#it's about what you might see; what you might glimpse when he rolls you over and slides into you

[suguwu]

thinking about kaeya and the trust it would take for him to let you into his bed

[215-luv]

“OH GOD, IT’S NOT FAIR OF HIM TO MAKE ME FEEL THIS MUCH!” (HQ BOYS)

ATSUMU: says things out of nowhere that it makes you feel butterflies. it’s so sudden that it hits you like a tidal wave that knocks the air out of you. the two of you could be laughing at some random thing and suddenly, he opens his mouth to mention something, “your smile.” he says, almost out of nowhere, eyes looking at you with so much fondness that you refuse to believe that someone could ever look at you that way. “my smile? what’s wrong with it, tsum?” you question, and he chuckles, “oh, there’s nothing wrong with it.” a goofy smile plants itself over his face, “it’s just.. it’s so pretty. i want to see it more.” he says, resting his forehead over yours. “wanna be the person who makes you do all that—smile and laugh. you’re so beautiful.”

AKAASHI: “you were saying?” he questions as he’s scribbling over his notebook, studying for a test he’ll take the next day. the question almost surprises you. “i was saying..?” you ask, eyes on him as he looks busy enough writing over his notebook rather than listening to your nonstop blabbering. “yeah? you were talking about the book you just finished reading.” he says, and you sat there surprised, silenced and unable to fully process what you just heard. “well?” he ushers you to speak, the tone of his voice coming out as if he wants to hear more from you. and you couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. “you.. you were listening?” you respond with a timid voice. your boyfriend lets out a chuckle, dropping down his pen to look at you with interest in his eyes. “of course i do. i’m always listening to you, honey.”

KUROO: you weren’t sure what just happened, but all you could process was the fact that you’re suddenly lifted by the strong arms of your boyfriend as you walked through the hallway of the campus. it was supposed to be a normal day. you sighed, trying to ignore the stares of the students around you (and yaku, literally staring at the both of you in disgust). “tetsu, what are you doing? what’s all this? what’s happening?” you throw your boyfriend a wave of questions, unable to get a glimpse of the motive behind his actions. the deep chuckles from him reaches your ears, and you almost had to be grateful for being carried bridal style so as to not feel your knees weakening from the sound he just made. “am i not allowed to care for the love of my life?” he says, almost as if it’s an obvious fact. you roll your eyes, not convinced. you open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it—“you mentioned you walked home yesterday, right? you know, it’s pretty convenient to take the bus sometime. your house is pretty far from here. your feet must have been aching. let me take care of you, alright?”

OIKAWA: “delivery for the most beautiful person in the world!” he knocks on your classroom door, catching the attention of your classmates. you mildly panic, a rush of embarrassment flowing over you as you’re greeted with teasing smiles and chuckles. you see, tooru always had the tendency to do these things. and it honestly surprises you ‘till this day. he makes you feel so openly loved that it scares you it might disappear someday. your heart beats at a fast pace as your boyfriend nears you, eyes never leaving your figure as the corners of his lips are raised upwards. he places a bouquet of flowers on your desk, along with your favorite food on a plastic bag, and you almost choke a cry. “what’s all this?” you question, looking at him with suspicious eyes. he chuckles, “is there anything wrong with a boy simply wanting to show his love to his favorite person in the world?” his hand reaches to cup itself against your cheek, his warmth cascading over you. “let me show you what you deserve. i’m right here.”

USHIJIMA: you let out a sharp breath as you’re suddenly being pulled to collide against a strong chest which happens to be your boyfriend. you’re about to ask what just happened when he speaks first, “be careful. you were about to hit a lamp post.” your eyes widens, looking to the side to notice that you were, indeed, about to bump against one. guilt quickly begins to rush over you. “o-oh.. i’m sorry, i get really clumsy and bad at these things—“ you try to explain yourself apologetically, but your boyfriend cuts you off before you could finish your statement, “please don’t apologize. these are simply trivial matters.” he tells you. it’s only ‘till then you notice his arm wrapped around your waist in a protective manner while he keeps you steady. “matters like these are the reason why i’m here. let me be the one to keep you out of danger.”

KITA: “this one’s wrong. you messed up the formula halfway, that’s why the rest of the equation is wrong.” your boyfriend explains to you as he compares his math homework with yours. you couldn’t help but chuckle in embarrassment, inwardly beating yourself up for being dumb infront of him. you scratch the back of your head, “s-sorry, i could really get confused over these things.” you apologize, and your boyfriend could only nod in understanding. “in this number too, you got the formula wrong. you’re supposed to use this.” he then adds, pointing to a certain number on your paper. you couldn’t help but feel small under his gaze. “r-right.. i’m sorry, i promise i’ll do better.” you reply apologetically. but your discomfort doesn’t go unnoticed by shinsuke. his eyes worriedly looks at your figure as he quickly slides an arm around your waist, “hey, it’s okay. don’t worry about it.” you could feel his thumb rubbing against the fabric of your shirt as a way to assure you. “you’re doing amazing, believe me. just let me know if you’re confused anywhere. i can always help you. you’re okay.”

[hoshifighting]

Can you also write about everyday things you might do that make svt go feral? 🫣👹

seungcheol gets horny whenever he sees you wearing his oversized shirts around the house. there's something about the way the fabric hangs off your shoulders, revealing glimpses of your bare skin that drives him wild, “you know that’s mine, right?” he teases, you saunter over, swaying your hips. “guess you’ll have to take it back,” you murmur, and his hands are on you in an instant.

jeonghan gets turned on by your sassiness. the way you bite back with quick, sharp retorts when he’s teasing you. it’s the fire in your eyes, the challenge you present. “you think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he’d say, leaning in, his breath hot on your ear. “maybe i am,” you retort, feeling the heat between you both. his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer. “let’s see how clever you are when i’m done with you,”

joshua finds himself getting hot and bothered when you wear glasses. it’s something about the way they frame your face, making you look both cute and sexy at the same time. “you look so studious,” he’d murmur, tracing a finger along the edge of your frames. you catch the gleam in his eyes, knowing exactly where his mind is going. the next thing you know, he's pulling you in for a kiss, hands sliding under your blouse.

jun can't help but get turned on whenever you stretch. the way your back arches and your shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of your stomach, is enough to drive him crazy. “you’re gonna be the death of me,” he’d groan, his eyes glued to your exposed skin. you laugh, teasing him about being so easy to rile up. but you love the way he looks at you, like he can't get enough, and it always leads to something more.

soonyoung gets excited whenever you work out. the sight of you in tight workout clothes, all sweaty and flushed, makes him weak. mainly when you're doing effort and sighs and moans end up leaving your mouth. “damn, you look good,” he’d say, you’d roll your eyes, but the way he looks at you makes your heart race. it’s not long before he’s pulling you into his arms, his hands roaming over your body, eager to feel every inch of you.

wonwoo finds himself getting horny whenever he catches you reading. there's something about the way you get lost in a book that makes him want you. “what are you reading?” he’d ask, leaning over your shoulder. but he’s not really interested in the book; he’s more interested in the way your lips move as you read, the way your eyes light up. the next thing you know, he’s pulling the book from your hands, replacing it with his own body, eager to devour you.

jihoon gets turned on whenever you sing. it doesn’t matter if it’s just you humming a tune or belting out a song, he finds it incredibly sexy. he's obsessed with your voice, your morning voice, when you're talking serious, when you call his name when you moan—“you’re really good at that, show me more...” you’d laugh, teasing him about getting worked up over something so simple. but he’d just pull you close, his lips finding yours, showing you exactly how much your voice affects him.

minghao gets turned on when you practice yoga. it’s the way your body bends and stretches, the grace in your movements. he sits nearby, his eyes glued to you. “enjoying the view?” you ask, a teasing smile on your lips. “more than you know,” he replies. you finish your routine and walk over to him, his eyes dark with need. “want to join me for the next session?” you suggest, and he pulls you into his lap, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss.

mingyu gets horny when you cook. it’s the domesticity, the sight of you moving around the kitchen. he watches you, his eyes following your every move. “smells good,” he comments, leaning against the counter. “want a taste?” you ask, holding up a spoon. he takes a bite, his eyes never leaving yours. “delicious,” he murmurs, his hand slipping around your waist. “but i think i want a taste of you,” he adds, pulling you close.

seokmin gets excited whenever you laugh. it’s such a pure, joyful sound, and it never fails to make his heart race. “you’re adorable,” he’d say, his eyes shining with affection. but there’s a hint of something more, something darker, in his gaze. you can feel the tension building between you, and it’s not long before he’s pulling you into his arms, his lips finding yours, hands grabbing your ass.

seungkwan finds himself getting horny whenever you tease him. it’s the way you playfully poke fun at him, the way you challenge him, that gets under his skin in the best way. “oh, you think you’re funny?” he’d say, a wicked grin on his face. but you know he loves it, loves the way you push his buttons. the playful banter quickly turns into something more, something heated, as he pulls you close, his hands roaming over your body.

vernon can’t help but get excited whenever you touch him casually. it could be a simple brush of your fingers against his arm or a playful shove, but it’s enough to make his heart race. he’d groan, a playful smile on his face. but you know he loves it, loves the way you make him feel. the casual touches quickly escalate into something more, fingering you, or giving him a handjob. I feel like he have a hand fetish, maybe because your hands and manicured nails looks so good around his cock.

chan gets turned on whenever you bite your lip absentmindedly. it’s such a small, innocent gesture, but it never fails to catch his attention. “you know what that does to me, right?” he’d whisper, leaning in close. you’d play innocent, pretending not to know, but the way his eyes darken tells you he’s already imagining things. he loves the way you tease him without even trying, making it so easy for him to get lost in his thoughts about you.

[mya-valentine]

Hi! it's me again! I'd like to request a few genshin men/boys and most of them are my favs like at least like 14 of them😂 fluff please

I wanted to request a Diluc, Razor (it's fine if you don't do him, but I'm pretty sure he's at least 16 or 17) Xiao, Wanderer, Cyno, Al Haitham, Neuvillete, Kinich, Ororon (there's lack of Ororon love) and Dainsleif. I wanted the headcannon to be like:

their friends asking fem!reader: What do you see in him?

reader: he makes me laugh

i wanted to see this kind of headcannon for so long (i hope it's okay if i can request this much character😅)

Headcanon: He Makes Me Laugh

Diluc

At a cozy café in Mondstadt, you and your friends sit around a small table, sharing stories over steaming cups of tea. One of your friends leans in, eyebrows raised. “Diluc? Really? What do you see in him?”

You take a moment to think, a smile creeping onto your face. “He makes me laugh,” you finally reply.

Your friends exchange skeptical glances. “Diluc? The serious, brooding one? How does that even work?”

You lean back in your chair, recalling a recent night at the tavern. Diluc had been tending bar when a customer made a ridiculous drink request. With a straight face, he had leaned over to you and said, “If I serve one more ‘secret drink’ request, I might just invent a potion to erase memories of it.”

You burst into laughter, and he shot you a quick, playful smirk, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. The moment had felt electric, a fleeting glimpse of the softer side he rarely showed anyone else.

As you reminisce, you can’t help but grin, feeling warmth in your chest. “He’s got this dry wit that surprises me. You just have to know where to look.”

One friend rolls her eyes. “Okay, I can see it. But how do you get him to show it?”

You shrug playfully. “Maybe he just needs someone to break through the brooding exterior.”

Diluc, standing nearby, overhears your laughter and smirks, catching your eye with a knowing look, as if he appreciates the affection behind your words.

Razor

Your friends are gathered in your room, sprawled on the floor as you all catch up. Suddenly, one of them narrows their eyes and asks, “You’re with Razor? What do you even talk about?”

You can’t help but giggle at the question. “Oh, you have no idea. He makes me laugh!”

Your friends exchange confused looks. “Razor? The one who spends all his time with wolves?”

You nod, recalling a beautiful morning walk you took with him through Wolvendom. “The other day, we were watching the sunrise. He looked at it, wide-eyed, and said, ‘Looks like egg yolk spilled.’ And then he asked, ‘Why do people say ‘crack of dawn’? Dawn don’t break…’”

Your friends burst into laughter, imagining Razor’s serious face juxtaposed with his innocent, childlike observations.

“He’s not trying to be funny, but he has this way of looking at the world that’s just… refreshing,” you explain, a soft smile on your lips as you think about him.

One friend grins, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I guess if you’re into that… unique perspective.”

Razor, who has been listening from the doorway, looks a bit confused but intrigued. “I like egg yolk. It is good food,” he adds earnestly, causing another round of laughter.

Xiao

In a quiet corner of Liyue Harbor, your friends sit across from you, disbelief painted on their faces. “Xiao?” one asks, incredulous. “But he’s so… intense and brooding! What do you see in him?”

You chuckle, leaning back in your chair. “He makes me laugh,” you respond, shaking your head at their expressions.

Your friends exchange skeptical glances, clearly struggling to understand how someone as serious as Xiao could ever be funny. “Seriously?” one of them challenges. “How?”

You remember a day when you and Xiao were training together on the mountain. As you stumbled over a loose rock, he caught you just in time, and without missing a beat, he said, “Are mortals always this clumsy?”

You had burst out laughing at his deadpan delivery, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “He doesn’t mean to be funny, but his honesty is refreshing,” you explain, smiling at the memory.

Your friends nod, starting to see your point. “Okay, I can see how that would be amusing.”

Just then, Xiao approaches, overhearing the conversation. He raises an eyebrow. “You laugh a lot around me. Is that good?”

You grin, meeting his gaze. “Absolutely! It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

Xiao looks slightly flustered but turns away, a hint of a smile breaking through his usual stoicism.

Wanderer

Strolling through a quiet clearing with your friends, one of them shoots you a concerned glance. “So… Wanderer? The same guy who’s known for his prickly attitude? What exactly do you see in him?”

You smirk, already used to the question. “He makes me laugh,” you say simply.

They look skeptical, one raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy?”

You nod, smiling at the memory of a recent encounter. Wanderer had once muttered something about the “absurdity” of people who thought they knew everything about him. He’d followed it up with, “Honestly, they know less about me than that rock does about erosion.” He’d pointed at a boulder, then turned to you, daring you to laugh. But you couldn’t help it—you cracked up, and he’d rolled his eyes, but with the faintest hint of a smile himself.

Your friends seem taken aback. “Wait, Wanderer said that?”

Just then, Wanderer appears, crossing his arms as he approaches. “Are you sharing my profound observations with these mortals?” he asks, feigning annoyance, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he glances at you.

You grin, meeting his gaze. “I can’t help it. You’re just so funny.”

He scoffs, muttering something about “annoying people,” but the faintest smile betrays him, earning a knowing look from your friends.

Cyno

After a long day, you and your friends gather at a cozy teahouse. One of them finally leans in with a curious look. “Cyno, though? Isn’t he a little… intense? What do you see in him?”

A grin spreads across your face as you think of Cyno’s well-meaning, if occasionally dreadful, sense of humor. “He makes me laugh.”

Your friends look surprised, clearly doubtful. “Cyno? Are you sure? He’s the General Mahamatra!”

You laugh at their disbelief. “Yes, that Cyno. Once, he tried to tell me a ‘joke’ about Teyvat’s elemental reactions. ‘Did you know Pyro and Hydro make steam…y results?’” You can’t help but laugh at the memory, and your friends blink at you, processing.

Then one snickers, and another gives in. “Okay, that’s actually—unintentionally funny.”

As if summoned, Cyno appears at the table. “Did I hear mention of… humor?” he asks with utmost seriousness, casting a proud look your way. “I have another one. What did the dendro traveler say to the withering zone?”

You grin knowingly, but your friends glance at each other nervously. “What?” they ask in unison.

“‘Leave it to me,’” Cyno deadpans, straight-faced. You burst out laughing, your friends struggling to hold back their smiles. Cyno raises an eyebrow, satisfied. “See? I told you humor is a valuable asset.”

Alhaitham

Gathered at the Sumeru Library, your friends can’t hide their disbelief. “Alhaitham? What do you even see in him?” one of them exclaims, shaking her head.

You grin, leaning back in your chair. “He makes me laugh.”

“Really? The stoic scholar?” they ask, bewildered.

You reminisce about a quiet evening when you found him deeply engrossed in a book. You had asked, “What’s so interesting?” He glanced up and replied, “The existential dread of characters in fiction is quite entertaining. They can’t even do anything about it.”

His deadpan delivery made you laugh, and he’d raised an eyebrow, confused by your reaction. “You find that funny?” he’d asked, genuinely perplexed, which only made you laugh harder.

Your friends start to nod, clearly amused. “Okay, maybe he has a point there.”

Alhaitham, overhearing your laughter, approaches with an amused glint in his eye. “I see you’re discussing literature. Should I be concerned?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Only if you’re worried about being funny.”

He smirks, unfazed. “Then I have nothing to worry about.”

Neuvillete

In the refined atmosphere of Fontaine’s opera house, your friends question your attachment to Neuvillette, the reserved Chief Justice. “So, what do you see in him?” one friend asks, an eyebrow raised. “Neuvillette’s so… solemn. He barely smiles.”

You chuckle, casting a glance at the grand stage. “But that’s the thing. He makes me laugh when I least expect it.”

Your friends exchange looks, clearly unconvinced. “Really? Neuvillette?”

You nod, remembering a moment from an evening much like this one. Neuvillette had been watching an opera, his typical composed expression in place, when he leaned over and whispered, “I find it curious that, despite its grandeur, this aria is about a fish lamenting her lost pond. Dramatic, isn’t it?” His understated humor and subtle wit had made you stifle a laugh, though he looked pleased with your reaction.

One friend’s eyes widen in surprise. “Wait, he actually jokes? In his own way?”

At that moment, Neuvillette arrives, having overheard the conversation. “I merely observe the world as it is,” he says with a faint, almost invisible smile. “I trust I’ve provided adequate amusement?”

You smile up at him warmly, while your friends look at each other, slowly starting to see his appeal. “Yes,” you reply, reaching for his hand. “You certainly have.”

Kinich

As you and your friends stroll through the bustling markets, one of them nudges you, raising an eyebrow. “So… Kinich? He’s got that cold, intense vibe. What do you see in him?”

You chuckle, picturing the man who, beneath his pragmatic exterior, occasionally revealed a dry, clever humor that caught you off guard. “He makes me laugh,” you reply, smiling.

Your friends blink, visibly unconvinced. “Kinich? The Kinich? The guy who talks like every word is a business contract?”

���Trust me, he’s funnier than you think.” You recall a time when you had teased him about always being so serious. He had given you a mock-stern look and said, “Seriousness is simply efficiency applied to communication. If I were to, say, laugh needlessly, it would be inefficient—unless, of course, you think I’m funny?” His tone had been deadpan, but you had caught the sparkle in his eyes, which only made you laugh harder.

One of your friends scoffs, half amused, half disbelieving. “He’s secretly funny? Now that I have to see.”

Just then, Kinich appears, drawn by the sound of laughter. He stands with his usual composed expression, his gaze steady as he glances at you. “Am I interrupting?” he asks, though his eyes linger on yours with a warmth your friends would never guess at.

“Not at all,” you reply, a mischievous smile on your lips. “We were just talking about how funny you are.”

A single brow arches, and he replies smoothly, “If efficiency in humor is what amuses you, then I suppose I’ve succeeded.”

Your friends stare, open-mouthed, as he gives a faint smile, the smallest show of his affection reserved just for you.

Ororon

Gathered in a quiet grove just outside the bustling village, your friends share stories, each of them glancing at you with barely concealed curiosity. Finally, one of them speaks up. “Ororon? Really? He’s so… unconventional. What do you see in him?”

You smile, looking down at the wildflowers in your hand. “He makes me laugh.”

They seem taken aback, sharing doubtful glances. “Ororon? But he’s so… odd. He even lives out in the woods by himself. Isn’t he a little too eccentric?”

You laugh softly, thinking of all the moments Ororon’s uniqueness had brightened your days. “Maybe. But he’s more observant than anyone I know.” You recount a day spent walking with him through the forest, where he had pointed out a bird with feathers the color of storm clouds and said, with absolute conviction, “Look at him, he’s judging us. Clearly, he’s unimpressed with our lack of feathers.” You’d laughed, and he had given you a small, playful smile.

One friend smirks, shaking their head. “You actually find him funny?”

Before you can answer, Ororon appears, emerging from the trees with his usual easygoing stride. “Are we discussing birds?” he asks, his expression calm as he settles beside you. “I could have sworn I saw a bird earlier that looked particularly snobbish. Perhaps it’s you it dislikes.”

You laugh, reaching for his hand as your friends chuckle, finally starting to understand his strange charm. “Exactly,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze.

Ororon gives a satisfied hum, his eyes meeting yours. “See? Nature understands us well.” And in that moment, your friends see how the quiet humor of this eccentric man makes him so dear to you.

Sitting on a rooftop overlooking the stars, your friends are still trying to wrap their heads around your choice. “Dainsleif? Really? What do you see in him?” one asks skeptically.

Dainsleif

You smile softly, reflecting on your experiences. “He makes me laugh.”

Your friends look puzzled. “But he’s so serious and mysterious!”

You recall a late night when you were stargazing together. He had shared tales of his travels and then abruptly said, “In the end, I find that stars are just like people. Some are bright, some are dim, and some are just… lost.” Then, after a pause, he added with a straight face, “But at least they all shine, even if it’s just for a moment.”

You had burst into laughter at his unexpected metaphor, and he’d turned to you, a hint of confusion in his eyes as he asked, “Is that amusing?”

You nod, a warm smile on your face. “Yes! It’s all about perspective with you.”

Your friends nod, starting to see the appeal. “Okay, that’s a bit poetic.”

Dainsleif, overhearing the conversation, walks over with an amused look. “If my musings provide amusement, then perhaps I should share more.”

You grin. “Please do! We could all use a little more humor.”

.

.

.

Masterlist

[ridingthatd]

𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚 & 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐏𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇...

yuta is a bad friend.

yuta is a bad friend, because he has had a crush on you ever since you waved your delicate hands his way, ever since he layed his eyes on you. even when it was clear he wasn't your type, even when it was clear you were trouble for him. maybe it's your sluttines that attracted his innocent self.

what makes him bad is that he's kneeling close to your professors office door, flushed face pressed into his hand while humping your twisted jacket around him in a tight spiral because it smells like you. he was about to give you this jacket before what he just witnessed.

he can’t say if this is his worst nightmare or wet dream.

professor satoru can’t know that you guys haven't locked the door of his office, right? otherwise you wouldn’t have decided to go at it like rabbits in heat. but there he is, teeth worrying his lower lip, heat scalding his face, his hips stuttering in the same rhythm as the sound of skin slapping against skin as professor satoru pounds into you; the sound of his desk thumbing at every single one of his forceful thrusts.

yuta pushes his face deeper into your jacket to stifle a moan, because he can hear you, your voice so clear and loud "please- please-" it sounds like you’re right next to yuta and it drives him crazy, makes him fist his cock and imagine it’s your tight cunt squeezing around him, milking him as he fucks into his hand.

yuta is going crazy to know that you're bare pussy is couple of steps away from him, he wants to peak in, he wants to take a look at your sweet little pussy, but he's scared- he's scared to what's gonna happen to him after. he thinks he might cum right in his pants just from a peak. he bites his lips hard as he stroke his cock against the fabric of your jacket.

one glimpse won't hurt, right? tiny white explosions behind the back of his tightly shut eyes. he scoots closer to the door, wet patch of precum under his hips. he's eyes widen as he clearly see you spread against professors satorus desk, your pink panties that he clearly recognize from when he saw it on your bedrooms floor when he visited you- the way he had to hide his ragging boner after this.

yuta hears satorus muffled groans, your eyes were crossed as your plumpy tits bounce everytime satoru press you into the desk with his whole weight, hips snapping into yours as he’s holding your legs open with his strong arms hooked under your knees.

he can't take it anymore, this is all to much for him, yuta groans into the pillow, takes his other hand and curls it around the rest of his cock, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling of warmth and slick.

gojo sounds like he’s completely blissed-out, and oh so in love with the little whines and sobs you make. your sobs were clear and loud, yuta can barely recognize your face, his cock throbbing just from the fucked out look of your face.

a shudder shakes his whole body when he hears gojo say. "do you like my cock this much hm?".

fucked stupid by gojos massive cock, thoughts only circling around dick, dick, dick, dick. yuta presses his thumb into his leaking slit, hazely staring at way your juice gush out everywhere- oh god how he wish he can lick every bit of it. he should lick your juice clean out of the office floor after this.

yuta groans, and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth, but there is no need to worry because your sobs and moans were much louder. he thrust his hips into his fist meeting his strokes, imaging it's your wet pussy, tears started leaking out of his eyes. but something happen that yuta wasn't expecting. he hear shifting behind the door, he immediately step a bit away. cock still out and hard, heart beating out of his chest as he waits to be caught.

but he hears a slam on the door, and gojos growls followed as the door creak with thrusts. "fucking take it you slut" yuta eyes roll as he realize, he's fucking you right at the door, you were next to him. he can smell the juice of your pussy, he can feel the heatness of sex. he can see the drops of cum that spilled out of you as gojo creampie you hitting the floor, through the crack under the door. if he wanted, he would just have to stick out his tongue and he could taste you.

yuta couldn't help it once his cock explode, his cum landing near the poodle of wetness you made through the door.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

That day, the bus is mostly empty. It's only you, an eldery couple, and the driver. The ebb and flow of traffic slows the wheels as the driver passes by vacant stops. You watch the pavement roll by between patches of grass. 

The dulcet ride lures you into a calm even as your pre-work nerves buzz. You hug your bag in your lap as the driver stops and the doors open to let in another passenger. The axel squeals as the vehicular behemoth pulls away from the curb. 

You continue to watch the city as the new rider strides between the seats. You sense their shadow loom closer and closer. You expect them to claim the empty seat across from yours. Instead, the sit right next to you. It's an odd choice given the few passengers aboard. 

You fidget and make yourself smaller. You turn your head straight as you try to see the stranger from the edge of your vision. They're big. Broad enough that their arm presses to yours even as you try to shrink into yourself. Tall too, his knees against the row in front of you. 

He sits rigidly beside you. Uneasy at his proximity, you fish into your side pocket and slide free your phone. You open it aimlessly, tapping habitually on the crossword app you play at work in the low times. 

The solutions elude you as your mind can't detach from the man crowding you into the window. Why can't he sit anywhere else? You look around at the unclaimed seats. He stays as he is, stiff, straight, unmoving. 

You close out of the came and lock your phone. You clasp your hand around the device as you hug your bag once more. Your other hand toys with the little pom pom that hangs from your zipper. 

The bright bus signs pass by. You're stop is coming up. Now is the awkward part. Getting the man to let you out. 

You pull the cord to signal your intent but he's already on his feet. You glance over and thank him softly, a brief glimpse at his face. A scar ripples from his hairline, through his temple and angles down his cheek to his jaw. His eyes are a bold blue and his nose finely cut despite the large blemish.  

He stands back as you grab your bag and sidle out. You go to the doors. He follows. 

Huh? 

He grips the yellow bar behind you, his large hand gripping as if he might crush the metal. You stare at his knuckles and the bus jerks to a stop. You nearly fall off your feet. The man catches you by your hip with his free hand. 

You set your feet and cough out another thanks. Embarrassed, you slap the doors and they open. You scurry off and the men once more trails after you. As you veer towards the mall, he waits until the bus takes off and crosses the street. With him, your suspicious leaves. 

You're frazzled as you enter work. You don't know why. You just... are. Something about that man sticks with you. Even if he never said a word, it felt like he was trying to tell you something. 

You clock in and try to shake it off. His face flashes in your mind. You can't place what seems so familiar about him. You would remember if you met him before. How could you forget? 

You go to the counter as Layton talks with a customer about the new seasonal blends. The tea shop has its peak times, especially as winter approaches, but it's one o clock on a Tuesday and that's never very busy anywhere. 

You greet the next customers. Two girls interested in the cold brew pots. You show them what you have and explain the store's points card. The buy a sampler and nothing else. Typical. 

Layton finishes at four. The traffic picks up once he's gone. You don't mind as it keeps the time moving. It peters out as the dinnertime rush fills the food court. You can hear the crowd from around the corner. 

You set to wiping down the counter and putting away the few stray canisters left out. As you turn back, you have to swallow down a shriek. You didn't hear the man over the mall's top hits playlist. 

You hesitate as your eyes meet. It's him. The man from the bus. You blink and press your lips together. 

"Hello, uh, how are you today?" You ask.  

He just stares. No answer. No sign he even heard you. 

He's in all black. Boots, jeans, cargo jacket. He stands like a soldier. You part your lips again, "are you looking for anything in particular? Today we have our apple crisp chai as the sample." 

He still doesn't react. Not more than his eyes falling to the nervous twiddle of your fingers on the counter. Your scalp prickles and your nape burns. If he keeps this up, you'll have to phone security. 

He raises his hand to reveal a familiar object. It's the fluffy pom pom from your bag. Your brows pop up, "oh? Thanks. It must have fallen off." 

You reach for it and your mind races. As nice as it is to return the key chain, you can't help but wonder. How did he know where to find you?

As you grasp the soft ball, his other hand comes up and snares your wrist. Your squeak and try to pull back. You're stuck in his grip.  

Your eyes round and flick up to meet his. His gaze bores into you and at last, his stony expression cracks. He smirks, the scar on the side of his face paling as the lines around his eyes deepen. He releases the keychain and grabs a fistful of your hair. 

"Ow!" You squeal and yank again.  

He rips your hair out at the roots and you exclaim again. Hets go of your arm and you hit the shelves behind you. He nods and spins on his heel, clutching the handful of your hair.  

You whimper and rub your head as your scalp burns. Your eyes water and your lip trembles. You just gape at the door. What just happened? 

[katethetank]

Ok I’ve never written anything before, and I’m obsessed with Steddie content. So without further adieu, here’s a modern day Steddie story where Eddie comes to terms with the hard truth that his husband’s snuggles might be more popular than his world famous band. This kind of got away from me and ended up way longer than I thought it would. Oops.

Content warnings: idk, TikTok I guess?! It’s fluffy and sweet, illusions to smut at the end

Eddie Munson was a notoriously private person. Corroded Coffin was the biggest metal/alt band in the world, and despite the fame, he managed to keep his personal life just that - personal.

There of course had been rumors over the last few years of who he was married to. Among the chunky metal rings that always adorned his fingers, fans couldn’t help but notice the simple silver band on his left ring finger. Paparazzi would occasionally catch him out in public with various women, leading his fans to speculate wildly who his mystery wife was.

But as soon as the rumors got started, they were quickly shut down. He was photographed once stumbling out of a club in New York with SNL star Robin Buckley on his arm. Social media went absolutely rabid and Robin made sure to clear things up the following Saturday on Weekend Update, announcing that she was in fact, a raging lesbian.

Not too long after that, Eddie was photographed clinking wine glasses with accomplished journalist Nancy Wheeler at a romantic rooftop restaurant in LA. When rumors started swirling around them of a secret affair, Nancy’s husband (and Rolling Stone photographer) Jonathan Byers put a stop to it by posting a picture of all three of them on his socials explaining that they were long time friends and out celebrating Nancy’s nomination for a Pulitzer.

Again the rumor mill started churning when Eddie was spotted giving a piggyback ride to pro skateboarder Max Mayfield after one of her competitions. Accusations of him “robbing the cradle” had her immediately posting a video on TikTok telling everyone off, fake gagging, and saying that Eddie was like her big brother. She then pulled Eddie into the frame asking, “Would you losers seriously believe I’d be into this ugly mug?” before promptly shoving his face away. Eddie was only a little offended.

Max’s video kind of blew up though, with everyone demanding more of Eddie’s presence on the app. Reluctantly he started his own account, his first video of him backstage at his sold out Madison Square Garden show, simply flashing the devil horns, sticking out his tongue, and greeting, “Hey assholes!”

It effectively broke the internet.

He was verified within a matter of hours, and had millions of followers within the first day.

Now all he had to do was figure out what the hell he was going to post. He didn’t want to share too much of his private life, but scrolling through the comments, he could see how much his fans truly loved seeing just that brief candid moment from him. So he started sharing bits and pieces behind the scenes at his shows, shots of the guys hanging out on the tour bus, and one lazy morning, a glimpse of his sleep-rumpled self in bed and his birds nest of bed head.

The comments on that last one exploded.

Everyone wanted to know who he was sharing that bed with, asking for a peek at his wife, if she was also famous. Who was he married to for god’s sake?!

He refused to take the bait.

One afternoon he set up his living room for a TikTok live, planning on just strumming his guitar, answering questions about the new album that was coming out, maybe taking some requests for songs to play. While he was glancing at the comments and plucking away at his acoustic, he didn’t hear the front door open, or the footsteps coming towards the room. He startled when he heard, “Babe, I’m home! I got you some more Honeycombs!”

Eddie froze. And the comments went absolutely fucking wild.

“Wait, was that a dude?!”

“Did some guy just call him babe???”

“SPOUSE REVEAL?!?!”

“OMG IS HE GAY???? I LOVE THIS FOR US!!”

“Oh I am so invested in this! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈”

“Honeycombs?! Really?!”

Eddie scrambled to set his guitar down, quickly thanked everyone for tuning in, and cut off the live stream.

Steve stepped into the room with a questioning look on his face. “Babe?… what’s wrong?”

Eddie glanced at him sheepishly mumbling, “We may have just spilled the beans on a live stream.”

“You were doing a live stream? What happened? And wait, what beans?”

Sighing heavily and running a hand through his hair, Eddie stood up and walked over to Steve, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I was doing a TikTok live, playing some songs and talking about the new record. I didn’t hear you come in, and when you shouted that you were home, it was apparently loud enough for everyone to hear. So I shut it down fast before the comments got even more out of control. I didn’t know what to say!”

Steve leaned in and gave Eddie a peck on the nose, hugged him tight, and asked, “Well… how bad were the comments? Do you think people are gonna freak out?”

“Freak out? In a good way, maybe. They all seemed pretty surprised to hear a guy’s voice and were asking for a spouse reveal.”

Steve furrowed his brows and thought about it for a few moments. “What if we did?”

“Did what?”

“A spouse reveal. I gotta admit, it’s been pretty annoying having everyone assume you’re sleeping with our friends! I don’t really like the idea of being in the public eye, but what if we just did a quick video or something to put the rumors to bed for good?”

Admittedly it was a pretty good idea. Eddie liked being able to share parts of his life with his fans, and Steve was the biggest part of his life. It would be nice to show him off for a moment and finally tell the world who put that ring on his finger.

“Yeah. Yeah, ok! Let’s do it!”

Eddie grabbed his phone, opened TikTok, and got comfy on the couch. Steve sat down next to him, cuddled into his side. He started the video with the camera just on himself, took a deep breath, and hit record.

“Hey guys! Sorry to dip out of my live stream so suddenly. I was a little thrown off with that interruption, but thought it would be best to come on here and clear the air. Yes, I’m married. Yes, my spouse is a man. Yes, my favorite cereal is Honeycombs, don’t come at me for that! And this is Steve.”

He tilted his phone so both his and Steve’s faces were in the frame. Steve smiled brightly and did a little finger wave. “Hey everybody!”

Eddie giggled and turned to kiss Steve on the cheek. Even after years of being together, Eddie’s affections still made him blush. Steve turned at looked at Eddie with stars in his eyes and whispered, “I love you babe.”

“I love you too sweetheart.”

They shared a brief kiss before Eddie ended the video and immediately posted it.

He effectively broke the internet again.

Millions of likes and comments flooded in, a huge wave of love and support from his fans. And of course, more questions.

“Shut up, they are so fucking cute I’m gonna puke”

“I’m so sad that the married rumors are true, but omg his husband is crazy hot! Good for him!”

“His name is Steve?! Why is that so adorable?!”

“Find yourself a man who looks at you like Steve looks at Eddie!”

“Who is this Steve?! TELL! ME! EVERYTHING!”

“We demand more Steve!”

“Ok I need more details immediately”

The demand for more Steve content did not stop. Eddie still wanted to keep his private life as private as possible, but Steve had no problem with popping up in a few videos here and there. Rolling his eyes in the background at Eddie’s antics, hands on his hips while scolding the band for being late to an interview, painting Eddie’s nails backstage before a show. Just little glimpses of Steve being Steve. His fans ate that shit up.

One night Eddie was left to his own devices while Steve was out having a “girls night” with Robin, Nancy, Max, and El. Why he wasn’t invited too he will never know. Not that he was jealous or anything. Totally not jealous. He decided to set up another TikTok live while he screwed around on his guitar. About an hour in, the front door flew open and in stumbled a very flushed, very giggly, very drunk Steve.

“BABE! I SAW ARIANA GRANDE TONIGHT!”

Eddie started laughing as Steve made his way into the living room, glancing at how the comments went absolutely apeshit again.

“Stevie, sweetheart, sit down before you hurt yourself.”

Steve took the guitar out of Eddie’s hands and plopped down in his lap. “Babe, seriously! I saw Ariana Grande! Me and the girls went to some club and Nancy got us into the VIP section, and there she was! Just! Sitting there looking all cool and famous! Babe, it was awesome!”

Chuckling, Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve, kissed him on his temple, and pointed at his phone set up on a tripod. “Stevie, you interrupted my live stream again. Say hi to everyone!”

Steve turned his head towards the phone, eyebrows raising up, and smiled dopily. “Oh! Hi guys! Did you hear?? I saw Ariana Grande!” He then quickly snapped his drunken gaze back towards Eddie. “OH MY GOD! Babe! Do you think she’s on here?! Can you message her?!” He turned back to the phone shouting, “Ariana! I’m Steve! We should hang out! Eddie, tell her we should hang out!”

Eddie started cackling and patted Steve’s head like a puppy. “Ok big boy, you’ve clearly had enough. Sorry guys, I’m gonna have to cut the stream short and put this one to bed. And uh, yeah. Ariana Grande, if you’re into hanging out with preppy former jocks who like to snuggle while they’re wasted, let me know I guess. Goodnight!”

Eddie looked down at Steve, who had tucked himself into Eddie’s chest while he was talking, and gave a little kiss on his head before ending the live stream.

“Hmmm… sleepy.”

“I know you’re sleepy sweetheart, let’s get you into jammies and tuck you in.”

The next morning Eddie awoke to a hungover Steve groaning into his neck, and a message on TikTok from none other than Ariana Grande.

“What the fuck?!”

“Hng… too loud.”

“Sweetheart. Stevie. Wake up!”

“No.” Steve pulled the covers over his face.

“Honey, seriously, you need to wake up. You’ve gotta see this.”

“Eds, I don’t wanna see shit, I wanna sleep.”

“Stevie, do you remember coming home last night and telling everyone on TikTok that you want to hang out with Ariana Grande?”

Steve flipped the covers back off and gave him an incredulous look. “I did not.”

“Yeah princess, you did. You stumbled in talking about how you saw her at a club and wanted to hang out with her. And guess the fuck what.”

“…….what?”

Eddie turned his phone for Steve to see the message.

“What the?… ‘Hey Eddie! I caught your livestream last night and my answer is yes! Steve seems like an absolute doll, I’d love to hang out with him’”

Steve looked at him with wide eyes and just stared for few beats.

“SHE WANTS TO HANG OUT WITH ME?!”

His volume made both men wince, Steve immediately grabbing his throbbing head and groaning.

“Yes, sweetheart, apparently babbling drunk gay men are her thing. So, when should I tell her you’re free?”

The following Wednesday, Steve was a nervous wreck. He had cleaned the house from top to bottom, prepped a gorgeous charcuterie board, had wine chilling in the fridge, and checked his hair about 30 times.

“Stevie, darling, sweetheart. You’ve got to calm down.”

“Calm down? CALM DOWN?! Eddie, Ariana fucking Grande is coming to our house! How is this even happening? What if we don’t have anything in common? What if she thinks I’m an awkward idiot? I don’t wanna screw this up!”

Eddie wrapped Steve up in his arms and gave him a tight squeeze. “You won’t screw anything up. Everyone loves you Stevie. Just be you, and she’ll love you too. And if you’re freaking out, I’m a phone call away, alright? I should only be at the studio for a few hours and then I’ll be home before you know it. You two will have a great time! Ok?!”

Steve let out a long suffering sigh. “Ok.”

The doorbell rang and Eddie took his hand, walking with Steve to go greet their guest of honor. As soon as the door opened, Ariana Grande herself was standing there with a huge smile on her face. “Steve! Oh my god, it’s so nice to meet you!” She immediately gave Steve a hug and barley even acknowledged Eddie standing there.

“Ok. Well. I guess I’m not needed here. Have fun you two! Don’t do anything I would do!” Steve laughed and gave him a quick peck before leading his guest into the house.

After a few hours of polishing some tracks on the new album, Eddie headed back home. He hadn’t heard from Steve the whole time he was out, and hoped that everything went smoothly with his new friend. Or whatever the hell this was.

Opening his front door, he was greeted with the sounds of giggles, clinking glass, and… are they watching Twilight?!

He pulled out his phone and started recording as he walked into the living room. “Here I am, coming home after hours of slaving away on our new album to find THIS.” He flipped the camera around to a view of Steve and apparently his new best friend, snuggled under a blanket, wine glasses in hand, a few empty bottles on the table, surrounded by a mess of crumbs, giggling at blue-tinted vampires playing baseball.

He flipped the camera back to himself, sulking “I think I’ve been replaced.”

Internet: broken.

“Did they just become best friends?!”

“Awwwww I want Steve Snuggles!”

“Living for this!!!!”

“#stevesnuggles”

“Wait, did he make her a charcuterie board??”

In the weeks that followed, #stevesnuggles took over social media. Everyone and their mother was gushing about Eddie’s adorable husband, wanting to see more of him, and his snuggles. Eddie couldn’t blame them, really. The man is adorable. But he still wanted to keep sort of a lid on their private life, so he limited most of his posts to just Corroded Coffin content. Anticipation for the new album was amping up, a tour was being planned, and the buzz was buzzing.

Unfortunately with all of the work leading up to the release, Eddie wasn’t getting enough of his daily allotment of Steve Time. He was looking forward to the weekend when his schedule was clear so he could finally have some quality time with his husband and soak up all of those famous snuggles.

Life had other plans, though. Friday afternoon he got a text from Steve saying that it was his turn to host girls night. Again, why was Eddie not invited to these things?? Not that he was jealous. Of course not. That would be crazy. He resigned himself to the fact that tonight, he’d have to share his husband.

When he stepped into their home, he immediately recognized the honking laughter of a tipsy Robin, Nancy’s adorable giggle, but there were several other voices he couldn’t decipher. Thinking ahead, he once again pulled out his phone and started recording.

“HONEY, I’M HO- the fuck?!”

It took him a moment to register what he was seeing. He flipped the camera around to focus on the absurd cuddle puddle on the floor. In a pile of what must have been every blanket and pillow in the house, was the obvious collection of Steve, Nancy, Robin, and apparently now Ariana. But then…

“Sweetheart, why are Rhianna and Taylor Swift on our living room floor?”

Steve just looked up at him pie-eyed and sweetly stated, “Girls night!” to which the bizzare collection of women shouted, “Hi Eddie!”

How many times can you break the internet before it stays broken?

“WHAT. THE FUCK.”

“Ummmmm best girls night ever?”

“How do I get an invite??”

“So Steve is just a magnet for powerful women then. Got it.”

“#STEVESNUGGLES OMG!!!”

Steve snuggles indeed. Eddie was so used to being in the limelight, it was a strange adjustment to have his once under the radar husband be in such high demand. Every time he posted a TikTok of the band, the comments were flooded with requests for more Steve. He did sometimes cave and give the people what they wanted. Quick videos of Steve cooking them dinner while dancing to his god forsaken pop music, sneak peeks of some of their new songs with Steve singing along, and ok, one thirst trap of him working out in their home gym. Eddie was a just a man after all, and his husband was hot.

The album was finally released and sales were through the roof. Corroded Coffin had never sold so many copies before and someone from the label insisted that their TikTok presence had everything to do with it. Was it actually them, or the love for Steve? Who’s to say. Either way, their concerts across the country were sold out in a matter of minutes and the band couldn’t wait to kick off their next tour.

The first show was in LA and Eddie had planned to do a quick TikTok before they took the stage. He started in the hallway backstage, welcoming everyone to the start of the tour, and made his way into the green room. “Alright everyone, let’s check in quick with the band and make sure these dickheads are ready to go! BOYS! ARE WE - Steve?! What the hell?”

He flipped the camera around to the view of Steve happily scrolling on his phone on one of the couches. With Dua Lipa cuddled up on one side of him and Lady goddamn Gaga on the other. What the fuck is his life?

“Babe! Hi! The girls were in town and came by to check out the show!”

“I’m sorry… THE GIRLS?! How do you even know them?!”

Steve raised an eyebrow at him like he was an idiot and said, “Lipa was on SNL and she had Robin get us connected. And Jon did a photo shoot with Stef and…basically the same thing.”

Stef?! Who the fuck is Stef? Wait right… Lada Gaga is a stage name.

Eddie flipped the camera back on himself and just. Stared. “I…I don’t know what the fuck is happening.”

Queue the comments.

“Ok is he like best friends with EVERY icon?!”

“Steve IS the icon! 💅”

“What’s a girl gotta do to get some #stevesnuggles in here?!”

“Omfg Eddie’s never gonna get his own #stevesnuggles now is he?”

“SHARE THE WEALTH”

“I can’t believe this app is free”

From there on the tour went off without a hitch and fans in every city were rabid for the new album. And of course Steve. Goddamnit. He’d occasionally see people in the crowd with “#stevesnuggles” t-shirts, or hear chants of “We want Steve!” Yeah, Eddie gets it. He wants Steve too. For himself.

Eddie took to posting a lot of videos from backstage with the band, sound checks, screwing around with the crew. And of course to appease the masses, some of Steve in his element. Putting on Gareth’s eyeliner, helping Jeff pick out his stage clothes, and rubbing Eddie’s shoulders after a grueling show. Just Steve mother henning everyone.

When they made it to New York, they had an appearance on SNL a few days before their concert. They got to catch up with Robin, meet the cast, and get a feel for what went into producing the show. Eddie hadn’t heard who the host was, not that it probably mattered much since they’d only see them at the end-of-show sign off.

He was in the middle of doing a livestream behind the scenes, walking the legendary halls of Studio 8H when he popped into his dressing room to show off the digs. “And here we have my office for the night…. Uh. Stevie? What? The fuck?” He turned the camera around to see Steve snuggled up with… goddamn Beyoncé.

“Hey babe! Did you meet Bee yet? She’s hosting tonight!”

No the fuck he didn’t meet “Bee!” And sorry, his husband is already on a nickname basis with this Queen?! Who the hell did he marry??

Goodbye internet.

“HOLY. SHIT.”

“Seriously, gay men have all the luck.”

“Two absolute queens, omg”

“BEYONCÉ GETS #STEVESNUGGLES OMG!!!”

“Eddie, your husband belongs to Bee now, my condolences”

“Don’t tell Jay Z”

The show went well even though Eddie was visibly shook by his husband’s new friend. Seriously, what is his life?! How much further was this going to go? He was relieved when the tour finally ended and they could go back to their bubble of domestic bliss. That is, until the next girls night probably!

Once they were back home and settled into their routine, he realized he needed to make some more content now that things have calmed down. Privacy was always important to him, but after a night of taking his husband apart over and over, he smirked and had an idea.

Quietly grabbing his phone off the nightstand, he started recording. Steve with his chaotic sex hair, neck covered in hickies, and curled up sound asleep on Eddie’s chest. A chest that was decorated in tattoos and nipple piercings, as well as fresh scratch marks. Eddie smirked at the camera, winked and whispered “hashtag Steve snuggles.”

RIP internet.

[atenea585]

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Tags/Warnings: +18, fingering, pussy slapping, degradation, language, dirty talk.

It was common to find yourself in this position, but even so the sensations were still as strong as the first time

“Yeah, that’s it, honey. Be a good little slut for me.” He continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you, your hands holding tightly to his knees as your ass rubbed against his clothed cock from the movement. “Do you want to be a good fucking girl for me? Start by taking this.”

You moaned as you watched his fingers move quickly, trying hard not to roll your eyes as you held on to him as best you could.

“Ben-”

“Tsk, tsk, honey. You know what to call me.”

You nodded your head. You felt stupid for forgetting, but let’s be honest… You were stupid, and you could thank him and his magical fingers for that.

“Soldier Boy.”

“Atta girl.” He placed a wet kiss on your cheek as his movements didn’t stop.

His fingers going in and out of your pussy made you feel dizzy. Rubbing against your folds over and over again at incredible speed and at a pace that made you think you might explode.

“You should see yourself now. So fucking high on my fingers that you look like a fucking zombie.”

His words only made you clench around him more often, something you suspected he already knew, because he just couldn’t close his big fucking mouth.

“Bet you’d do anything I asked, huh?” He spread two fingers inside you like scissors, causing you to mewl his superhero name (you wouldn’t forget it again). “If I asked you to get on your fucking knees on the rough floor and choke on my cock you would do it, right?” When he didn’t get a response he removed his fingers from you and hit your clit with two of them. “Answer me, slut!”

“Y-yes!” You grabbed his wrist, wanting him to put his fat fingers inside your pussy again.

“So stupid ‘cause my fingers, huh?” He mumbled into your hair. “But this is nothing compared to what I’ll do to you with my thick cock.” He said before shoving four fingers inside you at once and returning to his previous pace.

“Oh, fu-” He was right. You were so stupid for him and his fucking fingers that you couldn’t even finish talking.

Your eyes rolled back, your arousal running down the inside of your thighs as his pace didn’t stop. The thought that he could calmly kill you with his actions crossed your mind, but was quickly dismissed when he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth. Your heart stopped as you saw a glimpse of his tongue wrap around his fingers before he closed his mouth around them.

He hummed at your taste and withdrew his fingers, a thread of saliva that connecting his mouth to them.

“And to think that some time ago I had thought about murdering you. And here we are, the taste of you on my tongue and your fucking brain melted by my fingers.” He murmured mockingly without taking his eyes off his fingers, almost as if he were analyzing your taste as if it were wine.

You licked your lips, feeling dry, and shifted uncomfortably. The position you two were in might have been comfortable if it weren’t for what you were doing.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He returned his gaze to you. “Do you need to have my thick, wet fingers inside you again?”

He slowly moved his fingers down your body (too slow for your liking) and began to rub your clit gently.

“You got it, doll.”

He put his fingers inside you again and slowly returned to his previous rhythm as your pussy pulsed around his fingers and sucked them like you would his cock.

“As soon as you come like the little dirty slut you are, you’ll return the fucking favor.”

Soldier Boy Imagines/Headcanons

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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[gloomwitchwrites]

Greener Things

Din Djarin x Mandalorian Female Reader (Clan Kryze)

Content & Warnings: canon-typical swearing, canon-typical violence, mutual pining, admission of feelings, search and rescue, mando’a language, Mandalorian culture & customs, fluff, light angst

Word Count: 3k

It isn’t until the woman he loves is in danger that Din realizes he’s wanted her all along.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // spring 2024 masterlist

Din observes the round fruit.

It does not hang from a tree or dwell within a bush. This one grows on a vine. The fuzzy stalk swirls over and around metal trellises. The fruit is a deep blue so dark it almost resembles space, but in the right light, it shines.

“It’s for fermentation.”

Your voice is soft, and yet Din cannot help but react as if you’ve commanded something of him. He promptly rises, turning in the direction of your voice. You flush with embarrassment as if you’ve walked in on him without his helmet. Arms tightening around the basket you’re holding; you bring it out in front of you like a shield.

Within the woven threads, Din glimpses the same dark fruit.

“Is it native to Mandalore?” asks Din, because questions keep him here. It gives him an excuse to stay a bit longer.

That is Din’s habit, and he is not all that interested in shaking it. The Growing Caverns are an extension of what they’re building here on Mandalore. Not only is the air breathable, but things are growing again. Din witnessed it on his second visit, when the stranded Mandalorians showed them all that they had done after the Night of a Thousand Tears.

Now, it’s a system. An effort to feed the ever-growing enclave.

You are but a small piece of that. A nurturer. Someone bringing life to the plants to sustain everyone else.

“No. It’s not native to Mandalore,” you answer, stepping closer to Din. He instinctually matches your movement. “This fruit is found on Kalevala.”

Your lips look so soft. Inviting. But it’s not like Din can kiss you. He cannot remove his helmet. Yet he can think about it. Even now, his thoughts meander outward, imagining what those lips might feel like against his lips. How they might feel against his skin.

“It likes the rolling hills and cliffs.”

“What likes the rolling hills?” asks Din absently, still focused on your lips.

“The plant,” you laugh, indicating the fruit with a nod of your head.

Din inclines his head because he doesn’t trust himself to speak. He was too kriffing focused on your lips that he wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying.

Your smile remains and it is such a sweet thing to Din.

He wants to capture it. Bottle it. Keep it with him always.

This whole interaction is indulgent. There is no reason for Din to be here, but he cannot seem to stay away. That first day, after Mandalore was reclaimed, Din planned on leaving with Grogu. But you appeared with that sweet smile, asking him for assistance, and Din answered without a second thought.

Now, he’s here, remaining on Mandalore, making excuses every day just to come see you.

Din glances around the large cavern. There are raised boxes with all sorts of plants growing from them. Others dangle from pots hanging from the cavern’s ceiling while others are bolted into the walls. Something is always different when Din visits.

All Din knows how to do is fight. And here you are, knowing how to fight too, yet using your skills to feed your people instead. It’s vastly different from how he was raised, and what he’s come to understand.

Things are changing for him.

Din clears his throat. Every day he comes, and every day he says the same thing.

“Things look good here,” he comments.

Your smile shifts to a knowing smirk, and Din is thankful you cannot see his face behind his helmet. Even with the insulation, Din is sweating.

“They are,” you agree, shifting closer to him.

Again, Din matches your movements, the two of you nearly on top of each other. Over the last few weeks, you’ve done this more and more. Leaning in, standing close to him, giving him all your attention. However, you never touch him, but Din wishes that you did, even if it’s just a passing touch.

But whatever Din feels in his heart, you are not of his tribe. You are of Clan Kryze. You walk the Way differently from him. You do not always wear your helmet. While Din accepts that both Ways are true, your path doesn’t completely align with his.

While he enjoys your company, and adores your smile, Din cannot act. Everything he feels must be buried deep. Hidden. There are some things that cannot be even if Din wishes they were so.

You shift toward him again and sigh, bringing the basket to rest against your hip. You suddenly appear tired, and Din hates that.

“Why do you come here every day, Din?”

To see you. To see your smile. To hear your voice.

How does he begin to answer that?

What answer will be acceptable to you?

Does he tell you of how his stomach flips when you say his name, or how his heart races the moment you recognize him across the room?

“It’s peaceful,” decides Din because it’s partially true. “I like it here.”

Your smile returns but it’s not as bright as before. Are you disappointed in that answer? Maybe. Din hopes that he hasn’t brushed you aside with his response.

“Will you stay on Mandalore?” you ask, and that gives Din pause. “I heard that you might leave us soon.”

Din has not been open about leaving Mandalore and returning to Nevarro. It’s possible that Bo-Katan might have said something in passing.

It’s best to be honest.

“I’ve thought about it,” he replies slowly.

You nod, your smile fading a bit. “I’d miss your daily visits if you left.”

Kriffing hell, Din isn’t strong enough to resist. The truth comes rolling out of him automatically. It’s a tug. A sharp pull. A snapping of string that cannot be undone.

“I would miss them too.”

It’s the right answer, and saying so soothes something within him. That sweet smile of yours returns, and Din has to dig down into every fiber of his control not to reach out and touch you.

Din clears his throat, suddenly nervous. “Let me help with that.” He nods toward the basket of fruit, arms extended.

You give it to him without resistance, and Din takes pride that he can at least do this one thing for you. Stepping to the side, Din allows you to lead the way, the two of you exiting the cavern to head toward the Great Forge. The passage is tight, made of solid rock, and as it spits the two of you out onto solid ground, you pause to glance back at Din.

Your gaze lingers on him and Din isn’t sure what it is he sees there.

But it is momentary. Fleeting.

You give him your back, continuing on, and Din strides up beside you effortlessly. Amongst the towering forges, Din glimpses the Armorer. She stares back, arms at her sides, observing. Din inclines his head in her direction and she repeats the gesture.

At the communal kitchens, Din drops the basket full of fruit off as you speak to another member of Clan Kryze.

It’s funny, this feeling, how Din could see a place for himself here. He has always been alone even with his covert. On Mandalore, with you, there is a sense of belonging, like he is supposed to dwell amongst Sundari’s broken halls.

“Thank you for your help.”

Din could melt into your voice. Let it swallow him up. Consume him.

“I’m always at your service,” he replies, turning in your direction.

You’re right there. So close. One touch can’t hurt. Just a small one.

Din’s fingers flex and then curl in before relaxing. He makes the first move, the backs of his fingers gently brushing against your bare ones. Your eyes widen, and for a moment, Din believes he’s ruined it all.

But as he starts to pull away, your index finger hooks around his, locking the two of you together. And you do not drop your hand.

Din stares into your face, and it is all that he needs. He is lost in your eyes, and your smile. How can he return to Nevarro?

Someone clears their throat, and the two of you jump back from each other.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Din,” you say quickly. “Thank you.”

Din backs away, departing with an inability to form words and a tightness in his chest he doesn’t entirely understand.

There’s a clamor near the Great Forge. A crowd.

Din navigates it, emerging from between two Mandalorians to the edge of the throng. Bo-Katan stands at the top of the stairs. To Bo-Katan’s left is the Armorer, and to her right are Koska Reeves and Axe Woves. There are several more Mandalorians that linger on the stairs. All of them are talking amongst each other.

One of the Mandalorians on the stairs speaks up, his voice projecting clearly over the crowd. His armor is the blue of Clan Kryze. “We need to send a party.”

A significant portion of the crowd vocalizes their approval. Din remains silent.

“We should,” agrees Bo-Katan. “But without knowing where they are, we’d be going in blind.”

“I agree with Rax,” says Axe. “Just volunteers. We all understand the risks.”

Several Mandalorians in the crowd step forward and voice their willingness to volunteer. Whatever Din has stepped in to, it’s not good. Glancing down the line, Din spies Paz Vizsla. He and Din have always been at odds, but Din needs answers. Melting back into the crowd, Din shuffles toward Vizsla. Din appears next to him, and the big guy gives Din a passing glance.

“What happened?” asks Din in a low voice.

“A creature from the Mines crawled out of its hole,” answers Paz.

“Attacked miners?”

Since retaking Mandalore, the Mines have been a priority. Groups go down to clear out all sorts of nasty things while other groups descend to fix pipes and passageways. Sometimes unrefined beskar ore is found. Sometimes they find armor absent its owner.

“No,” replies Paz. “Growers. Thing crawled straight up and burst through the rock.”

Din’s throat drops into his stomach.

“Casualties?”

“Two,” says Paz. “The rest were taken or injured.”

A twisted wrench within Din’s gut sends a wave of nausea through him. He wavers slightly on his feet before reality comes crashing back. Din swallows down the trepidation and terror, turning everything in him into steel.

“Who?”

Paz rattles off the names, and Din nearly sighs with relief. You are not dead, and you’re not amongst the injured. But you’re gone. Taken. And that simply won’t do.

Axe Woves raises his voice above the crowd again. “Who will volunteer?”

There is no forethought. No pause. Din steps forward silently.

If anyone will bring you back, it will be him.

Din silently slides into a crevasse, dropping down onto solid rock. Other Mandalorians move in the dark, their headlamps off as they creep closer toward their target. They too are silent, and though Din cannot see them, he feels them. They are everywhere, surrounding the beast in a circular maneuver.

The Mines are endless. Full of dangers.

This creature is but one.

Din uses his helmet’s internal display to see the world around him and pick up on heat signatures. The creature is large, easily taller than three grown men stacked on top of each other, and its fur appears coarse. While it has two legs, Din notices three sets of arms.

In the creature’s rage and confusion, it likely lashed out at whatever it could. It has the mental clarity to seize without injury, but the why is uncertain. And yet the why doesn’t matter to Din. What matters is that you’re alive.

You are alive.

Din has already found you. He just can’t approach yet.

It’s too dangerous.

When you work in the Growing Caverns, you don’t always wear all of your armor. There isn’t any point to it. It only impedes your efforts. Which is likely why you couldn’t entirely fight back.

Din will make sure you never remove your armor again. He’ll lecture you about it until you hate him for it. As long as you’re safe, that is all that matters.

The crevasse deposits Din into the den of the beast. It shifts, and Din freezes. You are right there, tucked against it. But you are not alone. There is another grower with you. The two of you have your arms wrapped around each other.

There are others, but their heat signatures no longer register on Din’s display. They are gone.

In that same display, Bo-Katan’s crouched body comes into view. She moves silently across the rock, Koska Reeves at her back. They approach you and the other grower, and with subtle movements, manage to shift the beast’s arm away from your confined bodies.

Din sidesteps, following suit until he’s right up on you. His hand is on your waist. At your back. You stiffen, and then melt, fingers digging into his flightsuit between the beskar. You do not speak. You say nothing. You only cling to him, and Din ushers you away as Axe Woves escorts the other out of the den.

Everyone backs up. Begins to retreat.

The moment Din enters the crevasse again, he moves swiftly. What Din would like to do is pick you up in his arms and carry you out. Yet it might cause too much noise or could slow him down. You’re not limping. You don’t appear injured.

From behind him comes a rumble. A shake that makes the rock around him shiver.

Din does not pause.

There’s a roar, and then a deafening boom.

The chargers have gone off.

Din tucks you against him as the crevasse widens. He bends forward to dip his arm under your thighs, and then he’s lifting. Running. Your arms go around his neck and you press your face against his chest.

Another round of chargers goes off but it is a distant thing.

There is no roar. No bellow of anger.

Din does not turn around to see if any other Mandalorians move with him. He is determined to return you home.

The twisting, tight rock widens again, and Din steps out into a cavern with a low ceiling. Din sighs with relief as several Mandalorians approach him, concern clear on their faces. Din eases you back to your feet, and though you wobble briefly, you remain upright.

You turn toward him, lips parted as if you want to say something to him. But whatever you wish to say is not to be. You are whisked away, and Din can only watch.

There is little Din perceives after that. He merely exists until he’s finally allowed to see you. For him, it feels like years. In reality, it is only a day.

“You came for me,” you murmur. The adoration and affection in your eyes is piercing, spearing him through the heart.

“I wouldn’t leave it up to anyone else,” replies Din blandly because it’s true.

You laugh, and then wince. “That’s sweet,” you say, but Din hears the doubt.

Din leans forward on the upturned bucket he sits on. Your makeshift cot is low to the ground, and Din has to look down at you in this position.

His heart hammers in his chest, the memory of hearing you’d been taken still fresh and hot.

“Your absence was a wound,” says Din. “I was hollow when I heard.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I thought you were dead.”

You fingers grip the thin blanket on your body. There is no armor. It was removed. Set aside. You’re only wearing a gauzy top and bottom. Bare feet poking out from the bottom of the blanket.

“I wasn’t,” you whisper, but Din isn’t sure why you’re resisting so much.

“Do you truly believe I wouldn’t come for you?” When Din asks, he is not harsh. He is genuinely curious. There is hope laced within the question.

You shake your head. “I knew you would. It’s all I thought about in the dark.”

“And I came.”

“You did,” you agree.

Your fingers loosen from the blanket and Din allows instinct to lead him. His hand extends, slips under yours, fingers intertwining. Your eyes are watery but there are no tears. Even if there were, Din would wipe them away.

“Why?” you whisper. “Of everyone. Why me?”

Din’s breathing is shaky as he settles himself. The truth is loud. Blaring. He needs to say it, to speak it into the ether, to know if you also feel the same. At least, in some capacity. He’ll take anything you’re willing to give him.

“You are my peace.”

You give him that sweet smile again, the one he wants to bottle up and keep forever. “Not the farming?”

Din chokes back a laugh, shaking his head. Your smile is teasing now. Kriffing hell, he wants to kiss you.

“You know what I mean,” he chastises.

“I do,” you affirm, grinning.

It is just the two of you. There is quiet. Peace.

Your free hand reaches out, fingers brushing over the beskar of his chestplate. They roam upward, pausing at the Iron Heart there.

“What do you want of me, Din?”

“You,” he says automatically. “I want you.”

Your gaze lingers where your fingers touch. It flicks upward. Holds. Though Din wears a helmet, he swears you can see behind it, peering into his very soul.

“I thought you’d pass like the rains,” you murmur, the tips of your fingers pressing lightly against the beskar. “That time would show the truth.”

“And did it?”

You nod. “You stayed. You always stayed.”

“Would you like me to stay?”

Stay. Stay here next to your bed. Stay here in this room. Stay here on Mandalore.

“You won’t leave?”

“Only if you tell me to.”

You sigh, and it’s the sweetest sound to him. “Then stay, Din. Please.”

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[dumbification]

luxurious ft. aventurine

summary: aventurine's love for you was expensive, and having your lips meet his was pure euphoria.

cw: aventurine x fem!reader, nothing much just a hot make out sesh, listen to luxurious by gwen stefani while reading

you wonder how you got here.

someone pathetic like you, sipping champagne in one of the finest hotels of penacony.

you could really never imagine living a luxurious life, you've been working night and day from the pits of hell. now you're rolling in cashmere with aventurine---he's been there.

as you take another sip from your glass, you shyly shift in his lap. he softly laughs for a minute, wishing he could see your expression right now.

your face blushed with a tinge of crimson, a bead of sweat gathering at your temple. you've never been in a private room with him, you only met at busy parties.

he presses a kiss on your nape, lingering to fan his hot breath on you. you felt butterflies flutter in your stomach. you decide to stand to lean against your mini bar for a while, to give yourself a little break. intimacy stresses you out.

"is something wrong?" he swirls his drink in his hand, and takes a sip from his champagne along with you. "not really. i'm just.."

you know he's worried, but that fake smile plastered on him always said otherwise. "just what?" he stands up as well.

in the blink of an eye, he's right in front of you, so close.. "just nervous." he gives you a look that spawns even more butterflies in your stomach.

the two of you put away your drinks when you catch him taking a glimpse at your lips. you know what he wants. you want it too. so badly.

"is my lip gloss smudged, or what?"

"don't play dumb."

he takes a step closer to hold your chin, he gently raises it to have you look at him in his eyes. they're beautiful. you thought. you feel like you could swim in them, it's like they could hypnotize you into doing whatever he wants. you would, no matter what it was.

you were so lucky to have a beauty like him.

he licks his lips as he sees your own tremble in excitement. the two of you are desperate to feel each other.

before you could finish your next thought, his lips collide with yours, and it's absolute perfection. they're so delicate. he thought of your lips, and your lips only. you can feel the butterflies fluttering somewhere far deeper.

you find your hands in his hair, gently tugging at it to encourage him to keep on going. his hands are all over you. one hand resting on your waist, and the other stroking your back, having you gasp and arch.

"tell me how it feels.." his voice was silky and melodious. you would fold when he spoke softly. your voice was his harmony, your sounds perfectly blending with his own.

aventurine wouldn't give you a break, you might as well just share breath. he ushered you to be more vocal by languidly grinding against you.

and you were vocal. extremely vocal. he knew just what to do, and knew how to make you crumble in his arms.

you were practically melting. you were drenched in arousal, longing for something more euphoric. the passion in him multiplied rapidly when he felt how soaked you were.

he pulls away to look at the mess you are. your legs barely keep your balance as you struggle to put two words together. your face burns a deep, beet red.

"someone's excited." aventurine smirks as he plants a kiss against your cheek. he effortlessly slips your red dress off and tosses it aside.

you avert your eyes in embarrassment. "a-aven, I.." now he really gets to see how excited you are. he himself burns a deep, beet red.

he's just as excited as you are. butterflies flutter around his insides, urging him to release his throbbing member from it's confinements.

but your eyes gave him a silent plea to slow down, so he listened.

something was so luxurious about your love. when your lips meet, it all turns to gold. you were his hidden treasure.

he was so lucky to have a beauty like you.

[byechristopher]

fuck'em all, but us.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST.

Author's note: Hello, little angels. I have been gone for months, but I've been wanting to write something for a while now. Excuse me for the hiatus. However, I still can not promise that I'll be consistent from now on – but i love you still. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: HELLA LONG. This is almost 3.000 words, sweet Jesus. As usual, if you know me, I like writing about dark, angsty shit. Nothing too bad, but you know, mention of fights, blood, smoking, etc.

I caught Chris staring at me again, that same cold, unreadable expression on his face. He had a cigarette between his fingers, as usual. His eyes were like ice, and whenever they landed on me, I felt a chill run down my spine. He never says anything — just watches, arms crossed, jaw clenched, as if I’ve done something to offend him without even knowing it. I don’t understand what I did to make him look at me that way, like he’s barely holding back some hidden resentment. And yet, every time I catch him watching, I can’t help but wonder what he’s really thinking.

I’ve seen him with a few other people. He’s not exactly warm with them either, but there’s something different when he talks to them, a sort of casual ease. With me, it’s like he’s built up walls — high, thick ones, and I’m just standing outside, banging on the gates. And every now and then, I think I catch a glimpse of something behind them, something vulnerable and unexpected, but it’s gone before I can be sure.

Chris was my older brother's closest friend, and he has been ever since they were little kids. No one ever got as close to him as my brother did. Whereas when it came to me, he was rather cold; I never understood why.

My thoughts were roughly interrupted by my brother's hand, which took a strand of my hair and pulled on it to annoy me.

"Ow, you fucking asshole!"

"Hey, wake the fuck up. I said me and Chris are leaving." I rolled my eyes and looked at Chris one more time, seeing that he still had that same look on his face.

Deciding to ignore it one more time, "yeah, bye. God." I said and grabbed the remote to switch on the TV.

I didn’t want to watch anything in particular; I’d just rather avoid looking at my brother’s best friend once again.

"Where the hell are you?"

A notification popped up and before I read the sender's name, I already knew it was Fred. My ex.

Of course, I ignored it, but deep down, I knew he was losing it. Ever since we broke up, he’s been acting stranger and stranger — showing up at places he knows I’ll be, sending messages that alternate between apologies and accusations. It’s like he can’t decide if he wants me back or wants to make me regret ever knowing him. I kept telling myself he’d get over it eventually, that he just needed time. But lately, his behavior had me on edge, and I began wondering if he’d ever really let go.

I’d never go back to him; that’s something I’m certain of. He crossed too many lines, left too many scars I can’t forget. But now, it’s like he’s everywhere—lurking just out of sight, always one step behind me. I feel his presence even when he’s not there, a constant, heavy reminder that he’s still watching, still obsessing.

I’ve started checking over my shoulder more often, catching myself dreading the sound of my phone vibrating with yet another message from him. I tell myself it’s just paranoia, that he’s all talk and no real threat. But some small part of me can’t shake the fear that this time, he might actually be out of control.

And I was right to be cautious. Because he finally crossed the line I’d been hoping he’d stay behind. When I got home, my stomach twisted as I saw it; my car, with its tires slashed and a deep scratch running along the side. It was unmistakably his work; I’d ignored his messages, blocked his number, and now he was trying to force my attention.

My hands shook as I took in the damage, a mix of anger and dread flooding through me. How could he stoop this low? He knew that car was everything to me, the one thing I’d saved for and bought on my own. The memories of late nights spent driving to clear my head, the freedom it gave me — he’d tainted all of it in a single, desperate act. I wanted to scream, to call him and let him know just how furious I was. But I knew that’s exactly what he wanted.

He wanted a reaction, wanted me to feel trapped and afraid, wanted to pull me back into his twisted little game. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I took a deep breath, locked my jaw, and stared at my car.

"What.. the fuck is that?" My brother's voice echoed in my ears and I turned around to see that he was with Chris.

"Fred. Fucking Fred." I screamed, not able to contain my anger.

"That bastard.. I will fucking kill him." He said and got closer to the car to see the damage, "calm down" was what Chris said to him.

Chris looked shocked and angry, he walked towards me, "this motherfucker lives nearby?"

"Yeah… just a few blocks away." I sat down on the ground, pulling my legs to my chest and hugging them tightly. I looked up at Chris, my voice trembling, "that was my fucking car..." a tear slipped down my cheek, and in that moment, I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness.

Chris clenched his jaw, and I felt a rush of warmth as his hand reached down to cup my cheek. His touch was soft, gentle, and completely disarming. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had held me like that, with such tenderness. He looked down at me with a promising expression, his eyes filled with determination. “I’ll see what I can do about your car. I might have a friend who can fix it.”

His thumb brushed softly against my skin, and I felt a flutter in my stomach, a strange mix of comfort and something deeper. The way he touched me sent a shiver down my spine, pulling me out of my anger for just a moment. In such a chaotic moment, I couldn’t help but think it was nice seeing him like this for once. I stayed silent and leaned into his hand, seeking that warmth, desperate for a distraction from the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me.

I was rather quiet the following days – I didn't want to go out of the house much. Not because this asshole scared me with what he did, but because that car meant a lot to me. Me and my brother lived by ourselves, and that car was the only thing I could call my own. Fred would pay and I'd make sure of that.

I was alone in my room getting ready for work, trying to drown out the chaos of the previous days when I heard the front door slam shut. My heart raced with curiosity and unease. Just as I was about to head downstairs, my brother’s voice boomed through the house, cutting through the silence, “what the hell happened to you?”

I sprang to my feet, instinctively rushing toward the sound of the voices. As I reached the living room, I froze at the sight before me. Chris was leaning against the wall, blood dripping from a cut on his eyebrow and cheek, and staining his shirt. My brother stood in front of him, fists clenched, a mixture of concern and fury etched across his face.

“Chris, what the actual fuck!” my brother exclaimed, his voice a mix of anger and worry. Chris turned his gaze toward me, and in that moment, everything else faded. Despite the blood and bruises, there was a softness in his eyes that held me captive, a silent plea that made my heart race.

“I’m fine,” Chris replied, though his voice was strained. He shifted slightly, not even a single emotion of fear, or pain, nothing. If anything, he had a pleased expression on his face, I could almost make out a smile. My brother continued to glare at him, demanding answers, but Chris seemed unwilling to give them to him.

“What happened?” I asked, stepping closer, my heart pounding. Chris’s gaze flickered back to my brother, and for a brief moment, I felt a wave of unease wash over me. I could sense that whatever had happened involved more than just a simple altercation, and the tension in the air was thick with unspoken words.

"Nothing happened. I just shouldn't have gone to Mike's. There was another fight and I got involved." My brother seemed to know what he was talking about, because his whole body language changed, softened.

"I told you, asshole. You should never go to Mike's. This bar is a shithole." He went off to the kitchen, probably going to grab something to clean the blood.

I walked closer to Chris, my sweaty fingers digging into my leather bag. I reached out hesitantly, my fingers trembling as I brushed against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin contrasted by the coolness of the blood that trickled down from the cut above his eyebrow.

“Chris,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath, my heart racing. “Does it hurt a lot?” My fingertips lingered on his skin, tracing the line of the wound as if I could somehow erase the pain with my touch. His eyes locked onto mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them — vulnerability, frustration, and a glimmer of something deeper that sent shivers down my spine.

He winced slightly at my touch but didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into my hand, a subtle gesture that felt almost intimate in the tense air between us.

“Not much.” he said, his voice low and rough, but it was the way he looked at me that stole my breath. There was a rawness in his gaze, as if he was baring a part of himself that he’d kept hidden, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, my thumb brushing lightly over his jawline, searching his eyes for reassurance. The moment felt suspended in time, a fragile bubble where nothing else mattered but the two of us. His expression softened, and I could see the flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain.

“I will be,” he replied, his gaze steady and unwavering, filled with a mixture of gratitude and something that felt like longing. It was as if, in that brief exchange, we shared an unspoken promise — a connection that transcended the chaos around us. My heart raced, and for the first time since the chaos began, I felt a sense of calm in the storm.

Having to go to work and leave him like this pained me, but I had to go, "I have to go to work.." I explained.

"Mhm. D'you want me to take you to work?" He said and I sighed.

"No. Of course not. Stay here, with my brother. I'll see you.. later." I nodded my head and said goodbye one last time before leaving.

The night air was cool against my skin as I walked home from work, each step feeling heavier than the last. The streetlights cast a faint glow on the pavement, illuminating the shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly in the darkness. My thoughts were consumed by what had happened — I couldn’t shake the image of him standing there, bloodied yet resilient, leaning into my touch.

My heart raced at the memory, but alongside it was a gnawing concern. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into? It was like him to end up in trouble, but I'd never actually see him like this.

As I approached my apartment, a sudden impulse gripped me. I didn’t want to go home and drown in my thoughts; I wanted to see Chris again. I needed to know he was okay, to check on him in a way that felt more personal than just a casual conversation. With each step toward his place, a mix of anxiety and anticipation bubbled within me.

I turned the corner, the familiar path leading me to his apartment building. The windows were dimly lit, casting a warm glow that made me feel a little lighter despite the weight of everything else. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I was overstepping or if he’d even want to see me after everything that had happened. But the thought of him alone, nursing his wounds and possibly replaying the day in his mind, pushed me forward.

I climbed the stairs, my heart pounding louder with each step. When I reached his door, I raised my hand and knocked softly, the sound echoing in the silence of the hallway. What if he wasn’t ready to see me? But as I waited, I couldn’t help but hope that he’d open the door, that he’d let me in — not just to his apartment, but to whatever was going on in his life.

"What.. are you doing here?" He furrowed his eyebrows, a little band-aid covering the wound on his eyebrow now, a cigarette between his lips.

"Sorry, Chris.. I couldn't.. stop thinking about you. I mean.. what happened to you.. today." I was nervous, I couldn't quite understand why.

He cleared his throat and stepped aside to let me in, and of course, I wasted no time. I sat down on his couch and he sat down beside me. So many years of knowing him, and I've never actually been inside his house, so I took a quick look around, trying to take in everything I could.

"I'm fine. I told you." He insisted and sipped from his beer that was on the coffee table, his cigarette nearly done now.

"Your cheek is swollen, you didn't even bother putting some ice on it. Geez." I huffed and got up to go to the kitchen, opening the freezer and wrapping some ice cubes in a towel.

I walked back to him and sat closer to him, cupping his cheek and gently pressing the ice on his other cheek. Only then did I realise how close we were, I could feel his breath fanning over my lips, his dark blue eyes staring into mine.

"My fiend. Zack. He will help you with the car." He whispered and I whispered back, "thank you.. so much."

The sight of him so vulnerable, the blood still seeping from the cut and the way he tried to mask the pain, made something deep within me stir. I forgot about everything else — the fight, the worry, the uncertainty of where we stood. All I could focus on was him and the way he looked at me, those fierce eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and something more that made my pulse quicken.

I could see the way he held back a flinch, how he tried to remain stoic despite the pain. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, a flush of desire that surprised me. I wanted to kiss him, to close the distance between us and erase the hurt with something softer, something intimate.

As I leaned closer, his gaze flickered to mine, and in that moment, everything else faded away.

“Chris,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, as I hesitated just inches from his face. I could sense that he was just as caught up in the moment as I was, his eyes darkening with something that mirrored my own feelings.

Then, before I could overthink it, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips against his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if we were both afraid of what this moment meant. But as I felt him respond, his hand gently cupping my neck, deepening the kiss, I knew I had crossed a line that I never wanted to return from.

The kiss was hungry, needy. I needed to catch my breath. As we pulled away for a breath, my heart raced, and I felt a rush of conflicting emotions, “this is so wrong..” I whispered, my forehead resting against his.

“I know,” Chris replied, his voice thick with desire. He searched my eyes, a mix of guilt and longing swirling between us, "I cant stop now.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” I breathed, feeling the warmth of his body so close. Yet I leaned in again, capturing his lips with mine once more.

He pulled back slightly, looking conflicted, “what if your brother finds out?”

“I don’t.. care right now,” I admitted, my hands threading through his hair as I kissed him again, the heat of the moment overwhelming any reservations I had, “I just want to be here with you.”

“I shouldn’t want this,” he murmured against my lips, his breath mingling with mine, “but I do.”

“Me too,” I confessed, pulling him closer, lost in the moment, “I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t,” he whispered, his eyes darkening with intensity, “don't think about anything else.”

With that, we dove back into the kiss, the world outside fading as we lost ourselves in each other.

As I left Chris's apartment that night, a rush of exhilaration filled me, and I realised that the unexpected had happened; my ex hadn’t reached out at all since the incident with the car. And for the first time in weeks, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.

A few days later, while I was passing by my brother's room, I heard him talking on the phone. Curiosity piqued, I paused outside the door, trying to listen in.

“I can’t believe you did that, man,” my brother said, his tone a mix of disbelief and admiration, “how did you even find his place?”

“This bitch peed his pants when he saw me.” Chris replied, his voice low but amused, “it wasn't that hard, just had to ask around.”

Something shifted inside of me, realizing that Chris had taken matters into his own hands.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that, I was planning on destroying his car instead", my brother said.

“But I wanted to,” Chris replied firmly, and I could hear him chuckle at what my brother said next.

I stepped back, my heart racing. So, it was Chris who had put an end to my ex’s harassment. I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through me. I knew then that my feelings for Chris were deeper than I had allowed myself to acknowledge, and knowing he had my back made me feel safer than ever.

I found myself running back to his apartment again, right then and there, running up the stairs of his building as if someone was chasing me. I knocked on the door, loud enough for him to open it quickly, worry written in his eyes.

"What–"

And this time I didn't let him finish. With tears in my eyes, I pressed my lips against his and lost myself in his arms.

⠀

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[lemoncrushh]

This Is Me You're Talking To

Summary: You and Harry are divorced, but you both still have feelings for each other.

Warnings: Divorce, smut (sex with the ex), angst, lots of feelings

Word count: 3924

A/N: Written in 2016. Inspired by the song of the same name by Trisha Yearwood. Obviously, this isn't for everyone, but it's very personal to me and one of my favorite things I've written. Please be kind.

Hate is a strong word. At one time you might have felt like you hated him. But it had been a year now since the divorce and you'd both moved on. You'd resolved that you just weren't meant to be together and were never really on the same page. In the beginning of the relationship, you'd convinced yourself that you were okay with his busy lifestyle and the fact that your time together was limited. But after five years of marriage and two kids, you'd come to resent him for that exact fact, and you finally agreed it was time to separate.

Two months ago, you were out with friends for a long overdue girls' night out, the kids staying the night with your mother. You hadn't expected to run into Harry. You saw him regularly when you would drop the kids off for their time with him, but other than discussing their needs, you didn't speak to him very much. It just wasn't necessary. Knowing what he was doing with his personal life was no longer your business and frankly you didn't care.

So, when you were about to make your way to the bar behind your friends, you stopped in your tracks when you saw Harry slipping his arm off the back of a beautiful brunette. One of your friends twirled around to give you a wide stare, the other muttering "oh shit" and asking if you were okay. You rolled your eyes and assured them you were fine before continuing to the bar.

After ordering your cocktail, you caught a glimpse of Harry looking your way out of the corner of your eye. Quickly turning back to the bartender, you gave him a smile and a healthy tip when he handed you your glass.

"Y/N," you suddenly heard in an all too familiar voice.

"Hi, Harry," you sighed, barely looking at him.

"Out with some friends?" he asked with a weak smile. You knew that smile. You knew all of his smiles, actually, and what each one meant. This was his nervous smile.

"Yeah," you replied emotionlessly before taking a sip from your straw.

"You look amazing," he commented, stepping closer to you.

You shut your eyes for a moment, telling yourself his words didn't mean a thing. "Thanks," you said, eyeing one of your friends in hopes that she was ready to move to a table.

"How are the kids?"

"Fine," you nodded. "They're at my mom's."

"Good. I'm looking forward to seeing them next weekend."

You continued to nod, having nothing to add.

"How've you been?" Harry inquired.

"I-"

"Baby..." you heard a female voice from behind Harry. You saw her painted nails on his shoulder before you saw her face. "Let's go sit over there."

"Love, this is Y/N," said Harry, gesturing toward you. "Y/N, this is Sharla."

It took all you had not to quirk a brow, but instead you extended your hand, shaking the other woman's.

"Lovely to meet you," you smiled with pursed lips.

"You too," she said nonchalantly before releasing her hand from your grip and placing it on Harry's bicep.

"Well, I guess I'll...see you..." Harry grinned shyly.

"Yep," you nodded once more.

"Good for you," you suddenly heard behind you as Harry and the brunette walked away.

"I'm proud of you, Y/N," your other friend said as she wrapped her arm around your neck.

You let out a breath. "Gotta admit," you muttered, "that was harder than just seeing him when I drop the kids off."

"Well of course it was. Is that the first woman he's dated since you?"

"I have no idea," you replied, turning around. "But that's the first time I've met one."

"C'mon hon," bestie number one looped arms with you. "We're gonna find you another man."

You chuckled as you walked with your friends to the other side of the room.

"What the fuck kind of a name is Sharla?"

"Desiree had a little cold this week," you explained as you handed your two-year-old to Harry's open arms. "She seems okay now, but I put some medicine in the bag in case you need it."

"Alright," nodded Harry before turning to his daughter. "You feeling better now, Desi?"

Desiree beamed her angelic smile. "Better."

Harry gave her his mini version of a fist bump before giving her a kiss on her forehead. "Wanna watch TV with your brother?" Bringing the little girl into the living room, he set her on the sofa next to her four-year-old brother.

"Cameron, get your shoes off the couch, please," you instructed.

The little boy kicked his shoes onto the floor without prying his eyes from the cartoon he was watching. Crossing your arms, you turned to Harry.

"Something smells good," you commented.

Harry grinned. "Thought I'd make some spaghetti."

"Look at you," you quipped. Then you gazed around the room. "Where's Sharla?"

Sharla had been at Harry's the last two times you'd dropped the kids off. Though she'd been pleasant enough, you could feel her eyes throwing daggers at you the entire fifteen minutes you were there.

"Um...dunno," replied Harry with a shrug.

"She was busy?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "We broke up."

"Oh," you said softly. "I'm sorry."

Harry raised his brows and quickly looked away. "Yeah."

Biting your lip, you watched Harry turn for the kitchen where he stirred the contents of a large pot.

"Well, I guess I'll be going," you muttered.

"You um..." Harry stumbled, "wanna stay? For dinner?"

"Oh, I don't-"

Your words were quickly interrupted by the buzz of a timer.

"Damn, forgot about the garlic bread." Harry hastily opened the oven door and grabbed the baking sheet, not bothering to put an oven mitt on.

"Shit, bloody he-"

"Harry!" you exclaimed, just as he dropped the baking sheet on the counter.

"Sorry," he said, thinking you were upset at his cursing in front of the children.

"What do you think you're doing?" you scoffed.

You grabbed his hand and pulled it to the sink, running cold water over it. You could hear Harry's heavy breaths as he stood next to you, his chest heaving.

"You can't just grab something out of the oven without gloves, Harry," you scolded.

"I know," he mumbled. "I was..."

You lifted your eyes to him, his pouty lips partially open as heavy breaths continued to puff out.

"You were what?" you inquired.

"Distracted."

Exhaling slowly through your nose, you averted your gaze and returned to the task at hand.

"Looks okay," you cleared your throat, turning off the water. "Doesn't seem to be burned too bad. But you might wanna put some ice on it."

"Thanks," Harry said so low that you barely heard it.

Reaching in the freezer for an ice pack, Harry turned his back to you as you dried your hands on a dish towel.

"Daddy!" squealed Cameron as he came trotting into the kitchen. "Are we having pasketti?"

"We are, little man," Harry confirmed.

Cameron danced to the table, taking his seat without being told. Walking over to him, you kissed him on the cheek.

"Goodnight, baby, Mommy's going." Giving him a hug, you walked past Harry to kiss your little girl goodbye.

"You sure you don't wanna stay?" you heard Harry ask.

Lifting Desiree in your arms and propping her on your hip, you returned to the kitchen. "I don't know..."

"There's plenty of food," Harry gestured toward the pot. "Way more than we'll eat."

"It does smell good," you hesitated.

Harry gave you a smile. This was different than his nervous smile from earlier. This was his 'c'mon, you know you want to' smile. Stepping up to the stove, he grabbed the wooden spoon he'd been stirring the sauce with, bringing it over to you, his hand underneath to catch any drops.

"Give it a taste," he said.

You let him gently lift the spoon to your mouth as you tasted the delicious Italian seasonings.

"What do you think?" he asked.

You swallowed. "I think I'm staying for dinner."

Harry continued to smile as you walked over to the table and set Desiree in her high chair. Harry got a bowl ready for Cameron and set it in front of the patiently waiting boy. Then he did the same for Desi, giving both children a sippy cup of juice. You sat next to your daughter as you watched her starting to make a mess.

"Desi, you're gonna get more on your tray than in your mouth," you chuckled.

"She likes it that way," joked Harry.

You couldn't help but beam at him as he laid a plate of spaghetti and garlic bread in front of you, another plate for himself next to you. Returning to the kitchen once again, he uncorked a bottle of wine and poured two glasses.

"Cheers," he said when he handed a glass to you and sat down. You clinked glasses and took a sip.

"Oh that's the good stuff," you commented.

Harry winked. "You noticed."

Early in your relationship you'd confessed to Harry that you had a weakness for red wine. One night he surprised you with an expensive bottle that knocked your socks off. After that, he always made it a point to get it again for special occasions.

"What did you get this for?" you inquired.

"No real reason," Harry shrugged.

You eyed him as he took another sip and set his glass down, digging his fork into his spaghetti. Raising a brow, he looked at you out of the corner of his eye until you quickly picked up your own fork.

The four of you had a pleasant dinner. For some reason it didn't feel odd or uncomfortable. It felt like old times, although your kids were a year older.

After the meal, you helped clean up, wiping Desiree's face and setting her down to let her run back to the living room. Just as you were cleaning off the table and Harry had put the leftovers in the fridge, you turned around to find him pouring more wine.

"I hope you're not pouring that for me," you scoffed.

"Why not? You always used to drink two glasses. Sometimes three."

"That's when I didn't have to drive home," you rolled your eyes.

"Who said you have to now?" Harry asked before taking a sip from his glass.

You narrowed your eyes. "Harry."

"Wha'?" he sounded.

Shaking your head, you were about to reach for your purse that you'd left on the counter when Desiree emerged from the living room and took your hand.

"Mommy!" she said with excitement.

"What baby?" you asked her.

"Sit wiv meee," she replied, tugging on your fingers with her tiny hands. You followed her lead into the living room where she pointed to the sofa and demanded for you to sit. When you obliged, she climbed into your lap. Looking up, you saw Harry with a massive grin on his face. Then he crossed to the room to Cameron's other side and sat down beside him.

"What are we watching?" you whispered in Desiree's ear.

"Pooh bear!" she answered.

You and Harry sat through the rest of Winnie The Pooh and half of some other program that came on after it until you realized both kids were asleep. With delicate precision, you rose from the sofa with your baby girl in your arms, and Harry scooped up a sleeping Cameron. He followed you down the hall until you stopped at Desi's room and laid her down in her bed. Pulling the covers over her and pushing her hair back from her face, you kissed her temple. Then you met Harry in the hallway and traded places, giving Cameron a goodnight kiss. Shutting their doors, your eyes met Harry's and you gave him a tight-lipped smile before heading to the bathroom. When you came back out, he was standing in the kitchen again.

"Thanks for the dinner," you said softly. "It was nice. You know, to be with the kids and put them to bed."

"Yeah, usually I have to read them at least two stories each," he smiled. "Just something about their mum, I suppose."

You blinked, lowering your gaze. "Well anyway, thanks. I'll come pick 'em up Sunday."

"Wait..." he insisted when you turned for the door. "You're not gonna finish your wine?"

You twirled back around, the full glass of wine still sitting on the counter. "Um..."

"It's your favorite," said Harry, lifting the glass. "It'd be a shame to waste it."

"Harry," you shook your head, "what are you doing?"

He shrugged. "Wha'? I'm not doing anything. I just thought you'd like to have your wine. Just because we're divorced doesn't mean we can't be in the same room, does it?"

Licking your lips, you dropped your bag and keys on the counter again. He was right. It wasn't like it meant anything. You could be civil. "Okay."

Taking the glass from him, you followed him into the living room and sat on the couch.

"How's work?" he asked you.

"Ppppffff" you sounded, nearly spitting out your wine.

"Was that not a good question to ask?"

"You wanna talk about my job?" you rolled your eyes.

"I just wanna know how you're doing, Y/N," Harry remarked. "I know you don't believe it, but I do still care."

You sighed, sitting back in your seat. "It's fine. Work is good. No major complaints."

"Good," Harry nodded, "I'm glad."

His eyes seemed to be burning into yours so you had to look away, taking another sip of wine.

"Have you been seeing anyone?" you heard him ask and you flinched.

"Why?"

"I just wondered. You deserve to be happy, Y/N."

You huffed and shook your head.

"What did I say?" he looked taken back.

"Sorry, I just don't get out as much as Harry Styles. I don't have the opposite sex throwing themselves at my feet. Or the same sex, for that matter."

"Y/N..."

"What happened with Sharla?" you asked, rolling your eyes again as you pronounced her name.

Harry let out a low, short chuckle. "Sharla...was...not for me."

"But she seemed so perfect for you, Harry," you teased.

He narrowed his eyes. "No, she wasn't. Far from it."

Your expression softening, you tilted your head. "So what did happen?"

"She didn't want to be with someone who had kids," he swallowed. "Simple as that."

"I'm sorry," you muttered.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "It's alright. There were other things too, but that was sort of the deal breaker."

"What other things?" you asked curiously.

Harry looked at you and puckered his lips in thought, no doubt trying to decide whether he wanted to divulge this information.

"She wasn't very bright," he stated matter-of-factly.

You let out a giggle, covering your mouth with your hand.

"She once asked me what country Alaska was in."

"Oh my god," you laughed harder.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I know. That shoulda been a red flag."

"Poor thing," you said.

"Who? Her or me?"

You threw your head back laughing some more until you realized you should keep your voice down since the children were sleeping. You finished the rest of your wine in one large gulp, setting the glass on the coffee table. It was then that Harry got up from his seat and walked to the kitchen, returning with the wine bottle.

"Harry!" you exclaimed when he started pouring into your glass.

"Not much left," he insisted. "We need to finish it."

With a scoff, you took the glass. You figured you might as well. You were already feeling tipsy, so it wasn't like you'd be driving right then anyway. Besides, as much as you wanted to deny it, you were feeling comfortable with Harry for the first time in over a year. Maybe it didn't have to mean anything. It was just...nice.

"Oh hey, I wanted to show you something," Harry finally said after you'd been sitting in silence for a few moments. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he swiped the screen until he stopped on something that made him smile. "Here."

You took the phone from him and noticed it was a video. Pressing the screen, it came to life. In the center was Cameron sitting on the floor, a toy drum between his legs. You could hear the sound of a guitar strumming in the background and a voice singing, no doubt Harry's. As soon as Cameron started banging on the drum, little Desiree showed up in the screen, doing her best to dance to the mixed rhythms. You watched the video in awe, smiling from ear to ear. By the end, you were all choked up.

"That was great," you commented, handing the phone back to Harry. You sniffed and wiped your eyes.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

You nodded. "I loved that. You're..."

As your voice trailed off, you felt Harry shift on the sofa, sliding closer to you.

"What was that, love?"

"You're such a great father," you declared. "They love you so much."

"I love them, too."

"When did you take that?" you asked.

"Bout a month ago," he replied. "I kept meaning to show you, but forgot."

You nodded silently. Looking into Harry's eyes at that moment, you felt a sudden wave rush over you, like you were being pulled under. It was like the feeling you used to get with him, when things were good. As you lifted your glass to take another sip, Harry reached for it, stopping you. Taking it from your hand, you watched him set it on the coffee table. Then scooting even closer to you, he slid his hand under your ear. When he tilted his head to kiss you, you didn't stop him. You'd known it was coming, it was one of his signature moves. But you allowed his lips to press against yours. Even when he continued with the kiss, slipping his tongue inside, you didn't stop him. Instead, you allowed your body to come alive, urging him to keep going.

Dragging his lips down your neck, he felt him hum against your skin. His hands encircled your waist, the pads of his fingers traveling up your back as your own hands got tangled in his hair.

"Harry..." you finally sounded, not really sure how you planned to end that sentence.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice low and raspy in your ear.

"What?"

"Tell me you want me," he finished. "Just like you used to. I need to hear it again."

You swallowed hard, not immediately fulfilling his request. When he lifted his head to look at you, his emerald eyes looked dark and full of fire.

"Tell me, baby," he repeated.

"I want you, Harry," you admitted. "I want you to make love to me."

With a nod, Harry kissed you passionately before rising from the couch and reaching his hand out for you to take. You followed him into the bedroom where he kissed you again, lifting the hem of your shirt until it was over your head and dropped on the floor. You fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and removed it, adding it to the pile. You wasted no time removing your jeans and underwear before you lied down on the bed.

As Harry hovered over you, warnings began to go off in your head. It had been so long. Your body missed his so much it ached. But your head was telling you this might not be a good idea.

When his lips met yours again, however, your body won out. You were so thirsty for him, you knew you had to have him, even if it was wrong.

Neither of you said a word. Your actions and your eyes spoke everything. With heavy eyelids, slid down your body, licking and sucking your nipples the way you liked. Everything he did was the way you liked. He knew your body better than anyone had or ever could.

When he made his way between your legs, you gasped and closed your eyes. His hands on your thighs, he nipped at your clit before sliding his tongue up your slit. He worked his magic, moving in circles, slowly at first before picking up speed. You grasped at the sheets beneath you as you felt yourself reach the edge, your toes curling.

"Oh my god," you finally sounded, a low deep moan rising in your throat as you felt the orgasm rip through you.

It wasn't until you were coming down, catching your breath, that you took in your surroundings and realization hit you. This wasn't your husband. He hadn't been for a long time. You had moved on a while ago. Yet, here you were in his bed.

Kissing your inner thighs, Harry lifted his head and returned to hovering over you. You legs trembled from the aftermath as he gave you a lopsided grin.

Harry didn't ask if you were ready for him. In all your time together, he just always knew. He didn't need to ask. You were always ready for him. Your body craved him. Swiping his hand up your wetness, he used it to lubricate his erection before entering you. He thrust a few times before you turned your head to stare at the wall. You weren't sure why, but you could feel the tears coming. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, you told yourself.

Grabbing hold of your thigh with one hand, his other next to your head, Harry moved in and out at a steady rhythm until he finally slowed to a stop.

"Look at me," he breathed.

Your head still turned to the pillow, you fought back the tears.

"Please," he begged. "I'm inside you baby, you can't look at me?"

Your chest shook with sobs as you finally lifted your eyes to look into his. Although they were dry, they revealed the same feelings and emotions as yours.

"I love you, Y/N," he declared. "I never stopped."

As another tear trickled down your cheek, you lifted your hand to touch Harry's face.

"You still love me too, don't you?" he asked.

Biting your lip, you nodded. Harry leaned his forehead against yours.

"Then what are we doing? We should be together."

A tiny sound rose from your throat as you threaded your fingers through his hair. Lifting his head slightly, Harry looked at you.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," you heard yourself agree, making Harry smile.

"God, I've missed you," he groaned, his hips slowly pumping once more. "So much."

"I missed you too," you admitted, your eyelids fluttering from the sensation.

"Feels so good."

You nodded again. You couldn't deny it. He felt incredible. He'd always been the best, the only one who could make you feel this way. So loved, so desired, so wanted.

You came together within minutes, panting with clumsy kisses. Afterwards, Harry turned out the light and pulled the covers over you. He didn't have to ask you to stay the night. Once again, he knew. He always knew.

As you lay there in the darkness, you wondered what this meant for the future, for your family. Maybe you didn't need to decide right away. Maybe you could start over, take it step by step. But one thing was certain. Wrapped up in Harry's arms was like home. And that's where you wanted to be.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

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[meangirls-imagines]

Regina's Protector

WARNINGS: none, fluff, a lil violence (you slap cady), protective reader

cady heron.

the bane of y/n y/l/n's existence. 

you see, y/n had a reputation for being nice and friendly to everyone at north shore. that's why she balanced her girlfriend regina out so well. regina was the fire and y/n was the ice. the two had started dating early in their freshman year and quickly became the school's power couple.

the two were very protective of each other, regina lashing out more than y/n most of the time, but there had been a few of times that everyone witnessed just how protective y/n can be. (just ask shane or aaron or jake). 

enter cady heron. the new girl of junior year. this is where things take a turn.

y/n had a bad feeling about the redhead the first time she met her. especially when she caught a glimpse of her hanging out with janis. the bad feeling increased the first day they were in class together and cady began staring at her with heart eyes.

regina knew y/n wouldn't cheat on her. they were obsessed with each other, but the more cady hang out with their group, the more she noticed cady staring at her girlfriend. maybe y/n was right about this bad feeling about the girl. but, regina couldn't jump to conclusions just yet, she wanted to wait it out.

well, waiting it out was an awful idea on regina's part. 

shit went downhill very, very quickly. 

after cady continued to send heart eyes to y/n, regina had enough and became extra possessive of her girlfriend. cady wasn't backing down however, becoming more of a bitch as the days went on. she began to say sly remarks to y/n about regina, like how she was only with y/n for popularity and status. 

then the comments got bitchier. 

"you know, i thought i saw regina getting a little too close to shane again, you might wanna check your girlfriend, y/n."

"i heard regina is going around gloating about how she's only using you for sex."

y/n was a very small strike away from snapping. she knew the comments were affecting regina more than she let on and the fact that cady continued to make them, pissed y/n off to another degree. the day that y/n snapped, no one was expecting it.

y/n's friend chris was throwing a party at his house so her and regina were going together. it was a pool party so regina made sure to pick y/n's favorite of her bikinis to show off to her girlfriend. when they got to the party, they found karen, gretchen, and unfortunately cady. y/n set off to get her and regina drinks, kissing the girl softly before beginning her search.

after getting herself a beer and regina something fruity, she turned and saw cady looking at her, biting her lip. "can i help you with something cady?" the redhead shook her head. "just wanted to talk. you look really hot y/n." 

y/n rolled her eyes and set back to find her girlfriend. cady followed after the girl. "why are you with regina? you could do so much better than her." y/n stopped in her tracks, turning to cady. "excuse me?" cady shrugged. "i mean, you could go for someone skinnier, i see regina has put on a few extra pounds lately."

the next few seconds happened very quickly.

the drinks were dropped and y/n slapped cady right across the face. she began to spew off insults at the redhead. luckily, chris was near by and pulled y/n away before more damage could be done.

kicking cady out, he led y/n back to where the plastics were sunbathing, explaining what happened while making y/n sit on regina's sun lounger. the blonde immediately pulled y/n closer to her, rubbing her back in an effort to calm her down. 

karen and gretchen joined in on the hug, y/n smiling at the two. chris walked off, allowing the girls to have some privacy. 

regina and y/n decided to leave shortly after, regina wanting to get y/n to destress. karen and gretchen hugged the two, promising to be over later and the couple left.

once back at regina's house, the blonde changed into comfier clothes, pulling some out for y/n. the girl took them, pecked regina on the lips and went to change. the two laid in bed, netflix playing gently in the background. regina leaned up to kiss y/n's cheek.

"thank you for standing up for me baby. i appreciate it." y/n kissed the blonde's forehead, rubbing her arm. "of course baby. i wasn't going to let her talk about you like that." regina smiled and softly kissed y/n. "i'm so glad i have you baby." y/n smiled. "well, you'll have me for a very long time then baby. i don't plan on going anywhere."

regina smirked. "good. i intend on keeping you forever." 

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: Who knew you could find a lot more than a basketball game at The Garden.

Warnings: Swearing, heavy flirting, mostly fluff

Word Count: 2.4k | unedited

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“We should probably go find our seats.” You nudge Laura, “I think the game is about to start.”

“We have time, relax.” Laura laughs, “Have you ever been to a basketball game like this before?”

You shake your head, looking around, “No, the only basketball game I’ve been to was my high school team, who absolutely sucked.”

“Well, the Celtics don’t suck.” She looks at you, “That’s who you’re rooting for, right?”

“Well yeah, obviously.” You shake your head and pull your phone out of your pocket. You snap a picture of the court, tagging the team before posting it to your Instagram story.

“Alright. I’ll catch you guys later.” Laura turns around, “I’m so glad you got offered courtside seats.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how. They just dm’d me asking if I wanted to come, I figured it would be fun and I know you like them so.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

You laugh, “That’s okay. I’ll just settle on you buying me dinner afterwards.”

“Oh that’s a good deal.” She glances back at you as she walks towards the steps. You follow her down and find your seats at the end of the court.

You look around, feeling kind of underdressed at some of the other girls are dressed up, heels and all.

“Stop that. You’re good.” Laura nudges you, “You dressed perfect.” You furrow your brows, “How do you know when I do that?”

“I know you.” She smirks, “A little too well, at that.”

“It’s kind of scary.” You laugh, turning your attention back to the court.

Halfway through the first quarter, you pull out your phone, snapping a picture of your jeans, sneakers, and the game that’s going on.

Taking a video and adding it too while you’re at it.

You’re an influencer at a popular basketball game, might as well give them the publicity you think they invited you for, right?

“This is actually quite entertaining.” You lean in to Laura, booing when the crowd boos. You were getting into it.

You bring your phone up, smirking as you see an Instagram notification - Christopher Sturniolo replied to your story.

You angle your phone, smirking at Laura, “Look who just-“

“Girl, you better get on that.” She nods, “What did he say?”

You tap on it, biting your lip as it opens into the thread, if you look closely I’m in the background of that video.

You click on the story and rewatch it, smirking when you see a quick glimpse of Chris. You swipe out and type back, Look at that, you are. Enjoying the game so far?

As you stare down at your phone, Laura nudges you and you look over at her, then to the direction she’s pointing.

A smile washes over your lips as you see Chris, Nate, and Matt on the Jumbotron.

You watch as they all smile and wave and then sure enough, your face is on it. It rapidly changes to a smile, to a shocked expression, then to a happy expression as you and Laura both wave.

“Oh my god that was embarrassing.” You mumble as you sink down into your chair, “I didn’t expect that.”

“We’re beautiful women sitting courtside at a Celtics game, what did you expect, y/n?” Laura laughs and cheers as Nick and Mikayla appear on the screen.

You clap and yell before returning your attention back to your phone, reading Chris’ message, I am, you?

You tap the screen, tilting your head slightly, It’s definitely something new. I’ve never been to one of these games before, but it’s exciting. Go Celtics!🍀

“Oh my god.” You lay your hand over your face, “I’m so stupid. You would think, just by how this conversation was going, I never spoke to this man before in my life.”

Laura turns your phone towards her and she can’t help but giggle, “Noo! That was cute!” You roll your eyes at her and look up at the game that has restarted.

You couldn’t help but find yourself looking for Chris through the moving bodies on the court. It’s not that you and Chris have history, per se.. it’s more or less feelings that neither of you have displayed for one another, yet.

You’ve done a video with them before, and you’ve stayed friends with all of them afterwards, and surprise, you’re more close with Chris than the other two.

You look down at your phone as it vibrates and you can’t help but smile as you click on Chris’ message, Atta girl, but we gotta get you to some more games. You’re from Boston for Christ sake lol.

You smirk as you answer back, Is that you offering to buy my ticket? Because if so, count me in.

“Was that.. too straight forward?” You look at Laura and she shakes her head, “You know what you want, and I say you just better go for it.”

You chew on your cheek, the smirk returning to your lips as you watch the chat bubbles bob up and down before his message comes through, I’ll take you to every one of their games if you don’t mind traveling.

“Oh he is so into you.” Laura mumbles with a smirk, “Ask him to go to dinner afterwards, it can be as a group or whatever so it’s not awkward.”

“I will, just.. give me a second.” You go back to typing out your response, If you think I’d have an issue with traveling, then you clearly don’t know me at all lol

You weren’t even interested in the game anymore, you were more interested into talking to Chris.

Chris responds, there’s another game here on the 12th, I can get us tickets right now. Or the 13th at the Barclays Center in Brooklyn.

You take a deep breath, Why not both? I can get the Brooklyn ones if you want?

You hit send and you bounce your leg, trying to keep your heart from racing out of your chest. You glance over the court, seeing Matt and Nate pick on him for smiling so hard.

“How’s it going?” Laura asks and you shrug, “May have just planned out one if not two dates.”

“look at you go, girl.” She smirks at you and your phone vibrates, sending an excited chill up your spine. He sends a screenshot of the gotten tickets and you smile as you shake your head, Looks like it’s a date, or dates? I don’t know, but I’m excited to understand the world of basketball better.

You look around, clapping when the fans wearing Celtic clothing clap. Your attention is ripped from the game instantly as soon as you feel the vibration, hell it wasn’t even on it anyway, Well, since we finally scheduled a date, I guess it’s safe for me to say you look gorgeous tonight.

You purse your lips as your cheeks heat up, It was safe before, way before lol, but thank you. You look good in green, it almost makes up for the shots you took earlier.

You and Chris are always teasing each other, so it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for one of you to start picking.

You look up, watching him cover his face as he laughs, turning to tell Nate and Matt, what you assume is what you said you saw.

Ohh fuck, you saw that? Now it’s even more embarrassing.

You can’t help but giggle, You were under a lot of pressure, we know lmao.

It’s almost like Chris wasn’t interested in the game either anymore, he would answer back almost instantly, Yeah, the pressure. We’ll go with that. Do you have any Celtics merch?

You glance down from the game, Look over and see.

You set your phone down and move your hair out of the way of the Celtics logo on your white crew neck. You stare over at Chris and he gives you a smile, raising his hand to give you a thumbs up.

He looks back down at his phone and yours vibrates, I like that also you know what I just realized? I have your number, why are we talking through insta?

You laugh slightly, I honestly have no idea.

Right after you hit send, you get a text from him, Hi.

You smirk, Hi, how’s the game?

“Moved onto texting I see.” Laura teases as she sits back down, “Here.” She hands you a drink, “Figured you could somehow manage to quench your thirst a-“

“Alright.” You cut her off, “You’re going to make me blush even more.” You laugh and take a sip before you steal some of her popcorn, “I didn’t even know you left.”

“You’ve been glued to your phone, I didn’t want to interrupt anything.” She smirks and shakes her head, “It’s about damn time something happens between the two of you.”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and look down at your phone, I don’t know, I haven’t been paying that much attention to it honestly.

Same here. I’ve been a little distracted, you look around, realizing that it’s halftime, “Huh, halftime. That was fast.”

“Well th-“

“Can it.” You laugh, “I know.” You look down and bring your phone up to read your new text, Distracted by what, ma?

You glance up at him, smiling slightly when you see Chris actually paying attention to the game. You look back down and type, Oh you know, just by this cute guy finally asking me out on a date, I’ve only been waiting for.. oh I don’t know.. months now.

You hit send and immediately look back up, giving Matt a weird face when he looks at you with a smirk.

He laughs and your attention turns back to Chris, who immediately picks up his phone and starts smiling like an idiot, Months huh? Man that guy fucking sucks.

You let out a slight laugh, He definitely made up for it though, well almost….

You look up, watching some of game while it takes Chris all of two seconds to reply, Almost huh?

You answer back just as fast, I mean, yeah. He bought me tickets to see two basketball games and I’m just hoping he’d ask me to dinner after this one, but we’ll see how it goes.

Your heart was racing. You’ve always thought that the two of you were better off as friends, but now that you think about it, you were always each others, just never official.

“God you guys just need to meet at half court and have a passionate kiss.” Laura smirks, tilting her head, “That would actually be so romantic, all of the people cheering you guys on.” She sighs, “I need to find a boyfriend.”

You laugh, “As much as I would love that, I think we’ll settle on keeping the pda to a minimum.. for now.” You smirk and look down at your phone, Do you want to grab dinner after this y/n?

I would love to, Chris, you smirk and nudge Laura, “I have a date after this.”

“About damn time.”

“You’ve said that already.” You laugh, looking around. You clap and cheer, glancing up at the scoreboard to see the Celtics leading, “Hey, we’re winning.”

“I’ve known that.” She laughs, “I’m not in world Y/n Sturniolo.” She looks at you, “That has a nice ring to it.”

“Don’t rush things.” You look away, tilting your head as you think about it, “It does though, doesn’t it.” You laugh, looking back at her.

You look down, tapping on the text, If you want you can meet me over here when the game is over, that way we’re not swimming through the crowd up there trying to find each other.

Laura and I drove separate, so that works out perfect, and hey. Celtics are winning!!

“I guess it’s a good thing we drove separate.” Laura laughs and you show her your phone, “I literally just said that to Chris.”

She laughs, “Oh my god.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “We are one.”

“Kinda scary.” She looks at you and you both break out into laughter, quickly switching to cheering and clapping when the Celtics score more points.

You could really get into this basketball scene.

You get another text from Chris, that’s because you’re just a lucky charm🍀

You smile, We’ll see if that’s the case on our second and third date. You set your phone down, turning towards Laura, “Is this actually happening?”

She nods with a smile, “It is. Do you want me to pinch you?”

“No, no.” You stop her as she reaches over and you laugh, “I believe you.”

Chris texts back, I’m ready for this game to end now haha, you glance up at the scoreboard, texting back, Just a little bit longer, I think you’ll make it.

You see the texts bubbles pop up, I don’t know, I have a date with this really pretty girl and to me that’s more exciting than this basketball game.

You feel your cheeks heating up and you quietly inhale as you type, Aww, you can be nice.

Yeah I thought the same thing about you.. kidding kidding.

You laugh, shaking your head and you jump slightly as the buzzer goes off. The fans uproar with excitement as the Celtics win and you stand up, cheering, clapping and jumping around with Laura.

You bring your phone up, Guess what? Games over.

You tuck your phone into your pocket and look at Laura, “Do you want to walk over with me and then we can all walk out together?”

She nods, “Yeah, that’ll probably be best.”

You make your way around the court, weaving in and out of people while you look for Chris through the crowd. You spot him, keeping your eyes locked on his as you lead Laura with you.

You give him a smile as you walk up to him, “Hey.” You look at Nate then Matt, giving them a smile, “Hey, guys.”

Chris immediately takes your hand into his and interlocks your fingers, “Ready?”

You give his hand a squeeze and you nod, “Ready.”

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Thank you so much for reading, I know absolutely nothing about basketball, so sorry if nothing makes sense, but I tried to just keep it focused on texting Chris. I hope you enjoyed! I love you and I will catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter two -

I might kill my ex, not the best idea

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

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

wc: 9.5k

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

It’s been one week.

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

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

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

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

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

Of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s not seventeen anymore - “

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! Look, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” 

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

“It’s fine, I get it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Only if you tell him that.” 

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve?!” 

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

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

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

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

“We were going to be late.”

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

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

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

“You changed your outfit like sixty times!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was going to be a night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was a mistake. 

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

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

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

”No, I can help.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could do this, easy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”You certainly liked to test it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Alright Steve, your turn.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”I hate you. More than anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” 

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

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

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

You can smell the cedar from here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve -”

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

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

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

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

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

———-

🌻 beta’d by @superblysubpar

🌻 chapter three

[littlerequiem]

we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 2

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Descriptions of the Rumbling (WC: 7k)

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-

It’s past curfew when you catch a glimpse of Levi on the rooftop of the infirmary. He's been coming up here this past week, though this is the first time you approach him.

“You gonna tell anyone?” Levi asks. He’s playing with a small pocket knife, twirling it in his hand.

You consider his question. No doubt Erwin would want to know that his new gamble is sneaking away from the barracks every evening. Then again, knowing Erwin, he might already know and chooses to just let it slide anyway.

You lean your weight over the edge of the window sill, gazing at the way moonlight crowns Levi's hair. “Are you going to hurt anyone with that knife?”

Levi's eyes twinkle in the night. “What, just because I’m from the Underground means I’m gonna stab someone?”

“Actually,” you say carefully, “I was more worried about you hurting yourself.”

His eyes lose their fire; he focuses back on his knife. “I won’t.”

.

.

.

Freedom—it is the ability to glimpse at endless blue skies; it is horse riding until dusk; it is choices and opinions and being able to voice them.

These days, Levi takes it for granted, his freedom. He’s an ungrateful asshole like that.

If the people from his childhood would hear him now, they would spit in his face. Try to beat him to a pulp. Here he is, lacking gratitude, when some poor lowlife was born and died in that shit hole that was the Underground.

Levi hears that the Underground doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve told him that the Rumbling caused earthquakes to fracture the ground, that much of the subterranean city has been buried under. There were some casualties, of course, but the worst could be avoided since Historia had ordered a gradual evacuation years prior.

Levi wonders if the people now discovering life above ground still have violence in their blood the way he once did when he first saw the sun.

“Levi, where is your secret tea stash?”

Your question muffles over the sound of the kettle groaning awake on the gas stove, blending with the sound of waves crashing outside. It tears him right out of his thoughts and away from the headline he'd been reading: 'More than 75% of refugees in Marley now rehoused, much work still remains in the mental aftermath of the war'.

Levi has been up for several hours now, breakfast long since consumed. You, on the other hand, just got up, the whisks of sleep still present in your cadence, in the corners of your eyes. An anomaly to be sure—Levi remembers you being an early riser, but he supposes that habits, just like people, change.

“Why would I have a secret tea stash?” he counters.

You yawn, a hand covering your mouth. “Well... you always had a secret tea stash, didn't you?”

“To hide from cadets and their grubby fingers. I’m all alone here.”

“Mm," you shrug, words a little slurred, "you could still want to hide a thing or two from me.”

“Then I wouldn’t tell ya where it was, would I?” Levi leans one elbow over the kitchen table, chin lazily resting on the center of his palm. His index finally pokes out to give directions. “S’on the left side, second cupboard.”

Your gaze follows his directive, only to look at him with a slightly more straight posture. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” You stick your tongue out, like a damn child. “Words. They help.”

Levi refrains from rolling his eyes. He watches you open the cupboard, grabbing the tin of loose tea leaves.

On the chair next to him, Scout is curled up and fast asleep. The kitten's muzzle scrunches as she dreams.

“Are you sure I'm allowed to drink this?” he hears you ask.

Levi's eyes flicker back towards you. “Yeah."

"But isn't this special? Isn't this tea from Paradis?"

It is tea from Paradis, courtesy of Armin. It's one of Levi's last boxes, in fact. He knows he'll eventually run out of it, and while he supposes he could ask for more of it, he thinks his taste buds will just need to adapt to something else. That's just the way life goes.

"You know," he mutters, "if you’re gonna be like this about every little thing around the house, it's gonna get tiring real fast.”

You focus on preparing the tea. “I’m just being polite."

“Why? You never bothered before."

A grimace splits across your face. "Ouch. Harsh.”

"S'not," Levi mumbles, running a hand through his hair. It’s freshly washed, still a bit damp. "I mean, no need to act all fake and shit."

"Okay... but this isn't like life in the Survey Corps. This is your house."

His house. Levi doesn't know if he should be more possessive about these things, the way he's seen some townspeople be with their possessions, but Levi's just never been one to care about these things. He never has.

Levi flips his newspaper to the next page. "So long as you keep the place clean, I don’t care about the rest."

“You don’t care?”

His eyes meet yours. There's a spark in your gaze.

Oh you’re taunting him.

Levi crosses his arms over his chest. "Drill this into your head, Adler: anything that’s mine is yours, so just treat this place as such.”

That seems to shut you right up. You blink with a dumbfounded expression, apparently startled by his (accidental, Levi swears it was accidental) turn of phrasing. It’s soon replaced by words uttered beneath your breath, words Levi doesn’t quite grasp because his own ears are whistling. He returns his attention back to the newspaper, attempting to shrug off the weight of the innuendo.

Anything that’s mine is yours. What a stupid thing to say. That almost sounded like a confession or some shit. 

For the next minute, Levi tries his damn best to focus on his newspaper.

“Getting her beauty rest, huh?”

You've placed two cups of tea on the table, one pushed towards him, along with a plate for the infusers. You're eying Scout.

“She seems glued to your side,” you add, sitting down.

“Kittens sleep a lot,” Levi supplies lamely.

“In any case, it’s cute to see the two of you together.”

Levi turns the handle of his cup to his left side. “Please.”

“Can you imagine what everyone would say? The fearless Captain Levi, succumbing to a cat—”

"Quit talking and just drink your tea, would you?”

A smirk tugs at your lips. “Aye, aye, captain."

For a moment, silence does fall, and his peripheral catches your chest rising and falling, something oddly quaint and peaceful about witnessing your breathing. You’re staring outside the window, looking at the view of the sea glimmering in the distance. He follows your line of sight, noting that there’s a buildup of crusted salt around the windows; Levi should really clean it off before summer ends.

“Hey, so,” you interrupt after a while, “I was thinking of going to the market today. Get a few things. Maybe find a job.”

Levi locks eyes with you. You’re holding onto your cup with two hands.

“A job?” Levi asks.

“Mm. Yeah. Something that makes sense for me...”

You want to get back to the medical field, already? You just got here.

“Why the hurry?"

“Well…" you say, "I don’t want to leech off you forever—”

“You're not.”

“Still, it'd be good for me, right?” You shoot a bright smile—something too bright about it. Levi eyes narrow. “Anyway, you wanna join or what?” Your eyes crinkle with softness. “You know... I’d love to meet all the nosy people you’ve told me about.”

Levi purses his lips, feeling as though you glossed over that subject much too quickly. A part of him wants to nudge you a bit, though his usual habit to just let you be kicks in. Whatever you're hiding, you have your reasons.

Levi considers your proposal. He knows it would be better if he didn’t join, seeing how damn foolish he’s already acting around you. He should try to set clear boundaries with you.

And yet—

“Sure,” comes out of him all the same.

Well, so much for that, anyway.

.

.

.

“You flew.”

You stand there, staring at the sight of the man as he finishes his round of training.

Levi shoots you a look, grappling with the hand grips. “I’m just using the ODM gear correctly.”

You take a step towards him. “No, but you’re amazing. You must know that, right? I’m not a soldier, but… I know talent when I see it.”

He gives you an odd look then, and before you have a chance to say anything else, propels himself in the air and disappears in the shadows of the forest.

.

.

.

At the market, Levi follows you around like a brooding shadow.

He’s in his wheelchair today. Behind him, you’re pushing him and asking questions about the scenery and the people and all sorts of trivial things.

(“Look, look there, all these teas. Have you tried any of them?”

“Some.”)

(“I'm gonna buy some flowers to plant in the gardens. Is that alright?”

“Do what you want.”)

(“Is the sea always as pretty?”

“Yeah. Sometimes, there's shit that gets carried in.”

"How poetic.")

(“Look, Levi! A car.”

“It looks dangerous.”

“I think I’d like to try driving. Get over my fear, you know?”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Hey, give me some credit! S’not so different from riding a horse, right?”

“You’ve got a few screws loose up there, you know that?”)

Well, Levi was never great at talking. Not that you seem to mind; you’ve always liked to ask him questions and fill in the blanks when needed. Most of the time, it’s the silence that sits comfortably between the two of you that Levi appreciates so much anyway. It just is, filling the space between the two of you like a soft cloud fills the sky with shapes.

You're moving next to him, calmly taking in the sight of the buzzing market. It's a little too busy for Levi's liking, but the sight of you distracts him: you’re wearing a sunhat with ribbons today, coupled with your cotton overalls. Levi’s never seen you wear a hat like this one before, but he thinks it suits you.

“You should protect your skin from the sun,” you’d said earlier. “That’s why I wear a hat.”

“I didn’t come to the surface to run away from the sun,” he’d grumbled back, even if he did notice how warm summers in Marley truly are (and yes, he’d gotten sunburned on several occasions, and also yes, his injured eye stings every time the sun shines too brightly... but, still, Levi wouldn’t budge).

“Good morning, dear boy! What a surprise to see you here!” someone says, tearing Levi out of the thoughts. Attached to that booming voice is none other than Levi's boss, Adam Jakowski.

Originally an Eldian from Marley, Mr Jakowski was one of the first residents that settled here in Mare. He quickly opened his carpentry shop, and when Levi moved in, he found a job there.

Today, however, Mr Jakowski isn't here for any carpentry-related trades. Every week-end, the man likes to come here and share the goods his wife makes.

"What brings you here?" Mr Jakowski asks.

“I was dragged out, believe it or not,” Levi answers, head bobbing towards you.

Next to him, he hears you snort.

“And who might this pretty young lady be? Are you the missus Ackerman, per chance?” Mr Jakowski asks, his tone carrying a curiosity only people genuinely interested in others are capable of mustering.

Levi feels his cheeks burn at the idea, but you just chuckle, swatting a hand in the air to dispel the notion. “No such thing, sir. But I am new to town and it pleases me all the same to make your acquaintance. Miss Adler, charmed to meet you.”

Levi’s thin brows knit together. It’s the first time he hears you introduce yourself without your profession tied in.

Miss Adler. Not Dr Adler.

Strange.

“Well met, Miss Adler… Well met, indeed! Ah, it is a pleasure to see new faces in Mare, especially a lovely one such as yours. Will you be staying here for a while?”

“Mm. Who knows?” You smile. “I can’t quite say yet, to tell the truth.”

Levi’s throat suddenly feels a little thick.

“Anyway, what are you selling here, sir?” you ask, peering over the stall of the merchant, gazing at all the products and zeroing on a particular one: a red paste.

“The one you're eying is a paste from the eastern part of Marley, ma'am. It’s made with paprika and bell-peppers, you see. Great for inflammations and stomach issues,” the old man explains. He makes you smell it, then turns around to sprinkle it onto something. “You can coat it like so,” he raises a piece of bread that he smears with the red paste, “or add it to your cooking.”

He hands you the toast.

You bite into it, chewing for several moments as you raise a hand over your mouth. “Walls! It does have such a particular taste. It’s the aftertaste, right? Spicy.”

Your eyes wander to meet Levi’s, and you raise the bread slightly in his direction as if to inquire if he wants to taste it as well. Levi shakes his head, and you shoot him a smile, gulping down the rest of the food.

Levi crosses his arms over his chest, drumming his left index in a series of five taps over his forearm—tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Next to him, he hears the way you engage in easy conversation, talking about the weather, how the region has adjusted to the influx of settlers, how you're looking for a job and how, yes, you’d love to meet his wife and daughter!

The rest flies over his head. Instead, Levi looks up at your sunhat again, admiring the way it hugs the shape of your skull, the way the ribbons flow gently with the breeze.

Levi wonders if he could buy you a hat. Or sew you a new ribbon. Would you accept his gifts?

At last, you seem convinced of the product and order three jars. This is the moment when Levi comes back to his senses, seeing you rummage through your pockets to find coins to pay for your purchase.

No such luck.

Levi beats you to it, slinging out the leather pouch his first squad gifted him many years ago, placing the change in Mr Jakowski's hands.

You blink, mouth parted, but Levi just plops the jars he receives into your bag, wheeling himself back.

He hears you fumble your goodbyes to Mr Jakowski, thanking him for his help, and at once, your voice is in his ears.

“Levi, why did you just pay?” you ask, tone bewildered.

“Don’t make a big deal out of nothing.”

“I’m not." You stop in front of him, all stern-looking, hands on your hips. "You didn’t have to do that.”

Levi raises a defiant brow. “But I did, and it’s done.”

“Don’t make it sound so simple. You’re already letting me stay in your house for free. I intend to pay my dues, you know. I have money.”

“I'm sure you do.”

“You—”

“Complain again and I won’t let you pay for a damn thing.”

You close your mouth, glaring at him.

Levi swears he hears something along the lines of ‘I’ll just sneak it back into your pockets later’ whispered under your breath, but when he narrows his eyes in your direction, you feign a look of innocence.

After purchasing everything you wanted to purchase—a book on art, flower beds for the garden—you finally settle in a cozy little café on the town’s square. You order some pastries, while Levi takes his usual tea, the closest thing that resembles the tea from back home. You watch people from everywhere bustle by, while Levi sips on his drink.

“Hey, look!” you point out suddenly. “I’ve never seen those birds before.”

You've pointed to a flock of birds of all colors, no larger than a fist. They’re hopping on the ground, scavenging for food. You get up, asking for some seeds from a waiter to feed them.

“Why did they migrate to this part of the world?” you wonder as you lay out food for them.

Levi doesn’t know what to say. He stares at the birds, nibbling the seeds, admiring the way their feathers seem foreign in this strange land.

Maybe, Levi thinks to himself, just like all the rest of this town, the birds were looking for a new home.

.

.

.

“You know, you should try to teach them.”

Levi’s bored expression swerves in your direction. You’re back to leaning on the window sill, while he sits on the rooftop. A routine, these last weeks.

“What?” Levi mutters.

“Your combat skills. I saw you at training again. I’ve never seen anything quite like the way you handle yourself. You should teach the other cadets.”

His eyes narrow. “And why would I do that?”

“You’ve been out there, right? Seen what the titans are like? You could save their lives.”

.

.

.

The square of Mare is quiet at this time of the evening. A half-moon hangs lazily over the black sky, casting its silver glow over Mare.

You’ve both been drinking. Cheap, bubbly, acidic. Cremant, a drink native to Marley. It was given to you by a shopkeeper when you picked up bread earlier—all it took was seeing you by his side and hearing you were new in town. The woman practically threw the bottle at you, offering it as a welcome gift. You tried to refuse, many times over, but the woman wouldn't take no for an answer (“We need young blood around, so anythin’ to convince younglings like yourself to settle down!”).

Now, here you are, finishing the bottle together in a park. Levi sits with you on a bench, his wheelchair tucked behind it.

Silence.

Levi thinks there’s something on your mind. You’ve never been easy to read; you’ve got a tendency to hide and scheme, to play it off like it’s no big deal, but it’s always your lips that give you away. You bite them when you’re worried, you pout when you’re deep in thoughts.

“Hey.” Levi raises your attention, only to find gentle eagerness on your face. It makes him frown for some reason. “Say something.”

You seem a little taken aback by his directive. It’s rare for Levi to actually seek conversation after all, much less to be the one initiating it.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask.

Levi shrugs. “I don’t know, just anything.”

“Like… what?”

Levi mulls it over. If it were him, he’d hate to be put on the spot and asked outright what to say. So he decides to try a tactic he’s seen you use on others—starting with something light before finding the right angle to tackle the actual subject.

“What was your favorite sight?” he inquires. “On your travels.”

“My… favorite sight?”

Levi gives you a look that makes it clear he’s not gonna repeat himself.

“The sea, of course.” You raise your feet on the bench, hugging your knees as you stare off pensively. “It’s funny, really. With every nation we visited, we saw mountains, deserts and forests… but I kept coming back to the sea.”

Levi remembers the first he saw the sea. The water, glimmering like thousands of silver gems. The blue sky, coming to meet its shine. The 104th brats, with awestruck wonder. Hange and their brazen curiosity.

And you, the way you’d looked at him…

If ever there was a moment of peace during Levi’s years as a soldier, it was those blissful hours spent by the sea. It felt like the world had grown so big, and that there was only wonder to be discovered.

Of course, reality had caught up.

“I’m glad you’ve picked a place like this one to settle down,” you say. "It kind of feels like a homecoming, you know?"

"Yeah."

“The stars are so bright out here.”

Levi follows your line of sight.

This past year, Levi has rediscovered an admiration for stars. Back inside the Walls, they reminded him of Isabel and Furlan, of his dreams from another life. This past year, they’ve started making him think of you, too.

All because of one of your letters: 'Levi, do you ever think about the fact that, despite the distance that separates us, every night, when we look at the sky, we see the same stars?'

“What else,” he finds himself asking, “what else do you have to say about your travels?”

“Hmm… what do you want to know exactly? I wrote so much in my letters, I’d have thought you’d be tired of hearing about that topic.”

“Yeah, but you only described random shit. What was it like?”

What was it like without me?

That thought hangs on his tongue, begs for relief, but Levi bites it down. It’s not right for him to ask; it's none of his business.

And yet, your answer still takes him by surprise, “It was… hard.”

To that, Levi does raise a brow, looking at you.

He finds your gaze already on him.

“The sights were... nice, of course,” you continue. “I got to witness all manners of landscapes. Those were the photographs I sent you in my letters. But then, well, the rest came.”

You swallow loudly. Levi finds his heart squeezing, though he doesn’t fully understand why.

“Seeing the aftermath of the Rumbling…” Your lower lip quivers as the volume of your tone decreases. “It was horrifying. The emptiness was the worst. It’s not like murdering someone in cold blood, see. There, you have to deal with bodies. But, what Eren did…”

You shudder. Levi thinks you’re trying to even out your breathing, and a part of him wants to reach out to you and squeeze your hand. And yet, he knows there’s nothing he can do to really alleviate those images flashing in your brain. That nothing he does can make it right again, that the pain you feel is the cost both of you need to bear for the rest of your lives.

“After that, I went with Armin because I knew he would need help, because I always believed in diplomacy… because I still believe in it. Even now," you say. "But many nations hate the Eldians from Paradis. They hate us and maybe they have every right to hate us.”

You stop talking and close your eyes. For a while, the lull in conversation allows Levi to stare at you unabashedly, to commit your features to memory.

“Why did you never say any of this in your letters?” he asks mid-silence.

“I guess it felt easier not to mention it. I don’t know. I wanted you to hear hopeful things in my letters.”

“I’ve seen how shitty the world can be.”

“I know, but that’s exactly why.” Your eyes somehow find his own again. “That’s why I didn’t want you to know it’s still the same out there.”

It makes Levi’s blood rush, like he was some breakable thing that needed to be protected.

“You don’t need to coddle me.”

And yet, you don’t even seem to notice the snap in his tone, your crossed arms tightening around your knees.

“I know, Levi,” you whisper. “But that doesn’t mean that my pain is your burden to bear.”

Seeing your deflated expression, dipped chin resting over your knees as you lose yourself to your thoughts, Levi’s defense mechanism fizzles away.

That’s the thing about you.

No matter how harshly he reacts, you never seem to rise to the same level as him, the way others did in the military, and it might be why Levi always found it easier to stay by your side.

“You dumbass,” he says with a sigh. Despite telling himself to hone it back, Levi can’t help but raise a hand to the back of your skull, ruffling your head gently—the only comfort he knows how to hand out right now. “Of course that’s my burden.”

The knot in your throat bobs. “Levi, you don’t—”

“Don’t give me that.” He pauses, the words heavy on his tongue. “Even I no longer have the rank to prove it… what does it matter? Nothing’s changed.”

Your voice comes out grated. “Nothing’s changed?”

Levi hesitates. So much hangs on this question. Of course, things have changed.

And yet…

He retreats his hand, patting his stiff leg. “Some things did.”

“Does it still hurt a lot?”

“Some days more than others. The doctor has helped.”

“I’m glad... I'm so glad. Are you still seeing him every other week?”

He nods.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

His eyes narrow. “You said that already.” You shoot him a lopsided smile. He sighs. “Anyway, you gonna tell me why you stopped calling yourself a doctor?”

Different degrees of surprise flash across your face. Your eyes are wide as saucers, while your mouth stays slightly open.

Levi waits. And waits.

“Hey, you’re not trying to catch flies, are you?” he says, lifting a finger to poke at your chin.

His physical reminder seems to bring you back to the present.

A pout forms on your lips. “How did you know I no longer want to be a doctor?”

Levi shrugs with one arm, pressing his back against the bench. “I guessed, and you just confirmed it.”

“I didn’t think you’d notice so quickly." You let out a wry snort. "Should have known; you’re always so perceptive.”

“And you’re beating around the bush.”

You hum. “Indeed, I am. It’s just… I’m scared of your judgment.”

Levi frowns.

“Don’t give me that look, Levi Ackerman. Your judgment, yes. You’re a very scary man, just not for all the reasons people think you are.”

In the distance, the sound of seagulls drifts from the skies.

“When I asked you if I could come here…” you say after a pause, “I kept on thinking to myself: What will Levi think of me?” You raise one hand to your face, glancing at the scar that runs from your index to the lower part of your palm—a memento left by the Yaegerists. “What will he think of this hand?”

Levi stays silent.

Your smile turns bitter. “You always said my hands were made for healing. But after everything that happened, everything we did, they’re not anymore. They can’t be.”

“Hey—”

“—and the question kept playing in a loop in my head. Will Levi think I’m a coward? Will he think less of me for giving up on this? Is he gonna be done with me?”

Levi ignores all the ways you seem to include him in your insecurities and focuses on one thing only: “You’re a lot of things but a coward isn’t one of them.”

You shake your head. “But I am a coward. I don’t have it in me to heal people, not like that anymore.”

Levi doesn’t know why, but there’s a sense of dread forming in his pit of his stomach.

“Is that why you’re here?” he asks.

Your eyes fire back on him. “No, I didn’t come here to escape, or as a last resort.” You glance away. “But I do feel… lost.”

That makes him backtrack. You? Lost? The doctor who blazed through the Survey Corps’ ranks, making her demands known to the Interior and Erwin like it was no big deal, who pushed for changes to save soldiers' lives?

That doesn’t align with the person he knows.

“I don’t think it’s right anymore, the path I chose.” Your tone is suddenly more frail, more vulnerable. “The first three years after the Rumbling, it felt like the right thing to do, giving my skills in helping others but now… Now I feel like a fraud. To arrive here, I had to end lives.”

Levi’s throat is heavy. “We all did.”

You ignore his words. “The attack in Trost, the one in Liberio, and so many others…. I killed people there. I did. And I remember your words, Levi, about it being us or them but I… now, whenever I look at my hands, all I see is the stain of blood. After all of that, I just don’t think I’m fit to call myself a doctor anymore.”

“You shouldn’t regret the past.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

“Is that why you’re now calling yourself Miss Adler?”

You nod.

Levi purses his lips. He cannot understand your perspective, not truly, because his own moral compass has never been set right. To him, killing was always about survival and there was never good or bad. There simply was the act and the aftermath. There was the fact that he needed to keep on pushing, for humanity.

Despite this, Levi wants to understand. He wants to tell you that your hands did heal, that they continue to heal in invisible ways.

He wants to tell you that however you want to become want, it’s all fine to him.

“Then start over,” he declares, throwing an arm to the back of the bench.

“Yeah.” You snort, fiddling with a loose strand of fabric of your overalls. “It’s not that easy, starting over, is it?”

“Never said it was.” Levi would know. It’s not like he’s here to preach the moral high ground—he’s lost, much more lost than you are. “But if you want to, you’re the only one that can make it happen.”

“Yeah, I know.” You raise a hand to press against your right eye. Levi has the strange urge to tuck it away, to take it in between his own, but he holds himself back. “It’s just… hard. You know, when we were fighting titans, then humans, then nations… I just never considered who I would be after all of it. And when I found myself trying, I found I wasn’t the person I once was, that I couldn’t do what I would have done any more. You know?”

“Yeah.”

“Old me would have kept on going. Old me would have continued to heal people and traveled and helped Armin with peace negotiations. And I tried. Walls, I tried, Levi. But at the end of the day, I just find myself… tired. I’m just so tired.”

Something heavy fills Levi’s chest. He understands, to a degree, what you’re going through. He knew his role was over the moment that the fighting stopped, but for you, the war hasn’t stopped raging—conflicted on where your place should be.

“Sorry," you say, "I know I’m wallowing here, that I’m throwing my own pity party. But, shit, it’s hard, you know?”

“Yeah.” Levi hardens his expression. “But it’s fine, to wallow. No one expects you not to have setbacks.”

“You don’t mean that. Weren’t you always telling soldiers not to linger and look back? Besides, I don’t get to say any of this in front of you. Not with everything you went through.”

Levi’s jaw clenches. “Hey. It’s not a competition.”

This time, he reaches for your hand and unclasps it, noticing you digging your nails into your skin. He forces you to squeeze his hand instead—only, now, you treat him with such care, not even applying pressure.

He continues, “I only said what I said because a Scout’s life was a battlefield every day. But we’re not soldiers anymore.”

Levi sucks in a breath at those words; it’s the first time he acknowledges it out loud: We're not soldiers anymore. He’s a hypocrite, saying these things, when he himself hasn’t let go completely. And yet, for your sake, he wants to pretend—he wants to pretend that there’s a way out for the both of you.

“So I’ve told you, the offer still stands," he adds. "You can stay here for as long as you want."

“Careful what you promise, Levi." You snort. "I’m going to be a real burden to you.”

“Only when you don’t clean.”

Your weak snicker turns into laughter. It might be the most enchanting of sounds Levi’s heard in a long while.

Levi lets go of your hand, despite the fact that he wishes he could hold on, but he tells himself that friends don’t hold each other’s hands for prolonged moments. And that's what the two of you are. Friends.

“You know, when it came down to it… after months of introspection,” you say, voice soft, “all I knew is that I wanted to be near you.”

Oh.

“I stayed away for a year, thinking I could prove to myself, to you, that I wasn’t the needy person I once was," you say. "That I could, I don’t know, manage on my own. But all I got was… how much I missed you.”

Levi thinks his breathing might have stopped entirely.

“Levi, you’re… you’re important to me. You know that, right?” Your eyes find his own, glimmering under the moonlight. “I think… I just don’t want to not have you in my life anymore. Is that a strange thing to say?”

Levi is speechless. He stares at your lips, how plump and lovely they seem, glistening with moisture. He feels sweat on his back—damn this hellish warm weather—and he thinks perhaps he should act.

He forces his mouth open but instead of words—

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

An explosion blasts in his ears.

Levi screws his eyes shut, bracing himself for the impact. There’s screams echoing in the back of his skull, bullets ricocheting against concrete. He smells the charred scent of bodies, sweet and off-putting.

But the fighting never comes. When he evens out his breathing, leaning his weight onto the bench, he notices—

You’re on the floor.

Your hands are covering your ears, your lower lip wobbling. You’re muttering things under your breath, things Levi can’t recognize, but there’s tears brimming the corner of your eyes, and Levi realizes then what happened.

You’re hyperventilating.

At once, Levi is by your side, bending down. The action causes his legs to scream in pain, but he promptly ignores it. He sees you and only you.

You, on the other hand, are unable to look at him; you whimper erratically.

Levi can deduce the source of your panic, because he’s had his own moments like this. It’s the way certain noises, smells, and others pull him back into the past. It must be the same for you.

“Hey,” Levi’s voice comes low and clear, trying to muster it all for you, “take a deep breath. It's not guns. Just fireworks some teenagers are toying with.”

But you seem unable to follow his advice, shaken as you are. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears clumping, streaming thick down the valleys of your cheeks. He sees your fingers pull at the strands of your hair.

Before he can think about it, his arms reach out of you, looping around the small of your back, where he draws you in. He presses you firmly against him. At first, you attempt to fight him back, muttering “no, no, no,” beneath your breath, scratching him, but when Levi finally manages to smooth over your words with his own, you accept the embrace.

Your head slumps down into the crest of his shoulder, like you were just a ragdoll gone limp. Levi tries to ignore the way his worry doubles down.

“Adler, listen to my voice,” he urges, trying to use things that have helped him during his worst panic attacks, during his worst episodes. Of course, Levi never allowed anyone to see him like this, but if he had, he thinks this would have helped. “Your ear’s pressed against my heart right now. Do you hear my heartbeat?”

“Y-yeah,” you answer, voice barely a raw whisper. The sound is enough to shatter something in Levi. It’s so small, so fragile.

“Focus on it," he says. "Focus on me speaking. Pretend that it’s the only sound in the world.”

You seem to attempt to laugh, but it comes across as another nervous sob, hiccups strangling your words. “S-someone thinks h-ighly of his v-voice.”

Levi just clicks his tongue, tightening his hold on you.

Your hands interweave with the collar of his shirt, and you bury your face deeper into his neck. It takes several moments, but he feels the tension in your spine untangle, vertebrate by vertebrate.

“Steady,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. “You’re alright.”

Your warm lips, drenched with tears, move against his neck. “I just can’t do it, ‘Vi… I just can’t.”

“You can.”

“I’m fucking stuck and I feel so guilty there’s always noises in my brain…” A sob cracks out of you. “I’m so fucking lost.”

“But you’re not alone.”

Your knuckles tighten, but your breath falters.

“You’re not alone,” Levi repeats. His three-fingered hand weaves through the hair at the back of your skull, mingling between your locks. He’s reminded of another time, long ago, when he did this after Nanaba died. “Even if you feel lost right now, you’re not alone.”

“I just—I don’t want to be a bother. I don't want to overstay my w-welcome.”

“You’re not.” His hands have fallen onto your ribcage, slotting over every bone like they were made to belong there all along. “You can stay as long as you want.” Until you grow tired of me. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

You’re still hiccuping for air as you draw away from him. You seem to be searching for something, dazed and blurry.

“Y-you don’t mind?” you ask.

"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?"

"I guess not."

For a while, neither Levi nor you say anything else. He watches as your eyes cast down, eyelashes still full of tears. Your breath is back to being steady, though no less frail.

Eventually, your digits settle over his forearms, looking back at him with puffy eyes.

He offers you his clean handkerchief from his breast pocket. 

You take it with a crooked smile, staring down at the white cloth. “Thank you, Levi. I mean it.”

Levi looks away; he doesn't think he's done much.

“Walls.” You hiccup, lifting the handkerchief to your eyes. “I’ve made a scene, haven’t I? It’s the alcohol, I s-swear. I barely d-drink these days.”

“You were always a lightweight.”

“Pff, don’t remind me.”

“Well, judging by the brats walking towards us," he says, looking over your shoulders, "they’ve come to apologize.”

Sure enough, moments later, as you help Levi up and you both sit back down on the bench, three snotty kids approach the scene with a look of apology plastered on their faces.

One of them, a boy with vibrant ginger hair, takes the lead. “Ma’am… are you alright?”

You sniffle, eyes still red. “Fine—”

“She’s not fine, brat,” Levi interjects. “Don’t light this shit up in public.”

The boy grimaces with the kind of juvenile innocence only kids can muster.

“Don’t listen to him,” you say, giving Levi a look. “But hey, do try to be careful, ‘kay? Don’t light up things like this all on your own. Fireworks are dangerous, not to mention they’re scary when they’re up so close.”

“I... I won't do it no more, ma’am…" the boy says. "I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s alright. You couldn’t have known.”

The boy nods before finally fleeting up and meeting Levi's glare. The child instantly cowers back.

“Mistakes happen," Levi grumbles with a softer tone. "Just be more careful.”

“Y-yeah, mister. Won’t happen again.”

"Good."

.

.

.

Erwin finds you in the stables one day. “Levi is integrating with the squad.”

You stop cleaning your horse, raising a brow at the man. “Is he now?”

“Mm." There's wistful amusement on the Erwin's face. "He's started giving advice to his comrades.”

"Is that right?"

That night, when you greet Levi on the rooftop of the infirmary, you don't say a thing about this exchange, but you'll smile just a bit brighter at him anyway. 

.

.

.

Levi comes back from his evening shower to find something waiting for him in his bedroom. A piece of paper, carefully folded in three, is placed on his cabinet. Next to it is a medium-sized, black pouch.

Levi first unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find that it’s a letter and that it’s from you.

Levi, You’ll excuse me for coming in without asking, but you insinuated I should make myself comfortable, so… Here I am. You know, if you're going to let me pay for things, then it’s decided: I’m going to bribe you with new tea! No, you can’t fight me on that. As you know, I’m a force of nature—unstoppable. Here’s a new blend for you. I know for certain you haven’t tried this one because it’s straight from my travels. I don’t know why I waited a week to give it to you, but I hope you like it. Your amazing new roomie,- A.

Levi’s lips twitch. He can just picture you scribbling those words in your room, a grin on your face, waiting for him to take a shower just so you can place this handout in secret.

He briefly puts the letter back down, moving to open the gift. The black pouch hides a tea tin of simple design, with an etiquette that’s handwritten. White pu-erh tea. He slowly unscrews the sealed top, bringing it close to his nose to inhale its potent fragrant. Tea aromas, rich in citrus, fill his brain with a lovely buzzing effect. It smells nice, unlike anything he’s encountered before and Levi thinks its taste will be to his liking—that you picked it knowing it would.

His eyes stray back to the letter, picking it back up. He loves the way you write his name, the way you loop the letters together. It's elegant.

With his heart just a bit lighter than usual, Levi adds your letter to the chest under his bed, filled with the rest of your correspondence.

-

A/N: Thanks for reading! I was really touched by all the engagement the first chapter got, truly, so thank you for that. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and hey, if you have a minute, I'd love to hear your thoughts in any shape or form! Take care <3

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