#like i said i’m not into him like i want to date him or whatever

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁𝓂𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒, 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝑜

· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── · 

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Where the TKATB men ache for you with an intensity that borders on obsession, while the Blue Lock men remain oblivious to the fact that you’ve been 'the one' all along. 

I wanted to share something sweet for Valentine's Day—a little glimpse into love and longing to celebrate the occasion. But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about my full-length fanfic! I’m still working on it, and there’s plenty more to come. Consider this a small treat while the main course is still in the works.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

Fluff & Smut Teasing, Possessive!Sol, Neck Biting, Slight Dom! Sol, Tension & Anticipation, Overwhelming Desire, Rough Hands, Soft Kisses, “Say it Again” Trope, Passionate & Intense Moments Smug Reader, Completely Ruined Sol, Sol Trying (and Failing) to Hold Back, Lightly Spicy, Heavy on the Feels.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

For over two years and counting, Crowe has been haunted by the memory of your touch.

Crowe would never deny that he enjoys having you around. But if you don’t see him that way—if you never do—he’ll live with it. He’ll push it down, bury it deep, because losing you entirely is something he refuses to accept. If friendship is all you can offer, then he’ll take it, no matter how much it eats at him.  

After all, it was him that day. The day those bullies cornered you, their words sharp and cruel, their intentions worse. He was the one who stepped in without hesitation, who made it clear that they’d have to go through him first. He didn’t do it for gratitude or recognition. He did it because it was you.  

It’s always been about you.  

He doesn’t just want you in his life—he needs you there. He wants you around his friends, wants you to feel safe, to feel at home wherever he is. He wants to see you smile, wants to be the reason for it, even if you never look at him the way he looks at you. It doesn’t matter. Because Crowe loves everything about you.  

The way your laughter sounds—effortless, bright, like something he could get addicted to. The way you wsolkle your nose when you’re annoyed, the way your eyes soften when you talk about something you love. The way your presence alone makes everything feel a little less heavy.  

And it scares him. 

The way he aches for you. 

The way he yearns for more.  

But if being close to you means keeping his feelings locked away, then he’ll do it. He’ll endure it. He’ll hold himself back, bite his tongue, force himself to be content with whatever piece of you he’s allowed to have. Because even if it’s not everything he wants, at least it’s something. At least it’s you.

Crowe lets out a slow breath, stasolg at the pile of papers in front of him, but his mind is elsewhere.  

You’re sprawled across the floor, cross-legged among scattered documents, your back against a pile of pillows as you skim through a paper in your hands. The soft glow of the evening light filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over you, making you look almost unreal. He should be focused—should be sorting through the paperwork like he said he would. Instead, all he can focus on is you.  

You—who insisted on helping despite him telling you he could handle it.  

You—who sits there with that small, content smile, completely unaware of how you consume him.  

“Crowe, you need to file these by date,” you murmur, tapping a few papers into a neat stack. “You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”  

He huffs, running a hand through his loose braid. “I never asked for help.”  

“You never ask for help, period,” you counter easily, throwing him a glance before looking back at the papers. “Besides, I don’t mind. This way, you won’t end up buried under a mess of your own making.”  

He watches as you shift, your knee bumping against his, and his whole body tenses. It’s nothing. Just a touch. But his mind lingers on it, the warmth spreading, sinking into his skin like ink on paper. He clenches his jaw, flipping through the stack in his hands without really reading anything.  

“Crowe?”  

Your voice snaps him back, and he blinks at you.  

“You okay?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.  

He exhales through his nose, forcing a smirk. “Yeah. Just wondering why you’re still here when you could be doing something better with your time.”  

You roll your eyes, shifting again—brushing against him again. “And miss watching you suffer through basic organization? Never.”  

He scoffs, shaking his head, but his grip on the papers tightens. It’s not fair. How easily you get under his skin, how effortlessly you settle into his space, into his life. He wonders if you even realize it—how much of him you consume, how much he aches for you in ways he has no right to.  

Crowe doesn’t know when it started, this need, this craving that’s carved itself into his ribs. But he knows it’s always been you. The realization sits heavy in his chest, like a secret too dangerous to let slip.  

His fingers twitch as he watches you. He wants to touch you, to reach out, to thread his fingers through your hair and trace the curve of your jaw. To pull you closer, to feel the warmth of you against him.  

But you’re his friend. Closest Friend.

And if that’s all you’ll ever be—if that’s all you can give—then he’ll endure it.  

Even if it kills him.

The silence between you stretches, filled only with the occasional rustle of paper and the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. Crowe exhales, a slow and controlled breath, as if that alone will steady the wildfire spreading in his chest. It doesn’t.  

You’re still here, still close enough that he can feel the faint heat radiating off your skin, and he can’t focus—not on the papers, not on anything other than the phantom sensation of your touch line side on his jaw. His resolve is slipping, unraveling thread by thread, and it’s all your fault.  

He tells himself to let it go. 

To push it down, bury it deep where it belongs.  

But then you shift, stretching your arms above your head with a quiet sigh, before letting yourself fall back against the pillows behind you. “I think we deserve a break,” you say, staring up at the ceiling. “Your filing system is a disaster, by the way.”  

Crowe lets out a breathy chuckle. “I don’t have a system.”  

“Exactly.”  

You turn your head to look at him, that lazy, contented smile still playing on your lips, and something inside him caves.  

Without thinking, he moves, shifting onto his side until he’s lying next to you. The papers don’t matter. The mess on the floor doesn’t matter. Nothing does—except this moment.  

You don’t react, at least not in the way he expects. There’s no teasing remark, no raised brow questioning why he’s suddenly this close. Instead, you just glance at him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.  

“I thought you didn’t take breaks,” you murmur.  

“Maybe you’re a bad influence.” His voice is quieter now, softer.  

You gsol, amused. “Maybe.”  

Crowe watches as your fingers absently play with the hem of your sleeve, and he wants to reach out. Wants to take your hand in his, wants to thread his fingers between yours just to see how it feels. The temptation is maddening.  

“Do you ever get tired of this?” he asks suddenly.  

You blink, tilting your head. “Tired of what?”  

His throat is dry. He swallows, pretending that the words aren’t sticking in his chest. “Of… being around me all the time.”  

It’s a stupid question. He doesn’t know why he asked it. Maybe he just needs reassurance—something to hold onto before he completely loses himself to this feeling that he refuses to name.  

Your expression softens. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”  

The answer should be enough. It should satisfy him and quiet the restlessness inside him.  

It doesn’t.  

Because there’s something about the way you say it—so effortlessly, like it’s obvious. Like, it’s simple. And for you, maybe it is. Maybe you don’t see the weight behind it, the way your words settle into his bones, warm and suffocating all at once, like they were always meant to be there.  

Crowe barely has a second to react before you move—quick, decisive, and utterly reckless with his personal space. His body tenses, muscles coiled tight, but he doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t even try.  

One moment, you’re standing beside him, your usual teasing lilt laced in your voice. The next, he’s flat on his back, breath knocked from his lungs as you press him into the floor. His pulse jumps, sharp and immediate, but it has nothing to do with the impact.  

Your legs cage around his waist, your hands planted firmly against his chest, pinning him in place. And worst of all? You look amused. Like this isn’t something that should have him gripping at the last shreds of his self-control.  

His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to do something—grab your hips, push you off, pull you closer—but he forces himself to stay still. His chest rises and falls beneath your touch, each breath shallower than the last as his mind races to catch up with what the hell just happened.  

Crowe narrows his eyes, lips parting like he’s about to throw out some sharp remark, something cool and dismissive, to mask the way his body reacts to you. But when he meets your gaze—playful, expectant, entirely unbothered—his words die before they even form.  

And that’s when it hits him.  

You know. 

You know exactly what you’re doing. 

And worse? 

You’re enjoying this.

“What the—?!” He instinctively tries to push himself up, but you’re already pressing your palms into his shoulders, effectively trapping him.  

“Oh, relax,” you huff, gazing down at him. “You looked like you were spiraling. I had to do something before you started brooding so hard you set the house on fire.”  

Crowe glares. “I don’t brood.”  

“You totally brood.”  

“I don’t.”  

You raise a brow. “You’re literally doing it right now.”  

Crowe opens his mouth, then closes it, then just scowls. He hates that you might be right. He hates even more that you’re looking at him like this, all smug and unbothered, completely unaware of the absolute chaos you’re causing in his head.  

This is normal to you, isn’t it? Sitting on top of him like it’s no big deal, pinning him down like you aren’t single-handedly wrecking his sanity.  

Crowe groans, throwing his head back against the pillows. “You’re actually gonna kill me one day.”  

“You’re being dramatic.”  

“Oh, am I?” His voice is dry, but there’s a flicker of something else beneath it—something dangerously close to unsteady. His hands slide onto your hips, firm yet hesitant, like he’s caught between pushing you away and pulling you closer. His fingers press just enough to make you aware of his grip, of the fact that you could move away if you wanted to.  

Not that you would.  

“Because last I checked, you’re literally on top of me right now,” he continues, a sharp exhale leaving his lips, “and I’m pretty sure I’m experiencing cardiac arrest.”  

You snort, unfazed. “Please. If I wanted to kill you, I’d at least make it more interesting.”  

His deep blue eyes flick up to yours, something flickering behind them—amusement and frustration—but before he can bite back with some witty retort, you lean in closer.  

Your weight shifts slightly, pressing down in a way that makes his fingers tighten on your hips, his knuckles paling for just a second. The movement knocks a few strands of his long brown hair over his forehead, but he doesn’t dare lift a hand to fix it. Not when you’re this close.  

“Y’know…” Your voice is softer now, teasing, thoughtful, like you’re genuinely contemplating something. “You’re weirdly warm.”  

Crowe stiffens when your hands leave his shoulders, fingers trailing up the column of his neck, slow and deliberate. His pulse betrays him, hammering beneath your touch.  

Then your palms frame his jaw, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, and he knows he’s done for.  

He swallows hard, his throat bobbing beneath your fingers. His breath stutters, his mind screaming at him to say something—anything—before you realizes the effect you have on him. But his mouth refuses to work, completely useless as you study him like you’ve just uncovered something interesting. 

Your grin barely has a second to register in Crowe’s mind before he moves.

With a swift, effortless motion, your world flips—air rushing past you as your back meets the ground, cool earth pressing against your skin. A startled gasp barely escapes your lips before you feel it—him.

Crowe’s body cages yours, his knees planted firmly between your legs, his hands pinning yours above your head. His long brown hair falls forward, strands grazing your face like a ghost of a touch, teasing and torturous all at once. His deep blue eyes lock onto yours; the corner of his lips twitches. “Not so funny now, is it?”  

Your breath catches, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking flustered. “Oh? Did I strike a nerve?”  

His grip on your wrists tightens—not painful, just *commanding.* Enough to remind you of the sudden shift in power between you.  

Then, without warning, he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his voice drops to something low, almost *gravelly.*  

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”  

A shiver bolts down your spine, but you refuse to react, refuse to let him see how much his proximity affects you. *Two can play this game.*  

“Oh, I know when to quit,” you whisper back, tilting your head ever so slightly, your lips just inches from his. “I just don’t want to.”  

And then it happens—so fast, so unexpected—you barely have time to process.  

Crowe’s lips crash against yours, hot and unrelenting, stealing the very breath from your lungs. It’s not slow, not gentle—it’s every bit as competitive as the both of you, as if he’s trying to prove something.  

Your fingers twitch in his grasp, the need to grab him, to pull him even closer overwhelming every thought in your head. But he keeps you pinned, controlling the moment, teasing you with the maddening way his lips move against yours.  

Then, just as quickly as he kissed you, he pulls back, hovering above you, his breath warm against your swollen lips. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes—oh, his eyes—they’re gleaming with something smug, something victorious.  

“Still think this is fun?”  

You blink, still reeling, heart hammering so hard it might burst out of your chest.  

And then, in the most infuriatingly casual voice, you breathe out, “...Kinda,”  

Crowe groans, head dropping to your shoulder as he mutters, “You’re actually going to kill me.” he mutters, barely audible.

And that’s the real problem, isn’t it?

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol says three months. Honestly, it’s like one week. Every moment of it, you’re there.

Understand that Sol has always been the quiet one, the guy who blends into the background until he doesn’t. He’s the type that hardly stands out, sitting at the back of the room, hidden behind his own little world. It’s easy for people to forget he’s even there, especially when he doesn’t really give them a reason to look. He’s cold, distant, and usually wrapped up in the space between the pages of a book or the strokes of a paintbrush. A lone figure in the corner, always studying, always creating, always alone.  

But then… you came along.  

He remembers the first time he saw you, your laugh like a melody that somehow cut through the haze of his own isolation. You didn’t ask him anything, didn’t try to crack his shell like everyone else did. You didn’t even seem to notice the way his eyes followed you, the way his heart skipped a beat every time you came near. Instead, you just *were*—existing in the same space, offering him something different: peace.  

And, slowly, things began to change.  

Sol became more aware of the way your smile lit up the room. The way your laughter stuck with him long after it had faded. He started paying attention to you in a way he never did anyone else. Your presence seemed to be magnetic, drawing him in like a force he couldn’t resist. And with every passing day, the intensity of his thoughts about you only grew. 

It wasn’t just your smile, though—no. It was the way you interacted with him. The way your eyes lingered on his work, the way you’d ask him about his day as if it mattered. And when you spoke to him, there was a warmth in your voice, an unspoken invitation to be more than the quiet kid at the back of the room. It made him feel something, something deep in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain.  

That’s when the obsession started.

Every time Sol closed his eyes, you were there. His mind wouldn’t let him rest, and no matter how hard he tried to push you away, you kept slipping in. You were there in the sketches he couldn’t stop drawing, the paintings that came to life in ways he didn’t intend. You were the muse behind every piece, every stroke, every line. He found himself lost in the idea of you, consumed by the thought of you.  

And then, it hit him like a wave. 

You had become his art. You were the subject that filled his pages, the image he couldn’t get enough of. The way you moved, the way you smiled, the way you lingered in his thoughts long after he’d seen you. Every brushstroke he made in his art book brought you to life, even if just for a moment. He painted you in every way—your hands, your eyes, the soft curve of your smile—all the details that stayed with him, making his heart race and his hands tremble as he worked.

You were in every sketch. He couldn’t escape you, not even on paper. You had taken over his mind completely, and now, you were becoming a part of his creations. The more he drew you, the more real you felt. The more your presence seeped into his soul, until there was nothing else that mattered. 

And as he sat there, pencil in hand, gaze focused intently on the page in front of him, he found himself lost again. He wasn’t just sketching anymore. He was memorizing every little detail of you—every little thing he hadn’t quite captured yet, like the way your hair would fall when you tilted your head or the way your fingers would idly trace along the edges of the paper when you were distracted. It wasn’t just art now—it was obsession.

The thought of you lingered even as he set his pencil down, staring at the half-finished drawing of you, and he could hear your voice in his mind. A voice, soft and warm, saying, “I knew you could do it.”

And just like that, it didn’t matter how tired he was, how much he wanted to just collapse from exhaustion. The only thing that made his heart race now was the idea of you—you in his world. 

You in his art. And even though he couldn’t quite reach you yet, he was determined to make you his, on paper if nowhere else. 

Because of this feeling? 

This feeling of wanting you, craving you? 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever stop.

Sol likes to think of himself as someone who takes his time—someone slow and deliberate when it comes to relationships. He’s not the type to let someone in easily, to open up to someone so quickly. After all, he’s spent years building up a wall around his heart, carefully maintaining a distance to protect himself from the potential sting of rejection or loss. It’s worked for him. He’s always been cautious, weighing every connection with a cool, measured approach.

You, who had slipped past his defenses in ways he never expected. You, who made everything feel real. And despite his doubts—his constant questioning of whether this would last, whether you’d want to stick around—Sol found himself unable to ignore the way you made him feel. The way you looked at him, the way you cared so easily, so genuinely. He couldn't deny that he’d been falling for you for months now.

It had been three months since you’d entered his life, but it felt like a lifetime in all the best ways. You were always there—patient, kind, steady in a way that soothed the nervous parts of him that he’d hidden for so long. But still, he told himself it was too soon. He couldn’t be this vulnerable.  

Until that one moment.  

The words slipped out so casually, so innocently.  

“You’re so good at this; I’m so proud of you, Sol.”  

It felt like the ground beneath him had shifted. The world suddenly tilted off its axis. Those words—those words, coming from you—sent a shockwave through him, rattling something deep inside him he hadn’t realized was there. The way you said it, with such sincerity, the way your eyes held his, soft and full of admiration—it changed everything.

He tried to brush it off. He told himself it was nothing. He’d been complimented before, praised by others countless times. It was just a simple phrase. Nothing special.

But it was different. It was you.

You made it feel special. Your words were like a thread that wove into the very fabric of his being, pulling him closer to you, to this feeling that he couldn’t name but knew was consuming him.  

Now, nothing else felt as important. Those praises from others? They didn’t matter. They were just words, empty and shallow. They didn’t stir something in him the way your words did. 

He wanted more of it. He needed more of it.  

He had spent months convincing himself that he was just inspired by you—yeah, that was it. You were his muse, his favorite subject, the reason his sketchbooks were filled to the brim with your face. It wasn’t that deep.  

And then, one day, as he stood in his studio apartment, paint staining his fingers, a half-finished portrait of you staring back at him from the canvas, he realized something terrifying.  

He wasn’t just painting you. He was worshiping you.  

The way your lips curled when you teased him, the way your eyes softened when you looked at him like he was worth something—it was all captured in every brushstroke, every tiny detail. He wasn’t just an artist anymore. He was a man possessed.  

And before he could stop himself, he was standing in front of you.  

Before you could process what was happening, Sol was already moving. His strong hands found your waist, and in one swift motion, he pulled you into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. The half-dried paint on his fingers smeared against your skin, marking you as his, but he didn’t seem to care.  

His grip was firm, almost possessive, keeping you locked in place as he gazed up at you, eyes dark and unreadable. His chest rose and fell heavily, the intensity in his expression making your breath hitch.  

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, voice rough, like he was holding himself back from something reckless. His fingers flexed against your hips, grounding himself—or maybe keeping you from getting away. 

Sol’s fingers dug into your waist, his grip firm but not enough to hurt—just enough to make sure you weren’t going anywhere. His chest rose and fell against yours, breaths uneven, like he was trying to hold himself back—Trying, but failing miserably.  

Your hands pressed into his shoulders instinctively, steadying yourself, but that only made it worse—made him want you *closer*, made him crave the feeling of you melting against him. His fingers flexed, sliding up your back, slow and deliberate, his warmth seeping through your clothes, leaving a burning trail in its wake.  

“Please,” he murmured, his voice rough, dangerously low, his lips hovering just beneath your ear. “Say it again.”

It wasn’t a request.  

You shivered, your heartbeat hammering, knowing exactly what you were doing when you leaned in just a little, your breath teasing against his skin, close enough that your lips nearly brushed his.  

“…You’re so good, Sol.” 

His breath hitched, a sharp inhale like your words had physically hit him. His jaw tensed, his fingers tightening their hold as if he was afraid that if he let go, you’d slip right through his grasp.  

And then—he broke.  

His mouth was on your throat in an instant, teeth grazing your skin before he bit down—not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make you gasp, enough to leave his mark. His other hand tangled into your hair, tilting your head just so, giving him more access, more you. 

A low, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest when he felt you shudder against him, your fingers clutching at his shirt. He soothed the bite with a slow, open-mouthed kiss, his lips lingering, savoring.  

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your skin, his voice strained, almost helpless. His nose brushed along your jaw as he exhaled, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.  

His hands tightened around you, possessive, like he was trying to pull you into him, like *having you* in his lap wasn’t enough.  

“Again,” he whispered, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.  “Please.”

And this time, it wasn’t a plea. 

It was a demand.

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Lastly, for Geo, it took about a year and some months; he doesn’t really all that time, starting at you.

Geo was never meant for this to happen. He didn’t plan on it, didn’t think it was even possible. He wasn’t the type to fall for people—let alone someone like you. 

His life had always been straightforward, filled with precision, discipline, and control. Best in archery with enough wealth to make people respect him without having to ask. That’s how things worked for him. No one dared to challenge him. No one dared to get too close. 

Except, somehow, you. 

You were Crowe's friend. It had started innocently enough—nothing more than tolerating your presence because Crowe trusted you and because you seemed to enjoy spending time with him. But the more time passed, the harder it was for Geo to ignore you. 

Your laughter, your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke. It wasn’t anything spectacular—he tried to convince himself—but it was... enough to make him curious. 

He liked to think of it as curiosity. 

But the more he tried to convince himself of that, the more it became something else entirely. It wasn’t just curiosity, and it wasn’t just the way you seemed to blend seamlessly into his life, leaving an imprint without even trying. It was something deeper, something he couldn’t explain, something he didn’t want to acknowledge. 

It was the way you wore that soft lip with that shiny gloss. That was the first thing he noticed. You probably never realized how you applied it, but to Geo, it became the only thing he could focus on whenever you were nearby. How it caught the light, the way the gloss made your lips look fuller, more inviting. 

He hated how distracted he got by it, but he couldn't help himself. He'd watch as you smiled and delicately applied the gloss, not realizing that each time you did, his eyes would flicker to your lips, unable to look away.

It wasn’t just about the gloss—he hated to admit it, but it was the way your lips moved, the way they curved up when you spoke to him. Every smile felt like an invitation, and it made his heart race every time he saw it.

And the worst part? 

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

His mind ran wild, imagining what it would be like to kiss you, to taste that gloss. Would it be sweet? Fruity? Would it be like strawberry or maybe something more decadent, like cake? Geo didn’t know, but the mere thought drove him crazy.

Yet, every time you caught him staring, you would smile, the same playful glint in your eyes, and then push away from him. It was maddening. 

“It was nice talking to you,” you’d say, and just like that, you were gone, leaving him standing there with the weight of his thoughts.

It wasn’t the way you left that bothered him—it was how you left him wanting more. 

He couldn’t help but wonder, when you left, if you knew how much power you had over him. Did you know how much he craved the taste of you, how much he longed to be the one you smiled at like that? And every time you walked away, it felt like you were pulling something from him, something he couldn't get back. 

Geo wasn’t used to feeling like this—unsure, obsessed, craving something that was just out of reach. He never thought he’d be the type of person to feel like this, but here he was, and it made him desperate. 

He couldn't keep pretending he didn't want you, even though he knew better. He couldn’t deny how much he wanted to be the one to kiss you, to taste the sweetness you wore on your lips. But you’d never give him that satisfaction. 

And that, more than anything, pulled him in even deeper.

Even during one of his archery competitions, it was all background noise. His eyes, always sharp and calculating, found you almost immediately—despite the sea of people around, despite the chaos of the competition unfolding before him. There you were, standing off to the side, caught up in the frenzy, but somehow, your presence always felt like it anchored him. 

Geo’s focus sharpened, his usual stone-cold expression becoming intense, almost feral, the moment he locked eyes with you. His heart skipped in a way he couldn't explain, and for the briefest second, the noise of the crowd, the frantic cheers, the tension in the air—all of it seemed to fade into nothing. 

There was something in the way you looked at him, that same fire in your eyes. It sent a shock of electricity through his veins, tightening his chest. It wasn’t just admiration. No, it was something deeper. Something possessive. Geo didn't want to admit it, but the way you looked at him, unwavering, made his ego swell in a way he had never known. 

The satisfaction of knowing you were watching him, that you were his to look at, made his body hum with need.

It was this feeling that had him doing something uncharacteristic for him: walking over to you before the competition even started, pushing through the crowd as if he had a claim on you. His movements were deliberate, as though the world had momentarily paused just for him to take that step toward you.

And as the competition wore on, Geo found his gaze kept darting to where you stood at the edge, just beyond their reach. When he wasn’t actively participating, his attention would always wander back to you. 

It was like an anchor, something he couldn’t shake off. 

Geo had never been one to linger—at least, not without reason. He was efficient, calculated, and never one to waste time where it wasn’t necessary. And yet, here he was, standing just a little behind his group, hovering just enough to be near them but not quite *with* them.  

And then you appeared.  

“What are you doing here, all by your lonesome?”  

Your voice was light, teasing, and when he turned his gaze downward, there you were, standing just slightly apart from the others—just like him.  

Geo had always found idle conversation tedious, a waste of time. But with you? It never felt like that. Even when you were talking his ear off, rambling about things he barely understood or had no real interest in, he listened. 

Normally, he would’ve found it grating. Normally, he would have shut it down with a deadpan stare and a clipped response.  

But with you…  

His ever-present frown softened, the tension in his shoulders easing in a way he didn’t quite notice. He wasn’t even irritated that you were talking. If anything, he found himself waiting for the next thing you’d say, some stupid remark or observation that would somehow make him want to keep this—whatever this was—going.  

“They’re loud,” he muttered, nodding toward his friends.   

You scoffed, rolling your eyes with exaggerated flair. “And you’ve decided to, what? Hide in the shadows, all broody and mysterious? Go, girl, give us nothing.”  

A breath of a laugh—not quite full, not quite deliberate—escaped his lips before he could stop it. It wasn’t loud, wasn’t obvious, but it was there.  

When his gaze flicked back to yours, you were already smiling, your eyes alight with something effortless. Effervescent.

Geo’s stomach twisted, but not unpleasantly. It was unfamiliar, unsettling in its quiet intensity. He didn’t yearn for people—he never had. He never needed anyone. But then why did his pulse kick up when you tilted your head at him like that? Why did his body seem to lean ever so slightly toward you, like some invisible force was tugging him closer?  

He swallowed, barely aware of the way his fingers twitched at his sides.  

It was ridiculous. 

You were ridiculous.  

Geo wasn’t one for impulse—he was sharp, calculated, always in control. But with you? That control slipped too easily, unraveling before he even realized what was happening.  

Your teasing words hung in the air between you, your smile playful, taunting. “You know I can see you always looking at me, right?”  

His jaw tightened, his mind already preparing a sarcastic reply—something to keep the moment light, to keep his defenses up. But before he could think twice, his body moved on instinct.  

“Yeah.”

The single word left his lips smoother than he expected, like it belonged there. But then he took it a step further, voice dropping just slightly—just enough to make your breath hitch.  

“I love it.”

Your expression shifted instantly, amusement flickering into something softer, something unsure. Your lips parted, a small, stunned noise escaping before you stumbled over your words. “What—huh?”  

Geo smirked, watching the blush creep up your neck, your wide eyes blinking up at him in disbelief. And damn it, the sight sent a rush of satisfaction straight through him, settling deep in his chest.  

Before you could think of backing away, before he could second-guess himself, he reached out. His fingers wrapped around your wrist—gentle, firm—as he tugged you toward him in one smooth pull.  

The space between you disappeared in an instant, your breath mixing with his as you steadied yourself against his chest. His other hand ghosted along your waist, his touch featherlight but possessive, like he wasn’t willing to let go just yet.  

“Wha—?” The protest barely left your lips before he leaned in, lowering his head, his breath hot against your skin as his lips brushed against your forehead—slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment.  

You froze.  

He felt it—the way your breath caught, the way your fingers curled ever so slightly against his shirt like you were trying to ground yourself.  

Geo smirked against your skin before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze again. His aquamarine eyes burned into yours, filled with something unreadable, something dangerous.  

“You were saying?” His voice was smooth, teasing, but there was no mistaking the edge beneath it—the quiet claim, the unspoken you’re mine.

And just like that, he let his fingers slip away, leaving you standing there, flushed and breathless.  

His smirk deepened.  

Yeah.  

He definitely loved it.

·───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆───────·

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 11.7k words

summary: in which you and steve have the brilliant (and slightly insane) idea to try to get your bosses to date because maybe it’ll make your jobs and lives easier 

warnings: modern!au, explicit language, one too many clueless references, drinking/alcohol mentions (drunk!reader and drunk!steve moment toward the end)

note: i didn’t expect this to become as long as it did but here we are now<3 set it up nation please rise! this is very much inspired by that movie (that is in fact one of my favorites) and i was rewatching it a few months ago and it made me want to do something similar-ish. enjoy<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: i bet you ten bucks my night is going worse than yours 

YOU: that’s definitely impossible so i will happily take that bet and your money 

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: remember how i’ve been doing todd’s son’s science project for the past week?

YOU: yeah because the kid sucks at science

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: i finally finished it and gave it to todd today. he hated it and ripped it to shreds right in front of my face (i kinda blame this dumbass juice diet he’s on for him being much more of an asshole than usual). anyway, now i’m gonna have to spend all night doing a new project 

YOU: holy fuck

YOU: you win

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: i would like cash please 

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: what bullshit are you being subjected to right now? 

YOU: at 8 kristen said she didn’t want dinner because she wasn’t going to be “staying late tonight.” and then twenty minutes ago she asked me where her dinner was and gave me the most annoyed look when i said i didn’t have it….

YOU: now i’m waiting in the lobby for a delivery guy to get here with pasta :)

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: ouch

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: want some company down there?

YOU: are you just asking that because you want your money?

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: maybe….

YOU: evil man!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“The joke’s on you because I don’t have ten bucks right now, so you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for your money,” You told Steve when he walked into the lobby. 

“I was lying. I don’t care about the money. I really came down here to keep you company,” He said as he joined you by the front door. 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. “Oh, whatever.”

He only smiled at you. “So, how much longer until the delivery guy gets here?”

You took another look at your phone and then showed it to Steve. “Less than a minute. His car’s down the street.”

“How annoyed is Kristen?”

“She got pulled into a Zoom call with the team in LA right after scolding me, so I’m ninety-five percent sure she hasn’t noticed I’m gone yet.”

“That’s good.”

“Is Todd gone for the night?” 

You kind of had a feeling that you already knew the answer to your question because Steve looked more relaxed than normal; his white button-up shirt was untucked from his nice black dress pants and the tie that was around his neck and tucked under the collar of his shirt was loosened too. 

“Yeah, he left right after destroying the science project.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe that happened.”

Steve let out a tired sigh that you were certain wouldn’t be his last of the night. “What’s another suitable project for a fifth grader?”

“Sorry, but I’m not brushed up on the current fifth-grade education system,” You joked, giving him a teasing smile. When he didn’t match it, you held up your hands in mock surrender. “Okay, sorry, I’ll save all my jokes for when this is no longer a problem for you.”

His lips twitched upward in the smallest amused smile. “How many do you have?”

“Oh, a full stand-up set pretty much, but I’ll save it for tomorrow,” You said, trying to make your voice sound as serious as possible. 

He smiled wider then and seeing him look at least a little less stressed felt like a success in your book. You knew that he would’ve done the same for you if the roles were reversed in this moment, and there were many times when he had done the same. Made a joke when you didn’t even know you needed to hear one, but it still made your day better, or told you a random story about nothing when you needed a breather from thinking about work. 

This friendship you two had made your job feel a thousand times more bearable, and you were so glad that you met him eight months ago. That abrupt introduction had been another middle-of-the-night lobby situation like this one; when it seemed like everyone in the building was done and gone for the day, except for you two and your workaholic bosses. Both of you were waiting for meals from the same diner, which you didn’t even realize until your separate delivery drivers almost mixed up the orders. It was a mix-up that was luckily fixed before it descended into a bigger issue with your respective bosses. 

You two ended up talking a lot on the elevator ride up to your floors and found out just how much you two had in common— both of you being assistants to insane bosses— and the rest was history. 

“Thank you. That’s very considerate,” Steve said to you now, placing a dramatic hand over his heart, which made you laugh.

Before you could say something to keep this playful banter going, you noticed the car pulling up in front of the building. You met the delivery guy halfway and let out a quick “Thanks” when he handed over the food to you. You did a quick look through of what was in the bag and smiled in relief when you saw that everything was there. 

“How long do you think you’re gonna have to stay tonight?” Steve asked you on the elevator ride back up. 

“No idea,” You took a look down at your phone. “She’ll probably eat this once her Zoom call ends in thirty minutes, and then hopefully want to leave for the night.”

“Nice, then you’ll actually be able to get more than four hours of sleep.”

“Fingers crossed.”

The elevator came to its stop on the fifteenth floor and the doors opened, which marked your cue to leave. 

You took a few steps and then turned around to face Steve again, giving him a quick wave. “Good luck tonight, Harrington.”

“Thank you. I’m gonna need it,” He responded, waving back as the doors finished closing. 

You avoided looking at all of the empty cubicles that took over the space in the office— desks that had been left hours ago— and simply went to your desk that sat right outside Kristen’s office. You could faintly hear her talking through the shut glass door. 

You used the downtime to busy yourself with random work rather than doing anything remotely interesting or simply taking a break and doing nothing. You double-checked what Kristen’s calendar schedule looked like for the next few weeks and made sure that everything was in order, and then you went to your work email although nothing new had come in in the last thirty minutes. 

When the time hit 10:03pm and you heard the door open and then saw Kristen walk out, you stood up from your chair and grabbed the bag with the food off your desk. 

“Hi, I have your dinner here.”

She gave you a confused look and it was then that you noticed that her coat was on and her purse was hanging on her shoulder. “I don’t want that. It was supposed to be an early night, remember? I’ll see you in the morning.”

You nodded immediately at her words instead of doing anything else. You, of course, did not tell her that she had asked you to get her food, and you of course definitely did not ask her if ten o’clock could really be considered an “early night” given that the night was pretty much already halfway done and it was basically Friday. 

Nope, you didn’t say any of that, because even though Kristen was nothing but contradictory at times, which made your job absolutely suck, you still liked having one at the end of the day. 

“Okay, got it. See you tomorrow,” You told her, forcing a smile. 

She nodded at you and then her eyes fell to her phone as she walked off. 

You let out a tired sigh once you were certain she was out of earshot and then sat down once again. You could’ve grabbed your own jacket and bag and followed suit, leaving for the night and getting more than four hours of sleep just as Steve had mentioned and you had crossed your fingers in the elevator hoping it would happen. 

However, you didn’t slip on your coat or reach under your desk to grab your bag. Instead, you pulled out your phone.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

YOU: kristen’s gone for the night

YOU: do you want help with the science project?

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: please yes. definitely. thank you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You and Steve stared at the blank tri-fold poster board as you two ate the Alfredo pasta that had been meant for Kristen. 

The idea for the project had already been decided; it was some sort of chemical reaction thing, seeing how food coloring and dish soap react to being put in different types of milk. Steve showed you a video about it and it actually seemed really cool. 

After finishing the pasta, doing the experiment itself took less than thirty minutes because everything you needed for it was luckily spread about both of your break rooms and then it was just a matter of typing everything up and making the poster board look nice. 

“So, where does this situation lie on the worst things Todd has ever made you do? Is it breaking the top three?” You asked as you stood next to the printer on Steve’s desk and he typed away on his laptop. 

“Definitely,” He didn't hesitate to answer. “I think this takes the third spot that was previously held by him making me drive to the airport two hours away to pick up his mom.”

“Fuck, I always forget about that,” You told him. “If we knew each other when that happened a year ago, I would’ve happily gone with you. I love a long car ride.” 

“And I would’ve definitely taken you up on that offer because that was the worst drive ever.”

“God, how did you survive before we knew each other existed eight months ago?” You asked jokingly and hearing his initial laugh in response made you smile. 

“It was really hard, I honestly don’t know how I managed,” He responded playfully, making you smile wider. “Has your top three with Kristen changed recently?” 

“Nope, the third is the cheese incident, the second is the dog thing, and the first is still all of the shit I had to do the day she interviewed her favorite director for the website.”

You still considered that the worst day you ever had being Kristen’s assistant. She had wanted to make sure that everything was perfect for that interview she had been working for months to get with the infamous Matt Scott, so you had gotten stuck with doing a bunch of tedious tasks. It was still hard for you to look at Skittles and not feel immediate disdain because you had to sort through so many packs of them that day since he weirdly only liked the red and yellow ones. 

The only good thing that came out of that day was that the interview went really well and it was what skyrocketed the website into how big it currently was, and it was still growing. 

You remembered when you randomly stumbled upon the website three years ago. It was a mix of reviews, essays, and articles discussing movies and television shows, all of which interested you a lot, and you liked the website so much that you continuously kept up with it. And the day that you found out that the woman behind the entire thing needed an assistant, you jumped at the opportunity. It didn’t take you too long to realize that you hated being an assistant, but you were really good at it and you also really loved being a part of that environment; surrounded by other people who loved movies and TV and were actually making a living out of writing about it. 

“I just learned that Todd loves one of the horror movies that that director did. ‘The Damned’ something I can’t remember the full title of it,” Steve said, not looking up from his laptop and continuing to type as he talked. He was a weirdly good multitasker; you’d learned that early on in your friendship, but it still always really impressed you. 

“The Damned Rabbit,” You told him as you started cutting out the pictures on the pages you just printed. “That’s Kristen’s favorite too. I can usually stomach most horror movies, but that one was way too gory for me.” 

“Do you think I would like it?”

“Didn’t you say that you got scared watching the Goosebumps show when you were a kid?” 

Steve looked away from his laptop and at you then. “I honestly don’t remember telling you that, but yeah that’s true.” 

You shrugged. “I remember all conversations we have regarding any TV shows or movies.” 

His head tilted a bit and he gave you a look that you didn’t take notice of because you were focused on properly cutting out the pictures. “And I’m assuming you’re using that information to judge me and my taste.” 

“No, of course not,” You told him, making your voice sound completely serious, and then you smiled. “I already know you have shit taste in movies, so there’s no need for me to collect any more data about that.”  

He placed an overdramatic hand over his heart. “Ouch, that hurts. Truly. Badly.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you finally looked at him. “Sorry, that was mean.”

“Very much so,” Steve agreed with a nod. “Please take that back and admit that I have the best taste ever.”   

You shook your head as you smiled. “I’d rather not lie to you right now.”  

He playfully rolled his eyes at you and then went back to focusing on his laptop. He finished typing out everything and then printed it all and you helped him cut everything out once you were done with the pictures. You two then set everything up in what felt like good places on the tri-fold and glued it down. The project definitely looked rushed, but it also looked like a fifth grader did it, so in your eyes it was perfect. And by the time one in the morning rolled around, both your and Steve’s tired eyes and lack of sleep thought it was the best thing either of you had ever done. 

“I can’t wait until Christmas comes and he goes to New Jersey to visit his family,” Steve said as you two began the cleanup process. “I think I’m gonna go into hibernation for that entire week.”

You nodded in agreement, balling up scraps of paper and tossing them into the garbage and deciding against reminding him that Christmas was over two months away, and then you remembered something. “Kristen’s also from New Jersey.”

“Small world,” Steve said. “Y’know our bosses are actually really alike. Even aside from them being assholes a lot of the time, they kinda have a lot in common. From the same state, same favorite movie, same favorite food place.”

You nodded along to his words again, thinking about the fact that them both loving that small mom-and-pop diner twenty minutes away was the reason why you and Steve had met in the first place. “Yeah, you’re right.”  

“Honestly, they’d probably be perfect for each other,” Steve joked with a laugh. 

And even though you knew he was joking, you immediately didn’t see it that way. 

“Oh my god,” You stopped what you were doing and looked at Steve, who was now looking at you very confused. “You’re right.” 

His eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head. “I was kidding.” 

“Yes, I know you were, but you’re actually so right. They would be perfect for each other,” You told him. “We should set them up.” 

Steve only shook his head again. “Alright, I think the sleep deprivation is getting to you because you’re saying insane things right now. We’re not gonna get our bosses to date.”

You ignored his words. “I can’t believe we didn’t think of this idea before. It’s just like Clueless.”

“Okay, I have no idea what we’re talking about anymore.” 

“You haven’t seen Clueless?”

“No.”

“Wow, and you wonder why I say your taste in movies is bad,” You said and then shook your head. “So, there’s this one part where the main girl decides to set up two of her teachers because one of them is a hard grader. And once he’s happy and in love, he starts giving all of the students good grades and whatever, whatever. Anyway, all of that to say, if we set up our bosses and they’re happy and in love with each other then they probably won’t be assholes to us anymore.” 

After a few moments of considering your words, Steve nodded. “Honestly, that’s kind of a good idea.”

“Exactly,” You said and smiled. You were still very tired, but you were now also hit with a random burst of energy at the thought of your job maybe becoming a lot less annoying.

“So, how do we do this?” Steve asked.

You considered his question for a second. “Okay, so as far as we both know they’ve never met each other, which means that we need to get them to meet and we need to give them a good meet cute.” 

“Okay…” Steve started, thinking of something as he sat back down in his desk chair and you leaned back against the desk. He looked up at you. “What about the elevator? Maybe we can figure out a way to get them stuck in it together? That’s a classic ‘meet cute,’ right?”

“That’s good, but it doesn’t feel like enough,” You said, looking away from him and trying to think of romcoms you liked, and then it hit you. “Oh, what if we got them on the kiss cam at like a basketball game or something?” 

The amused look that Steve gave you in response was immediate. “Okay, now I definitely know that the sleep deprivation is getting to you because doing that would be impossible.” 

“Yeah, but maybe not if we…” You trailed off, hoping that the rest of the idea would come to you, but it didn’t. “Shit, you’re right. It would be impossible. Elevator it is.” 

Steve nodded. “I actually know the maintenance guy that works here, so it’ll probably be easy to get Todd and Kristen stuck together.” 

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “How do you know the maintenance guy?”

“Long story,” He answered and you decided against questioning him further on it right then. 

“If it wasn’t one in the morning, I’d love to hear that,” You said, and then you almost asked him when you two should put this plan into motion, but you realized something. “Wait, shit, we can’t just get Kristen and Todd into an elevator and hope for the best. We need to, like, ‘plant some seeds’ first. Make them aware of each other and these few things that we know they have in common.” 

“Oh, okay, yeah, that makes sense.”

“So we just need to subtly mention to both of them that they’re from the same state and that they have the same favorite movie and food place,” You continued. 

Steve’s confused look returned. “And how do we do that?”

“Great question,” You said and for a second you considered trying to think of an answer right then, but your brain was too tired to come up with any ideas. “I’m not sure yet, but we’ll figure it out.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: todd liked the science project this time

YOU: thank god 

YOU: i hope that means he’ll be extra nice to you today<3

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: solid joke

YOU: thanks. i try

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: do you think you’re gonna have to stay late again tonight? 

YOU: i am almost certain of it (sadly)

YOU: kristen’s been extra stressed today which means extra scary which means i live here now

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: ouch 

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: have you thought more about how we should do this set up thing?

YOU: no. i’ve had like a thousand things thrown at me since getting here at eight and i haven’t had time to think about anything else

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: same here 

YOU: wow we’re really good at this

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: haha i agree

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The printer was on its last few days of life. You were certain of it, but you just needed it to survive a few more minutes before it completely croaked out on you. 

“Please just ten more pages and then I promise you can go into retirement.” 

“Are you talking to the printer again?” Steve asked from where he was currently sitting at your desk. 

After Todd left for the night at ten, Steve showed up at your floor, knowing that Kristen had been gone for the last hour, but you were still stuck in the building and working on preparing everything for a meeting on Monday.

You looked over at him. “Sometimes Jerry needs some words of encouragement.” 

“Got it. That makes sense,” He responded teasingly with a nod. 

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm tonight, Steven,” You said as you turned your focus back on the printer, and Jerry was printing out the final few pages. 

“Doesn’t me helping you right now cancel out the sarcasm?”

You promptly shook your head. “Not after the science project last night.”

“Alright, that’s fair,” He responded and once you sat down next to him after everything was finally printed out, he looked at the stack of papers in your hand. “How many packets do you have to make?”

“Twenty,” You answered. “And then I need to do the name cards and set everything up in the conference room.”

“Okay. Let me get half of the stack,” He said and you handed over half of the papers in your hand. 

You two easily fell into a routine for the next thirty minutes, a comfortable silence lingering as you focused on the mundane task at hand and let your mind wander a bit. The initial excitement you had toward the “set up” idea had worn off by the morning and instead your non-sleep deprived brain was now thinking about it all from a much more logical standpoint.

“Do you think it would actually work?” You asked once you two were in the conference room, you placing name cards down and Steve setting out the packets. “Us trying to set them up?”

He gave you an amused smile. “You’re second-guessing things already? I thought I would be the one to do that.”

“I don’t know,” You shrugged. “I’ve just started thinking that maybe it will be a waste of time.”

You decided against adding that your reasoning for thinking that way was because your and Steve’s life wasn’t a movie and maybe this idea did sound a bit too good to actually end up working as well as it did when it was a plot point in any film. And the thought of Kristen somehow figuring out what you and him were doing and firing you because of it kind of scared you too. 

“Okay, yeah, maybe it won’t work,” Steve said. “But, why not try, right?” 

You considered his words for a moment before ultimately nodding. It felt a little unexpected, but also completely reassuring, that he was entirely on board with the idea and didn’t seem to have any second thoughts about it. “You’re right. Maybe we’ll at least get a week or two of them being decent to us.”

Steve nodded in agreement. “Yeah, exactly, and that would be great.”

You shook your head and let out a quiet laugh as you thought of something. “Jesus Christ, I can’t believe the bar is so low that the thought of our bosses being nice to us for a week or two sounds amazing.”

Steve laughed too, a quick one that matched your own. “Shit, yeah, that’s actually a little sad.”

It would be a thousand percent sadder if you didn’t have each other through this shitty nonsense, but you didn’t tell him that right then. Instead, you gave him a small smile and placed down the last name card you had in your lap.

“I have some ideas about how we should ‘plant these seeds’ and get them to learn about each other without them knowing that we’re doing that,” Steve said after he set down the last packet. 

You were technically officially done for the night, but neither of you made any move to leave the conference room just yet. You sat down in one of the rolling chairs and Steve took a seat in the one across from you. 

“I kinda love that the tables have turned and you’re the one that’s super into this whole thing and I’m being slightly hesitant,” You told him, the smallest amused smile on your face. 

“Yeah, you corrupted me and now you’re backing out.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how playfully serious his voice sounded. “I promise I’m not backing out. Tell me all of your ideas, Harrington.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

MONDAY 

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: i “accidentally” emailed todd the video of the interview kristen did with the horror movie director guy and he ended up watching the entire thing

YOU: solid work

YOU: and on my side of things, i mentioned the new jersey thing to kristen when she brought up thinking about going home for the holidays and she actually found it a little interesting

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: also solid work

TUESDAY

YOU: okay kristen said she wants to get food from the diner for lunch. what about todd? 

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: he wants it too. it surprisingly took very little convincing to get him to quit the juice diet

YOU: great. i’ll see you in the lobby in 30 minutes

YOU: wait i’m just now realizing how horrible this can go for us if we switch their lunches just for them to learn that they have the same favorite restaurant. maybe we should just say that the lunches “almost” got switched and still make the comment about how the person that it almost got switched with really loves the place too? that’ll let them know that they have the same fave restaurant without them getting mad at us for fucking up their lunches

YOU: or maybe i'm just overthinking this

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: no you're right. that’s a better idea 

WEDNESDAY

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: slight change of plans. we have to push the elevator thing to tomorrow 

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: the maintenance guy’s not here today

YOU: okay

YOU: i was gonna ask if we should take this as a sign to not do it at all but i’m not gonna say that actually…

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: it’s not a sign 

YOU: good thing i didn’t say it was then :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You made it to the maintenance room before Steve. Mainly because you were a little nervous to see how all of this would end up playing out, and being two minutes early somehow helped ease your worries a bit. 

When you walked in, you immediately saw a guy with long curly hair wearing a black t-shirt and dark jeans and sitting at a desk with two computer screens; you assumed he was the maintenance guy Steve talked about. 

You gave him a quick wave and then held out a hand. “Hey, nice to meet you.”

His hand shook your outstretched one and quick introductions were said where you learned his name was Eddie and he and Steve went to high school together and were now friends; which wasn’t as long of a story as Steve had initially made it out to be. 

“So, you’re the infamous ‘girl from work.’”

You let out a laugh at Eddie’s words. “Steve’s mentioned me before?” 

Eddie nodded. “Oh, he talks about you a lot.”

Before you could say anything in response to that, Steve walked into the small room.  

“Sorry, I’m late,” He said, even though he was actually right on time. He looked at Eddie and a confused look crossed his face. “Where’s Wayne?”

“He still has the flu, so he wanted me to cover for him today,” Eddie answered. “But, he told me what you guys wanna do, so I got it.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded and then he gestured between you and Eddie. “You two met?” 

“Yes, and I just learned that you allegedly talk about me a lot,” You said and gave him a teasing smile. 

You immediately noticed his face flush at your words, which actually kind of surprised you and for the briefest second you wondered what that reaction meant, but then he was playfully rolling his eyes at you. “It’s only so my friends know that I don’t completely hate my job.”  

“Glad to know that I’m the only one who makes your job somewhat tolerable,” You said, smiling wider at him. “The feeling’s very mutual.”

You looked away from him then and focused on the computer screens. Eddie had now pulled up the video feed of the security camera in the lobby on one side and the hallway where the main elevators were on the other screen. 

“So, Kristen should be getting back from the coffee shop down the street any second now,” You told Steve. “She always likes going right before they close for some reason.”

He nodded at your words. “Okay, and Todd is still in the lobby talking to Martha about getting a new building ID, and they should be done any second too.”

“I still don’t get how you managed to get her to call him down for that.” 

He gave you a smile. “The ladies at the front desk love me.”

“Honestly, that makes a lot of sense,” You responded. “You are the type of person that old ladies would love.”

“I’ll happily take that as a compliment.” 

“Remember how all the moms in town were completely obsessed with you during your lifeguard days?” Eddie chimed in, a grin on his face. 

Steve rolled his eyes in response, and you laughed while saying, “Of course, you were a lifeguard. That makes so much sense too.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know how to explain it, but just know that it does. And I mean it in a nice way.”

Steve tilted his head and squinted at you. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“Trust me, I’m your best work friend. I’d never lie to you,” You said, holding a solemn hand to your heart, and he couldn’t help but let out a laugh. 

You looked at the screen again and saw that Todd was still talking to Martha, and Kristen was still nowhere to be seen. 

You tapped Eddie on the shoulder to grab his attention. “If one of them gets to the elevator before the other is there, is there any way that you can not let the elevator come?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Luckily, and surprisingly enough though, it didn’t have to come to that. Because finally Kristen was walking back into the building and heading toward the elevators, and seconds later Todd’s conversation with Martha was coming to an end and he was heading in the direction of the elevators too. 

Kristen pressed the up button and then her eyes went down to her phone in her hand, and Todd joined her in waiting after a few moments. Absolutely nothing was said between the two of them, not even when the elevator arrived and they got on together. Which, honestly, made sense to you because you rarely ever talked to the strangers you ended up in an elevator with. 

“How do you stop it?” You asked Eddie after he switched the camera to the one in the elevator. 

“There’s something to press that stops them for emergencies,” He explained as he got up from his chair and went over to a panel on the wall. “And there’s also an intercom here to talk to them so they don’t freak out or start panicking.”

He then pressed the stop button for the elevator Todd and Kristen were on. “Did it work?” 

You and Steve both responded with a quick “Yeah” at the same time. You noticed the confused looks cross your bosses faces and you saw Todd reach out to press the emergency button, but Eddie was speaking through the intercom before he could. 

“Hey, sorry about that, guys. It’s just an electrical issue and it should be fixed in about fifteen to thirty minutes.” He looked at you and Steve again. “Alright, let’s see if your matchmaking thing works.”

It was quiet at first. So quiet that you couldn’t help but wonder if this was actually the worst idea ever. You and Steve were “playing cupid” for two people who only had a few things in common, and it was all for entirely selfish reasons. 

“I’m just now realizing how insane this whole thing is,” You told Steve, looking away from the screen that showed Todd and Kristen still not talking to each other.  

“You’re just now realizing that? That was pretty much the first thing I told you when you suggested this,” Steve reminded you. 

“I know, I know,” You started. “But now seeing it actually happen is making me understand that.” 

Eddie turned around in his chair and looked up at you two. “Do you guys want me to start the elevator back?”

Both you and Steve had the same immediate answer of, “No.” 

You kept going after a second. “This will either be the best thing ever or the complete opposite, but I think we should just see it through, at this point, right?”

In this moment, it seemed like things were leaning more toward the “absolute worst” side of the spectrum, but it didn’t make you entirely change your mind about doing it, and it didn’t make Steve disagree with you either. “Right.”

“Okay,” Eddie shrugged as he turned back around. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think this is that fucked up of an idea.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Okay, cool, so we’re not completely terrible and manipulative people for doing this.”

“Well, I didn’t say that,” Eddie responded and Steve whacked his arm. 

You didn’t say anything and instead looked at the computer screen again. 

“Come on. Talk,” You mumbled. “Talk to each other.”

“They can’t hear you,” Steve jokingly whispered to you. 

Before you had the chance to make a sarcastic comment back to him, there was finally something coming from the computer’s speaker.  

“Hey, you did that interview with Matt Scott, right?” Todd asked Kristen.

She nodded. “Yeah, I did.” 

“I just watched it a couple of days ago. It was really good,” He said, and at that, Kristen smiled. 

From there, it felt like the equivalent to watching a movie; and you could inwardly recognize how weird that sounded. They introduced themselves to each other and then continued to talk about that horror movie director they both loved, and they eventually bonded over the few things that you and Steve had told them about one another too. 

Thirty minutes passed quicker than expected and you and Steve ended up sitting in two folding chairs that were in the small room and sat next to Eddie as you watched your bosses have what seemed like a really good conversation. It didn’t seem as if it was coming to any sort of an end just yet, but you and Steve still had Eddie start the elevator back up again. And before Kristen got off on her floor first, they exchanged phone numbers— which shouldn’t have at all been surprising, but it still kind of was. 

You looked at Steve once the doors closed and it was just Todd left in the elevator. “Woah.”

He nodded, agreeing with your one word that said a lot more than just that. “Wow.” 

Eddie laughed a little. “Nice work playing cupid for these two.”

You felt relieved, but not entirely so. “We’ll see if it actually works.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Incoming call from UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Steve rarely ever called you. 

It just never made sense with how crazy your jobs were, so you two always settled for texting. Apparently, this moment was different, though. 

However, before you could make any move to answer your phone, you were getting called into Kristen’s office, and your heart was abruptly falling into your stomach because suddenly the timing of Steve's phone call felt like it had something to do with whatever conversation you were about to have with Kristen. 

“Hey,” You said, trying to make your voice sound as normal, and not worried, as possible. “Is everything okay?”

She looked up from her phone and then smiled at you. “Everything’s really good, actually. I’m going to be leaving early today, so you can head out too.”

That wasn’t at all what you were expecting her to say, but you attempted to hide your complete shock. 

“Oh, okay,” You ultimately responded. “Are you sure?”

You regretted asking the question the second you said it, but this entire moment felt like some sort of trick or test, so you felt the immediate need to question it.  

“Yeah, it’s Friday,” She said as if that explained everything, which it did not. “You can have a half day for once.”

You were convinced that this had something to do with Todd, but you still wanted some sort of confirmation. “Special occasion?”

“Remember yesterday when I told you about getting stuck in the elevator for half an hour?” She asked, and when you nodded she continued. “Well, I exchanged numbers with the guy I was stuck with because we had a really nice conversation when we were in there, and five minutes ago, he called asking to go to lunch and then to see this movie that we talked about in the elevator. It’s the last day it’s playing at that small theater on the other side of town.”

You nodded along to her words. “That sounds great.”

“Oh, and funnily enough, it’s the guy that you mentioned a few days ago who works upstairs and is from Jersey, and our food almost got swapped from the diner,” She laughed a little— happily, dreamily— like a woman with a crush. “Isn’t that crazy?”

There was absolutely nothing about how Kristen said those words that should’ve made you think she knew what you and Steve had done, but still, you couldn’t help but think it. 

Which made you force a nervous smile as you once again nodded. “Yeah, so crazy. Small world. Or, well, in this case, I guess small building.” You laughed awkwardly at your non-joke and then immediately kept going. “Anyway, I hope you have a fun time with him today. See you Monday.”

Kristen’s eyes were back on her phone, smiling again as she waved at you in goodbye and you proceeded to quickly leave her office. 

You called Steve back the moment you were at your desk again. He picked up on the second ring and the first thing he said was, “It actually fucking worked. He asked her to go to lunch.”

“I know,” You whispered, even though all you really wanted to do in that moment was let out the happiest sound ever. “Where are you right now?”

“Todd’s letting me leave since he’s leaving, so I’m about to head down to the lobby.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you there. I’m gonna grab my stuff and immediately run away from my desk before Kristen can call me back into her office and tell me that this was all some sort of elaborate prank,” You said and then hung up, stuffing your phone in your pocket and grabbing your bag from underneath your desk. 

You waved happily at Steve when you exited the elevator in the lobby and barely a second later he was pulling you into a hug. Even though that was something that had never happened before, you didn’t hesitate to return the action, wrapping your arms around him too and smiling into his shoulder. 

“You’re a genius for this idea,” He told you, words hitting right at your ear. 

“Technically, you came up with it,” You reminded him when you two pulled out of the celebratory embrace. 

“Okay, in that case, I’ll happily take the credit for all of this then,” Steve said and smiled at you. 

You playfully poked his arm. “What I meant is that we both should get credit for this plan working. You kinda came up with the initial idea and I came up with all the nitty gritty stuff.”

He shook his head. “That’s not entirely true, actually. Who came up with the elevator meet cute?”

You knew that he wanted you to say him, but you refused to give him the satisfaction so you simply shrugged instead. “A shitty Hallmark movie, probably.”

“Ha ha, good one,” He said as he rolled his eyes at you. 

“Thank you, I’ll be here all week. Actually, that’s not true because we finally just got a day off,” You smiled as you and Steve headed into the lobby. “This is the first time I’ve had a Friday off in the past two years of working here, I honestly have no idea what to do now.”

The thought of spending the rest of the day, and then night, catching up on sleep sounded very tempting to you, and it only felt a little sad that you’d be completely sleeping away a Friday when you finally had the opportunity to do something even the tiniest bit fun. 

“Do you want to come to a birthday party for my best friend/roommate tonight?” Steve asked. “We’re having it at our place and I thought I’d have to miss it because I was gonna be stuck here all night, but now I won’t be, and you should come.”

Initially, you smiled at his offer and you felt the urge to accept it on the spot. But then your brain couldn’t help but consider what saying yes would mean. You and Steve had never hung out outside of this building, and the few food spots that were on the same street as this building, before. Although you two were friends, you couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t pretty much start and end at work; mainly because that was what consumed most of your time. 

“Wouldn't that be kinda weird?” You ultimately asked, deciding against verbalizing exactly what you were thinking about. “I don’t think I’d want a random girl from my best friend’s workplace to be at my birthday party.”

“You’re not a random girl. I talk about you all the time, remember?” Steve said, reminding you of Eddie’s words from yesterday, and the playfulness in his tone made you smile.

Instead of asking more questions— like what it would mean to take your work friendship into normal friendship territory, and whether it would even easily happen— you were simply agreeing and saying, “Okay.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

YOU: what should i bring tonight?

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: just yourself 

YOU: that feels wrong. it’s literally a birthday party 

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: for someone you don’t know 

YOU: that doesn’t matter

YOU: so what do you need? cups? some sort of side dish? more cake?

UPSTAIRS WORK NEIGHBOR: don’t bring anything

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“I brought alcohol,” You said when Steve opened his door and then you held up the two bottles of tequila you bought on your drive over to his apartment. 

He shook his head at you but still smiled as he pushed the door open further to let you in. Seeing him out of his typical professional work clothes and in a simple white t-shirt and jeans was a nice surprise that honestly shouldn’t have been all that surprising. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s physically impossible for me to show up to places empty-handed,” You looked around the decently sized space as Steve closed the door behind you. There weren’t that many people in the apartment yet, you only noticed two girls leaning back against the small kitchen island and talking. You turned to look at Steve. “Shit, am I too early?”

Your hands were full so you couldn’t pull your phone out of your denim jacket pocket to check the time, but you had a feeling what it would say. After working for Kristen for the past two years, it was pretty much ingrained in you to never be late anywhere, and most times you inadvertently ended up being early. 

“A little bit, yeah. But, that’s fine,” Steve told you with a shrug. “I’m glad you’re here early. It’ll probably make it easier for you to meet everyone.”

He then introduced you to the girls talking in the kitchen; his roommate and best friend Robin and her girlfriend Vickie. 

“Hi, you’re my new favorite person,” Robin told you when she noticed the alcohol in your hands.  

“Thank you,” You laughed a little as you set it down on the counter, joining the other bottles that littered it. “Happy Birthday.” 

“Thanks,” She smiled at you. “How are your karaoke skills?”

The randomness of the question slightly surprised you. “Absolutely terrible, but when I’m drunk I love doing it.”

“Perfect,” She said. “You and Steve have to do a duet when we go to this karaoke bar later. The last time we went, he got so drunk he sang Footloose three times in a row.”

“I will admit, each time was very great,” Vickie chimed in. 

“Yeah,” Robin agreed. “He surprisingly has a really good voice.”

You smiled and tried your hardest not to laugh at the thought of the Steve you’d grown to know over the past eight months getting drunk and singing karaoke. “Please tell me there’s video proof of that.”

“Oh, of course,” She nodded and went to pull her phone out of the pocket of the high-waisted pants she was wearing. 

“Okay, and before things get even more embarrassing for me right now,” Steve reached out to grab your hand and pull you out of the conversation. “Let me give you a quick tour of the apartment.”

You were laughing as you let him drag you away from his friends. “You’re suddenly such an attentive host.”

He pointed out the bathroom and Robin’s room down the hall and then led you to his room. 

“It’s clean,” You said, pointing out the obvious. His bed was made and there weren’t any clothes or other random things littering the floor.

Steve let out an amused laugh at your words. “I’m scared to know what you expected it to look like.”

“I don’t know, honestly,” You shrugged as you leaned back against his dark wood desk that was tucked in a corner. “You definitely wouldn’t want to see my room right now. It’s a complete mess from me trying to decide what to wear tonight.”

You had ended up settling for the first things you had pulled from your closet— a long sleeve black shirt and a brown plaid skirt that was shorter than you had remembered but still really nice— so the clothes that had ended up making your bed a mess and floor a tripping hazard felt like a sad waste of time. And now knowing how early you had shown up to the party, you probably could’ve prioritized cleaning up before you left your home in a rush.  

“You look nice,” Steve told you, and you didn’t expect to feel so affected by his words— which you knew were just a simple compliment by a friend— but you did. “Do you want me to take your jacket?”

“Yeah, sure,” You pulled off the dark denim jacket you were wearing and handed it over to him, and he went to place it on the hook behind his open door. 

“So, what did you do after we were set free?” He asked as he sat at the foot of his bed. You got the sudden urge to join him, but you didn’t, deciding to stay right where you were at his desk. 

“I had the best four-hour nap of my life and then I played really dumb games on my phone while still in bed,” You answered. It had been the most perfectly boring evening. “What have you been up to with your past free hours?”

“I also took a nap, and then I watched Clueless.”

A smile immediately started to tug at your lips. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” He nodded. “It felt like good timing.”

“I think good timing would’ve been if you watched it before we did the plan, but better late than never,” You said and then asked the important question. “Did you like it?”

He gave you another nod. “Yeah. A lot more than I expected to, actually.”

“Nice, I knew there was a part of you that had, at least, a kind of good taste in movies.”

“I’m still very offended that you think it’s mainly bad.”

“You told me that one of your favorites is the first Fast and Furious movie, and that was all I needed to know,” You said and then gave him a smile. “It’s honestly funny because an article about the entire series was actually the first thing I read on Kristen’s website.”

“And did it speak highly of the franchise?”

You nodded, holding back a laugh. “For the most part, yes. Surprisingly. I’ll find the link later and send it to you.”

“Thank you,” He said and then a beat of silence lingered before he asked, “Hey, is that why you work for Kristen? Because you eventually wanna write for the website?”

“Yeah, kinda, yeah,” You started with a quick nod. “It didn’t initially start that way. I just loved the website and wanted to be a part of it in any way I could. But, the thought of actually writing has only become more and more interesting to me, and yeah I think I wanna do that sooner than later.”

“You should let me read something you’ve written.”

Your head shake was immediate. “No way.”

“Why not?”

“One, because that’s embarrassing. And two, because I haven’t even finished anything yet because of how busy I always am.”

“Well, we’re gonna start having a lot of free time on our hands, so it’s the perfect time for you to actually finish something,” Steve told you. “And also the perfect time to let me read it once it’s done.”

“I’ll think about it,” You ultimately conceded and then proceeded to shift the subject away from yourself. “What about you, though? Why do you work for Todd?”

“Honestly, I don’t really know. My dad helped me get the job, actually, which is a long story in itself. I initially hated it a lot more than I do now, but I knew that my dad would give me shit if I quit. And he probably still would,” Steve explained. Just from the brief way he talked about his dad, you could sense how tense that relationship was, and you really wanted to know more about it, but you didn’t push further in that moment. “I don’t even like this finance stuff, but I still don’t really know what I really want to do, so I’m kinda okay with dealing with Todd and all of his bullshit.”

You nodded understandingly. “That makes sense. You never once gave me ‘finance bro’ vibes.”

Steve tilted his head at you amusingly. “What does that mean?”

“You’re not an asshole mixed with a huge hint of douchebag.”

He let out a laugh which made you smile. “Thank you. That really means a lot.”

“You’re very welcome,” You told him, still smiling and matching his playful tone. “Okay, okay, enough work talk. We need to use our freedom to its maximum potential.” An idea was hitting you as you stood up from his desk. “Let’s get drunk.”

Another brief amused laugh fell from Steve’s lips, but he still nodded at your words. “Solid idea.”

It had been a long time since you drank so your tolerance was terrible. You felt effectively drunk after just two shots— one with Steve to celebrate being free from work and then a birthday shot with Robin that she made everyone do once more people showed up— and you forced Steve to keep up with you, which he happily did. He was five shots in to your three and both of you were on the same level; a level that also exceeded everyone else at the party. 

You learned that the initial plan was to “pregame” here at the apartment for an hour or two and then head to the karaoke bar that Robin had mentioned earlier and spend the rest of the night there. However, you and Steve took pregaming to an entirely different level. 

You two ended up staying in your own little bubble for most of the night— holed up on a spot on the couch as you talked only about non-work related things for the first time probably ever. You wondered if this bubble was because Steve wanted to make you feel comfortable in this space where you didn’t really know anyone aside from him, and Eddie kinda, but you didn’t question it. 

A friendship that had initially felt as if it had started and ended at work easily shifted into something else as you two learned random things about each other and exchanged silly stories that could be deemed as unimportant nonsense, but it didn’t feel that way coming from a person that you really cared about. And it was when you were laughing and telling Steve about the time you crashed into your childhood neighbor's mailbox just one day after you got your license when you were sixteen— a story that you couldn’t remember the last time you told anyone because of how embarrassing it was— you realized that there was something entirely different about Steve. 

What you and he had wasn’t just a work friendship, and even now in this space outside of work, it also didn’t feel like a normal friendship either. Maybe it was never supposed to be limited to something as simple as that. 

There was an unfamiliar feeling that settled in your stomach as you watched him happily stand next to his best friend and hold the cake that she blew the candles out of moments after everyone loudly sang “Happy Birthday” in the kitchen. You quickly pushed the sudden feeling away because it felt easier to not think about it for the time being.

You and Steve ended up back on the couch again after the cake was cut and you two shared a piece, a corner slice that you both thought was the most perfect thing you had ever seen. 

At some point, you couldn’t tell exactly how much time had passed, Robin came over to the two of you. You noticed the amused smile take over her features as she looked at the close proximity between you and Steve; there wasn't an inch of space between you two because you both wanted the plate to balance equally on your laps. “I think you guys have had more than enough to drink tonight, so you should just stay here.” 

“You sure?” Steve asked, looking up at her. 

She nodded. “Yes, I’m positive. If you puke in the karaoke bar and we get banned I’ll never forgive you, dingus.”

“That’s fair.”

You looked up at Robin and smiled. In a way, it felt wrong that your conversation with her had been so limited earlier, she seemed really nice. “Happy birthday again.”

She smiled back at you. “Thanks again.”

The apartment became empty minutes later and the quietness reminded you of when you had first showed up. There was still music coming from the speaker set up in the living room, but Steve got up from the couch to lower it and then it became a soft hum in the background.

“I’m sorry I suggested the getting drunk idea,” You told Steve as you grabbed the now empty plate in your hand and stood up to toss it in the trash in the kitchen; with your drunkenness, it was a task that felt as if it took forever. “I messed up your night with your friends.”

You saw Steve shake his head when you turned to look at him again. He joined you where you were in the kitchen and grabbed a couple cups off the counter to throw them in the trash can. “I’m happy here with you.”

“Is that because you really didn’t wanna do our duet and because I can help you clean up the mess in here right now?”

“Sure.”

You wanted to ask him what he meant by that, because it felt as if there was much more to that one-worded response, and even in your current inebriated state you could see that. Instead, though, you were asking, “Why are we friends?”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the randomness of your question. “Because we met that night in the lobby eight months ago?”

You shook your head. “No, I mean, why are we just friends?”

You weren’t sure why you were suddenly asking this— or even where your abrupt courage was coming from to ask it— but in this moment, with you two standing in his barely lit kitchen, it somehow felt right.

Your question was met with silence, though, and that lack of a response from Steve made you suddenly feel as if you actually shouldn’t have asked that question; because maybe it said way too much. 

“Oh, actually, never mind,” You abruptly said and pulled your eyes away from his, and went to grab the half-full red solo cup off the kitchen counter to toss it in the garbage. 

However, in what should’ve been a short and simple journey to the trash can, you roughly bumped into the side of the counter and spilled the entirety of what was leftover in the cup on yourself. 

“Shit.”

“Shit,” Steve immediately echoed, looking at the mess on the lower part of your shirt and the front of your skirt. “Um, let’s grab you something to change into.”

Wordlessly, you nodded and followed him to his bedroom. You weren’t entirely sure what you were more embarrassed about— you spilling a drink on yourself and now smelling so disgustingly like alcohol or the stupid question you asked him that led to this happening.

“You can grab whatever you want from in there,” Steve told you and pointed toward what you assumed was his closet. “I’m gonna get a towel for you.”  

“Thanks, I’m sorry about all of this. I swear I’m not usually this annoying of a drunk person,” You joked because it felt like the only right thing to do in that moment. 

“You’re not annoying,” You heard Steve say from somewhere behind you. 

You wanted to follow up with another sort of playful and witty response, but you couldn’t think of what to say. So instead, you silently pulled a long-sleeved white button-up off a hanger and turned back to Steve, who handed over a towel for you. 

You headed to the bathroom that wasn’t too far down the hall and as you closed the door behind you and were left alone, you refused to think about what happened in the past few minutes. You focused solely on the mundane task of pulling your shirt off and drying your damp skin with the towel and then moving to take off your skirt. 

You weren’t sure where you thought Steve was, but you didn’t think he was standing right outside the bathroom door, so abruptly hearing his soft voice on the other side of the door made you jump as you slipped on the white shirt. 

“I think we’re just friends because…” He trailed off. “I don’t know, honestly.”

You wished that your question could’ve simply been forgotten about, and you wanted to tell him just that; to forget it. However, there was a small part of you that wanted to push the conversation forward and actually talk about it, and somehow that small part managed to take precedence over logical thinking.  

“Maybe we shouldn’t be friends,” You responded, not outwardly saying what you really meant because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to take it back once the words were out in the open and that was a slightly scary thought, even your drunk brain knew that.  

“I think you’re right,” Steve said, and somehow you could practically hear him nodding. “So, what should we be instead?”

It was obvious what he wanted you to say, and even though the words were on the tip of your tongue, you still couldn’t seem to actually say them. You finished buttoning the shirt and then let out a quiet sigh.

“I don’t know…” You ultimately answered. Selfishly, you wanted him to be the one to say it out loud first. “What do you think we should be instead?”

Hearing his soft laugh made you immediately smile. Somehow, this back-and-forth conversation between two half-drunk people who were beating around the bush about their feelings for one another was becoming more and more teasing, and you honestly didn’t mind it because it just felt so typical of you and Steve. 

“I don’t know, either,” He answered, and for a second, you thought that the conversation was going to come to its end there— without either of you mustering up the courage to actually say the words— but then he continued. “But I’ll admit that whenever I see you, it makes me really, really happy.”

You could only smile wider at his words. “Okay, and I’ll admit that sometimes I like when we’re both forced to stay late at work because it means that I get to spend more time with you.”

You didn’t realize just how true those words were until you were saying them. You had long accepted that Steve being in your life made your job a thousand times more bearable, but you were now finally seeing that it was so much more than that. You were suddenly so certain of the fact that you would’ve quit your job long ago if going to work and dealing with Kristen didn’t mean eventually seeing Steve at some point throughout the day, even if it was just for five quick minutes. 

“Honestly, those late nights are kind of my favorite,” Steve responded to your previous confession and you felt yourself nodding in agreement even though he couldn’t see you.

“I like you,” You told him. Your voice was soft but you knew that he could hear you. “And I don’t mean that in a work friend or regular friend kind of way. And I’m just now fully realizing it tonight, but I think deep down I’ve felt this way for a long time.”

“I like you too,” He responded, voice matching your softness and you could hear the smile in his tone. “And I don’t mean it in a work friend or regular friend way either.” 

Things got quiet for a second and then you were opening the bathroom door and meeting Steve’s eyes. Neither of you said anything at first; mainly because it felt as if the contented smiles on both of your faces managed to say it all. 

“I forgot to grab pants,” Were the first words you said after a minute of comfortable silence. Steve’s shirt on you was long enough and its length matched where your skirt had ended, so nothing new was really revealed. 

Steve laughed a little at your random statement because it made it seem as if a huge thing hadn’t just been admitted by both of you only moments ago. 

“We should probably get you those,” He looked down at your new outfit, or lack thereof, for a brief second and then met your eyes again. 

You gave him a quick nod. “Yeah, I guess that would make sense.”

Neither of you made any move to head toward his bedroom again, though. Instead, another handful of moments passed and then you were silently reaching out and letting your hand find his. You pulled him into the bathroom with you and softly shut the door behind him.

With two people now in it, you were realizing just how small the bathroom was, but this closeness felt perfect to you. And you could tell that the feeling was mutual because Steve’s hands were finding your hips, and then you were being shifted around so that you were pressed back against the sink. Your arms reached up to circle his neck and your hands settled in the hair at the nape of his neck; it all felt so instinctive— as if this was something that had happened a bunch of times before. As if this entire moment was something that had happened a million times before.

Your eyes drifted down to Steve’s lips for a quick second because they were only inches away from yours and you wondered who would be the one to close the final bit of distance between you two, or if you’d simply just meet in the middle and the rest would be history. 

Before anything could happen, though, the annoying logical part of you was taking over and you got the urge to ask something. “We’re not just doing this and saying all of this because we’re kinda drunk, right?”

Your words were whispered and your eyes were closed because you knew that your question had the opportunity to be a mood killer and ruin this moment entirely, and for those exact reasons, you immediately wanted to take it back. But, Steve was answering before you could. 

“No,” He whispered back. It was such a short and simple answer, but it somehow managed to say enough. 

Your eyes opened and you could tell that he was about to say more, but you leaned in to kiss him before anything could be said. It was soft at first, soft and tentative, like you both were testing the waters and trying to correctly navigate this uncharted territory. 

But then it was as if the same switch was flipping for you two at the exact same time because, after the briefest second, you both were simultaneously pushing any and all thinking to the side and simply leaning into what felt right. Steve deepened the kiss and you reciprocated immediately, pushing yourself as close as you could to him and closing any and all space between you two. 

Your hands went from softly tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck, to fisting themselves in his white t-shirt. And then, with Steve’s help too, you pushed yourself up so that you were sitting on the sink counter. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but you didn’t entirely mind it right then. Steve settled between your now parted legs and one hand was still on your hip, while the other was playing with the hem of your, his, shirt that was now riding further and further up your thighs due to your new position.  

“I can’t believe out of everything, you grabbed this shirt,” Steve said in between kisses. 

You let out a contented sound when his lips moved to your neck. “Why?” 

“Because you look very, very hot right now,” He didn’t hesitate to answer. “And your outfit earlier was really great too, and honestly you always look hot so maybe this shouldn’t even be surprising to me right now.” 

You let out a soft laugh at his rambling. “I’m hot even when we’re at work and I’m wearing a boring cardigan and jeans?”

Steve nodded and pressed a quick kiss against your lips. “Especially then.” 

It was hard not to feel so affected by the two simple words; your heart quite literally stuttered at how certain he sounded, and you leaned in to kiss him again instead of saying anything in response. Your fingers carded themselves in his hair, eliciting a soft groan from him that made you smile into the kiss. And then both of his hands moved to your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter so that you were flush against him. 

In a way, it felt a little silly that you two were making out in his bathroom when there was a perfectly good bed right down the hall. But, it was a kind of silliness that made sense for you and Steve and everything you two built over the last eight months of knowing each other. 

There was the friendship side of things that happened so effortlessly following that night you two met in the lobby, and now there was this new side that, weirdly enough, so quickly felt the same way. Kissing him for the first time right here, right now made you wish that you two had been doing this a lot sooner because of how irrevocably happy it made you. 

“We’re stupid for taking so long to do this,” You eventually told him when you two were in his bed. You were moments away from falling asleep, but you felt the need to finally say those words. 

The two of you were under his grey covers and you had traded the button up for one of Steve’s t-shirts and a pair of his basketball shorts that were really comfortable. His warmth enveloped you completely beneath the blanket as he pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and finding your hand to intertwine it with his. 

“Like we were stupid for not getting Todd and Kristen together sooner?”

You nodded, a small smile gracing your lips that he couldn’t see because you were facing away from him. “Yes, exactly like that.”

Steve pressed a kiss against the side of your head and then his lips tickled at your ear. “I agree.”

You hummed in response and finally fell asleep moments later because you were in way too comfortable of a position not to. It was your first time in Steve’s bed, but how at ease you’d felt since you pulled the blanket over you minutes ago didn’t feel new or foreign. It simply felt right. 

And before your eyes slipped shut and you drifted off, you came to the final realization of the night that everything felt right with Steve, it always did, and that was the most comforting thought to fall asleep to.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know your thoughts<333

[beardedjoel]

💗🎉💗CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR MILESTONE!💗🎉💗

I’m so happy for you! I found you through Closer, and I couldn’t be happier about it. You’re an amazing writer and such a lovely person!

I’m wondering… what about one of these?🌹the prompt number 1. I love your writing and I cannot stop myself from asking. Perhaps with Joel, or Frankie, or Pero…I’m not picky, I’ll be happy with whatever the inspiration leads you.

Alsooooo… Is it too much if I add a little bit of 💌? I’m curious about your writing process. How do you do it? Is it linear, or do you jump around, and later “paste it”?

wym, you're so sweet and i love sharing this space with you my friend 😘 thank you for sending in this prompt and allowing me to do something special with it. thanks for your patience as i have been painstakingly slow with making my way through this backlog of requests! i'll answer your thoughtful writing question at the very bottom of the post after the one shot, if that's alright!

axel and ember — joel x f!reader

request: "overwhelmed, but happy crying during sex". sent in as part of my 5k celebration! i decided to use this one for something very personal to me. as someone who has dealt with vaginismus, this was challenging to write the last few days but it felt like the right direction for me to go in with this prompt. in no way does this describe the experience every person with vaginismus has (nor 100% true to mine), and it is a lot of hard work to help your body and mind learn to work with the sexual obstacles that come with it. i simplified things for the purpose of this story but still found it really gratifying to write so much from personal experience and feelings that i have dealt with. i highly encourage anyone who has not heard of vaginismus to do a little research as it's something that many, many women deal with in silence or is ignored as much of women's sexual health is. happy reading 💓

wc: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader has vaginismus, unprotected piv

“Maybe… maybe it just doesn’t fit.”

You’d said the words, exasperated after trying for the third time that week.

“I don’t think that’s how that works, darlin’,” Joel teases the words playfully, his hair hanging down into his face as he holds himself perched above you. His smile brusquely fades when he sees that you’re genuinely upset. Some days, it hadn’t been that big of a deal, you’d been able to shrug off the frustration. Today, however, you felt frayed and emotional, pissed off that your body couldn’t just behave like a normal body should. It’s infuriating, living in a body that won’t cooperate with your mind, seeing others do with ease what you never could. What you could only have as a fantasy. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” He leans down, kissing you softly before moving from where he’d been stationed on top of you to lay at your side.

Another dream of finally having sex with your boyfriend tonight slipped away in an instant. 

“What if I try the dilators again?” you ask desperately, meeting Joel’s gaze. His warm eyes look back at yours with empathy, and he shrugs.

“If y’want. But maybe you should jus’ rest. We already had our fun, yeah?”

He’d gotten you off, you’d gotten him off. Fingers and tongues and mouths, which admittedly were great, but you craved to know what more of him felt like, more than just the one, sometimes two fingers you could handle without soon wincing in discomfort.

You wanted him inside of you, wanted your bodies joined in the way that you were so cruelly being denied by the universe.

“N-no, you’re right. It was fun.” You flash him a somewhat forced smile, grateful for his patience and love when he wraps his arms around you. Joel had been such a constant with you, so wonderful, and that only made it hurt more that you couldn’t give him this. He’d never pressured you, never made you feel at fault these last five months you’d been dating. In some ways, it had brought you closer, not being able to rush into sex, but it didn’t mean that he’d stick around forever if it meant he couldn’t get the one thing you know men always want.

“We’re gonna get it one of these days,” he reassures you, stroking your hair. “You’re workin’ hard at your sessions and here at home. Don’t tell you enough that I think it’s great, seein’ you tryin’ all of that. But don’t do it for me, okay? Do it ‘cause it’s what you want.”

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. You were of course doing all of this work for yourself, so that you could freely enjoy something that should come so naturally to your body. Yet you knew that deep down the pressure was mounting, wanting to give Joel the sexual satisfaction you assumed he craved, something that your hands and mouth couldn’t give him. It was putting up a block between you and your sexuality, making each interaction that much more strained and distressing. You’re surprised Joel caught on to all of that when you’d been trying to put on a brave face for him. 

“I - I know,” you concede with a sigh. “I’m afraid sometimes. That I’ll never be enough without this piece of me.”

Joel’s deep set brow furrows further, looking hurt - for you or for himself, you can’t quite tell. His lips set into a firm line before they part, readying to speak. “I think you’re pretty damn amazing the way that y’are. I want that for us, ‘course I do. But I’d rather jus’ have you, whatever, however you are.”

“You would?” you ask sentimentally, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. You laugh slightly, wiping under your eyes, knowing your question is ridiculous but still needing that extra validation that he’s sure. That he’s okay continuing to try this with you, even if it never results in anything. 

“Yes, silly. Why do you think I’ve kept you around all this time?” 

“‘Cause I find us all the good TV shows to watch?”

He laughs, his burly chest shaking with it. “Quit bein’ a pest, I’m tryin’ to be serious with you,” he quips back, trying and failing to hold back his chuckle.

“I know. I know what you’re saying, Joel. I -“ You swallow, your face falling, pulled back into the seriousness of the moment. “I appreciate you. So, so much.” You reach and wrap your arms tightly around him. You relish in the feeling of being close to him, your naked bodies melding together, the heater-like quality of Joel always comforting to you. 

“You’re all the good in this relationship, baby.”

“Who’s being a pest now?” You flick his chest, sending the both of you into a fit of laughter again, giddy at the late hour and the tax of this evening leaving you emotionally spent.

The voice deep inside your mind taunts you as you slowly listen to Joel falling asleep next to you, his breath falling to a rhythmic pattern interlaced with tiny, endearing snores. You hold back tears that come in the dark, feeling so small and alone in this moment, knowing that despite his reassurances, he could never truly understand how this feels for you.

The next few weeks go by with much of the same - you’re busy with life, work, friends, and going to your physical therapy sessions. It was awkward at first all those months ago, laying there bare underneath the sheet while a woman practically had half her hand inside of you, but you got used to it, even started to look forward to hearing about her life and her kids. 

You and Joel try a few more times to no avail, your body once seeming to have a breakthrough before promptly making you inhale sharply in pain, shaking your head dejectedly. 

You try to let it go, let all of it go. Learn that life doesn’t surround this, it simply can’t if you don’t want this pressure, this hole in your heart that you think you need to fill, to eat you alive. This cannot mean that you’re broken, that nobody could want to be with someone born with their factory settings just a little bit off. 

You see it on Joel’s face and in his demeanor, proudly taking note of the change within you. You start to pounce on him every chance you get, fueled by trying to feed this new, insatiable mental freedom you’ve allowed yourself. If you couldn’t have the sex you were dreaming of just yet, you figured that in the meantime you may as well make the sex you are having something new to dream about.

Joel, as predicted, is highly receptive to your new outlook, hands and lips all over you more often than not the second you step through his door to spend the night with him. You find yourself laughing with him when you’re being intimate instead of focusing on that pit in your stomach that worries if this time could finally be the time. You’ve done away with taking it far too seriously to even enjoy when your gracious boyfriend is buried between your legs like it’s his favorite thing. Now, you can appreciate all of it for what it is - a way to connect with Joel, to share something special and fun and sexy together.

You lie in bed with Joel this evening, cackling as you two take turns narrating excerpts from a friend’s most recent read in the romance department that she’d lent you. For inspiration, she’d teased, saying it might help your mind and body become more open to connecting with one another on the topic of sex. You’d taken it with a grain of salt but now it was the evening's top entertainment. You had to admit that she had a point - it did feel nice to read about characters that were so sexually open that anything seemed possible for them.

“The people in these books are unreal,” you manage to get out through your laughter, wiping the stream of tears that coats your cheeks. Joel wipes at the corners of his own eyes, still chuckling.

“Wouldn’t mind givin’ some of these a try one of these days, bet you’d be sexy flipped upside down or whatever the hell they were doin’,” Joel says, propped up on his elbow, his handsome eyes smoldering in your direction. The implication that many of the acts the fictional couple are doing involves things that your body hasn’t been cooperating enough to even go near makes you stiffen for a moment. Maybe a month ago, the comment would have wrecked you, sent you spiraling or feeling self conscious about this perceived insufficiency of yours, but now you let it slide right off your back.

You scrunch your nose at him, letting it fall into a sly smile as he flicks his eyes over you in appreciation. “Shush,” you tease. “We need to find out what happens next to… whatever their names are.” This had all been in good fun, and their names seemed secondary to the juicy details of their sex lives. 

“Axel and Ember.” Joel cuts in, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You deadpan. “Right… Someone has been paying attention.”

“Go on, then…” Joel insists with sass, his hand motioning expectantly to the open book in your lap. You smirk before focusing on the page and continuing where you left off. You two read until both of your eyelids get heavy, the words muttered slower and slower, your bodies buzzing hotly with arousal from the content yet far too tired to do anything to make a move on the other person. 

“Tomorrow,” Joel utters in your ear just as you’re moving into that cozy, floaty, drifting sensation before it all goes black. “Tomorrow I’m gonna Axel your ass into oblivion.”

You’re awoken by a kiss, feather light upon your lips. Your lids flutter open to see Joel, his scruffy beard and unbearably cute bed head up close and personal with you. It’s barely light out, the room bathed in the pale blue glow that comes right before dawn. Your skimpy camisole strap has slid off your shoulder, the entire thing askew and leaving one of your tits bared to him. Joel’s eyes seem to be glued there before flicking back and forth between your now perky nipple and your face. His lips close around it, gently sucking, and you writhe, your body turning towards his.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he mutters against your hot skin, breath ghosting over your sensitive nipple. You shudder, your skin prickling with anticipation, the space between your thighs desperately empty. Going to bed so unsatisfied seemed to have done a number on the both of you as you’re now acutely aware Joel pressing up against you, his cock already hard and leaking.

“Joel…” you whine, hips bucking towards him.

He dives in, his lips devouring yours, shifting his body to straddle yours, grasping the sides of your face in his hands. His tongue laps into your mouth and you arch your back into the way his hips start to grind into yours, burning desire low in your belly. You’re already so damn wet from his teasing, more than you’ve ever been, built up longing spilling over from last night.

“I… want to try right now,” you finally manage to gasp out as his lips separate from yours for a brief second. He pauses, looking down at you, his heavy lidded eyes sincere as they dance over your features.

“You sure? It’s okay if we jus’ -”

“No. I’m sure,” you tell him. “I feel so good. I want to feel good with you.” Your fingers dig into his bare back, urging him on.

He only nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He places gentler kisses on your lips before moving to your neck, then down your body until he reaches the waistband of your sleep shorts. Tugging those down along with your panties, he moves with certainty and care, adoring your soft skin in every place along the way. 

He touches a gentle finger to your slit, so sensitive and swollen now, and you suck in a breath.

“Holy shit. God damn, baby,” he muses with awe, fire burning in his dark eyes.

You chuckle shakily, feeling your cheeks flush as you avert your eyes shyly. “I - I know. I need you.”

“Can practically feel her puslin’,” he growls, licking his lips, desire clouding his mind.

Your cheeks only grow hotter at his dirty words, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Taking a page from Axel’s book, I see,” you tease him breathily.

“Nah. This is all Joel Miller, baby,” he replies just as he uses his whole hand to cup your slick cunt, the both of you groaning quietly. Joel starts to shimmy his briefs down, leaving him completely stripped underneath the covers with you. You wait for him to climb back on top of you, carefully removing your top and taking you in.

“Perfect.” He smiles, and you wrap your legs around his waist, a silent signal that you’re ready. Joel reaches between your bodies, bringing his cock to your cunt, lazily moving it through the folds until he’s coated in your arousal, each stroke making your hips buck, your need climbing to an unbearable level.

“Please…” you whine, feeling the emptiness inside of you, craving that full sensation you’ve been romanticizing time and time again in your mind.

“I got you, baby. No matter what. I’m right here, ‘kay?” You feel him line himself up, trying to manage your expectations as you nod for him, swallowing down your nerves. Even if it doesn’t work this time, it’ll be okay, you’ll be oka -

The tip of his cock pushes past your entrance, and you gasp, eyes going wide. You both pause, staring at each other in an optimistic, full silence, breathing heavily.

You nod again, mouth agape. “More…” you whisper softly, taking a deep breath, trying to relax your body.

Joel smiles, pressing his hips into you the tiniest bit more. He still slides in with ease, the smallest pinch subsiding when he takes a beat, then pushes a little more, repeating the process a few times. You feel the stretch, the slight burn as your body adjusts, your mind racing at the miracle that’s occurring, barely even able to register it right now.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, starting to shake. Joel leans down to kiss you, a comforting move, but it only pushes his cock in another bit, making you gasp softly at the fullness.

To your shock, when he pulls back the sensation begins to near something pleasurable. “Sorry,” he quickly spits out, his concerned stare meeting yours.

“No. It’s good. A-again. Do that again.” You start to smile in earnest, a toothy grin that you can’t help but feel spread across your face. 

“What… this?” he asks coyly, more overt with the thrust inwards as he pulls his lips into yours. He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in and kissing the sensitive skin there. “You’re so wet, so fuckin’ tight, baby. You feel incredible.”

You shudder underneath him, moaning softly as his words travel right to your core, burning with a new kind of eagerness you’ve never felt before. “You feel so good,” you echo back to him as you pant.

Joel starts to move, testing the waters with slow, steady movements. You keep breathing, terrified that any minute the ball will drop or this will have been a dream or some cruel trick your body is playing on you. But the sporadic bursts of discomfort subside with each new roll of Joel’s hips, blooming into something pleasurable and sweet, pulling up from deep inside of you.

Emotion bubbles to the surface before you can even tame it, your eyes brimming with tears when Joel bottoms out inside of you, pulling back and pushing in to the hilt again. It feels good, amazing even, to be so full of him, to celebrate this victory, even if only for today.

“Shit. Sweetheart, you’re okay, right? Are you hurting?” Joel freezes when he sees your watery eyes, every muscle coiled stiffly, his face screwed up in fear.

You shake your head, fighting the urge to sob, but Joel’s faithful, genuine concern puts you over the edge. Tears spill, rolling down your cheeks in profound little streaks, every bit of your frustration and pain and anger from the last half of a year pouring out into this beautiful display of pure joy.

“I swear, I’m happy, I’m happy,” you cry out, immediately cradled in Joel’s arms.

“Good,” Joel breathes out in relief. “You’re happy, I’m the happiest fuckin’ guy in the world.”

His words make the tears flow faster, but you start to laugh amidst it all. “Stop making me cry harder!” you chastise him, hugging him tightly around the neck. 

“Joel…” you say after a long, tender embrace, the two of you soaking it in. His cock still throbs inside of you, reminding you of the pleasure you’d started to chase moments ago, lost to the emotion of the moment.

“Hm?” he asks, pulling his head from where it had been buried in the crook of your to look at you.

“Please fuck me now.”

He grins, the movement lighting up his entire face with a lusty glow before he eagerly crashes his lips with yours again. When you see his eyes again, you swear they’re a shade darker, his cheeks tinged with the color of desire. Low and gravelly, he finally speaks. 

“Grab your god damned vibrator, sweetheart.”

to answer your 💌 my writing process is a little all over the place! i used to write mostly linearly, that was what worked for me and i kind of thought of everything in order. but lately i have been doing a bit more doc hopping when i get stuck. maybe writing a later scene that i have ideas for and feel like it's more fleshed out or going back and polishing older paragraphs and such. i definitely am not a big outliner and plotter, which i'd like to get better about! but mostly everything just lives in my head and gets blobbed onto the doc once i have time to write it, which sometimes leaves things forgotten hehe

(divider by @/saradika-graphics!)

[loulou-land]

Of Cheesecakes and Love

Day 11 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | Double Date | 1,393 words | on ao3

Thank you @fuselsstuff for all the support. I appreciate you 🥹🫶🏻💕

The restaurant they were in was small and cozy, the space adorned with twinkling lights, soft colors and rustic fixtures, giving it a familiar and inviting atmosphere. Tonight, it was filled with the gentle tones of an instrumental ballad, the low chatter of conversations and the soft clinks of silverware meeting plates.

Tommy sat next to Evan, with Chimney and Maddie across from them. They were already well into a bottle of wine, each of their glasses at varying levels of fullness as they settled comfortably into conversation, enjoying their night off, free from the stresses of their jobs.

Despite the ample space at the table, Evan leaned into Tommy, close enough that their shoulders brushed with every small movement. Tommy rested a hand on Evan’s knee beneath the table, idly stroking circles against it.

Every so often, he’d glance at Evan and catch him already looking back. Each time their eyes met, Evan would smile widely before diving back into whatever argument he had going with Howie.

As Evan argued the importance of walking barefoot, he absently reached for Tommy’s hand beneath the table.Their fingers found each other easily, slotting in a way that was completely effortless for them—like second nature. Tommy smiled softly, giving Evan’s hand a small squeeze before bringing it up to his lips and pressing a lingering kiss against his knuckles, fully aware of how much it always affected Evan.

And right on cue, Evan faltered mid-sentence, slightly stuttering over his explanation before entirely giving up on it. He blinked at Tommy before pouting, “okay, that’s not fair.”

Tommy cocked his head to the side, feigning ignorance. “What?”

Evan huffed, pinching Tommy’s hand lightly in retaliation. “You know what,” he said accusingly.

Tommy chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the pink climbing up Evan’s ears. He leaned in slightly, murmuring just for him, “You’re cute when you get flustered.”

Evan groaned, ducking his head, but his happy smile gave him away.

Tommy was so taken with Evan he almost missed the amused looks they were getting from across the table.

Maddie watched them knowingly. Howie, on the other hand, groaned.

“You two are disgustingly sweet.” he declared, shaking his head in mock dismay. “Maddie and I have never been this bad.”

Maddie snorted. “Oh, I beg to differ. We were the cutest.”

“Yeah,” Evan added with a grin. “I seem to recall a few nauseating moments.”

Maddie shot Evan a pointed look while Chimney scoffed. “Hey. That’s slander.”

Evan only shrugged impishly, before shifting even closer into Tommy’s space, Tommy turned his head and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to Evan’s forehead—partly because he always wanted to, partly because he loved the dazed expression Evan always wore afterward, and mostly to mess with Howie.

Evan barely contained his grin before Maddie clasped her hands together and cooed, “Awwww.”

Evan groaned, cheeks turning pink again. “Maddie, stop.”

Tommy just chuckled, entirely unbothered, squeezing Evan’s knee under the table, before settling his hand on his boyfriend’s thigh. He enjoyed the way Evan all but melted under his touch, watching as he tried to wave off the teasing but was clearly eating up every second of it.

He liked seeing Evan like this—cheeks flushed, eyes twinkling and a bright smile on his face.

Evan tilted his head, catching the way Tommy was looking at him. “What?”

Tommy just shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “I love you”

Evan ducked his head, smiling softly. “I love you too.”

Maddie sighed happily. “Aren’t they adorable?”

Chimney rolled his eyes. “Actually, I’m losing my appetite.” But he couldn’t hide how pleased he was for them.

They all laughed, falling back into easy conversation, sharing stories and reminiscing.

At some point, Chimney excused himself to the bathroom.

Tommy had been enjoying the last few bites of their dessert, but now he was left with a disappointingly empty plate, his fork pushing at the last remnants of caramel drizzle.

Evan, of course, noticed. “You want another one?”

Tommy’s knee-jerk reaction was to say no, briefly thinking of previous relationships that had been overly critical of his love of sweets. “I’m good.”

Evan leveled him with a knowing look. “Tommy.” He was getting good at seeing past Tommy’s reactions, understanding them.

Still, Tommy tried to fake nonchalance. “What?”

But Evan wasn’t having it. He leaned in, his lips ghosting over Tommy’s ear as he murmured, “I love you, but you’re a terrible liar.”

Tommy huffed, about to protest when Evan suddenly grabbed his chin and kissed him—slow and sweet. It was just a soft press of his lips but it stole the words right from his mouth.

By the time Evan pulled back, Tommy had lost his train of thought.

Evan, brat that he was, smirked—brushing his thumb across Tommy’s cheek. “Babe, it’s okay if you want another. I’ll be right back.”

Tommy sighed, warmth spreading through him. He was incredibly touched at the way Evan always eased his worries—the way he helped him fight against the hurts of his past without even knowing it.

As he watched Evan walk away, all he could think was, I’m completely gone for this man—and he was very okay with that.

Maddie didn’t bother pretending she hadn’t been watching them as she sipped her wine. She wore a small, pleased smile as if she were watching her favorite movie

“I’m glad you two worked things out.”

Tommy lowered his gaze, stomach dropping at the thought of the breakup. Suddenly, he was afraid Maddie would reproach him for what he’d done—for breaking her little brother’s heart. And he’d deserve it. His fingers toyed nervously with the edge of the tablecloth as he braced himself for it. But, it never came. He looked up at her, only to find a gentle smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes so similar to Evan’s.

He exhaled hard. “I really love him.”

“I know.”

Tommy hesitated before adding, “I didn’t mean to hurt him…before.”

Maddie reached across the table, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “We never do.” She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “But, what matters is—you came back, and you stayed. And you’re showing Evan that you love him every single day.”

They shared a quiet, understanding look—two people who had hurt and been hurt, yet had still somehow found their way back to love.

“You trying to move in on my wife, Kinard?” Chimney’s joking voice sounded from behind him as he sat at the table again. His eyes darted between them in mock suspicion.

“After I trusted you,” he said, shaking his head dramatically.

“Yes, Howie. We were just planning on running away together,” Tommy answered dryly.

Chimney sighed. “Unbelievable.”

Just then, Evan returned, sliding into his seat. He placed a plate with caramel cheesecake in front of Tommy, grinning proudly.

“Who’s running away?” he asked, glancing between them in confusion.

Chimney gestured vaguely. “Our dear partners are planning an escape together.”

Evan hummed as though giving it real thought. Then with an easy grin, he shrugged. “Nah. Tommy’s not leaving me. I got him dessert.”

Tommy chuckled, offering Maddie an apologetic look. “Sorry, Maddie. He’s got a point. Evan knows the way to my heart.”

Maddie laughed. “Can’t be mad about that.” She turned to Chimney, raising an eyebrow. “And what about you?”

Chimney scoffed, placing a hand over his chest. “What—you want me to bribe you? My undying devotion isn’t enough?”

Maddie laughed. “Oh, come here, you,” she said, pulling Chimney into a kiss.

Evan pulled a face at that but then switched his attention to Tommy. “How's the cheesecake?”

Tommy picked up his fork, cutting a small piece before offering it to Evan, loving the way his eyes lit up at the gesture. It had become their thing. Evan wasn’t a huge fan of desserts so they always chose to share. And without fail, Tommy always gave him the first taste.

Evan closed his eyes and let out a small moan at the taste.

Tommy knew his expression had to be fond—completely in love.

Evan’s eyes opened, his face softening as he looked at Tommy.

“Perfect,” he murmured.

Yes, thought Tommy, as he took his own bite.

Perfect.

Just like the night.

Like this family.

Like the man beside him.

Like them.

[translatemunson]

save the date

top gun pilots x female!reader blurb cw: mentions of a dress. i believe this can be read as any of the daggers, minus nat (i'm writing something special just for our girl); lmk if i forgot anything.

You’ve gotten the ‘save the date’ months ago. The invitation only came through the mail a few weeks back, but it was 100% set in stone: you were attending your best friend’s wedding with your aviator boyfriend as your plus one. What you forgot to take into consideration was deployment.

It was like playing in a casino: you could get lucky and he wouldn’t be called for a mission until the wedding, or he would be god knows where doing whatever mission the Navy had for him, and you’d be missing him during the wedding.

And since you were never the luckiest person in the room, he got deployed. For six weeks. One month before the wedding date. Good luck telling all your friends you didn’t get dumped, it was just that your boyfriend was government property and they needed him overseas doing some good for the country. It was honorable, but still: you wanted to walk around the venue with a pretty aviator by your side.

It didn’t help that his internet access was limited, nor that you were having second thoughts about attending. Well, if not having someone with you was a problem, he told you he could get one of his friends to take care of you — just so other guys wouldn’t take a chance on his hot girlfriend. But it wasn’t just the lack of your boyfriend that was undermining your presence at the wedding.

One week the dress wasn’t good enough. The next one, just before his deployment, you weren’t sure about the tickets and hotel you booked — he said to keep them, even if he wasn’t going anymore, because you could use the extra space on the plane and the bigger bed. Your first email to him, while deployed, was about how nerve wrecked you were feeling now that your bestie asked you to do a speech. A few days later, you went through it with him, and he reassured you were doing amazing. 

“Gosh, this would be so much easier if you were here,” you admitted on your phone call.

“I know, baby. I promise to take you to a fancy event as soon as I’m back so I can have the chance to see you in that pretty dress.” He was trying his best to cheer you up.

But a phone call across the ocean wasn’t enough. You needed him there, with you, saying you look pretty even though your make up is nowhere near as done. Or telling you look like those old Hollywood stars when your hair was still on the hair curlers. Or saying you need to hurry up before it’s too late to get a nice parking spot at the venue. Or checking if you need a drink or something else during the reception.

You looked down at your phone, hitting “send” on another email, with pictures you took from the party. The whole place is covered with flowers and fairy lights hanging from the trees and ceiling, and you miss him so much it hurts more than your high heels.

You gave your speech minutes ago, and had one of your friends filming it for you. It was a nice piece about your best friend, how she was always the one saying you were gonna be married first but hey, look at you, alone at her wedding. Of course you made fun of the lack of a plus one, but it was fine. You brought back a few embarrassing memories, also spilled some tea on the fact that she had a list with the names for all of their babies. And if one of those names was not inspired by yours, you would be seeing her in court.

“Hey, do you wanna grab another drink with me?” Your friend nudged your arm. “I hate seeing you down.”

“Can you call the Navy and file an official complaint for me? I’ll give you his full name and call sign, so then later I can show up to the courtroom and use those as proof.” You threw your cell phone inside your bag. “Sorry, I’ve been under the weather since the news broke.”

“I know, babe, and I don’t blame you.” She gave you a soft smile. “I think a drink might help you. And maybe I can convince that waiter I’ve told you about to sneak a few sweets for us.”

“Just one more drink, then I’m going back to the hotel.”

“You’re no fun, you know? Maybe something good is happening tonight.”

“Unless you have a teletransportation machine here somewhere to bring me my boyfriend, you can’t trap me for another hour with the promise of good booze alone.”

At the bar, you got yourself your favorite drink. It would be better if he was there, his hand on your waist, making comments about the party or asking you the little details about the people there. It would be his first time in your hometown, getting to know the place you were born and raised. You loved San Diego, but a piece of you would always love your hometown.

“I just wished they had decent Wi-Fi at the ship,” you murmured. “I’ve sent like a hundred pics since I’ve arrived, but still no reply. I can’t believe my own boyfriend is going MIA on me.”

“Hey, maybe it’s just bad connection. And based on what you’ve told me, I bet he’s pissed he’s somewhere in the ocean instead of by the side of his gorgeous girlfriend.”

“Please plan a wedding in the next few weeks so I can attend one with him.”

“Why don’t you plan your own wedding?” She turned the idea around.

“And throw a surprise wedding? I’m crazy, but even I have limits.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t take him too many deployments to pop the big question.”

“I might have to ask him to divorce the Navy before we can get married. Sorry, but I won’t be the mistress in this,” you laughed.

Halfway through your drink, your friend ended up going to talk to one of your colleagues from high school, and you went back to your table, staying up and trying to swing your body in the rhythm of the song — just to get your mind off of things.

You checked your phone, one notification from your email’s app. You clicked on it as fast as you could, blowing out in frustration when you saw it was just a marketing email.

You saw someone approaching from your peripheral vision, and you heard “Tough night?”

“Don’t even get me started.” You pushed your face into your hand.

“Try me, honey.”

You turned your face. And, magically, your boyfriend was there. You blinked a few times, not believing he was really sitting next to you, in a suit. You held tight into his arm, and he said “Did she let you have way too many drinks?”

“No. I mean, are you real?”

“Yes, baby, I’m real.”

“How?”

“Finished the mission early, called in for a few favors, got on the first plane here, and asked your friends to keep it a secret.”

“Oh my, you’re really here.” You threw your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. The last time you were this close, it was the morning before his deployment. You always took the days up to the deployment as a chance to spend all the time together. Ok, you had to work, and the house chores wouldn’t magically disappear, but as soon as you were both at home, you’d stick to his side as glue.

“Sorry I missed your speech,” he hugged you back. “I’ll watch the footage later.”

“That’s ok. I’m so happy that you’re here,” you kissed his cheek.

“C’mon, let me take a look at my stunning girlfriend,” he took a step back and, with your hand in his, made you spin on your toes. The flowy dress and high heels were far from your daily clothes. “You look better than in the pictures, honey.”

Your cheeks blushed, and you could bet even the make up wouldn’t be able to hide it. “Thanks.” You took a look at him, finally noticing how good he looked in a normal suit. The color suited him like a glove, and you were considering finding a good excuse to see him wearing it again. You kinda begged him to attend in those pretty white suits the Navy had, but he was always saying those were only for special occasions.

“Should we take a picture?” He rested his hands on your waist.

“Sure!”

Now that you officially had your arm candy with you, it was time to walk around the party introducing your boyfriend to your friends. They were all very friendly and excited to meet him, but also kept the Navy related questions to a minimum. He was all smiles and handsy, keeping you close to him as much as possible.

You got your picture, on the balcony, with the gardens as a background to your affection. Your friend convinced one of the photographers to take a few official pictures — she used the “He’s Navy and flew all the way here to be with her!” card. On the first pic, you were close, side by side, smiling but keeping your hands to yourself.

And then the photographer asked you to look each other in the eyes, and it was like your lips had a magnet of some sorts. He pulled you closer, and gave you a quick kiss on the lips. “Hold her like that!” the photographer said.

Once you had the pictures taken also on our phone, he took you to the dance floor. A slow song, something your parents would play in the car when you were younger, was telling the steps you were taking. Swaying slowly in the middle of the small crowd, soaking in that moment. You snuggled in closer to his chest, leaving him to lead you. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” you confessed.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything before.” He pressed his lips on the side of your head.

“That’s ok. You know I like surprises when they come from you.”

“I know. And I like being with you.” Another kiss on the side of your face. “And I love you.”

You  tilted your head back, connecting your eyes, “I love you too."

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Azriel: Valentines Day

Notes: this aint edited, i wrote this so quickly because i got the idea randomly. Once again, sorry if this sucks 🫶🏻

Also happy valentines loves! A special dedication to @thelov3lybookworm for being a good friend to me 💜

Azriel shows his wife how good their first valentine's day can be. 

You always loved the aesthetic that came with Valentine's day. The pink, the red, the pastels, you loved the idea of love. 

It’s not that you didn’t like Valentine's day itself and it’s message. 

You never had that growing up. You didn’t have fun little flings and nervous kisses while playing spin the bottle. Never got nervous butterflies approaching your crush, you didn’t have anybody ever confess they liked you. Even in your schoolyard days. Feyre and you would always celebrate galentines, even sharing a kiss because you didn’t want your first kiss to go to some random guy. 

But, you wanted, you yearned, for someone to love you. To get those butterflies with you. 

And then you met Azriel. 

Sweet, adorable, Azriel. 

Adorable has never been used to describe Az, but he is with you. He’s not rude to others by any means of course but…his ‘bro’ friends don’t see him mushy and yearning for your touch. 

Azriel had no idea Valentine's day was coming up, he didn’t know what it was. Until Rhys asked him what he’d gotten you for a gift. 

“What?” 

“Valentines?” 

“What’s Valentines?” 

“Valentines day.” Rhys answered, as if that was an answer at all. 

“That's still not clearing anything up Rhys.” 

“It’s some mortal holiday that Feyre loves, she wanted to do it.” He waved his hand. 

Azriel made a ‘makes sense’ face. All of them did whatever their spouses wanted them to do. 

But then that led him to ask more questions to Feyre herself. He wondered why you had never mentioned it. He knew about your favorite winter holiday, halloween, easter even. But not this. 

Later that night, as you two were pulling back the sheets of your bed, he asked. “Love?” “Yeah?” You smiled brightly, his chest swooped and fluttered just by the view. The only view he’d ever need for the rest of his life. 

Until he got you pregnant. Then his life would be complete. 

But he’s happy to enjoy this life with you until the day comes. 

“Why did you never mention Valentine's day to me?” Azriel asked as you got into bed. 

You looked at him surprised, your eyes asking your question. 

“Feyre and Rhys are celebrating it, they say it’s in two days?” “Yeah, it is.” You were quiet. Then sighed. “I just never got to celebrate it when I was younger, so I just didn’t see the point. I mean, you know I was never with anybody. My first and only kiss before you was Feyre.” 

He pulled you into his side, listening the entire time of course. Your head was on his chest, above his heart, his arm wrapped around you. 

“I get it, love.” Was all he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You did your little content happy shimmy and hummed against him. 

He just held you tighter. 

----------------------------

Two days later, on Valentines day, you woke up to a bouquet of metal roses on Azriel’s pillow.  A shadow holding them together. You snorted to cover up the warmth in your chest, you laughed at the thought of Azriel giving an order to his shadows to hold metal roses for you. This poor shadow had to stay behind while he went to work. 

When you read the note it said, “flowers that will last as long as our love.” He’s a cornball. But your cornball. 

When you went downstairs, he had your favorite breakfast waiting for you, sweet and salty. Next to it, three books you’ve been wanting. The next note said: 

“To keep you busy until our dinner date tonight. Wear whatever you want, but I’m partial to the blue silk gown.

-Your Pretty Boy, Azriel.” 

Oh, he’s getting some good head tonight. 

You went to the living room to find a new fuzzy blanket and fuzzy socks on the couch waiting for you. There was an assortment of chocolates on the table. 

You could’ve started weeping there. 

About halfway through the first book, around lunch, a delivery came of your favorite takeout. 

Midafternoon, your favorite flowers were delivered. 

5pm sharp, there was your husband, looking delicious. He matched you by wearing a blue silk flowy shirt. Black pants and nice shiny black shoes. He had a chain going down his chest that had your initials on it. 

Meanwhile you were wearing the blue silk dress he requested. Black strappy heels and a leather jacket for the cold. You had a thigh chain though, with an “A” for him. 

That nearly did him in. 

You two began the walk down to the restaurant, a cute little hole in the wall by the river. You both loved the views, the food, the people. After a delicious three course meal including a yummy split dessert, you two decided to walk through the city. 

You two laughed and were quite heavy on the PDA but hey, it’s Valentine's Day. 

You had never been happier that you never celebrated Valentines before him, nobody can beat Az. He’s who you want to have life experiences with, you’re honored to. 

(He got a gift the next day because you had no warning that you two were celebrating Valentines). 

[deadhands69]

Cute When You Stutter

loser!Shigaraki x gn/afab Reader

prev ◁ part 4 ▷ next

[series masterlist]

You wake-up comfortably in your own bed, unsure of how you got home. You’re still wearing your clothes from last night while your shoes are thrown haphazardly on the floor next to you. With your head pounding, you tap your phone to see what time it is. It's no use, the battery’s dead.

After laying perfectly still for a while doesn’t help, you press yourself out of bed and stumble down the hallway to get some water. Shigaraki is already in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Toga watches from the dining room table.

“You look like death,” he mumbles while grabbing a mug for you. There’s a huge purple mark on his neck that you vaguely remember giving him. Of course, he’s not even bothering to cover it. Kurogiri eyes you as he passes through the room cleaning.

Your mouth barely opens to ask Shigaraki how you got home last night, but he cuts you off.

“I have to run some errands,” he says before handing you your morning drink and rushing out the door, “see you guys.”

You take a seat at the table across from Toga.

“So, you’re dating Tomura now, right?” she asks, her big hazel eyes staring over the table at you. “You’re the one that gave him the-”

“No, we aren’t dating,” you dismiss quickly. 

“Does Tomura know that? I’ve never seen him do nice things for anyone else before noon. He's not a morning person.”

He's not a people person any time of day you want to add, but you see her point. 

“I think he knows,” you muse, “I mean, I specifically asked him to pretend to be dating me so there’s no reason for him to think we’re together for real. I think he’s smart enough to know the difference.”

“Oh,” she hums. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’d be really cute together.”

After a few glasses of water, some food, and a shower, you’re feeling a lot better. Through your shared wall, you hear Tomura get back to his room. Willing yourself out of bed, you make your way to his door, knocking once before entering as usual. He sees you and panics slightly, trying to hide a large box under his desk.

“I’m not here to make fun of you for buying legos. That’s actually kind of cool,” you say, gesturing to the expensive-looking set under his desk. “I just don’t remember last night and have some questions.”

“Wait,” he rubs the hickey on his neck, “you don’t remember anything?”

“I remember that, don’t worry,” he exhales in relief. “I don’t remember how I got home though, or really anything after we left the bathroom.”

“I took you home,” he states matter of factly.

“How,” you ask, “I could barely even walk.”

“I carried you,” he looks at you like it’s the most obvious thing ever. Looking him over, you’re slightly surprised he managed to lift you at all, let alone get you all the way home and into your bed. You’ve seen the way he moves during missions though. And in spite of how skinny he is, you can see that he’s at least somewhat toned under his clothes. Maybe it’s not that shocking.

“And,” you continue, feeling suddenly self conscious, “did I do anything…stupid?”

He glances to his crotch and back at you, still unsure if you remember everything. 

“I mean after that.”

“No,” he says casually. “Before we left, you told your friends to fuck off and said something to your ex that I couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, he didn’t look too happy about it.”

Oh, just that.

Seeing the mortified look on your face, he adds, “they deserved it though, they were being assholes.”

“Got it,” you say quickly, dreading the moment your phone turns on filled with messages from them. He has a point though. In the first good decision you’ve made all in a while, you decide you’ll just block them and move on. Maybe it's the exhaustion talking but none of it feels worth it anymore. After the week you’ve had it feels like a massive weight off your shoulders. You sit on Shigaraki’s bed, burying your face in your hands. You're oddly comfortable in his room, even if it is messy. It’s a feeling you never noticed yourself having before; being here with him and not wanting to be anywhere else.

“Thanks,” you look up to smile awkwardly at him, “I feel like I owe you.”

“For walking you home?” he scoffs, “how else would you have gotten here?”

“I mean, for everything.” 

“Oh, it’s not a big deal,” he grumbles.

“It is for me,” you say, noticing the way his cheeks flush as he stares down at his hands. “Come here.”

Hesitantly, he moves onto the bed next to you. His big red eyes widen as you take your shorts off and climb onto his lap. Grinding against him, you feel him harden in his sweatpants almost instantly. His hands come to your hips, pinky and ring fingers held up as he grips the side of your underwear. He looks even prettier than usual at this angle. The hair falling in front of his face frames the bottom of his nose and mouth. 

You’ve been pretty worked up this week, especially with everything you’ve done with Tomura, so it doesn’t take long before you’re close. Grabbing his shirt you pull yourself into him harder to increase the friction. It works. You softly gasp in his ear, finding that he was very close as well. His fingers dig into your skin as he groans, biting your shoulder. Eyes still clenched shut, he wraps his arms around you to steady himself.

A wet spot forms at the top of his pants as he catches his breath.

That’s okay.

You shove him back onto the blankets. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he watches as you slide your damp underwear off, throwing them on the floor nearby. His arms lay limply over his head as you climb over him, pressing each of his wrists into the bed.

Once more, his breathing quickens when he realizes you’re hovering over his face. It’s cute watching him get so worked up over you.

Smoothly, you lower to sit on his face, noticing that even the dry parts of his skin feel soft against you. He lets out a muffled whine. His chapped lips open, tongue desperately exploring wherever he can reach. It’s sloppy, but that doesn’t matter. This is what you've wanted all week and you're finally getting it: Tomura a bumbling mess under you, working hard to get you off. You find a tempo that works for you as you take the friction you can get from his face. 

The wet sound of you sliding over him and your moans fill the room, punctured occasionally by his stifled gasps. You’d be more self conscious of the pornographic noises that you know can be heard from the hall, but you’re too busy chasing your own high for the first time all week. Everyone in the league knows what you're doing by now anyways.

Angling forward, you rut over him a few more times before pressing hard against his mouth. His tongue dips into you, teeth nudging your clit. Everything that’s built up all week comes out at once, feeling like fire coursing through your veins. You feel his lips grow more slick against you as you ride out your orgasm on him. You gushing over his face pushes him over the edge too, hips stuttering behind you as he whimpers into your lips.

As you climb off his bed to go get cleaned up, you admire your work. His face is drenched with you, still-tented sweatpants wet with his own cum, and he looks like he’s about to pass out from exhaustion. He really is pretty like this.

For the first time, you find yourself wanting to stay.

next - series masterlist - bnha masterlist

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @kalulakunundrum @jimabbenamara @aryuunachigiri

@badbclub (threw you in here too after i saw your post!)

[fairyhaos]

❖ moonstruck // kim mingyu

mingyu x f!reader, 2.2k+ words

tags: sculptor!mingyu, muse!yn, pining, ambiguous relationship, fluff, angst, mingyu is Down Bad

notes: title + vibes taken from moonstruck by enhypen cz it fits the feel that i was going for :P forgive me bc i know nothing ab sculpting/muses but i just had to write a fic where yn is devastatingly gorgeous and this js fit so well <3 happy valentines day!

summary: mingyu is a sculptor, and you are his muse.

When Mingyu arrives at his studio that morning, he finds you already there, lounging around like you own the place.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're late again. What's it gonna take for me to make you finally come on time? A kiss, maybe? A promise of a date?" You smile at him mischievously, eyes glittering in the morning light.

You're watching him amusedly, arms tucked behind your head, resting comfortably on the sofa on the other end of the studio. This is not necessarily a surprising sight: despite the fact that you do not, actually, own the place, it’s still common for you to be there before he arrives, playing with the various clay creations lining the walls or dangling your feet over the edge of the sofa, waiting for him to clock in for the day.

Mingyu scrunches his nose, and does not respond to the latter half of what you said.

“I’m really not late,” he says, setting down his bag and hanging his coat up by the door. “You’re just early.”

You hum contemplatively, kicking your feet out and crossing your ankles over the armrest on the other end of the sofa. The cracking, coppery leather grumbles discontentedly at your movement, but you hardly notice, stretching leisurely like a cat.

“Maybe. Or maybe time is a construct, and neither of us are early or late.”

Mingyu blinks at you, tilting his head. “It’s not even 10. Let’s not talk philosophy until at least 3 in the afternoon, please.”

You laugh at that, silvery and light, watching from your place on the sofa as Mingyu begins setting up his sculpting supplies for the day. 

“Whatever pleases you, my dear Mingyu,” you say, words lilting melodically with teasing. “As your muse, it’s my duty to be as pleasing to you as possible, after all.”

Mingyu just rolls his eyes, used to your teasing. “Of course,” he says dryly. “Though I’m afraid it’s debatable just how good you are at that, though.” He laughs when you huff in indignation, before pulling out his sketchbook. “You saw the sketches I sent you last night, right? Is there anything you want to comment on, or should we start right away?”

───────────── 🏛

You are Mingyu’s muse.

It sounds horribly cheesy, and definitely makes you sound like the romantic interest in some sort of historical-royal-heart wrenching-romance-novel, but he literally means you’re his artistic muse.

This wasn’t always the case. You weren’t always solely his—a few years back, you’d simply been one of the hired models for a class he’d taken back at university. But he’d been utterly mesmerised by you, and so in awe of your beauty that it must have shown on his face, because you’d always catch his eye as he worked, an elusive little smile in your eyes, like you knew exactly how he felt. 

And then one thing led to another, and suddenly he was meeting you outside of classes, and then he was seeing you even when that particular project had finished, and then he was still sculpting you after he’d graduated, and then, and then, and then…

And then here he is, now. 

It’s still something he can’t wrap his head around, even so many years later. How these one-on-one sessions started. How you became his official muse.

“This better turn out amazing, because my arm’s cramping up really badly right now,” you say, voice strained from having your head tilted back for so long, and Mingyu laughs.

“You’re the one who suggested this position,” he says, pencil lightly tracing your form onto paper. “I don’t think you get the right to complain.”

“I have plenty of right to complain,” you argue, opening one eye to glare at him. Mingyu just grins toothily back. “Ugh, whatever. Just hurry up, okay?”

“Hey, you can’t rush art,” Mingyu teases, but he finds his fingers complying anyway, taking longer, sweeping arcs of graphite against the page. He’s almost finished, anyway, with this pose being a lot easier than some others that he’s put you in before. Yet in some ways, it’s going to be even harder for him to complete.

He has you wrapped in swathes of silk, sat on the floor with your legs out in front of you, the cream fabric slipping off your shoulder slightly. You’re leaning back on one arm, the side of your head resting on your shoulder, face tilted upwards as if soaking in the sunlight, eyes shut and eyelashes fluttering gently against your cheeks.

The long, horizontal line of your body makes this a relatively easier art piece than ones he’s attempted before, and while the folds of silk are going to be tricky, that’s not what he’s worried about.

You look so… delicate. 

“Okay, let’s take a break,” Mingyu says, when he sees your arm beginning to shake. It’s not a hard pose, but he knows that keeping one position for too long puts strain on the best of people.

You groan with relief, relaxing your arm and flopping to the floor. “Thank God. Any longer and I would’ve definitely collapsed. Turned into a heap on this floor.”

Mingyu hums, adding further details to his sketch. “I think you already did. Don’t worry, sweetheart, you look pretty even as a heap on the floor.”

He can almost hear your eye roll, and he laughs, looking up from the paper to take in your disgruntled expression, only for the laughter to catch in his throat.

There’s no sign of annoyance on your face, and now he’s looking at you, he doubts you rolled your eyes either. Instead, your expression is strangely unreadable, eyes half-lidded, strands of hair falling across your face like curls of ribbons, lips softly pursed. Lying on the floor like that, hair and silk pooling around you as you blink slowly at him, you look like some sort of nature deity, watching him and observing countless things that Mingyu can hardly even begin to understand.

You’re gorgeous. 

Mingyu knows this—it’s why you’re his muse—but the realisation always makes his heart stick in his throat when he remembers. 

You’re still looking at Mingyu, gaze as dark as molasses, smoky and sweet and pulling him in, making his hands shake and his pulse sound loudly in his ears.

And then you smile, cheeky and playful once more.

“Oh, thank you so much, I’m glad you think so, honeybun,” you say, full of mock-relief, and Mingyu has to blink to remember what you’re thanking him for. “I knew I could always count on you to find me beautiful.”

You dramatically fling your arm over your eyes as you say this, the perfect image of a romantic, distressed maiden having their feelings reassured by the hero, before peeking out from under the back of your hand to flutter your lashes and smile at him.

And Mingyu knows this is an act, that this is just you teasing, but it’s a lot more difficult to tell that to his heart.

“What’s for lunch, by the way?” you ask, taking your arm away from your face. “I’m hungry.”

Mingyu swallows thickly, avoiding your gaze, not wanting you to see every thought written across his face. “It isn’t even lunch time yet. Why are you already hungry?”

“Hey, don’t deny me my right to eat,” you complain, subconsciously smoothing down the silk that’s wrapped around your body. Mingyu sighs internally, already anticipating the hassle he’s going to have to go through to get the folds to sit how they were before. “Modelling for you is hard work, you know.”

Mingyu just hums dryly. “Whatever you say. Unfortunately, break time’s up now, so you’re gonna have to eat later.”

You whine in annoyance, but make no move to resist when Mingyu stands up, walks over and begins rearranging the silk around you again. “Fine. For the sake of art, I guess I’ll go hungry. I’ll be the true tortured artist, or something.”

“Quit the dramatics. We’ll eat when it’s actually lunch time.”

“How about in ten minutes’ time?”

“No.”

“Twenty?”

“No.”

“Fine. You drive a hard bargain, Kim Mingyu.”

───────────── 🏛

So what exactly is it about you that made you his muse?

It’s a question that Mingyu gets asked a lot. By his parents, by his customers, by his friends: none of whom can ever truly understand what a muse is when it comes to art.

You’re not just a really pretty person. To Mingyu, you are—everything. You are beauty, passion, vivacity, intricacy, warmth, cold, colour, light, dark, fear, danger, happiness, love. Looking at you makes his heart twist in his chest, makes his head feel faint and dizzy, makes his eyes burn like he’s been staring right at the sun.

He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know how. But being with you, looking at you, makes him feel so heart-wrenchingly alive, skin buzzing with the need to carve your visage onto paper, into clay, into stone, to keep you with him forevermore.

It shouldn’t be possible for one simple human to make him feel like this. And yet…

Mingyu has to pause from where he’s bent over your face, the proximity and his thoughts making his hands begin to shake. It’s not actually your face that’s in front of him right now—rather, it’s your face that he’s currently chiselling out of marble—but even just thinking of you and being inches away from something that he’s making to look just like you causes him to act like this. 

But there’s just something so terrifyingly intimate about his craft, about bringing your features out from cold stone, breathing life into the lifeless. 

“Why do you do what you do?” you’d asked him once, back when he was still at uni, back before you were his official muse, and he was struggling through charcoal sketches for an assignment he’d been putting off for days. That was, until you’d offered to model for him, and suddenly, the ideas flowed smoothly onto the page. 

(You’ve always been his muse, since day one.)

He’d looked up from his smudged fingers, watching you sit in front of him, backlit by the soft sunlight streaming in from the window. It made you look like you were glowing, gentle light emanating from your skin in a delicately beautiful way. Not as blinding as the sun, but something softer.

Moon-like.

You take his breath away, and Mingyu had ended up stuttering out some ridiculous answer that he can’t even remember anymore, but thankfully, you seemed to accept it, going back to posing in the pensive position you’d been in before.

If he were to answer the question now, without you here to steal all his words, the answer would be rather simple.

Because he loves it.

Carefully, Mingyu brushes a dusty finger over the jagged profile he’s carved into the marble. The edges are too sharp, the slope of your cheek too unrefined, but Mingyu’s heart only swells in anticipation and adoration for what he knows the finished product will resemble. 

It’s electrifying, seeing what he can bring to life. Like a mad scientist, an obsessed genius, he wonders how far he can go. What things he can make with his bare hands.

Whether he can truly make something that is so very you.

You’d been here earlier to model some more, but you’re gone now, busy meeting up with friends. You don’t normally come in to pose once he has a project fully underway, but he always asks you to come when he starts doing the face properly. Just in case he gets anything wrong.

(It’s all an excuse to spend more time with you, however. He knows your face so well from how often it’s appeared in his dreams, and from how it's carved in his brain.)

“Please try to make it a little bit like me, this time,” you’d teased, eyes shining like twin stars. 

Mingyu had simply laughed, waving you off. “Come on, my sculptures always look plenty like you.”

“Nonsense. None of them ever come close to the absolute perfection that I am.”

It had been a joke, but Mingyu had found himself looking up as you gave him a wave and then walked out without a second glance. He’d watched you go, watching the trail of moonlight you left behind in your wake, soft-scented and silver-lined.

There’s some truth to your words, however. Nothing he’s made has ever come close to perfectly replicating the warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your smile, the light that you exude just by simply being.

You’re so magnetic, a bewitching push-and-pull he can't back out of, endlessly drawing Mingyu in towards you like he’s hopelessly locked in your orbit and cannot even think of breaking away. 

That kind of thing is near-impossible to replicate. But, if it’s for you…

“This time, I’ll get it,” he promises to the empty studio. His words ring about the room like a bell, reverent and full of conviction.

Mingyu looks down at your half-finished face, still rough around the edges, but the curve of your lips looking oh-so smooth. With a shaking hand, he traces over the shape of your mouth, imagining how soft your real lips would be, how the tip of his thumb would press into the plushness of it.

Would you let him press his lips to yours in this way? Would you accept such an act of devotion?

Or would you slip away from his grasp, elusive as moonlight, ghosting over his senses before disappearing without a trace?

He doesn’t know. He really doesn’t know.

Swallowing down his heart, Mingyu takes his hand away from your face, avoids your eyes, and carries on with his work.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit @dokyeomkyeom @hopeless-foolery

[star4daisy]

14/02 I valentine I 715 words I @rosekillermicrofic

(@ecstarry, @del-stars, @moon-seas and for @v7lgar, hope it makes you laugh once you wake up, darling)

“And after all that, James showed up with a huge bouquet and my favourite chocolate to ask me to be his Valentine,” Regulus told Dorcas and Pandora who were listening avidly to his every word.

“How romantic,” Pandora sighed.

Barty frowned. “Wait, haven’t you two been dating for months already?”

“So what?” Regulus asked defensively.

“So why would he need to ask you to be his Valentine? Wasn’t it a given?”

His friends scowled at him. “No, you have to ask even if you’re dating.”

Barty had never heard of that before. “Nah, no way.”

“Wait, does this mean you haven’t asked Evan yet?” Regulus realised.

“Of course not,” Barty scoffed. “We’re dating, he knows he’s my bloody valentine.”

“Does he?” Pandora challenged.

Barty froze. If any of his other friends had said it he’d think they were taking the piss, but this was Pandora — Evan’s twin sister — privy to information he never was when it came to his boyfriend's mind. “Did he say anything?” he asked with uncertainty.

“He didn’t have to.” Pandora shrugged, but she had her famous innocent smile that was anything but, her eyes twinkled in amusement. Barty wanted to shake her, to kneel at her feet and beg to know every thought that passed through Evan’s mind. “But if you didn’t ask, then I’m sure others did.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Barty stood up. “He’s my boyfriend, he can’t be anyone else’s Valentine.”

“Well if you didn’t bother to ask…” She singsonged.

“Shut up, that’s not a thing. You’re all trying to prank me.”

“When have we ever?” Dorcas rolled her eyes at him. “I asked Marlene, it was very sweet and pretty sure Lily asked Dora too.”

Pandora nodded, smiling at the memory of her girlfriend's surprise.

“Even Sirius asked Remus,” Regulus added up. “You’re the only one valentineless.”

“I’m not valentineness, or whatever the fuck, I’m going to Hogsmeade with Evan.”

“Does he know that?” Regulus challenged.

“Of course he does,” Barty got defensive. “We always go together.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do.” Barty started pacing.

“Never hurts to make sure, though.” Dorcas pointed out.

She did make a good argument and it wasn’t like Barty was just waiting for an excuse to stop being stubborn and make sure his boyfriend hadn’t accepted anyone else’s invitation.

“You’re right.”

“I always am,” she bragged.

Barty rolled his eyes but didn’t wait to argue, he had things to do, his person to woo. He was almost out the door when Pandora interrupted him. “Wait, how are you asking him?”

“I’m coming up to him and doing it.” Obviously.

“Poor, Evan.” Regulus shook his head in solidarity.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It has to be special, Barty. You can’t just ask.” Dorcas spoke to him like he was a small child.

“Of course I can.”

“Then he might not accept.” Pandora pointed out.

“He has to. We’re dating.” Barty tried not to stomp his foot.

“Not if you don’t ask properly.”

“Oh, fuck off. You’re having me on.”

“Nope, you need to give him his favourite things too, make it big,” Regulus told him. 

“Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. How am I supposed to make him a big surprise?”

“We’ll help,” Dorcas reassured him.

“Yeah,” Pandora smiled sweetly. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Thanks, guys.” Barty was touched.

Not so much though when his friends convinced him to spell roses to fall on Evan once he entered the Common Room to be greeted by Barty holding his favourite French chocolate with floating words spelling ‘Will you be my Valentine?’

As if he didn’t feel stupid enough, Evan’s eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw him. “Oh, that’s today?” he asked in confusion.

Barty froze. His so-called friends laughed. And he promised revenge in the near future. He knew they had to have been making fun of him, but the fear of not having Evan by his side had won out in the end. That was what he got for believing them.

"Tomorrow," Barty corrected. "You're going to Hogsmeade with me."

It wasn't a question.

Evan frowned. "Who else would I go with?"

Barty was going to kill Pandora. And Regulus and Dorcas for good measure.

But then Evan kissed him. Anything but his lips was forgotten.

[only-one-brain-cell]

Since tomorrow is Valentines Day I’m imagining Carmy asking Sydney to hang out with him tomorrow not even thinking about the fact that it’s Valentines Day and of course Sydney isn’t thinking that it’s a date either. (It is they just don’t know it because their dumbasses) both of them go about their day and Richie asks Carmy if he can babysit Eva on Valentine’s Day because he’s taking Jess out, and Carmy says he has plans with Sydney. Richie automatically thinks it’s a date even though Carmy denies it and thinks he lost his chance with Sydney anyways. Richie of course doesn’t let it go and tells him don’t worry I’ll find a sitter for Eva you enjoy your date. Carmy rolls his eyes and ignores the smug look on Richie’s face and goes about his day.

Valentine’s Day comes and Carmy and Sydney hang out, they actually go outside for once and go to a thrift store because Sydney saw something that caught her eyes. Carmy offers to buy it for her because he’s a gentleman but of course Sydney insists she pay for it. The two bicker back and forth until Carmy ultimately wins. They walk around town talking about whatever crosses their mind before stopping at a cafe for lunch. At the end of the day Carmy drops Sydney off at her apartment and that’s when Sydney asks “Carmy… was this supposed to be a date?”

“… did you want it to be one?”

“Did you?”

“Sydney I asked you first”

“Technically I asked YOU first.”

“I didn’t intend to make it a date”

“Oh” Sydney said “of course you didn’t forget I asked.”

“But, it can be a date if you wanted.”

“I would like that, and I would like to do it again.”

“Me too”

On their second date and first official date Carmy shows up with flowers.

[oswildin]

Loki x You // Valentines Day Headcanons

avenger!loki au, established dating, featuring thor (he’s meddling aka wanting to knock some sense into these two idiots), lighthearted, humorous, don’t take this too seriously, it took on a life of its own lmao— I’m writing like it’s 2013 and ya’ll can’t stop meeee

they/them pronouns used

“It’s a farce! As if the mortals aren’t already making enough money with commercialising any and every little thing on their realm.”

“But it is the joyous celebration of love!”

“Sorry Thor, I agree with Loki on this one.”

“You do?” You nod. “Oh.” You frown. “What?” “Hm? Oh, nothing I’ve just remembered I’ve uh- got somewhere to be.”

Loki quickly stood from his seat, trying to leave the room as casually as possible, but it was clear to Thor and you that he was being anything but casual. Thor watched his brother for a moment, bewildered, before his gaze flickered back to you, seeing you simply shrugging as you continued making yourself some lunch.

The truth was, Loki was secretly expecting you to argue with him on his statement. He was expecting you to fight for Valentines Day and all its excess… Because he had something planned to surprise you.

His plan was to make you believe he didn’t care for it all (which before you, he didn’t) before surprising you with a romantic candlelit dinner with a dozen roses and one of those cheesy stuffed teddy bears holding a love heart.

However, now his plan seemed like a disaster.

Perhaps he had been reading too many romantic novels.

“You don’t think…” Thor trailed off, raising a curious brow. You furrowed your own, confused. “What?” “Well… You and Loki have been… courting. Do you think perhaps he had planned something?” “Thor, you heard him, he thinks it’s a farce.” “So do you!” “No, I don’t! I was just saying that because he did! I didn’t want him to feel bad for not doing anything!”

Thor wanted to knock some sense into you both with his hammer.

It was clear to him what had happened. He knew his brother. Whilst Loki may have pretended to be all aloof and unbothered, deep down he was a romantic. He still remembered when they were young and Loki had given Sif (and Fandral) a rare Asgardian flower to try and win their favour (albeit it was an illusion). (Also, Fandral had liked it, rather charmed whilst Sif had immediately called him out on it being an illusion… Oh, perhaps that’s why Loki had really cut her hair… Never mind, we’re getting off topic—)

So, Thor decided to meddle. As he often had done in the past with Loki. Although, his track record of success was… Ahem, not great, ahem.

“Brother! Whatever you are doing, stop at once!” Thor bellowed, barging into Loki’s quarters without warning. Loki stood with the teddy bear he had planned to give to you over the bin, muttering to himself about sentiment. His gaze snapped up at Thor, lips parting before he immediately hid the teddy bear behind his back.

“Thor! You oaf! What have I told you about knocking!” Loki exclaimed exasperated, glaring at his older brother.

“They only said they don’t believe in today because they thought you don’t believe in today!” Thor told Loki, sighing in his own exasperation. When did he become Cupid?

“Thor, it’s a Friday, I believe in the day-“

“Loki!” Thor cut off Loki’s smartass comment. “I know you have something planned. You may have changed since we were young, but you’re still a softie at heart.”

Loki bristled at that notion - clearly Thor had picked up such a word from the likes of Jane or Darcy. “I am not a ‘softie’, Thor. I’m a God. A God who has better things to do with his time than fret over a meaningless day that the mortals decided would represent how much they love their partners!” He huffed, finally throwing the bear into the bin.

Thor fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Loki, they want you to do something. They want to spend the evening with you.” He watched as Loki moved away from the small bin basket, sighing as he moved towards it. “Why must you always go on the defence?” Thor muttered, more to himself than Loki, as he reached down to grab the teddy bear, patting him off gently.

“Then why did they not say that?” Loki asked, irritated. “Why do they insist on not speaking plainly?”

“Because they didn’t want to make you feel guilty if you truly didn’t wish to celebrate.”

Loki paused at Thor’s explanation, his brows twitching faintly.

“Guilty?” He murmured quietly. “They… didn’t want to make me feel guilty…” He immediately sighed, realising that… yes, perhaps he had indeed acted a little… rash. He really needed to work on his fear of rejection.

“You see, brother?” Thor raised a brow, stepping closer as he held out the bear. “You both had good intentions. Even if you are both too stupid to realise it.”

Thor earned a glare for that last comment.

“Plus you didn’t exactly speak plainly either.”

Another glare.

Later that day, you headed into the common area, having misplaced your phone and assumed you had left it in there earlier. However, when you entered, before you could even process what was happening, the lights dimmed, candles lighting up on the dining table which was elegantly decorated.

Your brows furrowed, lips parting as you were about to speak, however, someone clearing their throat caught your attention, your gaze snapping to the sound.

“Surprise.” Loki said lightly, a little apprehensively, worried Thor had misunderstood your words or worse.

“But I thought-“

“That’s what I wanted you to think. However, I was thrown by your… shared distaste for the celebration.” He said lowly. “Nearly threw all of this out-“ He gestured towards the table, your eyes following as you noticed the roses and the teddy bear - as well as a nice bottle of red and two glasses, of course. “Before my… brute of a brother nearly tore my door off of its hinges and informed me that you had agreed simply to spare me the feelings of guilt.”

You blinked, lips still parted in surprise before your eyes met his again. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re right.” Loki nodded. “But… I… wanted to.” A pause. “Don’t get it twisted, I do still believe this whole day is a farce and I’m not convinced Cupid would entirely agree with what the mortals have turned his day into with cheap decor and overpriced—“ “Ahem.” “But, that’s beside the point. Or maybe that is the point.” Loki took a breath. “I suppose the point is… You make me… want to believe in it.”

A moment of silence fell between you, your gaze softening at his words. Loki shifted slightly, suddenly feeling a little… exposed.

“But uh-“ He cleared his throat, pulling his eyes away from you. “I, um, cooked.”

“And the kitchen is still standing?”

Loki sent you a look of exasperation, although there was amusement there. You gave a small smile, letting him know you were teasing.

“I am capable of cooking a meal without setting things on fire. Not everything I do ends in chaos.” “No? That’s a shame. Would’ve made for an entertaining Valentine’s Day story.”

Loki rolled his eyes, unable to stop the smirk from tugging at his lips.

“Ungrateful.” “Insufferable.”

AKA ‘I love you’.

BONUS: “So… What you said about not everything you do ends in chaos?” “Not another word.” *Camera pans to the dinner table charred and tattered because Loki managed to knock over the bottle of wine, going to clean it and in the process, knocked a candle over and set the tablecloth alight. The sprinklers went off, meaning everything - including the food and you and Loki - is drenched.*

BONUS BONUS: “Can I have my phone back now? Just incase I need to call the fire brigade.” Loki:

[shy-canadian-snowflake]

Not Hungry- Mentally Unwell Wade

Something was wrong. Logan knew it in his gut, knew it in his metal bones. Something was up and Wade wasn’t saying a goddamn thing. He watched the man as he raced around on his Mario Kart game, swearing and shouting along to whatever the hell was going on. Something was wrong though. Something in the look of the other’s face.

“You’ve been taking your meds, right?” Logan asked, throwing his arm around the back of the couch to seem a lot more relaxed than what he felt. Wade shot him a look from the corner of his eye before going back to the game. 

“Yep, Five pills in the morning, one at night. Got my alarms set so I never forget- Fuck! God damn blue shell-” He let out a line of swears. 

“No new symptoms?” He asked casually again, this time looking at the TV. He saw Wade give a half shrug and turned to face him again. “What’s going on, Bub?”

“Same old shit, people coming to kill us in the middle of the night. It’s fine, I’m dealing.” There was something to the other's face that made Logan think that wasn’t everything. There was something else going on. He reached over and patted Wade on the knee before giving it a little squeeze. 

“You’d keep me updated if there were new symptoms.” It wasn’t really a question. It was a silent agreement between them, Wade would tell Logan, Logan would keep track. It’s been that way since Logan first found out Wade was prone to hallucinations and delusions. When Wade didn’t reply Logan frowned. 

“Talk to me, what’s going on?” Wade continued to play his game and only gave a half shoulder shrug again. 

“I’m dealing with it. When it becomes too much I’ll let you know, don’t worry your pretty little head there Babygirl.” Logan didn’t like that answer. He wanted to know now what the other was dealing with, but knew if he pushed Wade would clam up more. So he only grunted and patted Wade on the knee again before turning to the TV.

“What do you want for dinner?” Logan asked after a while, it was getting late and it was something they should think about. With Al on a date to steal some rich oldman’s money, they were on their own tonight for food. 

“Not hungry.” Wade said, still focusing on his game, tiling his body with every curve of the road. Logan raised a brow at that. The man was a black fucking hole, always gobbling up shit that wasn’t his to eat. He watched the other for a moment longer. 

“I’ll order a pizza, you can always eat it cold.” Wade made an agreeing sound still focused on his game. “You are going to eat right?”

“Like I said Babygirl, not hungry. Maybe later.” It was the short answers that were bothering Logan. Normally he had to wait through verbal diarrhea before he got the answer he was looking for. These quick quips were even more concerning. 

“Can you pause your game?” Wade shook his head. 

“Playing online.” 

“Can you stop playing for a second?” Wade gave a big sigh before closing down his game. He turned to Logan, waiting. Logan waited back. 

“Did you make me quit my game so that we could stare at each other? I mean I don’t mind looking at ya, you are easy on the eyes baby, but did I have to stop my game for this?” Logan waited and Wade tilted his head back on the couch to look up at the ceiling. “Nothing is wrong, yes I’m seeing and hearing things that aren’t there but it’s livable. I’m not about to do something stupid.”

“So you’ll eat dinner with me?” Wade side eyed the other before shaking his head.

“Like I said. Not hungry.” 

And Wade stayed ‘Not hungry’ all that night, all the next day, into the following morning. Logan watched and the fucker didn’t eat a goddamn thing. Something they both did a lot because of their healing factor, so he knew the other was starving, but still Wade refused to eat. 

“Is your brain telling you you aren’t allowed to eat?” Logan asked that morning over coffee. Wade just sipped his and shook his head. 

“I’m fine, Peanut.”

“Are your meds making you not hungry?” Again Wade shook his head. 

“I mean sometimes they make me forget that food is a thing I gotta do, but no, I’m just not wanting to eat.” Logan zeroed in on that.

“Why don’t you want to eat?” And again they went around in a circle of Wade’s answers always being ‘I’m not hungry’. By the fourth time they did their little song and dance around the topic, Logan thought he was going to lose it. 

“Eat something. I don’t give a fuck if it’s a pudding cup, or a granola bar. Eat fucking something.”

“I’m not-”

“You say that one more fucking time and I’m shoving something down your god damn throat.” Wade snapped his jaw shut. Logan sighed and ran a hand down his face before looking into his own coffee for a moment. 

“Is there something I can buy that you’ll eat?” Wade shook his head no. “Can I make something you’ll eat?” Again, another shake of his head. “Bub, if you don’t eat something soon, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“And what are they going to do? Look at me disapprovingly until I eat something too?” Wade fiddled with the Hello Kitty cup in his hands. Logan gave him a lost look. 

“They might give you an IV so you have something in your system.” Wade seemed to debate that for a second. Logan could feel his throat close up. Was Wade really thinking an IV would be better then eating a goddam sandwich or a fucking pudding cup? He reached over and put his hand on Wade’s. Wade took his hand and started playing with Logan’s fingers, distracting himself. 

“I’m fine baby.” Wade whispered, still playing with Logan’s fingers. 

“I’ll give you a fucking blowjob if you eat something.” Wade gave him a half smile before shaking his head. Logan ran a hand through his hair and shook his head back at Wade. “I’m really fucking worried Jackass. Explain to me why you won’t eat, and for the love of god don’t tell me it’s because you are not hungry. I heard your stomach growl last night.” 

“I’m just… I can’t… There’s little worms in my food.” Wade finally said, letting go of Logan’s hand to bury his own face in his hands. “I know there's not, but there is. I keep seeing them.” 

“Okay.” Logan got up from his chair, stood beside Wade and pulled Wade into him, holding him close. “Okay, I need to know shit like this Wade. We can work something out.” 

“Or just wait it out.” Wade’s muffled voice came from where it was pressed into Logan. 

“We can’t wait this one out, Bub. You need to eat.” As if on queue, Wade’s stomach made a sound. 

“I can’t, the worms.” He sighs. “Don’t make me eat the worms, Logan. I don’t want them wiggling around in me.”

“I know Darlin, I know. I won’t make you, we’ll find a way to work around this, it’s going to be okay, Bub.” He didn’t know if he was saying that more to Wade or to himself.

Ha ha ha. Yep, throwing my issues onto Wade. Started for me two days ago. I'm not this bad yet, but I'll stop eating once I see the worms. I know logistics there are no worms in my food, but I can see them wiggling, and know they are there. I'll stop eating if I see them. I'm eating enough that I'll be fine, and my care team will learn about this on Friday so it's fine!

[losers-clvb]

apple pie and valentine's surprises // dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x girlfriend!reader

summary: it's yours and dean's first valentine's day together! the pressure is on you both to make it perfect for each other, but things don't go according to plan.

content: fluff, reader is bad at baking, swearing, loverboy!dean

word count: 3k

note: happy valentine's day, my loves! in an attempt to bring a little romantic love into my life, i thought i would write a little loverboy!dean. enjoy!

masterlist

----

It was your first Valentine’s Day as Dean Winchester’s girlfriend. You knew you had to make it special. That’s what girlfriends did for their boyfriends, right? Though the two of you had been dating for just under nine months now, you had no clue what to do.

You could cook for him, but you and him cooked for each other all the time.

You could bring him… bowling, maybe? No. Dean was under a lifetime ban from the bowling alley after his ball had mysteriously found itself in the nacho cheese sauce at the snack bar.

It was hopeless. You hated this holiday, the expectations were too high.

“What to do, what to do…,” You mumbled to yourself, searching through the house for things you knew Dean was into.

Guns. Beer. That weird anime porn you had convinced him to stop watching around you.

Your eyes skirted past a half-eaten pie in the refrigerator. That was it.

Pie.

You were going to make him a pie. It was special enough. You cooked, but you rarely baked. It was easier to just buy it from the store or weasel some kind of muffin from sweet Mrs. Turner next door.

But it couldn’t be that hard. You knew how to cook. Baking was probably the same.

You gathered together your list of ingredients you would need from the store before dashing out of the front door.

----

Dean was in the same situation. Every single idea he had come up with so far only included the two of you naked. That wasn’t what you were looking forward to. Girls wanted sappy, romantic dates on Valentine’s Day, with flowers and chocolates and a bunch of other girly shit that Dean would have to look into. They wanted something out of the normal, something special, and you two had sex far too often for it to be considered “special”.

Dean had even resorted to going to Sam for advice. Sure, his brother wasn’t currently with someone, but he had more long-term girlfriends than Dean had. That’s where he was now, banging open the door to Sam’s room.

“Hey!” Sam shouted in alert, jumping at the sudden intrusion. “Do you ever knock?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Dean brushed Sam off. This wasn’t the first time knocking had been an issue with Dean. “I need your help.”

“You break into my room to make me help you with something?” Sam asked, absolutely astonished at Dean’s nerve.

“I’m not makin’ you, Sammy. I’m begging!” Dean breathed out dramatically, throwing himself onto his brother’s bed. Sam rolled his eyes in response, turning back to the pile of laundry he was folding. When Sam didn’t answer him, Dean lifted his head up to see what the hold up was about.

“I’m serious, Sammy.” Dean scoffed, pulling himself up into a sitting position.

“Okay, fine.” Sam sighed, stopping his chore to cross his arms in front of him. “What is your big problem?” He asked condescendingly. Dean narrowed his eyes at him but chose not to reprimand him for it.

“I don't know what to do for Valentine's Day.” Dean grumbled out, ignoring Sam's attempt to stifle a laugh.

“Seriously? That's it?” Sam laughed. Dean glared at him.

“Yes! It's a big deal, okay?” Dean defended himself. He was starting to regret going to Sam about this. Maybe he should have just Googled it.

“Get her flowers or something.” Sam dismissed his brother, going back to his laundry. Dean rolled his eyes.

“It has to be special, Sammy. I get her flowers all the time.”

“It doesn't have to be special. It's just another day.”

“Girls like special. They like this Hallmark holiday shit.” Dean argued.

“So…,” Sam said as he thought. Obviously Dean wasn’t going to just leave him alone. “Candles.”

“Candles?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Candles and rose petals.” Sam decided, nodding.

“Where the hell did you get that from?” Dean questioned, though he was going to use the advice. He had no other options.

“Come on, Dean. It’s in, like, all the romance movies.” Sam stated the obvious. Dean was looking at him like Sam had just dropped a puppy into his lap.

“You watch those chick flicks?” Dean teased, taking the opportunity to make fun of his little brother.

“Get out of my room.” Sam rolled his eyes. Next time he was locking the door.

----

Turns out baking was nothing like cooking. Sure, you used similar ingredients, but this shit was hard. What the hell was a dough blender and why did every recipe use it?

You had forgone the kitchen tool, opting instead to use your hands. It seemed to do the trick, even if the dough looked a little lumpy. Next, you had to bake just the crust in the pan. Easy enough, but why did you need to bake pie twice?

You pulled the pan you had bought from the store out of the grocery bag. You had a ton of options, but the moment you laid your eyes on the heart-shaped metal, you knew that was the one. It would make the pie extra special, and who didn’t love hearts?

The tricky part was rolling the dough out. You hadn’t gotten a rolling pin. The fact that you didn’t own one flew right over your head while shopping. Your mom always had one, but it was used more as decoration than anything else. You just figured it was something that magically appeared in a person’s kitchen.

You scanned the kitchen for something, anything that would flatten the dough out. Your eyes landed on the cupboard that held your cups. Perfect. Well, almost perfect. You shuffled through the mismatched glasses and found the most uniform one you could. It was tapered toward the bottom, making the act of smoothing out the top of your dough difficult but not impossible.

Once you had the dough pressed into the pan and in the oven, you turned around to survey your mess. Flour was clouding over most of the counter, butter wrappers had fallen to the ground, and you had gone through five -- yes, five -- mixing bowls while combing the ingredients.

“What the hell are you up to?” You heard from behind you. You jumped. No one was supposed to be home. Sam went wherever Sams went to during the day and Dean had rushed out of the door with a half excuse you didn’t quite believe. You thought you would have the space to yourself for at least a few hours. Apparently, Dean had thought the same of himself, if the bags he was failing to hide behind him had anything to say.

“Nothing!” You yelped out a bit too fast to be natural. Dean narrowed his eyes, trying to peek around you to look at your mess. You, in an attempt to conceal your gift to him, spread your arms out. “Stop looking!”

Dean chuckled at you, but when you were the one to eye his bags, he was doing the same thing.

“Keep your eyes to yourself, sweetheart.” Dean barked out, pushing the bags further behind him. You pouted playfully, but kept your arms out until he shuffled away. Dean was up to something, you knew it. You just hoped you wouldn’t have to wait too long to find out what it was.

----

“Oh no.” You breathed out. Everything was going very bad very fast. The apple filling that you had been brewing up in a pot was somehow not cooked yet burning at the same time. Your mess had quadrupled itself. The pie crust had puffed up far too much, leaving virtually no room for filling. And somehow there was an apple skin stuck to the ceiling, though you were sure you hadn’t peeled the apples that viciously.

You scrambled around for your phone. The recipe was supposed to be displayed on the screen, but the page had refreshed and you were brought back to the top. After scrolling for what felt like an hour, the story about the baker Laura Lee’s great-great-great-grandmother’s apple farm -- like you gave a shit about that -- flying past your eyes, you finally figured out what you had done wrong.

1/4 cup of apple juice

1 tablespoon of cinnamon

You had switched the two around. You had thought, at the time, that it was far too much cinnamon but had brushed it off as a secret family recipe, as Laura Lee had boasted. That was why the pot was smoking now, even after you had turned the burner off.

Okay, but it didn’t explain the crust. What could you have done wrong? Every ingredient was correct, with the correct amounts, yet the puffed up pan seemed to laugh at you.

Roll out the dough, blah, blah, blah, cut to size, blah, blah, blah, place in pan with pie weights on top

Wait, what the fuck were pie weights?

After a quick search you had learned that pie weights were the things that kept the fucking crust from rising, as yours had. Great. Just great. You didn’t have time to remake the crust, nor the filling. It was growing close to the time when you and Dean had decided to celebrate the holiday. You would have to make do. You were nothing if not resourceful, a lie you told yourself as you dumped in what filling you could fit over the crust. You shoved the dish into the oven, slamming the door shut out of frustration.

Now to clean. Why was baking so damn messy?

You dropped your dishes into the sink, promising yourself you would do them later, though Sam would probably get to them first. The tedious task of scraping each and every apple skin scrap off of the counter distracted you from another presence entering the kitchen. You hadn’t noticed anyone was there, in fact, until their arms wrapped around you.

You tensed up before the scent of gunpowder and sandalwood told you it was Dean. You sighed out in defeat, twisting around in his arms. Dean had a crooked smile on his face, amusement in his eyes. You frowned back at him.

“You weren’t supposed to see all this.” You informed him, wrapping your own arms around his neck. Dean pulled you in closer with his hands resting just above your butt. He shrugged.

“It’s kinda hard to miss, sweetheart.”

You just nodded, another sigh leaving your lips. This wasn’t perfect. This was messy and completely wrong. Nothing had gone according to plan.

The beep of a timer alerted you to the fact that your pie was done, or as done as it was going to get. You wiggled out of Dean’s grasp and pulled your creation out. It wasn’t perfectly golden brown like you had expected and the apples looked dried up. You spun around to let Dean get a look of his gift. His face lit up.

“Pie.” He voiced out, walking to you. You dropped the pan onto the counter and crossed your arms.

“Not really.” You criticized, eyeing over every flaw the dessert held. Dean paid no mind to this. You had gone out of your way, out of your comfort zone, to make him something he loved. Sure, it didn’t look like the traditional pies he had eaten, but coming from you meant it was going to be the best kind of pie.

“Ah, come on. It’s…,” Dean searched for something that would comfort you, “a special family recipe.” He finished, snapping his fingers at the quick thinking. You smiled gratefully at him, but it didn’t make the disappointment go away. Dean frowned at your continued displeasure.

“I’m sure it tastes better than it looks.” He said while pulling a fork from the silverware drawer. He dug right into the middle and pushed the apple/crust mixture into his mouth. You watched in anticipation. The immediate disgust on his face made you look away, embarrassed. He was wrong. It didn’t taste better, if anything, it tasted worse.

“Delicious, best pie I’ve ever had.” Dean lied, nodding and forcing a smile onto his face. It took some work, but he was able to swallow down the food. You shook your head and walked away from the counter, arms wrapping around yourself.

“Don’t lie to me, Dean.” You mumbled. You hated that you had failed at making something for him. He was just appreciative that you had thought of him at all.

“Hey, no, no, no,” Dean repeated, rushing in front of you. You looked up at him and felt a little lighter. That always seemed to happen when you looked at him. He always made a bad day a bit better.

“It’s amazing, sweetie. I mean, anything that’s heart-shaped has to be, right?” Dean smiled brightly at you, hands resting on your shoulders. You scrunched your nose up at the statement, but a small laugh left you. Dean took that as a sign he was getting to you.

“I’m gonna eat the whole freakin’ thing.” He announced, turning to go back to the dessert. He wasn’t going to like it, but if it made you happy, he would do it. I mean, he’s gone to Hell and back, this couldn’t be any worse.

“No, stop.” You grabbed at his wrist. Relief flooded Dean. He really didn’t want to eat that again. You stretched up and placed a kiss on his lips. “Don’t torture yourself for me, De.”

Dean kissed you now, before pulling away and grasping your hands in his.

“Your turn.” He announced, a wide smile on his face. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what he could possibly have in store for you. You let out a noise of surprise when he walked behind you and placed his hands over your eyes.

“No looking.” Dean said as he slowly guided you across the kitchen. You were bad at walking without seeing. You kept tripping over your own feet. You gripped onto Dean’s wrists for support.

“Do you have your eyes closed too?” You asked when you felt your hip bump into a wall. You could imagine Dean’s eye roll.

“Just keep walking, sweetheart.” He grumbled out. You realized he was leading you to your shared bedroom, the path becoming a bit more familiar. You shuffled along, your socked feet softened your steps. You felt Dean tug you to a stop, announcing the fact that you had reached your destination.

“Three, two, one…,” Dean mumbled into your ear before giving your sight back to you. You blinked to clear your vision, looking around the room. Dean had you and him standing in the middle of the room. The curtains were pulled closed. The only light in the room came from the candles scattered around the room. Your eyes softened at the sight of rose petals littering the floor and bed, a box of chocolates laying on the pillows.

“I love it.” You whispered, not wanting to break the soft aura of the room. You turned around to face Dean. He wore a dopey smile on his face. You threw yourself into him, kissing him.

Dean had done much better than you had. This was perfect. The candles, the petals, the chocolates, all of it looked straight out of a movie. You didn’t question where he had gotten the idea from. All you could focus on was the way his hands fell to your hips.

You both moved in sync as you made your way to the bed. Dean lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he walked. You let your fingers weave into the hair on the back of his head. It was all amazing, all you could feel was the desire coming from Dean. It was so distracting, the rest of the world, including the candles, faded from your attention.

You hadn’t even noticed the small fire starting on the carpet until you smelled the burning of the fibers. You pulled away from Dean. You yelped at the flames reaching up higher and higher. In a fight-or-flight type of reaction, Dean dropped you to go bat at the fire with a stray t-shirt that had been laying on the ground. You landed on your butt with a thump. There would surely be a bruise there later on. You held yourself up with your hands behind your back, watching as Dean cursed to himself. The fire was ultimately put out, though the blackened spot on the carpet still smoked with the memory of it.

Dean looked to you, chest heaving from the intensity of what had happened. You both stared at each other, eyes wide. No one said a word. Dean had messed up. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to play firefighter tonight -- at least, not unless you had asked for it. He had failed at making this one thing special for you.

A small giggle coming from you interrupted his thoughts. Dean watched as you doubled over in laughter, a bit of flour still coating your hair from your attempted baking. Your laughter somehow pulled his own bout of chuckles from him. He found himself pulling you up from the floor and you both laughed together, folding into each other’s arms. You two looked like lunatics, standing over a smoking chunk of carpet while laughing.

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.” Dean laughed out, leading you to the bed. You shoved the box of chocolates to the floor, climbing under the blankets. Dean followed behind you, pulling you to lay on top of him.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” You kissed his nose.

You weren’t perfect. Dean wasn’t perfect. Your relationship wasn’t perfect. But it was okay. You had each other, that was all you needed. You two would live everyday, being imperfect together. There was one thing that was clear: this was yours and Dean’s first, and last, attempt at a perfect Valentine’s Day.

[skepticalarrie]

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[evansbby]

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[alterouslyinlove]

me: “i think men should kiss more often”

him: “i agree.”

him: “i think i should do that more often”

💥💥💥⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ i volunteer hello hi 👋

(ps rambling in the tags don’t. don’t even look at me)