot, sweet pea."

#raider!joel #joel miller angst #THIS POST IS CURSED #the blocks kept jumping out of order #raider!ask #toxicanonymity ☠️

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sugarnspice630 · 7 months ago

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PLEASE im begging you can you please write mean dom!Seonghwa x sub fem!reader but the reader has daddy kink

Hi anon! Thank you so much for you request love! I am happy to write this for you. I hope you enjoy, and have fun!

•pairing: mean!dom!Seonghwa x fem!sub!reader

•word count: 2k

•tags: soft to mean dom Hwa, daddy kink (obviously), teasing, reader is very horny, hair pulling, leash tugging, collars, oral (m receiving), ass smacking, vibrator use (f receiving) ...did I miss anything? probably

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

“Seonghwa, I can’t help it! You have this control over me that no one else has, and my body craves you constantly!” You begged. You had been begging Seonghwa to help you out for hours now. You were horny all day, and you just had an itch that only Seonghwa’s dick inside you could satisfy. No toy you used on yourself today was cutting it.

“Oh really? You like me that much, huh?” He cooed as he placed his hand on top of your head. You couldn’t help but whimper at his touch. You wanted him badly. Your eyes began to haze over as your body turned itself on autopilot and went into a sexual daze. The look on your face was one of eternal bliss. Having Seonghwa just lightly touch you was driving you mad, but of course you wanted more. No matter how much you whimpered and moaned softly at his touches, he was not giving in to your plea. As a matter of fact, he enjoyed watching you struggle like this. It sent chills through his body to see you so down bad for him.

“I-I can’t help it.”

“I know you can’t~.” He taunts as he runs his hand down the side of your face and rests his fingers under your chin, lifting his finger up so you are forced to look up at his face. He stares into your eyes for a few seconds, and you can’t help but feel a pool of wetness begin to form in your panties. The forceful gaze in his eyes was enough to make you want to rip your clothes off right there and have him take his way with you.

“D-daddy~?” He hums in response to the nickname, still looking deep into your eyes. “I....I can't take this feeling anymore!”

“Well, I don't know~. I’m not sure how to help out my little whore~.” You had enough of his taunting and quickly grabbed onto the sleeves of his shirt.

“Please daddy! Do something!” You cried out and pouted. Desperation was flowing out of your voice.

“But it's so much fun seeing you like this~. So desperate for me.”

“I-I'll do anything~!” You whimper and grip tighter on his sleeves.

“Anything?”

“Y-Yes! A-anything! Whatever daddy wants!” He pauses on your words for a few seconds, delaying your so-sought-after release even longer while he thinks about what he should do.

"Well, what I want-.” He stops mid-sentence, grips the back of your head, and pushes you down to the ground. You fall to your knees with a whimper at his force. Lifting your head up by your hair, you see him lick his lips and teeth before pulling his face into a smirk. “-is for you to suck.” He uses his free hand to guide his belt off and pull his pants down just past his hips. You eagerly reach out to help him pull his underwear off so you can start pleasing him. You knew you were not going to get any special treatment if you didn’t please him first. He chuckles at your eagerness, excited to see you under his command, but he pulls you away from his crotch with the hand wrapped in your hair. You let your mouth hang open slightly and looked up at him, confused.

“Since you're gonna act like an obedient pet, I might as well do this.” He grabs your collar, which was adorned around your neck, to signify that you were his, and attaches a leather leash to the ring in the front. “Much better~.” He purrs out. He wraps the leash firmly in his hand and pulls you back towards him; now your face is just inches from his rock-hard cock. You whimper when he tugs on the leash as you fall forward a little bit, but your balance is good since you’ve had lots of practice being on your knees in front of him. You open your mouth and gently kitten lick his tip; he shudders in response to your action.

"Fuck, you’re so good for me.” You start to take more of him into your mouth, making sure to lick and please him just how he likes it. Seonghwa is letting out groans and huffs from above you, motivating you to make him feel good so you can get rewarded as well. Occasionally, he rocks his hips into your mouth, forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat. Your eyes fill with tears as you gag slightly, but you don’t let it stop you. Suddenly, Seonghwa pulls you off of his cock. Confused, you let out a whimper at the lack of oral fixation in your mouth.

“After I lay down, get on the bed. Ass facing me and up in the air.”

“H-Hwa-.” You stutter out, your brain foggy from being thrown off course.

“I’m not asking you again.” He snarls as he tugs up on the leash, lifting your body up, and then drops the leash from his hand to make his way over to the bed. You nod softly with a small pout on your face. His demeanor changed so quickly, and you wonder what happened. You watched as he laid on the bed and patted his leg for you to come over to him. You got up onto the bed and crawled over to him, lining your body up right above where his cock was, then turning around so your ass was facing him and your mouth was aligned right near his member. Seonghwa grabbed onto your knees and pulled them closer to his body, causing you to fall forward closer to his dick, letting out a soft chuckle.

“You are going to finish me off while I play with you. Got it?”

“Y-yes daddy.” You feel a harsh smack on your bare cheek and whimper out.

“What was that? Didn’t quite hear you.”

“Yes daddy!”

“Now back to sucking slut~.”

Seonghwa firmly smacked your ass again, making you let out a moan. You wasted no time getting back to business. As if you had no interruption in between, you slide all of him back in your mouth, not caring about your gag reflex or anything. He was still slick with the pre-cum you had spread around before moving locations. While you were sucking, you felt Seonghwa’s weight shift on the bed. That must mean he was leaning over to grab something. You continued to suck him off when a faint buzzing sound in your ear preceded a small “oops” from Seonghwa, and then the buzzing stopped. He had grabbed the vibrator that was next to the bed. It was your all-time favorite one to use. Your face flushed red, but you continued to do your job by bobbing your head back and forth. Seonghwa placed the toy against you and rubbed it along your slit, making sure you were indeed ready to take it inside you. Seonghwa turns on the vibrator, and immediately, you feel more motivated to suck him to completion. You moaned around his dick.

“You’re such a fucking whore.” Seonghwa says lowly as he feels your passion coming through. Grinding your hips up and down to get more pleasure from the vibrator. Seonghwa pushes it deeper into you, and you place your hands on the sides of his legs, allowing you to take him further down your throat. Your hands grip onto the bedsheet, and you moan around him again. Eyes filled with tears, but not a single sad thought running through your head. To change up the pace of things, you slide yourself off of Seonghwa and stick your tongue out to lick him from base to tip. Panting out as you do so due to the pressure in your stomach building up from your favorite toy.

“F-fuck~.” Seonghwa mutters out. You can’t see him, but you know he is tilting his head back in ecstasy cause you are making him feel so good. Seonghwa changes the speed on the vibrator to increase the vibrations, rubbing it up and down your pussy and, every once in a while, sliding the tip of the toy into your hole. Enough to tease you and drive you crazy.

“D-daddy~? I need you n-now~.” The desperation for his cock had been building up, and you figured if you begged nicely, you could get what you wanted.

“You’re gonna get what I give you, and that’s it. Don’t you dare ask me for things like that.” He says through gritted teeth. Fuck, guess you’re not getting anything. “But since you want to whore yourself out to me-.” He pauses his sentence as he takes the vibrator off of you and slides himself out from underneath you, forcing you back down on your hands and knees on the bed. He rips your panties off of you, and you feel the cool air blow across your soaked area. “I’m gonna be as rough with you as I want.” Seonghwa grabs the sides of your hips harshly and forces himself inside of you. “Fuck!” You moan loudly at the sudden intrusion.

"Mmm, that toy got you nice and ready for Daddy~.” He grips tighter onto your hips, his nails digging into your skin, definitely leaving marks.

“T-This was way before the toy d-daddy~.”

“Shut up.” He barks as he leans his body down and reaches out to grab the leash still wrapped around you. He wraps it around his hand again for a good grip and pulls it back toward him. The tightness of the collar pushing into your airway and choking you out just the slightest bit. You can feel him picking up speed as he continues to lean down against your back. The angle his dick is hitting you makes you feel so good.

“Mm fuck~ my little fucktoy feels great tonight~.” His free hand smacks the side of your ass, and he continues to pound into you. You can’t help but moan and whimper at the sensation. The tugging on the leash making you see faint stars in your vision. His hand leaves your hip and grabs the back of your head.

“Such a fucking slut~! Does this little bitch crave more~?” You nod your head softly and let out a closed-mouth moan. Seonghwa, with no hesitation, pushes your head into the bed, shoving your face down into the mattress. “You dirty fucking whore~. Taking pleasure from being a toy~.” He halts his thrusts. With the hand still on the back of your hair, he grips your hair, pulls your head up, and leans down to your ear as close as he can, whispering softly. “How pathetic~.” You wince at the lack of pleasure inside and from him pulling your hair.

“I-I am pathetic~.”

“Damn right you are~.” He continues his thrusts, pounding into you harder than before. You are nothing but a moaning mess. Such beautiful noises for Seonghwa, and only Seonghwa. “Mmm I fucking love those moans~.” He lets go of your head and brings that hand back to your side. Forcefully smacking your ass yet again.

“Mm~ y-yes~!” You moan out and then bite your lip.

"Fuck, you’re clenching around me slut.” Seonghwa tilts his head back and lets his mouth hang open. Letting out a couple groans. Your voice is practically gone from all the moaning you have been doing tonight. Seonghwa also fucked your throat raw not that long ago, so you were extremely sensitive.

“D-Daddy~!” Your voice comes in and out from a moan cutting in between.

“W-whore~!” He mocks your plea from earlier. You felt the knot inside you tighten, but you dared not to cum before Seonghwa.

“I-I can feel myself getting close b-but~ ah~ I-I'm not stopping~! J-just keep going till you c-cum.”

“Good fucking girl, letting me use you for my pleasure.” Those were the last words you heard before your brain shut off and you just let Seonghwa continue to use you for the rest of the night.

Tags: @pre1ttyies @isiloiale @moongoddess1982 @xuchiya @yeosangsbbg @sanipan @10nantscompanion @sanspuppet@myloveforyunho@sugawara-levi

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mysteryshoptls · 2 months ago

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Leona Kingscholar Shared Lines

Tutorial: Hey, time to go. Follow me.

Level Up 1: Feels nice gettin' tributes.

Level Up 2: This ain't bad... But it's not nearly enough.

Level Up 3: Gaining more power never hurts.

Level Max: Hah, I feel as though everything is now in my grasp. If you're going to keep working hard for me like this, I guess I can throw you a bone.

Vignette Level Up: Never thought I'd be up to hangin' with a herbivore... But this is getting pretty interesting. As long as you don't cause me any issues, I'll keep lookin' after you.

Spell Level Up: You're probably the only one who actually would want to practice magic with me. Most people'll just tuck their tails and run away.

Friendship Level Up: I don’t like being constantly disturbed. So in that sense, this place is perfect and quiet.

Friendship Level Max: I don’t mind coming by this guest room once in a while. Make sure you have a place to nap and some food ready for me.

Uncapped: I can do it so long as I put my mind to it, ain't it obvious? I just don't want to.

Groovification: You want to see what I can really do? Heheh... A herbivore like you wouldn't nearly be ready to handle that.

Lesson Select 1: Hey you, sit in front of me. I'm gonna sleep behind you.

Lesson Select 2: It ain't that hard of a decision, is it? I'm tired of waitin' around.

Lesson Select 3: Time for a peaceful study time with everyone all buddy-buddy, huh. No thanks.

Lesson Start: Ugh, this sucks.

Lesson Finish: Yaaawn. That was a boring class, I already knew all that.

Battle Start: I can fight with more than just my fists and fangs.

Battle Won: Did you really think you could win against me?

GIFT CALENDAR 2023: “How will you be spending the day?” No plans worth mentioning. What, not what you were expecting? Well, too bad. The campus is completely covered in snow, so the best thing for me to do is just to get back to my dorm room and relax while solving some chess problems.

Birthday Story 1: My birthday isn’t anything special. It’s just the day I was born. …Well if you’re really saying you want to celebrate it, I won’t forcibly stop you. Presents are always welcome.

Birthday Story 2: What’d you want? …Ah, you came to celebrate my birthday. Then, I guess I’ll have you grill some meat for me, or something. You’ll have to make it exactly the way I want it. You said you wanted to celebrate me, right? I’ll let you keep trying until you get it down pat. I look forward to see how much I get to eat.

Birthday Story 3: So, you came to wish me a happy birthday, huh? Well, ain’t that admirable of you. So, what did you bring me, then? At the very least, you are presenting a gift to royalty. As such, I’m sure you’ve prepared a very fine gift. …Hey, don’t freeze up on me. Sheesh, jokes just fly over your head, huh. I’ll take it off your hands, so show me what you got behind your back, already.

Birthday Story 4: …Ugh. As I’m sure you can tell, I’m in the middle of a nap. If you need something from me, ask me later. If you just wanted to celebrate my birthday, a card woulda been plenty… But, fine. Here, hand it over. [Yuu startles] Whaddya mean, hand what over? …Obviously, I’m talking about my gift. I’m expecting it to be something good to make up for the rude awakening.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #twst leona #twst translation

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star-centric · 3 months ago

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Sunflower (Adoration) || Leona

MEANING: “This radiant bloom is seen as a symbol of adoration due to its resemblance to the sun itself — a universal source of warmth and affection. Furthermore, its ability to turn towards the sun throughout the day has led it to become associated with loyalty. The unwavering devotion displayed by these flowers mirrors qualities valued in human relationships.”

A/N: I realized I haven’t wrote about Twisted Wonderland on this blog yet cause I don’t even have a masterlist 😵‍💫 reader is gender neutral and graphics by @/firefly-graphics!

❀ FLOWER SPECIAL MASTERLIST ❀

“Are you going to miss me when I leave?”

Leona didn’t say anything, the only acknowledgment you received being a twitch of his ear. He had his head plopped down on your lap while he took one of his daily naps, bringing you onto his bed as one of his sought out pillows (which has become more of a routine lately). Your fingers combed through his hair absentmindedly, straining your ears to see if you could hear anything close to a purr (it wouldn’t happen, but you were determined nonetheless).

“I know that it probably won’t happen anytime soon, but it’ll happen eventually right?” You rambled on. “Crowley keeps saying it’s a priority, but it’s also Crowley- I don’t hold my breath when it comes to anything dealing with him.” Which was true- you wouldn’t be surprised if you found yourself still here when Ace and Deuce finally graduate, which was saying something considering they’re only freshmen. But you still couldn’t find yourself to be fully upset at the thought.

You missed your world. You missed your friends, family, sometimes the normalcy. You did miss it.

But your heart was torn at the thought of leaving everyone here too. And you didn’t see yourself getting the best of both worlds when Crowley would eventually send you back. When you leave Twisted Wonderland, you’re leaving everything behind- including Leona.

It was still baffling at how he fell for you, and vice versa. He was rude, selfish, and beyond lazy- but he still found a way to win you over. It was still a mystery to everyone at how you two got together.

“What are you going to do when I have to go back to my world?” You didn’t catch that you didn’t refer to it as your home. “Who’s going to be your new pillow when I’m gone?” You chuckled, but your heart really was twisting in pain.

It was hard to imagine that one day you would wake up without Grim curled up next to your side, or without the freshman duo showing up to your doorstep with whatever trouble they found themselves in. Or without any of the magic that you’ve come to love in this world.

Or without Leona.

That hurt the most.

Leona wasn’t a gentleman. He’s ill-mannered, crude, has a sour attitude- the complete opposite of the picture perfect partner. But the side that you were able to see overshadowed those qualities. He shows you his love in your own way, and that was more than enough for you.

You were word vomiting at this point, your insecurities taking over your thoughts and making you ramble. You could already see him with someone else, probably making him happier than you could-

“Are you done yet?”

Leona’s glare made you reel back, his nose mere inches from yours (when did he even move?). His eyes held the same fire that you’ve seen before in the Spelldive tournaments.

“What makes you think that I would be so quick to let you go?”

He scowled deepened as you tried to scramble away, your back already hitting the bed frame. Your brain was short circuiting and couldn’t come up with anything when Leona scoffed, then made a move to grab at your hand, pulling you forward.

He still had his angry look, but then he sighed, his face relaxing a bit. “Look, I know that you’ll be sent back to your world- I’m not stupid. But you must think of me as so low to think that I’ll go after someone else, and so quickly at that.”

“I know that you’re not dumb Leona, but-“

“So why ask me a dumb question?” He sucked his teeth, pushing you down onto the sheet with him towering over you.

He still had a bit of a fiery gaze, but his features softened as his eyes broke away from yours. “What makes you think that I would want to put up with someone else besides you? The person that’s been by me for this long. Why think of yourself as so replaceable?”

Leona has never been the soft type- you weren’t expecting any of the typical romance that you’ve seen before. He wasn’t the best person when it came to dealing with emotions (as was shown during his overblot, but you don’t think any of the housewardens know how to deal either), but he was someone that you knew wouldn’t lie to you and would still be there for you in his own way.

He shows his love in his own style, and it was perfect for you.

But there would be rare moments where he would slowly start to let his guard down with just the both of you, and this just so happened to be one of them.

“You leaving doesn’t mean the end of us. I won’t let that happen.” He spoke with conviction.

Leona said it before that he never met someone like you. Granted, that statement wasn’t given in the best context when he first said it to you. He meant it and still does in this moment. You give him a headache, disrupt his naps, and you make problems appear for him even when it doesn’t involve him-

But you’ve also been the only person to fully believe in him. To not just think of him as a scummy second-rate prince. You saw Leona as Leona- you saw him as an equal.

Even if Leona could find that someone else, they wouldn’t be you, so it wasn’t even worth it.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there- together.”

“Right…together.”

Leona looked pleased at your acceptance and kept you pinned down, nuzzling into your neck with his tail swaying. He ended up flipping you both on the side, looping his arms around your waist. “Now hurry up and calm down- you’ve messed up my nap and I can’t go to sleep if your heart’s about to beat out your chest.”

You laughed out an apology, settling down into a comfortable position before closing your eyes in an attempt to doze off.

#writings.txts #flowerspecials.txts 🌸#twst.txts #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst x you #twst leona x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #leona x you #leona x reader #twst x y/n #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x y/n

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dmitriene · 1 year ago

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𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗟𝗘𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨.

❝𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧❞ 𝘣𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥𝘺 𝘹 𝘨𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ❝𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦❞ 𝘗𝘜𝘙𝘌 𝘍𝘓𝘜𝘍𝘍, 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘍𝘖𝘙𝘛, 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, 𝘚𝘔𝘜𝘛 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵, 𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘴, 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘭𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

leon loves you, he really loves you.

you don’t need to look into his eyes at an angle or through a microscope to see pure adoration in the blue glasses — leon is a guy who looks at you as if you were the most hidden treasure of the many shining trinkets in his lair, protecting and cherishing like a dragon from cartoons or fairy tales that is guarding his treasure without intending to give it to anyone.

he expresses his love and affection for you through words and actions, warm, viscous like honey offers of caress and touch, calloused fingers running over your body a map of prints, hickeys, bites — licking and kissing tenderly, every hollow, bulge, unevenness, uncertainty which can form in you and does not have time because he is always here, cooing and purring about how beautiful you are, for him, in his eyes, in the blue boundless oceans that stretch before your gaze, whether he is standing in front of you on his knees or at full height, whispering again and again — «so gorgeous, so beautiful, so adorable, a pure piece of art you are, sweetheart»

leon knows what complexes are, rejection of yourself, your body — working as an agent leaves its imprints, obsessive thoughts, someone else’s wrong word, and you struggle all your life with self hatred when all you see in the mirror is a chaotic parody of a person, instead of to notice something special, beautiful, your own — in the eyes you see irregularities, scars, hair, eyes, a smile, skin color, you, you, you.

in the end, everything closes, like wires in an electric box, on hatred of your own existence and reflection in the mirror, which he does not want to see in your eyes, does not want you to experience this, every person has his share of scars, they are beautiful, and he intends to convince you of the same.

his warming touches are always on your body, an arm around your waist, or two, on the very bottom of your back, on your stomach, on your thigh, on your hip, on the softness of your ass, on your breasts, which he periodically massages or squeezes in his warm palms, nuzzling his nose against it if he lies on you, he outlines every part of the skin, the skin that gathers in soft folds, intuitively rubbing, warming and massaging, while his nose rubs against your neck, shoulder, whispering purring, as if he had suddenly been reborn as a cat, words of deep love, tearing giggles from your lips — «so freaking gorgeous, fuck, you can't believe how much i adore you, darling»

every word of his caresses deeper than even his tongue could between your legs, he creates intimacy in his very presence next to you, plunging you into a silent, warm abyss, while he mumbles words of delight through slurps and squelches when he carefully spreads your legs, drawing soothing circles while his tongue pushed deeper, traced, and his lips closes around your throbbing clit, sucking, as if teasing, flicking it with the tip of his tongue with quick movements and making your hips jerk forward, sobs, pleas escaping your lips — «l-lee, need t'cum, pleaseplease leon»

you don’t see, your eyes are swollen with a light veil of tears, but you feel his lips spreading into a wide grin as he sharply sucks on your clit, slowly circling before pushing and relaxing his tongue in the tightness of your wet hole, while his fingers intuitively rub and play with your nipples, placing his palms on your breasts, squeezing or stroking them before pulling back from you completely, leaving your slickness absolutely neglected with wet pop, making half bloomed fireworks flash before your eyes, tearing disappointed whimpers from your lips as he mutters, licking his wet lips and slowly removing your juices from his short, already dark stubble — «wanna hear your voice telling me how beautiful my girlfriend are, baby, and then i'll let you cum properly, alright?»

you fidget on the rumpled sheets in dissatisfaction, and he knows he’s being cunning, denying your pleasure for the sake of something that can be discussed, worked on later, but it wouldn’t be leon if he didn’t act like a sly fox, so you raise your head, huffing in displeasure, fidgeting with your teeth over your lips, swollen from his previously starving kisses, and finally you meekly whisper, enough to satisfy his cunning face between your wet, plush legs — «i'm.. i'm beautiful, very, hmh.. — beautiful person, and your girlfriend»

he nods, you can barely see through the wet gaze how his head moves before he silently returns to his work, causing you to instantly arch and practically scream, moaning long and sweetly, throwing your head back as he fucks his tongue in and out of your slippery hole, rubbing your clit with his thumb and soon making lewd squelches and grunts, licking up the plethora of your juices and slowly bobbing his head following the light thrusts of his tongue, before your velvety, gummy walls clench around his pink, warm muscle and your legs practically fly off, if not for the strong the grip of his hands, your body goes absolutely limp from the force of orgasm that fills leon’s mouth with your slick, gushing all around his face, dripping with clear liquid down his lips and chin.

you come to your senses when the white noise leaves your ears gradually, and warm fingers make you focus on the feeling of how the skin of your thighs is gently massaged, leon immediately notices how your eyes slowly dart around and leans towards you hastily, cooing and stroking your cheek with calloused thumb, a little worried about your clearly fucked out state — «there you are, sweetie, don't move, i'll take care of you from now on, mhm?»

you hum, nodding meekly and wearily squeezing out — «mm.. okay, lee..» before giving everything into his hands, it’s so right, it seems to him, and it’s good for you when he takes the majority of the weight on himself, at the moment in taking care of you, carefully wiping you from all stickiness and liquids, taking note of your sensitivity, before proceeding to give you a warm, relaxing bath, where he will carefully shower you with his attention and care, whispering honeyed praises into your ears while his hands gently massage your body.

he adores you.

taglist: @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs, @daydreamrot, @kennedyswhore-old dm me if you want to be tagged in my works or open my taglist

#.𐙚july's writings #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon scott kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy fluff #leon kennedy comfort #leon scott kennedy x fem reader #leon scott kennedy comfort #leon scott kennedy x you #leon kennedy x you #domestic leon kennedy #leon kennedy drabble

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vivwritesfics · 5 months ago

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please can I request a tough Carlos sainz who like threatens to punish his girlfriend if she keeps teasing him - Bratty behaviour I guess love your stuff

Warnings: smut, p in v, marking, sliiiiiight breeding kink but not rly, things didn't quite follow the request sorry

Carlos watched her, his eyebrow raised. "What are you doing?" He asked as he watched her.

She was up to something, that much was sure. She walked up to him, legs between his own as she reached for his special, Spanish Grand Prix hat. "Amorcito," he said in warning, hands settling on her hips to steady her. "What are you doing?"

She pulled his hat from his head and placed it on her own. "There," she said, arms around his neck as she grinned at him. "That looks so much better."

His fingers dug into her hips as he squeezed her. "That's my special hat," he said, pulling her to sit on him. "Think you can give it back?"

She thought about it. Except, she didn't really. No, she just let her tongue poke between her teeth before she stood up and disappeared, racing out of the Ferrari hospitality suit.

"Cariño!" He called before chasing after her. The moment he caught her, she was so dead.

Here was the thing, she wanted to get caught. She wanted to feel his hands on her as he pulled her into his chest, growling something sexy into her ear.

That was why she let him chase her into his drivers room. The minute she was inside he grabbed her. "Check mate," he whispered as he pulled her back into his chest.

But then he pushed her forward until her knees hit the sofa. "What am I gonna do with you, Cariño," he muttered as he stalked towards her. Predator and prey, stares locked together.

She laid back, fingers gripping the bottom of her skirt. "Come on, then, Carlos," she said, legs open. "Come and get it."

The moment he stepped between her legs, she wrapped them around him, holding him in place.

His lips were against her neck, trying to distract her long enough to steal the hat. But it wasn't working. She kept a hold of the hat and pulled him closer.

Her moans spurred him on and he kissed, nibbled and sucked at the skin of her neck. "Fuck, baby," she whispered, eyes shutting as she threw her head back. Even then, she kept a hold of his hand.

His hips moved against hers, but the friction it created wasn't enough for the two of them. "Fuck," she kissed, pulling up her skirt with her free hand.

Carlos hooked his fingers around her underwear. He pulled away long enough to pull them down her legs and free himself.

But, before he returned to her, he checked the time on his watch. Not enough time to make sweet goddamn love to her. Not enough time to do anything but have a quick fuck. "I swear, after the race I'm gonna fuck you until the sun comes up," he whispered, forehead against her own.

Her noises were pathetic and desperate as he pushed in. But he wasted no time, hips snapping against her own. His fingers touched her, travelled beneath her shirt for just a second before returning to her clit.

The press of his thumb had her legs spasming around him. He moved it in slow, teasing circles, his cock doing just the opposite, pistoning in and out of her.

It had her every nerve ending on fire. Her breathing was ragged, but so was his. "Carlos," she all but babbled out, nails digging into his shoulders. "Fuck, I'm-"

And there it was. She tumbled over the edge, back arching away from the sofa. "Shit," Carlos gasped, hand falling away from her clit. His forehead was against hers, almost knocking the hat from her head as he drilled his cock into her. "Gonna... fill you up," he said through gasps.

When she cried out a yes! Carlos came. He did just as he said, filling her up. He gave a few more thrusts, stuffing himself inside of her over and over again. "Shit," he said again, kissing her cheeks. "I need to go."

She whined out as he pulled out of her, distracting her long enough for him to take his head back. "I'll give it to you properly after the race, I promise Cariño," he promised before disappearing out of the drivers room, leaving her breathless and spent on the sofa.

Fuck.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader smut #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #cs55 #cs55 imagine #cs55 x reader

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sanjisboyfie · 11 months ago

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toji fluff hcs.

requested, and i had sm fun writing this bc I DO AGREE ANON the toji x male reader tag is just full of smut atp there is never any fluff T.T i hope u enjoy lovely

toji x male reader <3 takes place before canon (mamaguro kinda dont exist sawry)

— the thing is, toji has a very, very thick wall around his heart and he rarely lets anyone in, ever. that's why! in this hc im gonna say that you two met via his job and just worked really well as partners. and then overtime, the two of you just got closer until finally toji makes a move on you.

the two of you were sitting at a restaurant, going over the recent job that you just finished. toji hummed at what you were saying, taking a swig of his beer as he remained eye contact with you.

recently, he's been seeing you in a different light. recently as in the past couple of months. he's just been taking note of everything you've done and how attractive you are when doing them. after he noticed he was thinking these things, he just accepted the fact he had a major crush on you and shrugged it off.

a part of him expected it to happen - how could he not have some sort of romantic feelings for you when you were so witty, strong, and intelligent. he was bound to catch some feelings for you, whether he wanted to or not.

he accepted it really quickly and decided he wanted to make it obvious sooner or later. the fact was he wouldn't know how you felt unless he initiated something.

so as he sat across from you, elbows resting on the table, until he got an idea.

"got somethin'," he said, motioning to his cheek. before you could wipe it off though, he dragged his thumb over your skin and collected the sauce of the food that you were eating onto his digit. he sucked it clean off, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. "wait, missed a spot, c'mere,"

he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours in a quick, chaste kiss before smirking at your stunned expression, "got it,"

after that, you obviously questioned him because what the fuck. toji just shrugs, explains how he's liked you for some time and decided to make it known now. he goes on to explain that since you're both adults, you could compromise a mature way of going about your relationship on the off-chance you didn't like him back (he's shitting bricks when he talks about that part though, you just can't tell-)

you return his feelings after getting over the initial shock.

and that was toji's unromantic way of confessing to you, but still, it got the job done and ever since that day the two of you couldn't be happier.

— contrary to popular belief, i think that toji is a big romantic. when he finds the right person, he wants it to be known that he's interested in them, loyal, and a devoted lover. in his own ways, he gives a lot of romantic attention to you and the time you spend together. even if he's dead broke, he'll find a way to make ends meet in making your relationship feel as special as it is to him.

"c'mon, baby," he goads you into grabbing his hand, rolling his eyes when you shoot him a look. "let's go, the reservation isn't gonna be waiting for anyone else but us,"

"yeah, how did you do this though? toji, this place is so expensive, are you sur-"

he kisses you to shut you up, hand caressing your cheek as he speaks to you in a low voice, "i got it all handled, don't worry about it," that translates to you = i pulled a couple of strings by threatening the boss of this place to let us eat here for free. but you couldn't will yourself to care because it was the thought that counts! plus, he went through all that effort just to secure you two a romantic evening together.

so you ruffled his messy dark locks and allowed him to guide you inside the lavish restaurant. he smirked in content, kissing the top of your head before securing you two your promised table.

—

on your anniversary, he showers you in so much love and affection it's insane. he doesn't have the money to bring about the most lavish celebration, unfortunately, but he does make up for it by being extra doting.

"love you so much," is the first thing he mumbles into your skin. it takes you a second to register why he was being so lovey-dovey, but when you remember it was because the calendar marks two years of officially being together, your heart warms.

toji has a good memory, remembers all the important dates and what you like and don't like. he's got it all stores in his memory under the "everything about [name]" folder there, that has other information such as your food preferences, what you like to wear, what you enjoy watching on TV, etc.

his hands run up and down your sides, pinching your nipple to get you awake and laughing when you smack him with the pillow. "sorry, just wanted to get you up so we don't waste our entire day in bed!"

"what if i wanted to just be in bed with you?" you asked, rubbing your chest with an annoyed look on your face.

"sorry, baby boy, but no can do," toji says, peppering kisses on your face, "got the whole day planned out in my head," you ignore his loving kisses that start trailing to you neck.

"mhm and what's that?"

"it's a surprise, don't ruin it," he warns you in an oddly serious tone, "want to make today special, let me make it special, boy,"

you laugh at his seemingly annoyed tone, but let him have his moment - not pressing for anymore answers.

— not the biggest on public affection, but doesn't hide the fact that he's yours and you're his. always has his arms around your shoulders or waist, sometimes pecks your cheek. but that's as far as it goes with pda. verbally, on the other hand, he's always mentioning you. even in brief interactions with other people, he's slipping mentions of you into conversation with such ease and smoothness.

"will that be all today?" the barista asks, eyeing toji up and down. and he's not a stupid guy, he notices it easily.

so to assert himself, he clears his throat and looks over the menu, "nah, actually, let me get a cinnamon bun for my boyfriend," he says, pulling out his wallet and taking out some cash, "he's been wanting somethin' sweet for a while, so i guess i can treat him to this," he comments, looking back at you with a smile. you were already seated at the table as he ordered, offering him a wave before looking back out the window.

the barista is obviously dejected when he mentions you, but he's nothing but prideful and satisfied. serves her right.

—

"didn't [name] already tell you we won't be taking the job? we got our entire week already planned out, we can't fit in another mission," toji said over the phone. it was one of the rare instances he was turning down the opportunity to make money, but he didn't feel bad or guilty about it.

you and him had a whole week planned together, it's been in the calendar for months now and he wasn't going to ruin the rare one-on-one time he could have with you by being greedy with some extra cash.

in the past, he might've. but you changed him, in a good way. and he wasn't going to make it seem like he valued cash over you because he definitely didn't.

"i wasn't aware that [name] spoke for the both of you? y'know, if you take him out of the equation, toji, you actually make more money-"

toji almost growled, "he fucking said no, that means i said no, too. don't be an asshole right now or i might really get pissed. from now on, whatever my man says think about it as if he's speaking on behalf of both of us. same goes for me. so listen closely when i say this, cause i'm sure he'd say the same thing to you right now: fuck off!"

he hangs up the phone and tosses it onto the table, rubbing his forehead in annoyance.

"everything alright, babe? you were yelling?" you shout from your shared bedroom and toji visibly relaxes after hearing your voice.

"nah, everythin's alright, doll, don't worry about it," he calls back, kicking his feet up onto the table and spreading his arms against the couch cushions, "hurry your ass down here, though, or else i'm starting without you!"

— huge believer in cuddling, loves, loves just holding you in his arms. it's the one time he really feels as if his stress just washes away. he's a big guy, so he usually just ends up completely blanketing over your own body. but usually, he settles for just being the big spoon and staying satisfied like that. sometimes, though, he will want to just have you completely laid out on top of him as you act as some sort of weighted blanket. that's if he's really, really stressed and just needs to be reminded that you're there for him.

his hands rest on your hips as he's laid flat on his back, holding you in place on top of him. you have been struggling to get comfortable for the past five minutes and he had to bite his tongue from saying a snarky comment to you.

"fuck, toji, it's like i'm sleeping on a rock," you complain, pushing yourself up from his torso and glaring at him, "can't i just sleep next to you like a normal person,"

he keeps his eyes shut, not bothering to wake himself from his semi-sleepy state, "[name], just stay still for a second and you'll eventually get sleepy,"

"easy for you to say when you're on the comfort of the mattress,"

"don't you say my boobs make for good pillows or something," he groans, finally cracking one eye open to weakly glare at you, "just use them as your pillows and count fucking sheep,"

"but your-"

"shh, you big baby, i just need this for tonight," he promptly shuts you up but pushing his finger on your lips. in any other instance, that would've just pissed you off even more, but seeing how genuinely tired and needy he was, you let it slide. just this once.

you settled back on his chest, running your fingers up and down his sides to give some sort of comfort.

"love you, toji," you breathe out, barely loud enough for him to hear.

but he does, and he squeezes your sides to show that he did, kissing the top of your head and whispering it back before he's lulled to his own slumber.

— always thinking about you. he's only concerned with you. every single other person in the world can fuck themselves, he just cares about you and wants to make sure you're safe.

"where's [name]?" were the first words he asked their employer, looking around the office space in search of your h/c hair.

"he just went to get himself some water-" as toji is informed of that, he's standing up out of the seat he was in and is going to leave in search of you. "he should be back in a couple short moments,"

"hm, don't care, i'm going to look for him and then we can start this meeting," toji said, not giving another glance to the guy that was going to give the both of you a job to finish.

oddly enough, the meeting was held in a corporate looking building and toji was concerned on your whereabouts. what if these assholes had some fucked up trick up their sleeve and were going to use you as leverage to get to him? toji wouldn't put it past them, he's messed with more than a couple powerful folks back in his day.

it could bite him in the ass someday and he really didn't want to risk that chance affecting you.

"toji? what are you doing here?" you ask, coming towards him with two paper cups of water in your hands.

"looking for you, babe," he easily responds, looking at the water in interest, "where'd that come from?"

"they had pitchers in their breakroom and i decided-"

"could have poision in them," toji said off handedly, looking at the contents and his face screwing up in distaste, "hold off on drinking it for now, these guys can be unpredictable sometimes,"

taking his warnings seriously, you don't sip from the cup at all and walk back with him to the meeting room. his hand rests on your waist protectively as the two of you walk through the halls, glaring at anyone who stares for a bit too long.

like a personal guard dog, toji is always standing at attention and assuming the worst of people. but don't worry, he doesn't mind. if it means it keeps you safe and in his arms, he'll be as paranoid as one can get and not have an issue with that at all.

— at the end of the day, toji doesn't listen to anyone, but you. it's funny how obediant you can get this absolute unit of man to act. he tries not to make it so obvious, but when he's hanging off of every word you say and acting at your beck and call, it's already obvious to everyone around you where his priorities are at.

"toji, don't touch that - the sign says not to touch,"

"if i wanna touch it, i will," toji says with a shrug and smirk. but then he notices the warning look you give him as his fingers inch closer to the display. he clicks his tongue in annoyance, dropping his hand to his side as he muttering under his breath, "didn't wanna even touch it, anyway, tch,"

or another time when he's giving the waiter an earful for not remembering something in your order. he thinks he's doing you a favor by speaking up for you, but in reality, you just didn't want to make the waiter's life harder than it already is.

"he asked specifically for you guys to put it on the side since he doesn't lik-"

"baby, it's fine, just drop it," you sigh, rubbing your forehead with a tired look in your eyes. he's about to protest, a scowl on his face as he thinks about the waiter incompentence. but with one look from you and a calm, "toji, enough," reaching his ears, he's standing down and shutting up.

the waiter shoots you a thankful look before running off to the kitchen with your plate of food, going off to correct his mistakes.

"couldn't hurt you to speak more nicely to people," you say, grabbing his hand across the table and shooting him a look. he scoffs, taking your hand in his and calming himself down using your touch.

toji only ever listens to one person in his life and it's you. you're just really lucky he loves you so much because if it was any other person, he'd be doing their head in. he sighs, thinking of the affects you've had on him and his own steel, hard heart.

he can't help but be thankful. he kisses the back of your hand silently, squeezing it in his hold once more before shooting you a small, barely noticeable smile.

"if that fuck ass even thinks about looking at you with those puppy dog eyes of his one more time, though, i can't promise i won't nail him right in the face," and there's your familiar, stubborn toji back again, easily threatening a poor guy that's just doing his job.

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