#missing the opening of hiking season

[divagonzo]

Have a random Aviendha moment, being quiet for once.

[fairyysoup]

i can see you

♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

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

Hawkins High, September 1984

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

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

You stare a lot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you wish you could kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hawkins High, April 1985

Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t even think he knew your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The guy’s a fucking douche.”

“Tell me about it.”

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

“Billy Hargrove?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prom Night, May 1985

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

Except, well.

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sulking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?”

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

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

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

“Kelly Palmer.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I hope not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve Harrington is touching your face.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“STEVE??!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wherever there is, it’s not with you.

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

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

Starcourt Mall, June 1985

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

“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you ready?”

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

What did you say? What did he say?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can dig a few sprinkles.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You like it a lot. 

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

“What? No, I couldn’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I made it up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.

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

Family Video, March 1986

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, right after I last saw you?”

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

“I wish.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And again.

And again.

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

Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.” 

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

Logan Sawyer.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh my fucking god.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great. I’ll have that, please.” 

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

“Are you serious?” Theo snaps. 

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

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

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

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

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

Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”

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

“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”

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

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

“My father owns the company.”

“Right.” God, help me. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”

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

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

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

“You just said-”

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

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

“It was fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t have to ask him twice.

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

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

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

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

“The price.”

“The price.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want him to do it all over your body.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.

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

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

“The ice cream, or the porn?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”

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

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

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

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

[sicbaby]

sleeping beauty

stepdad!leon kennedy x f!reader

cw: 18+ smut, stepcest, somnophilia, non consensual (at first)

it was a weekend you were looking forward to. a nice little winter vacation with your mom and some of her friends. it would be nice to get out of the house for a while anyway, especially since your seasonal depression kicked in.

however, your plans quickly changed when you fell ill. god damnit, stupid fucking weather. had to ruin your plans. now you were bed ridden, absolutely no energy so you refused to do anything. your loving mother didn’t bat an eye, wishing you well and heading off with her friends for the weekend. thanks, mom.

luckily, your stepdad was free. leon.

leon was a good dad, sweet and caring… more than your mom ever was. you liked him a lot. your mom put leon in charge of taking care of you for the weekend, and he was more than happy to oblige. he barely ever had time off work, and he was looking forward to spending time with you.

it was friday night and leon sat on the couch watching tv, feeling frustrated. the reason why? you.

yes, you. the poor little thing that had slept the day away. he had planned out the whole evening for the two of you. he was going to make soup, cuddle you and watch your favorite movies and kiss and love on you. like a good father should when his daughter gets sick. but you never even got out of bed. he felt lonely, frustrated, and needy. he missed his pretty little girl.

it was getting late. he shut down the house and put away the full pot of soup he had made for you. just seeing it sitting there made his frustration grow even stronger.

he turned off all the lights, locking the front door and heading upstairs. he’s mad at you.

he knows he shouldn’t feel that way, especially when you’re sick. but he can’t help it. he passes your door, not giving it a second look as he heads to his room.

he strips to his boxers, ready to get in bed as he fights an internal struggle within himself.

god, it’s not your fault, you poor thing. but he has needs too, doesn’t matter if you’re sick. with a frustrated sigh, he heads to down the hall to check on you.

he knocks on your door softly, and when there isn’t a response he opens it. the air is damp, filled with the peppermint scent of your diffuser on full blast. the room is dark, and he can hardly see until he comes closer. you’re sleeping. still.

his gaze wanders over your sleeping form. you were on your belly with your left leg hiked up. you were wearing the sheerest pink nightgown, and the silk practically melted into your body, leaving little to the imagination. it also didn’t help that your position caused the gown to ride up, the bottom of your cheeks exposed to him. nothing underneath that slutty little gown, of course. despite his irritation, he couldn't deny the allure of your vulnerability. a mischievous grin tugs at the corner of his lips as a wicked idea forms in his mind.

leon slowly approaches the side of the bed, his steps almost silent against the carpeted floor. he felt as if you owed him for the lonely, isolated day he had.

swiftly, he reaches out and gently brushes his hand against your cheek, feeling the warmth of your feverish skin beneath his fingertips. "you know, i was hoping we could have some quality time together," he murmured, his tone mocking. "but it seems like you're too busy being a useless little burden, sleeping the day away."

his frustration brewed beneath the surface, and he couldn't resist the temptation any longer. leon slowly reaches down, his fingers grazing over your thigh. the touch was light, teasing, not wanting to wake you up just yet.

"since you're so useless, maybe i should find another way to entertain myself," he whispered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "hmmm,” he hums, “maybe i'll have to wake you up properly, little sleeping beauty."

leon's hand continued caressing your thigh, inching higher and higher. your mouth was wide open, snoring softly. he chuckled at that. even sick and asleep, you were such a prize. and he was going to claim you.

trailing his hand along the back of your left thigh, he nudges it to the side slightly, guiding your legs to open more for him. he trails up and up, until his index finger flicks over the soft flesh of your pussy. he smirks when you don’t move, and proceeds to glide his finger up and down your folds until it settles on your clit. he applies just enough pressure to elicit a small noise from your parted lips. it’s barely noticeable, though, and he keeps playing and teasing with your pussy until that warm wetness is coating his finger.

the act of making you wet even while you slept was an intoxicating feeling for leon. the sudden urge to possess you and claim you as his own rushes over him.

he crawls over you, settling into bed next to you. he places a light hand on your back, feeling the silk of your nightgown. his touch trailed lower and his fingers knead the soft flesh of your ass, reveling in its plumpness. he couldn't help but let out a low, husky groan as his desire for you intensified.

leon's desire grew even stronger as he shifted closer to you. being careful not to disturb you, he delicately repositioned you onto your side, hand still firmly gripping your ass. once he’s satisfied with your position, he presses his hand to the front of your hips, pressing your ass against him. his cock hardens at the feeling of your warm and soft ass against him. he couldn't help but grind his hips against yours, feeling his cock grow with every slow rut. a low growl of satisfaction escaped his lips as he continued, moving his head up to press his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

he looks back down to your ass, slowly and carefully lifting your nightgown up your back, exposing your bare skin to the fabric of his boxers as he continues to slowly hump you. in a low, whispered voice, he couldn't resist indulging in dirty talk again, knowing you wouldn't hear him. you were so deep in your slumber.

"hi, princess.” he taunts, right in your ear this time. “you gonna let daddy fuck your tight little pussy? hm? yeah, you are. daddy’s gonna do whatever he wants with you tonight, baby," he murmured, his voice laced with desire. “daddy deserves that, right?” he asks, reaching up to grab your chin, forcing you to nod your head in your sleep. he chuckles deeply at this. “yeah, that’s right. good girl, baby.”

as he continues grinding against you, his hand lowers from your chin to your breasts, lightly grazing his fingers over your nipples, smirking to himself when he feels them harden almost immediately. you don’t move, don’t make any noise, and he wonders how much farther he can go. he trails his left hand down your tummy to your pussy, his hand once again finding your clit. at this point, you’re soaked. “dirty fucking girl..” he chuckles deeply.

he removes his hand, wiping your slick off on his boxers as he pulls them down his legs. he tosses them off the bed, moving back to you to lift up your leg. he scoots up, placing his now hard cock up against your wet cunt. he brings your leg back down and groans at the feeling of your lips and thighs surrounding his cock. he begins humping you again, your pussy continuously wetting his dick and making the most obscene noises in the quiet room.

it wasn’t until now you stir slightly, in a weird dream like state. you feel heat on your neck, a warmth against your body and wetness pooling between your legs. and yet, your mind can’t comprehend it, choosing to stay asleep.

leon continues humping his cock against your pussy, grunting softly in your ear. soon, he’s losing all control. he quickly lifts your leg, taking his dick into his hand as he slaps your cunt a few times with it, teasing himself yet again. he rubs it back and forth, pushing his head against your entrance, gauging your reaction. you still don’t move, and he scoffs a little. he finally presses the tip of his cock into your waiting hole, slowly yet surely filling you up. he barely gets all the way inside when you finally wake up, in a daze.

“hmm- huh, hnnng? leon?” you whine, immediately trying to get up when you feel a heavy, almost painful weight inside of you. you’re sick, weak and confused, your whines almost sound like you’re about to cry. and you just might, until leon pushes you gently back onto your side. “shhh, shhh, princess. it’s okay, daddy’s here. just needed to fill you up, make you feel better. daddy just wanted to feel you. that’s okay, right baby?” he shushes you, keeping his cock buried deep inside you.

you lay back against the pillows, your face contorted in confusion and worry. you nod. “o-oh, y-yeah… okay, daddy…” you immediately comply. you trust your dad. whatever he’s doing.

your voice is weak, eyes burning and you’re just so fucking tired. your state turns leon on even more. you don’t even comprehend what’s going on until you blink a few more times.

and then you realize it. your stepdads cock is inside of you.

“d-dad?” you say weakly, unable to move. your eyes shift around the room, scared to move, scared to turn around to face him.

“yeah?” he groans. “so naughty. leaving your daddy all alone all day.” he mumbles. “you’re gonna make it up to me, kay princess?” his voice is condescending, a bit mean, and it makes your pussy clench around him. yet your face tells a different story. you’re on the verge of tears. why is this happening? he laughs breathily into the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. you want this just as much as him. even if you don’t realize it yet.

your mouth is slightly open, unable to breathe through your nose due to your sickness. you feel dizzy, your body hot and sweaty and leon begins to thrust, pounding into you relentlessly from behind. your body is completely limp in his hold, his left hand digging into your thigh harshly as he keeps your leg up in the air.

you cry out, your body feeling so fragile and sore. he’s just making it worse. this isn’t right. but why are you so wet? your panic increases by the second.

“d-dad! stop! this is so bad,” you sob. “t-this is sooo wrong!”

his thrusts are forceful, taking exactly what he wants from you with no mercy. he can sense your energy waning, your body growing weaker as you try to fight back. he drops your leg, reaching around to rub circles into your swollen clit.

“oh, it feels wrong, does it?” he growls. “but i know you want this, baby girl. fight all you want. pussy’s fuckin’ crying for me.” he feels your body trembling, little whines and cries falling from your pretty mouth.

you feel so overwhelmed, thrashing in his hold, tears falling from your eyes. you don’t even know what you want, a pure mess, brain mushy and can’t think straight. your movements are futile against him. “s-stop! stop! hurts, daddy! please…” he’s huge, practically splitting you in two on his dick.

“no, no, baby. you be good for daddy. you don’t wanna make daddy angry, hmm? bad girls don’t get to cum, you know.” his voice is surprisingly soft, yet so fucking condescending it makes a sob erupt from you. he pulls all the way back out, before slamming his entire length back into your pussy.

“d-daddy,” you cry. “please!” you’re shaking so much, poor baby. your pussy keeps clenching, sucking in his cock before trying to spit him out.

“awww.” he coos. “does daddy’s cock feel too big for your tiny little pussy, baby girl?” he slows his thrusts, giving you some time to adjust. you can feel your heartbeat racing in every part of your body, especially in your cunt. you’re thankful he slows down. you can really feel him this way, feel how every ridge drags deliciously against your walls. it feels too good now. you want to cum. you need to cum.

however, leon doesn’t like taking it slow. “don’t worry, honey. i know you can take it.” he resumes a faster pace, your entire body bouncing from the force. your sobs of pain and discomfort quickly turn into whiny moans of pleasure, no matter how much you try to fight it.

he grabs your cheeks roughly, squeezing them, making your lips pout as he turns your head towards him slightly. he kisses at your tears, tasting the saltiness on your face.

“you’re doing so well, my precious little toy. you’re such a good girl for taking all of daddy’s cock.” he praises, causing you to subconsciously relax a little, letting him sink deeper into your cunt.

“thaaaats it, princess,” he continues, bottoming out and stilling for a moment again. he kisses your neck hungrily, breathing in your scent once again. “you ready to cum for daddy, my little bunny?” he teases, his voice dripping with control. you whine in response, that dumb little brain of yours not able to form words. “beg for it, baby. show me just how badly you need it.” he ruts up harshly into you one time, urging you to speak. it causes you to gasp out a broken moan.

“p-please… please.. need ‘t cum…” it’s a weak response, but you truly aren’t able to conjure up anything better. your hips have a mind of its own, grinding back on leon’s cock desperately searching for release.

leon would want to make you beg for it until you were screaming, but he had to have some type of consideration for his sick baby, right?

he doesn’t respond to your begging, only continuing to pound into you. it feels so good you feel like you’re about to pass out, head empty and dizzy.

he reaches around once more, slapping your bouncing tits a few times, making you gasp. you throw your hands up, trying to stop him but he easily swats your hands away and continues. his fingertips drop down harshly right on your hard, sensitive nipples. “nuh uh, baby. what did i say, huh?” he threatens in a high pitched, taunting baby-like voice.

“‘m sorr- sorry, daddy!” you cry out, hiccuping, your voice hoarse.

“mm, it’s okay, my sweet girl. ‘s brave, endured so much for daddy. go ahead and cum, baby. cum all over daddy’s cock.” he says through gritted teeth. he stops his assault on your tits, bringing his hand down to rub at your puffy clit.

your hand wraps around his wrist, pushing it down harder against the swollen nub. he smirks at this. your lip is drawn between your teeth, body going stiff as you near your release.

“cmon, baby. be a good girl for me. wanna feel that tight pussy cum around my cock. you want it, don’t you?” he encourages, his balls drawing up, so so so close to cumming inside of you.

“mhm, mhm, mhm!” you moan, nodding your head once you feel your orgasm approaching. your jaw goes slack, eyes rolling back into your head, body convulsing as you cum hard. your head is thrown back, resting on leon’s shoulder. he places kisses on your temple, holding you tight through your release.

he starts rutting into you like a rabbit as he cums, shooting his load deep into your womb, offering a warm satisfaction in your lower belly. his thrusts turn into slow, sharp ruts, making sure your cunt takes everything he has to give.

“fuck, baby.” he grunts, his body convulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure. he stays inside of you for a moment. both of you are breathing hard and you sigh tiredly. he moves the hair from out of your face, kissing you sweetly on the cheek.

your cheeks are red and puffy, stained with tears. you feel so good, you can’t even be upset at what just happened. in fact, you want it to happen again.

exhaustion washes over you. your thoughts, your morality… it can wait for the morning.

“go back to sleep, sweet girl. daddy will take care of you. love you so much, princess.” he kisses your forehead, nosing your hairline, inhaling your sweet scent. he just can’t get enough. such a perfect little girl, and now he’s claimed you. his perfect little girl, all for him.

[me-and-your-husband]

yours truly and forever || j. miller

summary: you find ellie and joel in need of help, desperately. you take care of the two, when affection for joel creeps up on you and you can’t shake it. he can’t stay, but maybe, if you don’t think too hard about it, that won’t matter. 

an extension from the end of episode six, “kin”. 

warnings: female reader, kinda reference to the events of the game, so potential spoilers for the season i guess?, angst, smut, smut with feels, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink (?), half proofread, not as feral as what i usually write? kinda soft sex. let me know if i missed anything.

word count: 5.6k (i think this is officially my longest fic???)

A/N: episode six destroyed me on a different level. didn’t stop my thirst tho. also, i am NOT a medical professional so the terminology and stuff is probably not correct. tried my best.

here’s my masterlist if you’d like to read more of my work!

“I think we’re safe.” Joel’s weak body slumped off the horse, falling into the snow. “Joel, no, no, no! Shit,” Ellie cursed as she dismounted the horse and scrambled to him. She called his name to no avail, using his hands to cover the festering wound on his abdomen. “Joel, open your eyes. Open your eyes. Joel, you gotta get up,” she pleaded. Her voice dropped to a whisper, “I can’t fucking do this without you. I don’t know where the fuck I’m going, or what the fuck I’m gonna do. Joel! Please. Joel, please.”

She sat fisting his collar, pleading for him to open his eyes, when she heard the sound of hooves shuffling through the snow. She first thought Shimmer had run off. Whipping around, the horse was right where she left it. The panic that was already coursing through her became more potent. She reached for her gun, ducking in the snow next to Joel. She could almost taste her fear on her tongue as a figure on a black horse trotted over to Shimmer. Reaching out a hand to stroke Shimmer’s muzzle, the figure said, “Hey, girl. Where’d you come from?” It was a woman’s voice. Ellie clutched her gun, just the way Joel had taught her. The woman dismounted her horse, boots crunching in the snow as she walked around Shimmer. When her gaze trailed down to the young girl with a gun pointing at her, she brought her hands up slowly, non-threateningly. 

“Stay back!” Ellie shouted. She couldn’t see much of the woman, a bandana covering her neck, reaching under her eyes. She had a hat on, one of the ones Maria had worn in Jackson. She was well bundled for the weather, Ellie noted. Must live around here. 

“I’m not here to hurt you. Just saw a stray horse. Thought someone might need help, is all,” you said, hands still in the air. “And it looks like I was right.”

Ellie glanced towards Joel. “How do I know you’re not gonna kill us? Fucking eat us, or something?” She spat. 

You laughed, “I’m not going to eat you. That’s what my cattle and crops are for.” You told her your name. “I’ve got a house just a few miles up. I was doing a perimeter check before I found you, actually. It’s secure. I can help your dad there.”

Ellie didn’t bother correcting you. Instead, she contemplated taking you up on your offer. Well, if she didn’t go with you, Joel was dead. If Joel died, she might as well be dead too. “Fine.”

“Will you lower your gun so I can help him?”

She put her gun down, watching as you calmly moved towards Joel, hiking him up over your shoulder and situating him on top of your horse. You sat behind him, his weight fully leaning against you, as Ellie mounted her horse. “This way,” you said, pressing your calf into your horse’s ribcage to get her to go. Ellie followed close behind as you led her to your home. 

“Why’re you helping us?” Ellie asked when you were about halfway there.

You took a few seconds to answer. “There was a time when I needed someone to help me, but nobody would. This way, come on.”

You put the passcode into the keypad, opening the gate, gesturing for Ellie and Shimmer to go in first. You followed her, instructing her towards the large white house that sat in the middle of the property. When you got to the porch, you dismounted the horse and placed the man back over your shoulder, climbing up the steps. Ellie dismounted too, looking for some place to tie the lead. 

“Don’t worry about that. Fence goes all around the place. Come help me open this door,” you said, occupied with trying not to let him fall from your shoulders. His frame was much bigger than yours, making it difficult to balance. Ellie twisted the nob and pushed the door open. You found your couch immediately, laying him down as gently as you could, shoving a pillow under his head. “Stay here with him. I’m gonna go grab my kit.”

She waited there with Joel until you returned, squeezing his hand, praying for him to wake up. Praying that they were safe here. 

When you returned, you were carrying a giant leather bag. She had expected a simple first aid kit. At her puzzled expression, you said, “Normally, I’m doing surgery on the horses or cows, not men.” She nodded in understanding.

As you set up with bedpans, scalpels, scissors, gauze, anything you might need, Ellie took a moment to look around. Hung on your walls were portraits of anything and everything. She’d always loved art, never having the time to really explore it herself. This place didn’t look like it was home to someone who was gonna slaughter them. “I’m Ellie,” she said, making you turn from your stool by the couch. “That’s Joel.”

You gave a reassuring smile. “Nice to meet you, Ellie.” Now, you pulled down the fabric from your mouth and threw your hat down on the floor, shucking your jacket off too, hoping it would make you less intimidating to the young girl. “Might wanna get comfortable. This’ll take awhile. 

Ellie made herself a home on the loveseat adjacent to the couch Joel was on, taking her jacket off and laying it next to her backpack. “How did this even happen?” you asked as you sanitized your tools.

“He got stabbed,” she said, looking down at her hands. “He didn’t even notice at first. He…” she trailed off. You gave her a look of understanding.

You cleaned the area and got to work. You were happy that he was unconscious. All you had was horse tranquillizer, and you were almost positive that it would kill him. Joel twitched and squirmed a little, but you were calm as you worked.

Ellie’s eyelids were drooping and her head was falling when she heard you say, “All done,” as you wiped your bloody hands on a rag. She got up to get a look at Joel. His bloodied shirt and jacket were off, showing the wound on his abdomen, all stitched up. “See that area around the wound?” You said, fingers gently grazing over the skin. “It’s pink. Means there’s probably an infection. I’ll see what I have, but I don’t think I have enough antibiotics,” you said as you cleaned the blood from your tools. You saw a look of disappointment in her eyes. 

“But,” you started, “there’s an old pharmacy a mile or two from here. I can go tomorrow. See what they have.” She nodded, a hopeful look in her eyes. “Come on, help me get him upstairs.”

The two of you took him to one of the guest bedrooms, laying him down on the bed. You slid his thick jacket back on, but left it unzipped so you could easily redress his wound. “I can show you to the other guest room. Mind, I don’t usually have visitors, so it’s-”

“No,” Ellie cut you off. She flushed. “Thanks, but I’m staying with him.” You nodded. She didn’t want him to wake up alone. 

“Alright, then. There are blankets in the closet over there,” you pointed. “My room is across the hall, at the end. If he wakes up or something is wrong, come get me. I’m leaving for the pharmacy at dawn, so help yourself to anything in the kitchen. You can shower if you want, too. If he wakes when I’m gone tomorrow, don’t leave. I’ll need to give him those antibiotics as soon as I get back.” She nodded. You began to walk out of the room, but she stopped you by calling your name. You turned.

“Earlier, you said that there was a time when you needed help, and nobody would give it to you…?”

You sighed. “A while back, about ten years ago, before I settled here, I was travelling with some people and my little brother. He ended up getting shot. His leg. I couldn’t stop the bleeding and…they just left us there. Left him there to die,” you swallowed, looking down at your feet. She looked at you, offering a sad smile. “Night, Ellie. Get some sleep.”

You returned around noon the next day with the antibiotics for Joel. Announcing yourself when you walked in, Ellie came stumbling down the stairs. You took in her wet hair and changed clothes. There was hope in her eyes, but also urgency. “He woke up! Just for a little while. He was pretty out of it, but he asked where we were,” she said.

“And what’d you tell him?” You said as you took your outerwear off and grabbed your bag with the antibiotics. 

“I told him we were safe. He wasn’t awake long enough to give him the full story, but now he’s all sweaty, and mumbling and shit and-”

“Shit,” you cursed, rushing up the stairs past the girl.

“Wait, what is it?” she called after you.

“Sounds like he’s got a fever. Could have delirium, too,” you said as you entered the room Joel was in. He was clammy, sweating, chest heaving, body radiating an ungodly heat, mumbling incoherencies. You moved his jacket to the side. “Looks like the infection is spreading,” you mumbled. Grabbing the syringe and bottle from your bag, you filled the syringe, sticking it into the pink flesh of Joel’s stomach. 

“He’ll need another dose in a few hours. It probably won’t kick in until the second or third dose,” you said, wiping the sweat from his head and neck with a rag. You turned to Ellie, who’s eyes were fixed on Joel, yet distant. “Hey, did you eat yet?” She shook her head. “Let’s get you something to eat, then,” you said as you led her to the kitchen.

Four days passed before Joel woke up. Four days spent mostly at his bedside, reading some book in between administering his doses. Making sure Ellie was fed. On the second day, Joel woke briefly again, panicking. However, Ellie was able to calm him down, reassuring him that they were safe. On the third day, you got through to Ellie a bit more.

“So, what brought you two this far out?” you asked innocently, closing your book and resting it on your lap. She seemed to freeze.

“We, uh…we were looking for Joel’s brother. We ended up near the university and got ambushed,” she said. She was lying. That was fine. You couldn’t really blame her. You hummed in response. 

It was silent for a few minutes before she spoke again, “He’s not my dad, you know.”

You offered her a soft smile. “Okay.” You went back to reading your book.

On the fourth day, when Joel woke up, you were in the kitchen doing the dishes left from your lunch with Ellie. A few hours ago you had re-dressed his wound and given him another round of antibiotics. The angry pink of his skin was subsiding and he was no longer feverish, resting peacefully on the bed. You hummed to yourself as you scrubbed the plates in the soapy water. 

Hearing two voices from upstairs, you dried your hands on a dish rag and made your way upstairs. The deep, gruff voice halted as your footsteps sounded out against the hallway floor.

“It’s safe, I promise. I trust her.” Ellie’s voice, pleading. A grunt.

You turned the corner with a polite smile, resting against the doorframe. You took the man in, greying hair dishevelled, sat up, staring daggers at you. 

“Good to see you awake,” you said, telling him your name. 

“How long was I out for?” he asked, his voice a gruff southern accent, but still laced with distrust. He was on edge.

“Five days.”

He looked at Ellie, who nodded. He groaned, eyes training back to you. “Where’s my stuff?” 

“Ellie has it all in the other room. Your horse is in my stable.”

“Then we’ll be on our way,” he said, attempting to get himself up, a groan of pain ripping through his chest as you walked forward, pushing him back down by the chest.

“Hold on, cowboy. You were stabbed. You have an infection. You’re in no shape to go back out there. Besides, there’s a storm rolling in soon.” You reached to the nightstand, grabbing the bottle of antibiotics and the syringe. 

He looked at Ellie. “She’s telling the truth. She found us when you fell off the horse. She brought us back here. Stitched you up and shit. She even went out to get you those antibiotics. She’s the reason the both of us aren’t dead. She’s been feeding me and everything,” Ellie said, then quieter, “I trust her.”

Joel looked you up and down. You held up the syringe, asking silent permission to give him another dose. “Fine,” he grunted.

It took a few weeks for Joel’s infection to heal and for the winter blizzard to pass. After about a week of bedrest, as prescribed by you, Joel was walking around with Ellie, going to the dining room for meals rather than you bringing them to the bed, and even helping you with small tasks. The truth is, Joel felt indebted to you for saving his life. For taking care of Ellie. For going so far out of your way to bring them safety. After a while, he was able to trust you. 

But there was more. As he helped you put away the dishes, your fingers would brush as he passed you a plate, the air between you two going still. You’d be silent for a few moments, continuing your task, before picking conversation back up as though nothing happened. You’d be out in the stable together, brushing the horses. One of them would whinny and you’d genty laugh. He found your laugh infectious, finding a smile spreading across his face and a chuckle falling from his lips. When you caught his eye, he’d flush, looking back at Shimmer. She’d nudge him with her muzzle, as if to prompt him to say something more to you. He never would. Or maybe it was the time you were eating dinner with him and Ellie, pouring yourself and Joel wine. You had reached over to give him his glass, knocking yours onto yourself in the process. You had cursed, lifting your shirt over your head, white undershirt untouched by the stain. You didn’t miss the way Joel looked away, warmth rising up his neck. Ellie didn’t miss it either, as she held in a laugh and nudged him suggestively, lifting her eyebrows. You didn’t say anything. 

Between the lingering touches, the fleeting glances, and the burning moments, you knew that there was something unspoken that hung thick in the air between you and Joel.

After three months, Joel was fully healed. The storm lasted about a month, the last winds finally subsiding. Ellie had slept in. It was just you and Joel having coffee. You leaned against the counter. He sat at the table, facing you. You were making light and easy conversation, as it usually was between you two.

He cleared his throat and looked into the liquid in his mug. “We’ll be outta your hair in about a week, if that’s okay. Don’t wanna overstay our welcome,” he said, avoiding eye contact. You began to protest, but he cut you off, “You’ve already done so much for us,” his voice was like honey, thick and smooth. There was some kind of resistance mixed in with it. “Don’t worry about us, darlin’.” The name rolled easily off his tongue. It was a recent development, always something endearing. You figured it was just his way of showing he trusted you.

You huffed. There was no arguing with him when his mind was set on something. “Alright, then. Take any supplies you need. We’ll load up your horse the night before you leave,” you said, pouring the rest of your coffee down the drain and leaving the kitchen. Joel caught the hint of…something, in your voice. Sadness? Anger? Loneliness? He recalled a conversation he heard you having with Ellie about two weeks back.

“Doesn’t it get lonely out here? All by yourself all the time?”

A brief silence. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

Joel thought he was doing what was best by ignoring the searing touches and stolen glances, ignoring the feelings in the pit of his stomach. He thought that growing attached to you would only hurt the both of you. He knew he was right, but he began to wonder if you might be worth the pain.

That night, after you had bid Joel goodnight and Ellie was already asleep, you sat on your bed, in your thoughts, when soft knocking came from your door. “Come in,” you called out. The door opened and you looked up to see Joel. There was something behind his eyes that wasn’t there before. Guilt?

He approached you slowly, “May I?” You nodded. He took a seat next to you at the edge of your bed. 

How was he supposed to start?

“I, uh,” he sighed. “I’m not very good at this. And I know we aren’t leavin’ just yet. But I wanted to, uh, thank you. For helpin’ me. Us. We’d both be dead if it weren’t for you. And for your hospitality.” He looked at his hands resting on his lap. “You’re a real good person for that.”

You just shrugged and offered him a tight-lipped smile. Silence hung thick in the air between you two.

He cleared his throat, getting up from the bed. “Well, I guess I’ll get-”

“Why won’t you stay?” Your eyes met his, brows furrowed, something anxious brewing behind them. 

“I’ve gotta get the girl to her people,” was the only thing he could offer. He felt at a loss. You just nodded, standing in front of him. 

“Am I ever gonna see you again?” It was more of a plea than a question. 

Joel swallowed. “I don’t know.”

Your gaze drifted down to the floor. “What happens if you get hurt again, and there’s nobody like me there to help you?”

In an unexpected move, both by you and him, he grabbed your face with his hands. “I’ll be just fine, darlin’.” Your hands slid atop his.

“You don’t know that.”

He began to lean in. “I don’t know,” he said, his breath warm across your lips. “All I know is that now I’ve got somethin’ to come back for, someone I-”

“Don’t tell me you want me,” you cut him off. “Don’t tell me you want me now, when you’re about to leave.” He closed his eyes. Your hands fell from his. You moved out of his hold. “I can’t do this.”

The loss of his hands on your skin felt sore, wrong, but you knew that if you let him touch you, he’d hook you in, and it would hurt all the more to say goodbye in one week’s time. 

“Please,” you whispered, eyes closed, a single tear streaming down your cheek. You could feel the warmth of his body leave, hear him close the door gently behind him.

You didn’t rest much that night. 

Every day for a week, you rose early, making breakfast for Ellie and settling back in your room to sit with yourself. Peering out of the window every day, you couldn’t help but stare out at the snowy planes of Colorado, taking in the austere, frozen environment you’d settled in. The desolate feel of the earth around you only made you realize how lonely you had been before Joel and Ellie had showed up, longing for something, anything, but always left unfulfilled. In Ellie’s bright smile and Joel’s unspoken touches, you thought that you might’ve landed a few companions who could keep your soul warm in the winter. It felt like you had lost something when you realized that wasn’t the case. 

When you ventured throughout the house to shower, cook, or do household work, you found yourself tiptoeing, almost like you didn’t want to get caught. You savoured your conversations with Ellie, but you kept your words to Joel down to necessity. Short responses to his questions, shorter replies to yours. Never touching, in fear that the friction, like electricity, would spark something that neither of you could stop. Holding your breath when he was close to you. Avoiding eye contact. Never giving more than you had to. You both thought it would be easier to part this way, the fire growing in your insides unsatiated. 

The night before he was set to leave, you found Joel in the kitchen, rough fingers silently brushing over a map laid out on the table. 

He jumped at the sound of your voice, “I’m gonna go get your horse set with the things you’ll need.” He turned to you.

“I’ll come give you a hand,” he said, downing the last of his coffee and grabbing his coat. 

The walk to the stable was thick with tension, the dense silence lingering between the two of you. The sun was out, casting the image of your shadows on the crunchy snow. When you reached the large door, you slid it open, letting him go first. You still couldn’t look at him. 

You trailed behind him as he moved towards Shimmer, grabbing her saddle and slinging it over her back, fastening it. You knew Joel carried all of his guns on his person, so you began filling the saddlebags with medical supplies, ammo, water, cord, tape, anything you had stockpiled that might help him and Ellie get to where they needed to. 

“All set,” you said, fingers running over Shimmer’s mane. 

“Thank you,” Joel breathed. He was looking at you, searching for your eyes. You could feel it.

You nodded. “Don’t worry about it.” A few moments of rigid silence. “Leaving at dawn?” The question fell past your lips before you could think about it.

You saw him nod out of your peripherals. “Yeah.”

You give a nod, lips pursed. Still looking at Shimmer. Still avoiding his gaze. 

“Will you look at me?” He said suddenly, voice demanding, but ultimately soft.

You didn’t obey, looking at your feet instead. “Why?”

“It’s been a week. I know you’re givin’ me the cold shoulder, but at least look at me. Don’t act like you hate me. You’re killin’ me, darlin’.”

You blew out a puff of warm air. “If I look at you…” you started, nearly losing your gall. “If I look at you, I’ll forget that I’m trying to let you go.”

The words were thick, heavy. They hung between you two as if they were forbidden.

“Then don’t let me go,” he said, taking a step towards you. 

You said his name in a warning, taking a few steps towards the door. 

“You don’t have to let me go. I know I’m never gonna stop thinkin’ ‘bout you, honey. And I can’t promise that you’ll see me again, but I’m damn well goin’ to try to make it back to you.” 

You sniffled, “You don’t mean that.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I do. I mean it with all of myself,” he said, moving forward to press his forehead against yours. “Let me show you.”

Once again, you could feel his breath on your lips. His were just inches from yours, almost touching, but never quite close enough. You finally looked at him, tears brimming your eyes.

“I can’t give you much, but let me give you what I can,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his forehead into yours harder, more desperately.

At that, you broke. “Okay,” you breathed.

He took that as permission to lean himself into you, the skin of his lips grazing yours, breath mixing with his. When he finally connected his lips to yours, it was like he breathed a warmth into your body, lighting every nerve. Your hands tangled in his hair, his cupping your face. The kiss started chaste, but became breathy and passionate. It ended with your lips red and swollen, both of you needy and desperate for something more. Always more.

The rush through the snow, through the front door and up the stairs to your bedroom was needy, your hand in his, dragging you behind him, nearly sprinting with anticipation. 

As Joel was locking your bedroom door behind him, you were fisting the collar of his shirt and kissing him. Your mouth opened wider for his tongue to explore, whines muffled by his mouth. The kiss was all the things you couldn’t say, I want you, I love you, stay.

He walked you backwards into your bed, falling on top of you when your legs hit the edge. Your hands found solace in his hair, tugging just right, making him groan into your mouth. He parted from you to grab the hem of his shirt and tug it over his head. Now, your fingertips explored the expanse of his chest and soft stomach, soft pads tracing the scar that brought you to him. Kissing into your mouth, across your neck, sucking at your pulse point, his fingers grazed the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?” He asked between kisses to your collarbone. You nodded, lifting so he could pull it off.

“Take it off,” you said, left just in your bra. His fingers reached behind you to unclasp it, pulling it off and revealing your tits. He barely hesitated, taking one in his warm mouth and palming the other. Your hands fixed back in his hair, moaning. “Joel. Fuck, I need you. Please,” you whimpered. After weeks of building up the tension, of his fingers tracing your skin just for them to stop, staring at his lips and yearning, you needed him. More than anything.

Joel groaned. “Beggin’ so pretty already for me, honey,” he said as he moved down your body, undoing your belt, sliding it off with your pants and chucking them to the ground. His fingers smoothed over your panties, noticing the wet spot growing in the centre. He grinned, “Let’s see how wet you are, hmm?” Pushing the fabric to the side, he could almost moan at the sight of your drooling cunt. “Fuck,” he said, running his fingers through your slick folds, brushing your clit gently, sending a shiver shooting through your spine. “This wet already? All for me?” 

When you didn’t answer, he pinched the inside of your thigh gently, “Answer, honey.”

“All for you. Only for you, Joel.” You were breathless, nearly delirious. You’d give anything for him to touch you, to put you out of your misery. 

Joel eased one finger inside of you, then two, and began pumping them in and out of your slick folds. You moaned wantonly, all shame abandoned. “That’s it, pretty girl. Takin’ my fingers so well. Squeezin’ them so good. Can just imagine how you’re gonna feel wrapped ‘round my cock.”

You could feel the knot in your core get tighter and tighter every time his fingers hit that spot inside you, obscene noises coming from your cunt. He could feel you sucking his fingers in, growing tighter around him. He eased a third finger in and used his other hand, previously squeezing into your thigh, to rub circles on your clit. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you sputtered, getting closer and closer. 

“That’s it, honey. Cum on my fingers. There it is,” he said as you clenched around his digits, moaning his name like it was the only word you knew. He rubbed the flesh of your thighs as you came down, kissing the supple flesh of your thighs. When you caught your breath, you pulled him back up into you. 

You began to notice the firm tent pressing against you. Surely, he was begging for release, too. Who were you to deprive him of that? 

“Your turn,” you said.

Flipping him over, you began to undo his belt and slide his pants off, laying your head on his thigh, when he stopped you, resting a hand on your jaw.

“Honey, if you put me in your mouth, ‘m not gonna last,” he says, slightly flushed, chest heaving just as bad as yours. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he looked similarly to how he did when he was feverish. Delirious. “Just wanna be inside you. That okay?”

“Fuck, yes,” you breathed, crawling back onto him. This time, he flipped you over, caging you between his arms. He shuffled his boxers off, his hard length springing out and hitting his lower stomach, tip weeping precum. You couldn’t help but whimper. “Fuck, you’re big.” He chuckled, flushing a little. “How’re you gonna fit inside me?”

“Relax, honey. I worked you open. Shouldn’t be too much of a stretch,” he assured you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. “Ready?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Need to feel you. For so long.”

He lined himself up with your entrance. You held your breath, letting it out in a moan as he sunk into your waiting cunt. He groaned when he was fully sheathed inside you, the sound coming deep from his chest.

He kissed you as you took him in, your body accommodating his length. “Move. Please,” you moaned into his mouth. He pulled out, sliding back in with the help from your slick. He set a slow but hard pace, clutching your body to his as he speared in and out of you. His lips barely left yours, sucking in each other’s moans and converting them to breath. 

“So tight, fuck,” he moaned. “Already clenching around me. Feels so good around me, pretty thing.”

You moaned his name, a needy, desperate call for him to go faster. He picked up his pace, breath becoming erratic, a slight sheen of sweat breaking out across his skin.

“Not gonna last long, honey,” he groaned. 

“Neither am I. Cum inside of me, please. I want all of you,” you begged, too out of it to think of the consequences. He let out an obscene moan at the request.

“Want me to fill you up, yeah?” He said as he roughly fucked into you. “Fill you up so good that it’ll still be leakin’ outta ya tomorrow?” He was delirious, almost pussy drunk. You were both chasing your release, clinging to each other like there was no tomorrow. Because there wasn’t. Not for the two of you.

“Joel, I’m…oh, fuck!” you moaned as your orgasm hit you, knocking you into hysteria. 

“Right behind you, pretty girl,” he said, grunting. “You’re squeezin’ me so good,” he moaned, finally spilling into your cunt. He pulled you back into him as you both finished, moans muffled by each other’s tongues, sucking, biting, licking, kissing.

When the ecstasy ended and he could feel you squirming underneath him, he pulled out gently, taking care not to brush your clit too roughly. He watched as his cum leaked from your puffy hole, taking two fingers and shoving it back in. You whimpered a little at the contact. “I know, honey. Just makin’ sure I’m gonna stay inside of you.”

He finally laid down next to you, bringing you into his chest. You shoved your head in the crook of his neck, taking all of him in. 

You didn’t have to talk about tomorrow, or think about it. You just needed to be here, in this moment with him, face nuzzled into his neck, his seed still leaking out of you.

Tomorrow could wait.

You woke like you normally do, to the rays of splendid sunlight shining in through your thin curtains. Stretching, you remembered last night. Your hand reached for the spot you left him in, finding the bed cold. The cold of the sheet travelled through your fingertips, up your arm, through your shoulder, into your chest, and hit your heart. You scrambled out of bed, throwing on whatever you could find, and scrambled downstairs. 

There was no evidence that he had ever been there, except for the two pieces of paper that sat on the kitchen table. 

Your breath hitched as you picked the first one up, tears threatening to spill. It was a drawing done in simple graphite. A drawing of you sitting next to Joel, who was laying in bed. She had done it when he was still feverish. In the bottom right corner, she signed:

“Thank you for everything. I know it will work out. -Ellie”

You clutched it to your heart as you picked up the second one. A letter. It read:

My girl,

I hope you can forgive me for leaving you no room for a goodbye. Part of me thought it would be easier this way, not having to think about what you were going to say, or what you should have said. The other part of me wanted to stay in that bed with you, cozied up in your arms, until the two of us were too old to get up. I want you forever. 

But I made Ellie a promise a long time ago. She’s got nobody left. She’s just a girl, and I can’t leave her on her own. The guilt would eat me alive a lot quicker than any infection could. I have to get her to her people. When I’m done, I promise you that I’ll come back. I’ve marked your little farm on my map, there’s no chance of me missing it. Before you, I would’ve laughed at the idea of forever. Forever seemed like too long living in this world. Now, all I want is forever if I can spend it with you in my arms.

Thank you. For more than you know. I’ll see you soon.

Until we meet again.

Yours truly and forever, 

Joel Miller

part 2

permanent taglist:

@idkwhattonamethisblogs​

@winters-fairy​​

​

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

I'll Be Home for Christmas - Bob

Pairing: Bob / Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Some Crying and Slight Angst; No Physical Descriptions of Reader; Reader is a Teacher; Use of "You" but No Y/N

Summary: Bob promised you that he would be home for Christmas.

Master List

Dating a naval aviator wasn’t easy. Bob's schedule was erratic and never usually worked in their favor. He could be in one place one day and a completely different continent the next or out in the middle of the ocean. And it wasn’t easy to communicate with him when he was deployed. Emails and letters were about all you could usually manage. 

For Bob, you would do it all over again to keep him in your life. But that didn’t make the holiday season any easier. 

Bob, along with the other Daggers, had been deployed for the last six months. Somewhere in the Pacific, that was all that you knew. He told you that they would be docking today and so you waited outside the school where you worked, anxiously waiting for his call. The call about whether or not he would be home in time for Christmas or not. 

Fiddling with the necklace that he bought you for your one year anniversary nearly three years ago now, you sucked in a breath when your phone started to ring. The photo of you and Bob on the hike you took on his birthday last year.

“Bobby?” you called softly, answering the call. 

“Hi, honey,” he returned, his voice sounding clearer than it usually did on these types of calls. “How are you?”

“Better now that I’m talking to you,” you replied, smiling bashfully. “What about you?”

“Exhausted.”

“What time is it over there?”

“Pretty late.”

“Well, thanks for staying up to talk to me,” you stated, a bit concerned about Bob. He was uncharacteristically short with his sentences. “How’s Phoenix and the boys?” 

“We’re all good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did you get the care package that I sent you?” you asked softly, fiddling with your necklace.

“Oh, yeah, I did, Honey. Thank you for sending it.” 

“Did you send a video over to Leslie? She was putting a movie together for the kids.” 

“Yeah, I did, Honey. She’s got it.” 

“Thank you for doing that. The kids will really appreciate it.” After a moment of silence on the other end of the line, you asked, “Are you okay, Bobby?”

“I’m fine,” Bob replied, his voice cracking a bit. 

“Bobby.”

“Honey, I’m . . . I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I'm not sure that I’ll make it home in time for Christmas,” Bob revealed, causing your heart to shatter in your chest. 

“It’s okay, Bobby. It’s not your fault. There’s always other holidays.”

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Don’t worry about me. Just focus on coming home safely. Whenever that is.”

“I will. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. And I really miss you,” you replied, your voice breaking at the end. 

“I really miss you too. And I’m so sorry, Honey.”

“Stop apologizing, Bobby. Just come home safe and that’s good enough for me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye, Honey.”

“Bye, Bobby.”

Hanging up the phone, you sniffled and wiped your tears away. You let out a steadying breath, trying to calm yourself down, before grabbing your bags and heading inside the elementary school where you worked. 

It was the last day of school before Christmas Break and so, it was your class’s Christmas party. You got to school early to set up, but now you might need to use the time to gather yourself. Opening the cabinet, you smiled sadly at the photos of Bobby that you put up. Hanging up your coat, you wiped your tears away and quickly moved to start setting up. 

~~~~~

Meanwhile, just a few miles away from your school, Bob was holding his head in his hands, looking like he was going to be sick. The other Daggers were gathered around him, all having returned home just a short while earlier. 

“He’s this beat up about it?” Hangman sighed, leaning on the car. “All he did was a little lie.”

“It’s a wonder that you’re still single,” Phoenix replied dryly, shooting him a look. 

“I made her cry,” Bob whispered out quietly as Fanboy patted his back. 

“She’ll get through it, Bob. And you only had to lie to her for a couple hours,” Fanboy reasoned, motioning for the other Daggers to speak up. 

“She’ll forget all about it once she sees you,” Phoenix replied, looping her arm under Bob’s and pulling him to his feet. “Now,  come on, we’ve got some shit to do before the big reveal.”

~~~~~

“One, two, three, eyes on me!” you called, clapping on the numbers and then pointing at yourself. When you saw that all of the kids were looking at you, you added, “Alright, do you guys remember when we made those care boxes? For the service men and women?” 

Various kids shouted out that they did remember, causing you to nod and smile. Since you worked in a Navy town, many of the kids in your class had parents or other family members in the Navy. The care packages had been a personal project that you decided to bring to your class, since you knew that a lot of the kids would be in a similar position as you—wishing that someone that they loved so much came home for Christmas. 

“Alright, well, Ms. Sullivan put together a video of them opening the boxes that we put together. So, if everyone could sit in their seats quietly, we’ll start the movie.”

You dimmed the lights before the video started up and slowly sat in your seat, waiting for Bob’s video to pop up. Kids in your class would yell out when they saw their family member, which made your heart both swell and break at the same time. The video continued on until Bob’s familiar face appeared on the screen. 

“Hi, everyone,” he called, waving to your class. 

“It’s Mr. Bob!” one of your kiddos yelled out. 

“Yeah, it’s Mr. Bob,” you mumbled sadly before you paused, frowning slightly as you examined the video more closely. “Is that the cafeteria?”

“What?” Ms. Sullivan asked, trying to hide her smile. 

“That’s the cafeteria,” you stated, getting to your feet. 

Walking up to the screen, you scrutinized the image of your boyfriend as he pulled out the items from the box, including ones that you definitely didn’t put there. Confused, you turned to Ms. Sullivan when the door opened and the lights turned back on. 

Looking at the door, you spotted Bob standing there in his flight suit, beaming at you with such a loving smile that your knees wobbled. Choking out a sob, you sprinted over to your boyfriend, causing your kiddos to scream and cheer. You wrapped your arms around him, sobbing tears of joy as he pulled you to his chest. 

“It’s Mr. Bob!”

“He came from the video!”

“What are you doing here?” you cried, fisting the back of his flight suit. “I thought that you couldn’t come home.”

“I’m sorry, Honey, but I lied. Can you forgive me?” Bob asked, rocking you back and forth. 

“Of course, I forgive you,” you choked out as Bob wiped your tears away. You snuck a chaste kiss before straightening up. “I love you so much, Bobby.”

“I love you too, Honey. And I’m really relieved that you forgave me because otherwise this would be really awkward.”

“What are you . . .”

You held a hand to your mouth as Bob slowly got down onto one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket, causing your kiddos screams to reach new heights. Bob opened the box and you swore you almost fell to your knees. He looked at you with those big blueberry blue eyes, which were filled with so much love and devotion.

“Will you marry me, Honey?”

“Say ‘yes’!”

“You have to say ‘yes’!”

“Of course, I’ll marry you, Bobby,” you replied softly.

He stood up and you pulled him in for another chaste kiss that promised more when there weren’t thirty-five six-year-olds staring at you. He slid the ring onto your finger, where it would stay forever. Turning to your kiddos, you laughed and tried to wipe your tears away as they raced towards you guys. Bob squatted down again, accepting high fives and a few hugs, which only made you fall more in love with him. 

As if that was even possible. 

School was released shortly afterwards and after cleaning up the Christmas decorations and Bob hauling stuff out, the two of you walked out to your car. The Daggers told you that everyone would celebrate your engagement tomorrow, but tonight, it was just you and Bobby. 

“I told you that I’d be home for Christmas,” Bob replied, opening your door for you. 

“You did,” you agreed, pressing a less appropriate kiss to his lips. “And I think that the only time you’ve ever successfully lied to me.”

“And the last,” Bob promised, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Merry Christmas, Honey.”

“Merry Christmas, Bobby.”

[celeryb1tch]

how you and spencer meet!

receptionist!reader starts a new job at the BAU, and a very handsome coworker shows her around!

content: meet cute, fem!reader, pov you’re an idiot who’s sensitive to blood, fainting for the plot and not in the way it works in real life lol, confident-ish but pretty canon compliant mid-seasons spencer!

—

the FBI certainly isn’t the place for squeamish little pansies…

at least, that’s what you were told in your interview. and you had nodded diligently, ignoring the lump in your throat as you thought about how you almost fainted the last time you had bloodwork done. but as a secretary, how bad could it get, right? you tried to assure yourself of this when you got the job offer.

on a brisk friday morning, you were wandering through the FBI Academy campus in an attempt to find your office. everyone around you seemed to be in a hurry, and no one had given you the time of day when you attempted to ask for directions. so fifteen minutes before your first day started, opposed to the promised half hour, you entered the NSAVC building with your tail between your legs.

the bullpen was empty. you had expected to be met by a trainer, or perhaps the person whose job you would be taking over, but you instead faced a grouping of empty desks. as you peered around the open area, your eyes landed on a conference room with large windows, allowing you to see a group of agents. with a sigh of relief, you headed up the stairs and knocked on the door lightly before letting yourself in.

before you was a circular table seating five people, all with their eyes trained directly on you. “hi!” you chirped. “i was looking for-“

“i think you’re lost, miss. students shouldn’t be allowed access into this department,” demanded a man in a full suit, who seemed to be in charge.

your smile faded as you saw the various displeased faces looking back at you. “oh no, i’m not…” in an attempt to avoid eye contact, you raised your sight to the opposite wall, projector casting images of open wounds and a dismembered corpse. and in only a second, your vision was going black.

—

the white of fluorescent bulbs seared even through to the inside of your eyelids, but despite this you still blinked a few times to shake the disorientation and open your eyes.

your legs were eased up in the air with a chair, brand new pencil skirt hiked slightly up your thighs. you felt the texture of carpet against your back through your blouse and the cool of ice on your forehead. your first instinct was to sit up and reorient yourself, which you tried to no avail.

“hey, hey, easy,” an unidentifiable voice said soothingly. you scanned your surroundings, finding a man with chin length chestnut hair in your periphery who couldn’t be much older than you. he was crouched beside you, apple juice box in hand and concern in his eyes. god, his eyes were pretty, you thought. like pools of dappled sunlight.

it took you a few seconds to recognize him as one of the displeased members of the conference room, and the previous events rushed back to you, bringing a flush to your cheeks. “i am so sorry, sir. um, agent. detective? there was a misunderstanding, and that was so unprofessional of me.”

he had a small smile playing on his lips as he scanned your face. he seemed to be entertained by the fact that you were so flustered, letting you finish rambling before he replied. “doctor spencer reid, and no worries at all. a freeze response to gore is a fairly common reaction. while you were unconscious we were able to identify you as the new front desk secretary, we thought you were starting next week so we weren’t expecting anyone.”

you visibly relaxed at his explanation. it seemed possible that you wouldn’t be fired on the spot for this. you took the hand he outstretched to you, helping you up from the ground slowly. he offered you the juice box, to which you shook your head. “i’m okay, but thank you.”

“i would recommend it. after fainting it’s likely that your blood sugar is low, and fruit juice is packed with natural sugars that will allow you to feel better almost immediately.”

“doctor’s orders, huh?” you joked, to which he cracked a smile again.

“i’m not exactly that kind of doctor. but yes, i do strongly advise it.”

so you took the juice box, and spencer walked you down the few steps from the office you’d been laying in toward the bullpen. suddenly you were filled with anxiety once again as the faces you had seen minutes ago holding inconvenienced stares now looked on with concern.

the man from before who was so clearly the leader of this operation approached, offering a hand to shake. “supervisory special agent aaron hotchner, i apologize for the misunderstanding.”

you winced away from him slightly, worried that any further mistake would result in you losing the position you had yet to start. “thank you, sir. i am so sorry for interrupting a meeting like that, and fainting. that wasn’t exactly the first impression i wanted.”

he had an easy smile, that of a reassuring father. “i can assure you that no punitive action will be taken, if that’s what you’re concerned about. if we knew you were coming today we would not have left graphic case evidence up on the screen.”

oh, thank god. you exhaled deeply, feeling the tightness in your chest subside. you stepped back toward spencer, whose gaze had never left you. “what should i be doing now? i was never informed of what my training would be, not to mention where my desk is.”

“linda’s out sick today, which is why we thought you weren’t coming until monday,” said the woman sat in the desk rightmost of you. her hair was pure black, with straight, blunt bangs that suited her well.

“we don’t exactly have training for you today without your predecessor here, so i thought you could shadow my agents to familiarize yourself with the office. and i’m happy to show you to your desk, but since you’ll mostly be seeing our faces daily, we should get introductions out of the way first,” agent hotchner said.

you glanced at spencer beside you almost unconsciously, in search of reassurance. despite knowing him for about three minutes, he was the closest thing you had to a friend or ally so far. and seeming to sense this, he shot you a smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes. you felt your anxiety melt a little, and you realized that everything was going to be okay.

—

by lunchtime, you had your things at your desk and nothing to do without a computer login or training. you remembered that hotchner had suggested shadowing someone, but the idea of asking one of the agents made your stomach churn. they sat only a dozen feet away from you, laughing and bantering as if they’d known each other all their lives. who were you to butt into their dynamic? so you sat twiddling your thumbs for the rest of the lunch hour, peeking at the group occasionally to confirm that you hadn’t spontaneously gained the confidence to approach.

spencer specifically appeared to be deep in thought once he got back to work. you thought that it would be best to shadow him if possible, given you were most familiar with the tall brunette, but you really had no business to interrupt his work. still, you worked up the courage to advance to his desk.

“would you like some more coffee, dr. reid? i could go get some for you, you seem pretty busy,” you offered in an attempt at nonchalance. but uncertainty and regret crept up quickly when you received no reply.

emily prentiss, the previously unnamed woman with dark hair, noticed the interaction. with a slight grin on her lips, she interjected. “don’t take it personally. he gets so into his case readings, it’s hard for him to pick up on anything else.”

“hey, pretty boy,” cooed derek morgan from another desk. “someone’s trying to talk to you.”

spencer lifted his head reluctantly, eyes following a moment later. he looked dazed, not quite focused on anything in particular. “sorry, what?”

“i noticed your coffee was almost empty, would you like some more?” you asked meakly. it took everything in you not to run and hide of embarrassment.

he finally registered the question, shaking his head fervently. “no, i couldn’t ask you to do that. i’m perfectly capable of refilling my own coffee, but while i do i could show you the kitchenette? it’s crucial to the operation of the office.”

and with a nod, the two of you headed to the tiny kitchen adjacent to the bullpen. you stood slightly out of the way as spencer placed his mug on the counter, refilling the drip coffee maker for a fresh batch. you watched him card his fingers through his hair, looking around casually.

“so, the kitchen is important why?” you inquired, head tilting slightly to emphasize your interest.

spencer finally met your eyes again, letting out a little breezy laugh. “oh, it’s not. i noticed that you were having trouble potentially asking one of us to show you around, so i thought this was an opportune moment.”

you flushed slightly at the confession, apparently caught red-handed in your effort. “wow, you’re pretty good at reading people. or was i just that transparent?”

“is that a joke?” his eyebrows knotted as he looked at you, no air of humour on his face.

you stared back, equally confused. “am i supposed to know that? do you have a particularly well known judgement of character?”

“well yes, you’re in the behavioural analysis unit.”

and with that, you were sure that you had damaged your ego and reputation in this job position irrevocably.

—

after a brief explanation of the lack of background information provided when accepting the job, spencer assured you that he wouldn’t tell the others. he expressed his surprise that the FBI hadn’t been as diligent as they usually are, and you had to agree.

“i mean, i told them that this was my first job after graduation. i was doing my field placement two months ago, and that was in a law firm!” you stifled a giggle, feeling at ease leaning against the kitchen counter with spencer taking occasional sips of his coffee.

���that’s astounding. they hired me young, but i’d argue that i was overqualified for the position,” he admitted. “you, however…”

you gasped in feigned offence, rolling your eyes. “hey, i learned a lot in that law office! i can photocopy anything you need me to, and schedule dry cleaning for same-day pickup.”

it had been well over a half hour at this point, with you and spencer getting gradually closer until your clothed elbow rubbed against his. no one else had come in, until mid-reply spencer was greeted by agent aaron hotchner himself, who happened to also need a fresh cup of coffee.

“reid, i see that you’ve taken it upon yourself to let our new team member shadow you. but maybe you should show her some places other than the coffee counter?” he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

spencer looked caught, eyes flitting from you to his boss. your boss too, you supposed. “of course. sorry hotch, we got a little caught up.”

“i can see that. as long as you get your files finished by end-of-day, it’s really none of my business.”

“yes, sir,” spencer yelped. he gestured rapidly for you to follow him, exiting the kitchen to return to his desk.

you watched him put his mug down and shuffle some papers around before his eyes lit up in recognition. “i actually do need you to photocopy this for me,” he admitted shyly.

“of course!” you replied, just before your smile dropped. “you actually never showed me where the copier is.”

spencer chuckled with you, getting up from his chair once again. “no problem, i’ll show you.”

and as the two of you began walking down the hallway together, the others laughed upon hearing, “by the way, would you like to go for dinner with me once we clock out? i have a lot more to tell you.”

derek grinned. “i didn’t know that kid had the balls.”

—

(hi guys!! thank you for all of the love on my first spencer post!! i’m having so much fun writing these! psa tho: as i said before, i’m a lesbian i just have a weird thing for this one particular fictional man- so if u follow me, pls expect woman-centred content mostly!!)

[thisismeracing]

Ex | MS47

SOCIAL MEDIA AU

Pairing: black!singer!reader (she/her) x mick schumacher

Warnings: curse words, Twitter environment, breakup, mention of food, pregnancy, it's not proofread, etc etc. Minors DNI!

summary: Y/n and Mick used to be the golden couple in the paddock, that's why the internet went wild when they announced their breakup. Imagine how they reacted when Y/n dropped a song about not wanting to be his ex. Would the couple have any hope in getting back together?

a/n: none of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps. everything else is made up by me and I do not give permission for it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

my masterlist | my taglist

yourusername

liked by dualipa, mercedesamgf1, and others

yourusername New song is out 🖤 Hope you guys like it!

view all 19,976 comments

schumicedes This feels like such a personal song, it gave me chills!

⤷ yn1990 It's like she recorded a voice message for him and then dropped it as a song.

f1sainzito I still can't believe they broke up, I'm still mourning their relationship

⤷ charleslechair1 I bet they will get back after this song lol

ynprincess I love her but this cover feels so...weird, idk, like it's rushed

⤷ mickeyn someone made a thread on twitter explaining it a bit, but it's basically a picture mick took of her, she wanted to make her message clear and that's why it's so artistically beautiful, it goes beyond the aesthetic

jorjasmith you’re so brave and pure, Ily!❤️❤️

winteryn Yn wanting to be friends with her ex, meanwhile I literally changed cities so I wouldn't see mine again

⤷ cruelsummer1 that's why I feel like they like gave themselves time, not really broke up fr, and now they realize it was not the best idea because they literally love each other.

dojacat Don't make me miss my ex, yn!!!! ☠️

woffantastic NOT THE MERCEDES ADMIN LIKING IT

mickschumacher

liked by georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1, and others

mickschumacher ⛰️

comments on tihs post have been limited

ynandschumi I wanted to comment something but I just know it will be deleted, so I'm just gonna say: you guys look good, hope you enjoyed your hike!❤️ also Angie seems a bit sad without her mother doesn't she....................

⤷ mercedessummer bestie, you did not LMAO

lewishamilton Roscoe says he's mad he was not invited!

mickschum90 I love you, mick!

sunandstarsyn This does not give happiness vibe...

dailycelebsupdate

liked by wonderfulyn and others

dailycelebsupdate We woke up this morning to the leaking of Y/n Y/l/n’s baby shower. The singer spent a little over a year off the radar after her breakup with F1 star Mick Schumacher, only to show up now pregnant! Who are we betting on to be the baby daddy?

view all 10,467 comments

ynlove we aint betting a thing, and stop saying “only to show up” as if these pics were posted intently, they were LEAKED. Respect Y/n’s right to her privacy!

sainzsunny I hated the fact that the leaked something that she did not want people to know, but my bet would be that she and Mick are back together since that song release 🤐

mickeyf1 You guys are disgusting

swiftieyln She lookes so peaceful, glowing and everything 😭

⤷ ynhundreds that because she was being able to keep her private life to herself.

f1gossipupdates

liked by user90, and others

f1gossipupdates Is everyone thinking the same thing?

view all 9,789 comments

schumacher47 Is leaking season? Wtf the wrong, why cant celebs have their privacy??

⤷ f1khalid especially Mick, he’s really open about how he likes to have his personal life respected. 😔

ynstars BABY SCHUMACHER ON ITS WAY!!!

hockeyf1d They MARRIED???!!!

ynbrasil I just know Yn will be pissed when she open her socials to this shitshow

yourusername and mickschumacher

liked by mercedesamgf1, estebanocon, and others

yourusername It's been a long ride and we wanted to share with you guys in a different way, the circumstances, however, did not help, so we are sticking to the good ol' Instagram announcement. We got married last year and decided to keep living in our particular heaven, I hope you guys don't get this the wrong way because we love the love and support some of you give us, but Mick and I needed to bask in our own love without interruptions or assumptions. This love grew bigger than us and it will be walking around the world in a couple of months. We appreciate our friends' discretion, and our fans' love, we see you and we love you. We hope you guys can respect our privacy and our wishes on keeping some details to ourselves. Love, Mick and Yn Schumacher

view all 34,572 comments

ynweeknd SHE SIGNED AS YN SCHUMACHER OMGGGGG

schumickeyf1 "This love grew bigger than us and it will be walking around the world in a couple of months" PLEASE IM SO LONELY THIS IS A WHOLE NEW LEVEL OF ROMANTIC

mickschumacher Forever, mrs. Schumacher ❤️

⤷ yourusername forever and some more, my love 💗

charles_leclerc omg thank goodness you guys told everyone, I was so scared I would let it slip

⤷ lechair16 Charles ☠️☠️ LMAO

lewishamilton you guys deserve all the happiness in this world 🤍

ynandmick I was right and nature is healing

twentyoneyns So let me get this clear, my ex gives me a reason to go to therapy, while Y/n's ex gives her a ring, then all the love and orgasms in the world, and then a baby??????????? God definitely has its favorites.

⤷ schumercedes not the orgasms 🗣🗣 HAHAHAHAHAH

ynandmickey MOTHER AND FATHER

⤷ popyn Literally

mercedesamgf1 We already have a spot for them 💜

sunnydaysyln Are we calling the baby schumini or minimacher? or baby schumi? or macherbaby?

⤷ yourusername HAHAHAHHA I love them all

********************

If you liked it, make sure to like and reblog <3 feel free to talk to me as well, my inbox is always open!

I will start a taglist on my posts, to be part of it you just gotta comment/send an ask saying so, and most important: have your age in your profile (I don’t interact with minors!). See you guys next story! <3

[enchantedflameandflower]

Gavin (Karl Urban) x reader! Part 5

Gavin gets wet and has to (teasingly) take his flannel and his jeans off, then he wants to get to know ALL of you better, plus tent make-out time.

(I know this isn’t rain wetness but pretend it’s rain wetness)

Summary: When you started working at the lumber mill, you couldn't help but instantly fall in lust with the strong, quiet younger brother. But you're determined to keep it professional, until one work trip suddenly changes it all.

co-written with CheshireCatSmile

@kus-babygirl @shirley-girly @jynx15 @everchar-of-the-shire @scraftsku35

@vavafaure1994 @deathlesun @sickforbillybutcher @butchers-girl @hippo2211

@bohemianblasphemy

karl urban masterlist

direct link to part 1

part 4

Part 5

You can’t remember a time when you’ve ever felt more taken care of and you find yourself missing him weirdly even though he just left and it will only be a few minutes. You change quickly from your jeans into your sweats then climb into your sleeping bag but stay sitting up waiting for him to come back.

You can hear the rain drip-dripping on the roof of the small tent and worry that he's getting soaked as he works. After a few minutes he's crawling into the tent, his damp hair tousled, plastered to his forehead and curling a bit at his nape.  "It got heavier a little sooner than I anticipated. The weather pattern is a little off for the season." He shrugs out of his damp jacket. "Shoulda used my rain poncho."

You take his jacket from him and lay it off to the side where it’s out of the way and can hopefully dry a little. “It’s my fault for falling asleep. We sat by the fire too long. Are you going to be comfortable enough?” You chew on your lip.

"I'll be fine, sweetheart. I've weathered worse,” he grins at you. “Besides I have your company...that in itself is a warm pleasure. I need to get out of this wet shirt, though...I hope you don't mind."

You swallow and shake your head. “No, no of course not. I was hoping you would say you would take it off. I mean I was hoping you had something to change into, so your shirt…can dry…” Damn you know you’re blushing again. You’re usually not like this at all.

He looks at you, his dark eyes dancing with mischief as he unbuttons his damp flannel shirt, slowly revealing smooth skin and springy dark chest hair and muscles... Just then the heavens open up to release a downpour that drums steadily on the tent's slanted roof. He looks up toward the top of the tent checking the seam then looks back at you. "We may be stuck here a little while if this doesn't slack off by morning."

You mean to look away and busy yourself with your phone or something but the mischief in his dark eyes just captivates you and you end up just watching him as he unbuttons his shirt. “Well I have to admit I wouldn’t mind a long morning. With you.”

"Hmmmm...that sounds intriguing,” he smiles. He pulls a thermal shirt out and slides it over his head. It fits fairly snuggly over his muscled chest then he tugs his boots off and sets them aside. He pushes his jeans off quickly so he’s just in his knit boxers and slips into his sleeping bag, but not before you get a good long look at his muscled thighs. Propping himself on his elbow with his head leaning on his hand he lets his eyes travel over you then says, "So tell me about yourself. I'd like to get to know you better."

You smile a little then you lay down as well and try to snuggle down in the sleeping bag to get warm. It is a very good sleeping bag and there’s even a nice sleeping pad. “What kinds of things do you want to know?” you murmur. He looks so damn good in his thermal and you keep thinking of the image of him shimmying out of his jeans.

"Mmm....do you have family close by? Or did you travel from far away to come up here to the forest?  You seem to like hiking and being outdoors so probably not a city girl...."

You smile. “I actually did grow up in a city but I hated it. We moved out of the city when I was older. My father left when I was young and he eventually just stopped calling. I don’t know where he is. My mom passed away when I was in college. I moved here last year to…get away from that bad relationship. Start over. Or try to.”

His eyes soften and warm as he listens to you. "I had no idea you were completely alone...I mean without family. I guess I used to take mine for granted a lot of the time. Then I almost lost them through my own hard-headedness. You must be really strong deep down to come through all that and be doing so well.” He reaches out and caresses your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter closed for a moment at the touch of his hand and you can’t help wishing for more. “I don’t know if I’m strong,” you murmur. “You know I overheard Jack once…he said he didn’t listen to you that night. That he didn’t believe you and he let you down. That if he had supported you the next day wouldn’t have happened. Maybe it wasn’t completely on you…”

"I don't know. I guess I'm always looking for some way to get ahead and sometimes I should stop and think about something longer before jumping in with both feet....  Maybe I just need someone smart and grounded to rein me in. I mean...without the whole big brother-little brother vibe."  He looks at you thoughtfully and moves his hand to stroke your hair.

“Usually having someone that supports you unconditionally in your life can be quite a help,” you smile. “Mmmm Gavin, that feels really good…” you wish somehow you could lean into his touch more, feel more, soak up more of his warmth.

He scoots just a little closer and keeps stroking your hair slowly. "Y'know...your hair is beautiful. I couldn't help it. It feels like warm silk. I kept wondering if it was as soft as it looked. It's softer than I imagined.”

You laugh a little softly. Then you finally give in, reaching your hand out to touch his chest, just barely grazing your fingertips over his shirt. “I don’t think anyone has been this nice to me in years…”

"Oh sweetheart," he says then hesitates... You can see emotions swirling in the depths of his dark eyes. Then it's as though something shifts and settles in him. He reaches out his strong hands and gently pulls you closer, partway out of your sleeping bag and into his chest.

“Gavin,” you murmur breathlessly. You press and burrow into his chest and it feels warm and broad and safe, and your heart is beating just a little faster in that really good way. “You feel so good,” you whisper before you realize what your saying.

He tightens his hold on you. "And you feel perfect in my arms...like you were meant to be here." You can hear his steady heartbeat as he pulls you in closer.

He studies you a moment and then...very very slowly he tilts your face up to him and leans down to brush a tentative kiss over your lips.

His lips are warm and dry and he’s so gentle as he kisses you. You feel like a new warmth comes to life inside of you and a soft little noise escapes you as you slip your hands over his broad shoulders.

He gently coaxes until you let him in and his tongue slides over yours and tangles in a slow dance…possessive but caring.

You whimper softly as you open fully to him. How can this feel so good so quickly… you’ve never felt anything like it. His tongue plays against yours and you wrap your  arms around his neck. A soft shiver goes through your whole body.

Gavin pulls you closer to him, tighter against him, willing his heat into you. He continues the surprisingly sensuous kiss, his large hand finding its way under your shirt to smooth over the skin of your lower back. His hands are warm and gentle but the callouses there are a delicious contrast, a sensuous texture that makes you shiver again. He finally lets you up to breath and you try to catch your breath.

“You’re so warm…” you murmur. “If only I could sleep here I wouldn’t worry about getting cold tonight.”

He smiles softly. "I have an idea.  Let's zip the sleeping bags together to make a double. We can stay nice and toasty that way. I have a feeling the temperature out here is going to be a lot colder than we first figured.”

“I’m already getting cold so I think you’re right. But are you sure you wouldn’t mind…just sleeping tonight?” There’s still a part of you that’s nervous even though his touch has you imagining all sort of wanton things that you want very much.

"No, sweetheart that's fine with me. I think there could be something special here if we give it a chance. We don’t have to rush it. And that's unusual for me,” his voice goes a little lower, just a little husky. “I just want to hold you and know you're safe in my arms tonight."

~*~*~*~ Next up: waking up in his big strong arms against his big strong chest is an experience, and if there’s one man it’s impossible to go slow with it’s this one

Part 6

karl urban masterlist

[kawoala]

Can I request Vanilla cream with Suna Rintarou? And mixed?

🍩   ⤷ suna rintarou ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

@sweetlyvibe

⊂ word count ; 1.1k (1,108)

⊂ content warning ; princess x prince 、running away 、i hate to say this but TECHNICALLY, there is no arranged marriage 😬 、female rage.

“It was sworn at birth.” His voice is hushed as he speaks, almost like he doesn’t want you to hear it. “There were… complications with a treaty and..” He trails off, dragging a hand down his face. “I am aware it is not as you would want it. But this will save our kingdom.”

You blink at him a couple times, keeping your face neutral. You can’t stop the bile that rises in your throat.

“I have heard good things about Prince Rintarou,” he offers, giving you a hopeful smile. More silence ensues and he exhales through his nose. “I realize this is a lot to take in. I will let you process.”

He leans forward, planting a kiss on your forehead, then stands up, letting out a quiet groan. A warning of his growing age, you think to yourself. You stare at the spot where he was just kneeling, thoughts racing. The door closes with a creaking sound and you sigh.

For a moment, the only noise is the whipping wind outside. In your country, the summer season only brings storms. During the day, it is windy and raining. Lightning and thunder make appearances every night. You have never known a clear sky. You begrudgingly walk over to your window and shut it, preparing for the rain to come.

You stand there for a long time. Married? You’ve only just turned eighteen, and your father wants you to get married? As soon as you get married, there will be the question of children. You’ve been lucky enough to be able to wait this long, but are you truly ready to get married?

A knock sounds at the door and you’re snapped from your trance. “Princess Y/n?” The all too familiar voice calls. You turn to the door and stare at the dark oak.

Getting married isn’t enough? They want something else now?

“My father left me to… dwell,” you say disdainfully, pressing your lips together. “And dwell, I will. What do you need, Yacchan?”

“Um,” her nervous voice comes through the door. “I am aware your father left you to dwell,” you can picture her wringing her fingers, staring down at her feet. “but the crown prince of Rubia is here now. Your father is expecting you in the throne room.”

You blink at the door a few times. Your face gets warm as the anger you felt before suddenly gets even stronger. You rush towards the door and rip it open. “He’s here now?” You almost shout.

The shy girl squeaks, eyes widening comically. “Apologies, Princess! The King also wanted me to make aware that he himself did not know the Rubians would be making an appearance tonight.”

Your chest heaves. You’ve only just turned eighteen. Marriage, children, ruling a kingdom. You’re not ready for that. You’ve only just turned eighteen. You swallow hard and shut the door in her face. She will forgive you later.

You turn around, eyes darting around the room for an escape. The window or the door you just shut. The window or the door you just shut. Think, think. You bolt for the window. You open it and lean out of it. Luckily, you’re on the first floor. You glance back at the door one more time, ignoring the incessant knocking, then hike your leg out of the window.

This is a bad idea. A Princess can’t run away. Can they?

Apparently, they can. You bound down the grassy hills outside the castle, keeping a close eye on your surroundings. Because of the Rubians surprise appearance, you know the royal guard will be preoccupied.

You look back at the castle for a final time. Your legs are still moving, but your head is turned. Which is precisely why you miss the man standing in front of you, and you run directly into him.

You both tumble to the ground and roll down the hill a bit. Your eyes are squeezed shut, too embarrassed to even look at the man you’ve just tackled. Eventually, thanks to a forearm you stick out, you stop rolling.

You’re both still for a moment. You blink a couple times down at the grass. “I am so sorry,” you mumble, not looking up at him. “Oh my Gods, I am so sorry.”

You scramble to your feet, smoothing out your dress as he stands to his feet. You look up, meeting his eyes, and suddenly all the fairy tales your mother used to read you make sense.

True love is real. Love at first sight is real. Handsome man standing right in front of you. Dirty dress. Tackled.

“Oh,” you breathe out, sounding more like a whimper. “You’re quite handsome.” You don’t mean to say it out loud, but you can’t stop yourself. You clap your hands over your mouth and groan. “I am incredibly sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

The man chuckles and smiles, looking at you funny. “It’s quite alright,” he says with a nod. “You aren’t too bad yourself.”

“I—“ you pause. “I’m Y/n. And you are?”

His eyes go a little wide, smile slowly fading. He suddenly bows and stays there for much too long. “Apologies, your highness. I wasn’t aware—” he stands upright and clears his throat. “You are Princess Y/n, right?”

Once again, you press your lips together. “I am.” You nod. “That does not mean you are to treat me any differently, though. What is your name?”

“Rintarou.”

Three things become horribly apparent at the same time.

One; this is Prince Rintarou of Rubia. You have just run into Prince Rintarou of Rubia.

Two; this is your future husband. You have just run into— no, you have just tackled your future husband.

And three; there is a feeling in your stomach. You don’t recognize it, but you’re inclined to think that it is love. 

“Prince Rintarou,” you exhale. You curtsy at him and frown. “I’m sorry I tackled you, your highness. I don’t—” you stop talking as something occurs to you. “Why are you out here?”

He hums. “Why are you out here?”

“I was…” you struggle to find an excuse. “Truthfully?” He nods. “I was running away. I am not… I’ve only just turned eighteen. I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to be married.”

He stares at you for a moment, then clicks his tongue. “Well that solves everything, then.” You tilt your head and he smiles once more. “My father and I came tonight to propose another treaty in order for our kingdoms to be united without needing a marriage.”

Your mouth goes dry.

“You’re free, princess.” He smirks. “For now.”

“Oh.”

[hotluncheddie]

angel

(i bring u the usual girl dinner chubby steve but this time in steve POV - for the festive goblin season :3c)

for the December @steddiemicrofic prompt 'pine' !

wc: 508 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: chubby steve, pre relationship, mutual pining

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

The big, old, ugly porcelain faced angel is almost in the perfect spot atop the tree, if only the box he’s on was a little taller. Steve reaches his arms higher, feels his shirt ride up but he almost has it. Just has to stretch a little further.

Finally getting the angel in place, Steve grunts as the breath he was holding is released. ‘Perfect’ he pants. 

He expects some fan fare, or at least to distract Eddie enough from his light detangling to earn some kind of reaction. But bellow him is silent. 

Steve looks down and Eddie is sitting motionless, hands wrapped in Christmas lights, which look more tangled than when he started.

Eddie’s staring, but not at his face. Steve glances down at himself, noticing that his shirt is still hiked up from stretching. A sliver of his belly exposed, sitting new and soft and prominent above the waistband of his jeans. 

His cheeks warm, ‘ah.’ He readjusts himself, tuning away from Eddie to step down onto the floor. 

See, Steve knows he’s gained weight, because he had to get these jeans in a bigger size. 

But, thing is, he likes it, makes him feel sturdy, more himself. His legs are thicker but feel strong, same as his arms, his chest. A little voice in his brain likes saying that maybe he feels more protected, his body more of a shield. 

Plus, he thinks his ass looks great.

But, just because he likes it, doesn’t mean Eddie wants to see all that. Steve pulls at his shirt again, touches his hair. 

‘Uh, what d’you think?’ he asks, trying to break the tension. Eddie’s still staring, mouth slightly open. 

‘Looks really good.’ Eddie says, voice rough and serious considering it’s about an ugly angel Robin found at Good Will. Steve huffs. 

‘I mean it.’ Eddie stands and looks right at Steve. ‘Looks really really good.’ Steve watches Eddie swallow thickly and reach to place a gentle hand on Steve’s thicker waist. 

Oh. 

Steve’s heart rate increases, he stifles a grin. Steps closer, tentative. But relishes in the blush that blooms over Eddie’s features, the way his eyes widen. ‘Yeah?’ 

‘Yeah.’ Eddie whispers. 

Steve’s stomach brushes up against Eddie’s flat one and he almost misses the little squeak Eddie lets out. 

Steve moves his hand up slow, notes the flutter of Eddie’s eyelashes. He pulls a pine needle from Eddie’s curls, flattening the displaced wisps back down. 

‘That’s better.’ Steve murmurs, holding the bit of green up for Eddie to see. 

Eddie glances at it, looks back at Steve. Eddie’s eyes dip down to Steve’s mouth. Steve swallows, leans in a little further. Feels Eddie’s breath fan over his face, Eddie’s other hand on his hip.

Steve lets the needle fall and cups Eddie’s neck. Fingers brushing the soft skin of his nape, thumb stroking lightly along his jaw. Eddie’s pupils are blown wide. 

‘Boo! Gross!’ Robin heckles from the doorway. 

Eddie’s head whips around. ‘Shut. Up.’ He hisses and Steve laughs, big and real and happy.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Can you do thirty one with trevor zegras ?

I don't think this is what you were expecting. Honestly I'm shocked too how this drabble turned out but I think it's cute.

Drabble Challenge. Drabble Masterlist.

"Eat your lunch and you wouldn't be hungry."

Trevor was truly it for you, ever since you met him you knew he was the one for you. But that doesn't mean that sometimes he doesn't annoy the absolute shit out of you with his constant yapping especially when he states the obvious.

Like today you guys went to hike the Hollywood sign, something that you guys do all the time during the season. But this was your first hike back in L.A after being on the east coast all summer, and the evaluation is very different in California than New York. The entire hike all he did was complain about the hill.

"oh my god I thought I was ready for the season fuck."

"baby how much longer?" He would ask every 3 minutes as if he wasn't the one who showed you this trail when you started dating two years ago.

"oop baby you see the dog, he looks like Ava's new puppy."

"babe, I need water. I'm gonna die."

"why is it so fucking hot."

Somehow through the entire hike and even when it was over you held all your smart remarks back from Trevor. Ultimately you knew that this was just how he was, but sometimes for whatever reason it just got under your skin the amount that boy talked. Maybe it just how your brain worked but sometimes you needed it to be quiet so you could stop feeling so overstimulated. You know that if you just told Trevor you were feeling overstimulated on the hike or in the car it wouldn't of gotten to the point of you yelling at him.

But after he came out of the shower, you had just finished setting the table for an early lunch. Of course all Trevor seemed to do was sit down and barely touch his food. He just sat there talking about the upcoming season, missing his friends that got traded this past summer, and rumors he heard about the new kid they got Beckett?

So when he made the comment about how hungry he felt after you were almost done you lost it on him. "Well if you would eat your lunch. You wouldn't be so hungry Trevor!" you screamed at him from across the table. He looked at you shocked, his mouth slightly open. Immidately feeling guilty for yelling. But before you could apologize Trevor got up with his plate of food.

"I'm gonna eat in family room." he softly confesses leaving the kitchen eat area. All you do is sigh after a few minutes you go to the family room to see Trevor had finished his whole lunch and was watching something on T.V.

Walking in front of his line of sight head titled slightly down still in embarrassment you admit "I'm sorry Trev, I just been a little off all day."

He opens his arms wide, still sitting up on the coach a silent invitation for you to come sit with him. Wasting no time you quickly cross the room and flap down into his arms, your body already feeling more relaxed than a few moments ago. He speaks in a soft tone almost like he doesn't want anyone else to hear what he's about to say despite being in your guys apartment alone. "It's okay baby, but I thought I told you before when you get overwhelmed you need to tell me."

Playing with his hands you nod at his words. "You did but I feel like I don't give you what you need if I tell you I need you to stop talking. You yapping constantly is such a big part of your personality I feel guilty sometimes telling you to shut up with how easily I get overstimulated."

Trevor grabs your chin gently with his index finger forcing you to looks at him. "No none of that okay. You give me everything I need and more. You honestly spoil me with how you do all the cooking and cleaning and you even give my family updates when I'm too stressed during the height of my season. Fuck Y/N you go to all my home games even if your rushing there form work and have to change in the arena. You do more than some of my buddies on the teams girls that don't even work." chuckling to himself as even he realizes he's going on a tangant which is the opposite of what he wanted to do. But you didn't care a smile on your face at all the compliments he was giving you.

"Anyway.." he begins again "you're not forcing me to hide part of my personality once a month when you need a small break. Okay?" He waits for you to aknowledge his words before he continues. "If anything you are giving me the priveldge of taking care of you. Which by the way you never let me do cause your so independent." He bends down stealing a peck from you as you protest.

"hey. You said you you love how independent I am. Do you want me to pretend not to be? " you jokingly agrue back, the tension in the air from earlier completely gone.

"Oh I do. I wouldn't change anything about you. You Miss. Y/N Y/L/N are perfect to me." he softly lets out as he bends his neck down again pulling you into a much deeper kiss.

[irisintheafterglow]

HAND TWO - PAIR

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, a deal is made.

wc: 2k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader, official first meeting, banter and dialogue driven, fake dating, sassy touya again

note: idk how fake dating premises with plots are created like this took me a good 30 minutes of just straight thinking trying to figure out what is a plausible fake dating idea. anyway thank you for all the love on part one, hope you enjoy this part!! also overdue idea credit to @andypantsx3 who originally created a crown prince!touya piece (read it here!) that probably subconsciously inspired this entire series. thank you and hope you enjoy :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are greatly appreciated <3

Your maid’s face was whiter than her knuckles gripping the sides of her apron. 

“You have a caller, miss,” she informs you carefully, bowing slowly and failing to hide her trembling. “It is…”

“I am aware of who it is,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose between your pointer finger and your thumb. It’d been exactly one week since Prince Touya all but julienned the ego of your pasty-faced suitor and you hadn’t received so much as a letter of greeting from him since then. All you received once the dust settled were mixed expressions of disgust and awe, along with a shit-eating smirk from the royal currently waiting to be led into the drawing room. “My stepmother?” 

“At tea, miss, with the neighbors. She won’t be back for several hours.” You swear under your breath. With all other members of the family out of the house and your stepmother bragging about your prospects with the sought-after prince, you were on your own. 

“Send him in when the minute hand next strikes six. Tell him I’m in the bath, or something.” 

“As you wish, miss.” Your maid nods and promptly exits the room, leaving you slumped on the settee with no ideas but to beeline for the back doors and disappear among the trees of the garden. Hiking up your skirt and slipping into the yard, you’re careful to shut the door quietly behind you. 

It’s not that you didn’t want to see him, even though you didn’t; in truth, it was fear of what he might say to you or how you two may interact. How are you supposed to look at a man suspected of committing treason against the king, his own father, and upkeep the manners drilled into your head since birth? It seemed too great of a burden to bear, so you resolved to forget your problems and the stranger in your house by walking amongst the flowers, blue hydrangeas that continued to bloom despite the sweltering summer heatwaves. It’s calming, being alone with nothing but the greenery. As your fingers brush over the delicately clumped petals, the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand up stick-straight and you don't need to turn around to see why. 

“It’s rude to enter a lady’s house unannounced, Your Highness,” you say into the open air and hear him step out from behind a neighboring tree. 

“I believe I was announced, considering the shaken demeanor of your poor maid.” His voice is low and raspy, like he’d just woken up.  

“What if I was still in the bath?” 

“You’ll have to tell my maids what you use to dry your hair so rapidly,” he replies and you catch him slinking over to you from the corner of your vision, approaching you carefreely with his hands in the pockets of his coat. You don’t look at him yet; in your mind, he was like a monster under the bed. If you simply didn’t look at him, he’d go away. “Unless, of course,” his voice appears over your shoulder and goosebumps break out over your skin. Not yet. Don’t look him in the eyes yet. “You weren’t in the bath at all. At least, not recently.” 

“I’m not sure what gave you the right to invade my house and muse upon my bathing habits,” you counter, finally turning to meet his stare and willing yourself not to wither under it. He wasn’t close enough to feel his body heat, but the arrogance that radiated from his entire being was enough to make you sweat more than the bright sun. He considered you curiously, tilting his head to the side and narrowing those molten blue eyes that perplexed you so. You risk a glance at the scar tissue just under his eyes and chin, its deep purple color rumored to be the result of a fire accident while he was sent away. It unnerved you, but you still found the courage to stare back with consideration of your own, challenging him to say something else. His eyes narrow again for half a second before he brushes past you, walking further down your current path in the garden. 

“You were keeping me waiting,” he states simply. “Not to mention, I am royalty.” You freeze, keenly aware of the power of the man admiring your daisies. “I believe it is you who should be considered the rude one.” The teasing lilt in his voice is not lost to you, but you’re too dumbfounded by his bluntness to think on it further. 

“Argues the one who won my affections and then refrained from any means of communication for a week,” you point out with slight irritation, following him around the bend at a safe distance. He hums again thoughtfully, walking among the flowers like it was his property. Your tease falls from your lips before you can stop it. “Did His Highness run out of royal parchment to write his letters?” 

“Royal candle wax, actually,” he answers stoically, but you catch the mischievous shine in his eyes when they flick to meet yours. “Dreadful effort, trying to write without my beloved candle lit.” 

“Oh, and what is a prince to do?” You’re unable to hide the smirk that finds its way onto your face and he seems to notice your less-hostile demeanor, the faintest amusement breaking out on his features. Handsome features, you had to stop yourself from admitting. “I don’t understand,” you say after a deep exhale.  

“I believe the candle was a gift from my great-grandfather.” His eyes continue to look over the rainbow of petals lightly swaying in the breeze. “Terribly well-loved by my father and the court alike.” 

“No, Your Highness–”

“If this is to work, you must refer to me as Touya.” He’s still not looking at you. 

“That is precisely what I don’t understand.” You muster up what courage you could to close the distance between you two, crossing your arms to properly confront him. “What are you trying to play at, Your Highness? What is supposed to ‘work?’ With all due respect, I’d like to know now if I am one of your latest games to irritate your relatives.” 

“And what would you do if you were?” Shit. His attention moves from the flowers to your face and you’re met with the same cold, unwavering stare from the week prior. “What could you do, realistically, but play along? I am royalty.” 

“You needn’t keep reminding me, sir,” you mumble. “But before we continue, I feel you must know. I did not have the intention of entertaining suitors this season.” You catch one of the maids peeping from around the corner of a topiary and motion for her to prepare tea for you and your caller. 

“What were you doing at the presentation duels, then?” 

“Fulfilling the wishes of my stepmother,” you answer wryly. “Whatever plans you have devised, I am the wrong lady to assist in enacting them.”

“I imagine that, instead of participating in this season, you would rather be reading from the libraries of King All Might himself?” The Prince falls into step behind you while you make your way to the garden’s gazebo, fully furnished to accommodate callers. You sensed, however, this particular suitor would rather sit on the floor than at your family’s lofty dining set. 

“I’m surprised you understand,” you remark, neatening a stray napkin. When you look behind you, the prince is leaning his shoulder against the frame of the gazebo and observing you. Your manners somehow return, despite his lack thereof. “Do you prefer Earl Grey or green?” 

“Neither,” he replies immediately. “I don’t care for tea.” 

“Nor do I, but the servants will linger if we don’t give them a chance to gossip in the kitchen.” The prince’s eyes narrow once again only for a moment, like you said something unexpected. 

“In that case, tell them green.” You murmur his request to the nearest servant and the handful subtly eavesdropping politely excuse themselves back into the house, no doubt eager to relay what little information you and the prince had exchanged. 

“You still haven’t enlightened me on why, of all the ladies present at the duels, you chose to duel for my hand,” you begin as he takes his seat across from you and pops a piece of fruit into his mouth. “Especially when I am guaranteed to hinder any plans you have for–”

“You know nothing of my plans, as of yet,” he interjects. His face is carefully blank, seemingly too calm for your present situation. “Your reluctance to entertain suitors is exactly what is going to help me leave this kingdom.” 

“I don’t understand,” you reiterate. “Your Highness, I do not wish to be in this season at all.”

“I share the same sentiment. Here is my proposal that will, in theory, rid us of both of our stressors: I will court you and, on the night of my father’s ball where I will surely propose, I will disappear, leaving you with nothing but a broken heart and a humble reparation of $100,000. A percentage of which, I note, can then be used to book passage out of Musutafu and find those books from King All Might’s mythical library. Do you follow?” You don’t remember when your jaw fell open, but it takes significant effort to regain your composure. When you eventually register what the prince had just offered, your face burns from a feeling you had never experienced before. It was a mixture of shame and shock, but mostly…excitement? 

“You’re out of your mind,” you manage to force out. “I don’t think–How could we–It would never work!” What the hell was he thinking? 

“You don’t know that,” he answers coolly. Maybe he’s not thinking at all. Maybe the prince is an idiot. 

“But why not leave now? Why wait until the night of your father’s ball?” An unreadable look crosses over his face, one that makes your stomach turn. He fixes himself in a blink, though, and the sudden darkness that fell over the prince’s face is gone before you can comment on it. “I just don’t understand why you need my help doing this, Your Highness.”

“My father grows impatient,” he admits bitterly and when you meet his gaze, it’s burning. “He wishes to crown me as king within three month’s time, and I–” 

“You do not wish to rule,” you finish quietly, the realization clicking together in your mind. “By courting a lady, you force him to put off your coronation until you propose.” 

“By courting you,” he explains further, “I also guarantee that this affair will remain strictly one of business.” You can’t help the scoff that leaves your mouth. 

“You think that if a woman were to fall in love with you, she would reveal your true whereabouts?” 

“Women are fickle creatures,” he states simply. “You did not wish to fall in love this season, so you will not reveal my true whereabouts once I have faked my passing.” He sighs, pulling back the sleeve of his coat and checking the time on his watch. “It really is quite simple. Allow me to court you, stay silent about my disappearance, and be rewarded with $100,000.” 

“And if we’re caught? If this charade is revealed as a farce and your father declares you King the following day?”

“Doubt in my plans is the first step away from succeeding,” he concludes. An approaching servant with a fresh pot of tea momentarily takes your attention and the prince stands, bowing in farewell while you’re still frozen behind your teacup. “I do hope you’ll join me at the races tomorrow afternoon,” he drawls out your name once the servant places the pot on the small table. His voice drips honey-sweet poison, drawing you in even as your body screams at you to run. The message hidden beneath his words, however, is clearer than crystal. “But, in the case of your absence, I will assume my affections have been denied.” You stand, dipping into a graceful curtsy. As you rise, your words ring in your ears before you can stop them. 

“I look forward to our time together, Your Highness.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[fudgechocolatepuff]

a lovebirds bloom! (lets live in a christmas tree) pt.iii ☃️🎄

keigo t. x fem. reader | vryvery sweet sweeter than candy

pt.i of a lovebirds bloom , pt.ii of a lovebirds bloom

sneak peek ➸ in the midst of winter, a particular hero is feeling quite frosty this season from the absence your warmth, let’s see if you can fix that.

word count : whole ass book grab a cup of coffee to indulge in ts

As much as the flurries of winter trickling through the bustling cities with its angelic flakes were enchanting to see, it was hell to travel in. 

Every time your found your car’s battery to be frozen and glistening with ice, the walk to your flower shop almost always ended with you limping through the doors, a new bruise decorating your skin. 

Whatever lunatic conjured up the idea to attach the outside of your shop with a little set of stairs must’ve not been hugged as a child, you thought as you gripped onto the railing. 

After a particularly rough 6 a.m hike to the shop, you plopped your bag onto the counter, too exhausted to move it elsewhere. Instead, you opened your phone to say goodbye to your silly reels and tweets. 

But when you swiped your screen down to do a final time check, your eyes met with the text notification: 

hawks

6:14 A.M.

Hey. You at work? Picked up some hot coffee and wanted to see if I could share with another early bird. :-)

Your eyes stuck on the message like a sticker, and you couldn’t find yourself to rip them off your screen. It felt almost.. nice to be almostkindoffriendsbutkindofstrangers with Hawks, yet unreal. 

Ever since that night in the cafe, you thought back to it like a dream, a blur of warm glances and candles mixed with wafts of pumpkin. 

One thing you remembered from the little date was the exchanging of your numbers.. which was just a folded up post-it that Hawks had managed to stick in your coat pocket at the last second, freaking sneak, with little doodles dancing around the boldened digits.

After said date, the two of you would text consistently for a few days. Getting to know each other, sending each other relatable posts, y’know, the usual spiel of a talking stage.

The strange thing however—is after a week, you hadn’t come across the man for nearly two months. 

You understood fully though, of course! Work constantly pulled him away all the time. He was needed to serve, to help people continue their domestic routines. 

His missing presence just felt so unnatural, didn’t it? But perhaps his swarms of admirers were enough to keep him occupied.

How was he able to do it? You’d never know. Even a trip to unload the flowers from the wholesalers’ truck back and forth made you cry from the soreness you’d get in your legs, and he’s out here fighting damn kratos on the daily? Yikes.

But thinking about it, It stung a little to think about how empty he would feel after all those hours.

At times, you’d come home to your apartment, everything still left eerily the same as it was earlier—but a bittersweet lone feeling loomed over you. 

You didn’t want to picture how it’d feel for him. 

Especially in the mellow season, so close to Christmas. 

Reluctantly, you tapped the keys on your phone, quick to send out brief ‘yes, of course!!’ to his proposal, thumb shaking while it hovered over the ‘send’ button.

As you set your phone down, your heart undeniably throbbed to the thought of him walking through those doors, his warm presence lighting up the gloomy unlit store. 

It must’ve just been the mixture of sweet aromas making you feel that way. 

The ‘thump!’ of your head against the counter echoed embarrassingly through the room as your nerves began to jitter about. 

 ⋆⁺₊❅. 

Something that always struck out to you during wintertime was no matter what time of day it was, most other businesses in the vicinity had their christmas lights flickered on in the early morning, and in the dusk of night. 

Yourself and your coworkers didn’t skip this tradition, taking the opportunity as soon as you guys could to hang the golden twinkle string along the roofline.

Ever since, you kept the brightness of each bulb inside to a minimum as to not overwhelm your clients at the crack of dawn.

From the inside, the silhouettes that passed by were usually the ones on their way to the offices and occasional joggers. All too well accustomed to the ‘early bird’ lifestyle like yourself.

Speaking of early birds.

The subtle ‘whoosh’ that you only guessed were the wings of a certain hero faintly brushed the chill air.

You decided not to look up at the door yet, as you anticipated his arrival and wanted to capture the perfect best view of him walking in.

Absentmindedly staring at your nailbeds, the catchy chime jingled against the doorframe, a creak escaping from the door that was being pushed upon.

Finally looking up (pretending you didn’t notice him in the first place), Hawks’ clothed elbow pressed the black bar of the door, his signature black gloves carrying two coffee cups and a little frost glistened on the tips of his wings.

He huffed out as he entered, frigid vapor leaving his mouth as he was met with the relieving warm temperatures. His golden-amber eyes crossed to meet yours, his lower lids creasing upwards to the sight of you, a nervous smile rested upon his face.

“ ‘M telling ya, the universe was just waiting to pelt me in the face with all this wind. Nipping at my face ‘till it turned all red.”

If the pinkish-red spread across his sharp features didn’t stick out enough, the poor excuse he used was a bit obvious. Hawks really hoped you wouldn’t notice just how desperate he was to see you again.

You wondered if his wings were subtly trembling from the cold or his nerves.

He didn’t really expect you to text him back, in fact, he spent the last 2 months drifting off while on his shifts, thinking and thinking how to impress you but in a casual way.

Not desperate and too wanting, but at the same time reciprocating his feelings for you—

“Yeah, right? Nearly falling on my ass every time I come into work. Not much of an issue for you though, hm?”

Hawks let out a low chuckle, sniffling and bringing his hand to lightly rub his reddened nose.

“Fortunately not. But— anyway, sorry for just asking to come in on such short notice. I just wanted to .. talk to ‘ya.”

The faint scratch of raspiness in his voice indicated that he must’ve caught a small cold, presumably from the strengthening winter, but at the same time he sounded almost ashamed.

You shrugged, curving your lips into a dimpled smile, “No worries! Really, I actually need help with something, but we can come back to that after breakfast.”

A quirk of his eyebrow accompanied his half-hidden shock, a cute little expression of bewilderment.

“Oh? Are you sure? I know I’m the one usually expected to nag at my colleagues, but I really don’t want to drag you out from work.”

“Of course, don’t worry. I don’t actually have to start working until like 8.” You assured him sweetly, gesturing him forward with the hot drinks.

He nodded silently as he placed the cups down on the counter, pulling up a stool opposite from you. Additionally, he grabbed out a brown crumply bag that had been tucked under his arm.

Your eyes lit up when you read the imprinted, « 2 CHOC CROISSANT » on the sticker.

As you took your first few sips and bites, the silence only grew and resided in the air. You cleared your throat.

“Hey, I know we aren’t, y’know, that close, but if there’s something bothering you, I’m here to listen. You seem to be a little quiet.”

Black pupils flickered up to your face as he was mid-bite into his pastry. “Mm-h.. I kno. Is jsst.. ‘m nat mch ‘ff a mrng… “ he then swallowed rather hard, “I’m not much of a morning person.”

You laughed at his muffled response, sparking an adoring glint in Hawks’ eyes. He’d humiliate himself a thousand times more if it meant he could hear your laugh again.

He continued, setting down his croissant on his napkin below, “Honestly, I came here initially to see you, but I feel like I gotta apologize for leaving you with nothing from me the past months.”

You kept quiet, intrigued in what he wanted to say and let him continue.

“I haven’t.. I’ve never had this sort of frien—connection before. And, hah— it’s quite ironic how everyone describes me to be such a smooth-talker, but here I am, suddenly not knowing how to form a coherent sentence.”

He averted his gaze from your own, his leg bouncing nonstop.

“You’re just.. simply a fresh breath of air from the world i’m caged in. I.. can’t really explain it.”

“You don’t have to,” you comforted, “i find myself thinking about you too,” you confessed into your croissant, hesitant to let your voice exceed from your low volume.

Hawks’ breath hitched when he heard those words. He hadn’t felt this tense before, a foreign feeling churning in his stomach.

It wasn’t helping that you looked so alluring under the warm light. So sweet, so consoling. Although it was still dark out, your eyes managed to have that shiny gloss from the soft lights.

“I promise, if we had met under different circumstances, I wouldn’t be such a mess right now. ‘S not like my character,” he grinned with a hint of more confidence, tinkering with the golden ring on his middle finger.

“To me, it doesn’t matter what the rest of the world thinks of your character, I think your own sweet self is enough.”

Owlishly, he stared at you, speechless to your statement, as if you spoke a different language to him. He chewed at the last piece of his morning dessert, lost in thought (planning your future wedding).

“Guess theres some truth in there.”

You continued munching at your breakfast, your winged visitor patiently waiting until nothing but crumbs were left on the table.

 ⋆⁺₊❅. 

The consistent ticks of the antique rose-patterned clock hung on the wall became subtle background noise, a nice drumming in stark contrast to the awkward silence.

Swiping your palms against eachother, making sure your hands smeared off any stubborn crumbs in the crevices of your hand, you took note of the time displayed on the clock’s hands. 7:25

Your head turned anxiously back to Hawks, him peering towards you as you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing coming out.

“What’s going on in that peculiar little mind of yours?” asked the hero, propping his arms flat against his table to rest his head on them.

You hated the amount of questions he asked, it was practically violating—literally intentional to spill every secret out of you. He wanted to listen to every inconvenience you had.

Mumbling, you started, “It’s just that.. I feel a little guilty that I’m going to ask you for a favor like this when you could be out there, saving the day instead of being cooped up in here.”

Perking his head up in surprise, he argued without hesitation, “No no, I’d rather be held as hostage here for the rest of the day if it were up ‘ta me. There can’t be anything in this shop too rough for me.”

A godsend he was. Really, if he could choose, he’d spend the rest of his life in this wonderland of a shop you’ve decorated.

“Okay,” you breathed out, “I need help putting up the Christmas tree.”

“So that’s what was missing in this place, ‘swear it was on the tip of my tongue,” his smooth tone shifted quickly to be teasingly warm, drawing a smile out of you, “Let’s do it then.”

 ⋆⁺₊❅. 

Attaching all the hooks that resembled tree branches into the base and circling behind each other around the tree, twirling incandescent lights that swirled from top to bottom, the two of you stepped back to admire your hard work.

A delicate tree, but simple in all the right ways. It wouldn’t be too distracting yet would get the “Christmas” point across to all the customers.

Hawks nudged at your arm with his shoulder, a proud grin presented on his face, “This completes the holly and jollyness in this store. Feels like im in santa’s workshop now.”

His now vibrant and eager energy lifted the concerns pressing on your chest about him.

A tingling thought in the back of your head suspected he wasn’t grumbly only because he hates waking up so early.

Preciously gazing at the tree, you smiled shyly, “I know. I feel like this time of year goes by too fast, but it’s so beautiful.”

“Mhm,” the winged hero hummed out, his eyes lingering upon your figure as you went to adjust some of the crooked ornaments, “Very beautiful.”

Was there any reason why he suddenly felt so warm in his sweater? The heater couldn’t have been blasting that badly, right?

It’s not like he could have controlled the way he darted between each feature of your face, your hands, your style of apparel that just matched your personality perfectly.

He even worried that if he got too lost in your presence, his wings would begin to curl around you, cradling you into a soft cocoon-like embrace.

Yeah, he did not want to picture your weirded-out reaction—

His ringtone began beeping erratically from his pant pocket sending a walloping dread in his stomach, cursing under his breath.

Whipping your head back from the abrupt noise, you sighed, a reminder for you as well that your dozen hundred chores were about to commence.

Fumbling for his phone in a hurry to turn off the annoying sound, his other hand covered his lower-face, visibly cringing at the fact he had to actually clock in today.

He almost flinched when he felt your hands rubbing circles against his shoulder, consoling him, “Should’ve expected it sooner or later.”

“Hate that. All this, ‘have to move it later,’ ‘it’s getting late,’ ‘should’a known it had ‘ta end.’ I don’t think ‘s fair.”

“Me either, it really isn’t.”

Hawks’ hand slowly traced down to your wrist before gently grasping your fingers as his thumb reassuringly rubbed against your knuckles.

Widened eyes focused onto your face, his expression more serious and determined, “There’s no way I’m leaving making the same mistake as before, i can’t,” he paused, “promise I’ll respond to your texts and take you out on a proper date, with a whole bouquet of roses and everything.”

You smiled back up at him sweetly, awestruck at his commitment, almost like you were in a dream, “I think that sounds lovely. I can take care of the flowers, though.”

Shaking his head, he grinned back, “Maybe, but I wanna do this the right way. No more coming and going every season.” You nodded your head at that, completely giving in.

 ⋆⁺₊❅. 

The two of you made your way to the main doors, just a few minutes to 8:30. All bundled up, Hawks held a small wrapped bouquet of camellias, his large hands crumpling the wrapping paper.

“Bye, [name]. You’re a real sweet girl for putting up with my ridiculous antics.”

“Bye, Hawks, I try. Be safe! Don’t slip on your way out!” He rolled your eyes at you sheepishly as he was halfway out the door, when you stopped him, tugging at his arm.

“Ah. . . Wait,” you uttered, holding the material of his jacket with uncertainty in your body language. He hummed in confusion and faced you.

Stepping closer, a quick tilt of your head leaned toward his face, surprising him before you pecked his warm cheek and pushed him out the store, rushing into the back room.

Looking back, astonished, his rough fingers hovered over the spot where you kissed him, a blush fading onto his already hot cheeks.

He turned to the road, beginning to walk down until he reached the end of the sidewalk to take off to his agency, prying at his phone to pin your contact at the top of his messages.

a.n: keigo is so shy when hes flustered canon horikoshi told me so. i hope you guys liked this lmk what i should write nexttt have a lovely holiday y’all :33 🌷🎄

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

DRABBLE: HE GETS HORNY FROM YOUR COSTUME 🎃 (18+) (ONE PIECE) (For Fem!Readers)

Writer's Note: Happy almost Halloween, y'all! I wanted to post some drabbles for spooky season this year just cuz I'm working & it's been hard to write my fics. BUT I'm gonna try to post at least one oneshot for Halloween & I'll be posting a JJK drabble too. Enjoy! -Jazz ❤️❤️

**********

LUFFY (YOU COSPLAY AS HIM)

“Y/N, come oooooon!” he whined from his bed. “If we’re late, we’re gonna miss out on all of the candy the villagers are givin’ out!” 

You rolled your eyes standing in your shared washroom connected to your shared bed chambers. You had your own bedroom located in the girls’ cabins, but Luffy insisted on moving you into his bedroom so he could be closer to you. “Alright, alright, hang on,” you sighed, putting the finishing touches on your makeup. “Lemme just add this and…done!” 

You smiled at your costume for tonight before turning to the bathroom door where you could hear Luffy whining and groaning about Zero beating him for the candy. “Alright, you big baby,” you giggled. “You ready to see my costume for tonight?” 

“Oooh, wait, wait!” Luffy excitedly protested, seeming to forget about the candy already. “Lemme guess first. Hmm…you’re a ghost!” 

“No,” you giggled. 

“A vampire?” 

“No.” 

“Ooh, ooh, I know! You’re one of those bunnies I see around this time of year with the ears and those fishnet stocking things!” 

“Not even close, babe,” you laughed. “I’ll give you a hint: it has to do with water.” You could practically hear the gears in Luffy’s head turning. You stayed away from the door, hidden behind it. “You’re a mermaid,” he guessed. “No…a fish? No, no, a pirate!” 

“Close!” you replied, and opened the door to the bathroom where you jumped out into the bedroom where Luffy said. “I’m the best pirate and captain in the world!” you giddily said. “Ta-da! I’m you!” 

Luffy’s wide grin fell when he got a look at you and your cosplay of him. You had on the cut-off shorts, slides, and even an exact replica of his straw hat. You adorned an open, red vest that made your skin pop and applied a bandeau bra that matched your skin tone and kept your breasts secure. You even got the X scar on his chest down to the T, applying enough purple and red makeup to make it appear as real as possible. You wanted to really gag him with this costume. 

And you did, though his awestruck expression made you nervous. “Do you…like it?” you carefully asked. 

Luffy ticked his eyes up to yours and instantly, his mouth split into a humongous grin that brightened the room. “Like it?!” he practically screamed. “Y/N, I love it! I mean, look at you! You’re me!” He began to laugh his hysterical, contagious laugh, a hand on his belly. “You look so, so good! You’ve even got the hat!” 

You melted at his reaction, glad he loved it and glad to have gotten the reaction you were fishing for. “I figured I could do something different,” you said. You smirked playfully at him, placing your hands on your hips. “Guess that means I’m the captain now.” 

Luffy’s laughter immediately stopped, a fire flashing behind his eyes that excited you. “What’s wrong?” you giggled. “Don’t like that idea?” Slowly, he shook his head, not even speaking. The excitement inside of you continued to grow, making your stomach flip. “So what are you gonna do about it?” you challenged. “You wanna fight about it?” 

Yes, Luffy did want to fight about it, but not at all in the way you were thinking. His way of “fighting” meant having you on your knees with your ass hiked in the air and your straw hat nearly falling off of your head as your boyfriend snapped his hips behind you again and again, plunging his cock deeper inside of your sobbing, wet pussy with every single second that passed.

“What’s my name?” he asked. “Who’s making you feel this good?” 

His hand looped around to grab your chin, folding it firmly. You could hardly form a coherent sentence with how hard his hips were thrusting into you, giving you blinding pleasure over and over again. “God, Luffy!” you shouted. 

Luffy wasn’t pleased with that. “Uh-uh, baby,” he grunted. “Wrong answer.”

He shifted his hips to hit your G-spot, emitting sounds from you that came from the deepest parts of your chest as you were plunged into otherworldly pleasure.

“Captain!” you whined, finally catching onto his game. “Fuck, captain, you make this pussy feel so good!” 

Luffy grinned and let you dig your face into the mattress again as he pounded your pussy from behind. “That’s right,” he chuckled. “I’m the captain. I’m your captain, the one and only.”

ZORO (MORTAL KOMBAT COSPLAY)

“What the fuck are you wearing?” he asked, looking absolutely befuddled. 

He sat in his private training room on a bench while you stood in front of him, your hands on your hips and an excited smile on your face. You stood in your Mortal Kombat cosplay which consisted of a very skin-tight outfit with little to be hidden––a stretchy bodysuit that you paired with fishnet stockings and high-knee boots that you felt like you could kick someone with.

“It’s my Halloween costume,” you giggled. “You like it? I thought the bodysuit was a little see-through, but…” 

You turned around, picking with your bodysuit which kept bunching up in your ass. Though the wedgies pissed you off, your ass did look amazing in the costume. You felt like the sexiest ninja alive. When you turned back to Zoro, you noticed how red his face was and the weird look in his eyes. “What?” you asked. “You don’t like it?” 

He shook his head and turned away, busying himself with cleaning his weights. “I didn’t say that,” he grumbled. 

You smirked at him and leaned against the bench he sat on. “So you do like it?” you chuckled. “You like seein’ me in this, hm?” You took a seat next to him, crossing your fishnet-clad legs over one another. Zoro barely took one glance at you, though it was more for his sake than yours. If he were to take another look at you, there would be nothing stopping him from bending you over this bench and fucking you right out of this costume. 

“I didn’t say that either,” he grunted. “I’m just thinkin’ about how cold you’ll be. That outfit is only coverin’ so much of you.” He got up from his spot, holding a dumbbell in his hand that he went to place on the rack with the others. 

“Uh-uh,” you replied, not buying his nonchalant attitude one bit. “So should I change?” He didn’t respond or look at you, which made you smile from ear to smile. You knew you were getting to him. Zoro was never a man to voice his arousal or flustered feelings too often, but his body language spoke volumes. “Here, maybe this will change your mind about it,” you giggled. 

Out of your belt, you pulled out a fake sword that glinted in the light. “Look-it! And no, it’s not real.” Zoro turned to you and his eyes widened an inch at the sight of the sword in your hand. He walked towards it with heavy footfalls from his boots and examined the sword. “It damn well looks it,” he commented, in awe at how real the fake sword looked. “Just don’t pull this out at the party. You might make the wrong impression.” 

“Guess I’ll have to leave it here then,” you sighed, placing it on your lap. You looked up at Zoro who was still staring down at the sword. You could almost feel the temptation radiating off of him. “You can touch it, you know,” you purred. “But only if I can touch yours.” His emerald eyes met yours, noticing your change in tone and the shift in the air. 

You took his hand in yours and placed it on the sword, causing him to glide a finger over hilt. You then stood up and pressed your lips against the thick column of his neck, smiling at his hitched breath. You then pressed your tits against his big arm, giving him a feel of what he’d be missing if he didn’t admit how much he loved this outfit. “Pull it out for me,” you whispered against his ear. “We can have a sword fight.” 

He practically shoved you aside as he walked away from you as fast he could while you hysterically laughed at your goofiness. “You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” he sighed. And ridiculous you were…but so was he. He wanted to kick himself when he realized how hard he was for you. “Goddammit,” he muttered, picking up at his sweats. 

You noticed immediately. “Wait…are you hard?”

Zoro was still turned away from you and went to clean his other exercise equipment, but you stopped him by jumping in front of him. He glared at you, wondering what else you were planning. He didn’t at all expect you to grab a handful of his hardened cock, emitting a groan from him. “You are!” you laughed. “So you do like the costume!” 

Face beat red and clammy, he batted your hand away. “Shut up,” he growled. “What the hell were you expecting walkin’ around in that? It’s like you planned this from the jump.” Silence swelled around you and he raised an eyebrow at your wordless response. “Didn’t you?” he demanded. 

Now he was getting it. Once again, you pressed yourself up against him and this time, he didn’t shy away. “You know, if we’re going to a party, I’m gonna have to move around in this.” You placed a hand on his broad chest, admiring the taught skin and tatted ink across his big pecs. “Think you can help me test that out in twenty minutes till the party starts?” 

A fire flashed behind Zoo’s eyes as he gripped your ass in one hand, both cheeks fitting in his palm. You whimpered at the rough contact while his fingers on his other hand toyed with the zipper at the back of your costume. “I can do that and more, mama,” he growled. “Now how the fuck do you take this shit off?” 

Thirty minutes later, you found yourself on your back, still in your costume, with Zoro on top of you and fucking you into the mattress below in your shared bedroom. The bed was rocking like a damn ship on a stormy sea with how much hard he was fucking you, your legs up and on his shoulders while his thick cock plunged in and out of you. “Z-Zoro!” you whined through pants and moans of pleasure. “We’re gonna be late!” 

Your man shook is head above you, his face red and beads of sweet cascading down his handsome face. “I don’t give a fuck,” he grunted. “Should’ve known better than to have teased me like that. Now you’re gonna take all of this cum, mama.” 

And you did. You weren’t too happy when he got nut on your costume and laughed about it. 

SANJI (SLUTTY ANGEL)

He didn’t say anything for at least ten minutes. You thought the man was dead. 

Ten minutes before, he was fine. You had pulled him away from his duties in the kitchen whipping up dinner before the big Halloween bash that the island you and the crew were currently relaxing on was throwing. Dinner that night consisted of clam and salmon fettuccini with buttered rolls, salad, and pumpkin and ghost-shaped cookies for dessert. Your man really knew had to throw down in the kitchen, which is why he is the chef of the crew. 

Sanji was quickly to abandon his cooking to attend to you––his love; his beauty; his one and only. You stood in the middle of the kitchen with him, giggling as he ran his hands over your sides in your fluffy robe. “You sure dinner won’t burn?” you curiously asked.

He shook his head, practical hearts in his eyes. "The sauce is simmering and I just put the rolls on,” he replied, his hands still roaming. “The food is fine, my love. Now, what it is you wished to show me?” 

He took your hands and pressed a heated kiss to them, always the one for physical touch as his love language. Lucky for him, it was yours too. You stood up on your tip toes and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, causing him to shiver. “I have a surprise for you,” you whispered. “It’s right under here.” You toyed with the tie of your robe, smirking up at him. 

Sanji’s mind began to run wild with all of the naughty possibilities of what could be under your robe. Were you naked? Or in a cute little set of lingerie that adorned your skin and made it look soft and supple? When you finally yanked on the tie and let the robe fall, he was floored. None of his fantasies could’ve prepared him or had matched up to what was actually under your robe though. 

When he saw you in your angel costume, he just about died a thousand times standing there. “Ta-da!” you sang. “It’s my Halloween costume for tonight’s bar crawl after dinner. Nami picked it out for me. You like?” You twirled for him, causing the fake, fluffy white wings taped to your back to flutter behind you. 

Sanji didn’t know where to look first. You filled out the white corset bodysuit you wore quite nicely, your luscious breasts pushed up against the bodice where fake white feathers traced along the top as well as around the hem of your stockings that looked so damn good on your legs. You paired glittery, silver heels and a fluffy fake halo with your outfit along with a white collar where a silver heart dangled cutely around your neck, nearly smothered by your gorgeous titties the way Sanji wanted to be.

You looked absolutely ravishing. 

Sanji didn’t even realize he was standing there, mouth agape and completely frozen. Noticing that your man’s brain had begun short-circuiting, you stepped up to him and snapped your fingers in front of his face. “Sanji, baby?” you asked. “Sanji, can you hear me?” 

That’s when he finally blinked and a trickle of blood ran down his nose. A nosebleed. You barely reacted, having become used to your boyfriend popping nosebleeds when it came to you and your sexiness. He covered his nose immediately, luckily stopping the blood from spurting out all over you. “Hang on one moment,” he said, his voice muffled by his hand clapped over his mouth. 

When he ran out of the room to assess the damage, you held your stomach in hysterical laughter. That was one of the reactions you were expecting. Minutes later, he came back, nose clean and free of blood “Damn, baby, you popped a nosebleed for me?” you laughed. You went up to him and wrapped your arms around him, pressing your body into his. 

He held onto your hips and pressed himself farther into you, making you gasp. Mostly because of the very real, very hard bulge he was now packing in his pants. That was another reaction you were hoping for.

“That ain’t all I’m popping right now,” he playfully whispered against your ear. He pressed a soft kiss there before moving down to your neck, littering your skin in kisses as he did compliments. “You look absolutely amazing, my love. Ravishing, even. No–angelic! Beyond heavenly!” 

Now he was yelling. “Okay, Sanji,” you giggled, stopping him from alerting the crew. "I get it.” He pulled away to look down at you, his gaze full of adoration and love that made you melt into your heels. “You are the prettiest angel I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he sighed. “I must be in heaven right now.” 

Your hand trailed down to grab his hip, your fingers sneaking under his shirt to press against warm, bare skin and toned muscle. “Not yet,” you purred, “but later.” Sanji shuddered at your touch, pressing his bulge into you fully. “Why later?” he questioned before pressing the slightest kiss on your neck. “Why not now?” 

His lips worked your neck as he began to slowly grind into you, emitting a soft whimper from your lips. His big hands toyed with your hips, running over the fake feathers there. “S-Sanji,” you stuttered, “the dinner–“ 

“Is fine,” he growled against your neck. “I know my cooking, love, and I know it won’t be finished for another twenty-five to thirty minutes. We have plenty of time for that.”

He then pulled away and took your hand, a love-drunk grin on his handsome face that you couldn’t ignore or deny. “Now, my pretty little angel, off to your bedroom so you can take me to heaven.” 

And when Sanji took you to his bedroom and slid into your pussy for the first time that night, he could practically see the pearly gates opening for him. Your fake halo and wings shook the harder he fucked you, one hand groping your naked breast while the other gripped your calve.

“Fuck, Sanji!” you shout to the ceiling, seeing stars behind your eyelids as his cock head glides against your G-spot. 

Sanji grinned down at you, his gorgeous body coated in a light sheen of sweat and his smile love drunk. “That’s right, angel,” he moaned as he kissed your foot hiked up near his ear. “Take my cock. Let me take you to heaven too.” 

Girl, you practically saw Jesus when he was done with you. 

LAW (SCHOOLGIRL)

“What’s under the robe?” he asked, squinting confusedly at you. “You’re showering now? I thought you wanted to go to this stupid ass party.” 

He sat on the side of his bed in a white tank top that hung loosely on his body, exposing his tatted skin and hard pecs that you love to suck on. You stand in front of him in your fluffy bath rope despite the white stockings underneath. The smile you wore faded at his sour attitude and your hands fell from the flap of your robe.

“Look, if you’re gonna have that attitude, you can stay home,” you scoffed. “I’d have no problem picking up a guy to dance with me in this little get-up.” 

You twirled around to stalk toward the bathroom, missing Law’s glare directed at the back of your head.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, fire in his eyes. You scoffed once more, annoyed. You knew he was never a party person, but he also knew Halloween was your favorite holiday. The least he could do was act excited for Luffy’s Halloween party. 

Supposedly, it was taking place on the Jolly Roger ship in the middle of the ocean and every single one of his friends (which were a lot) were invited, including you and Law. You wanted to look extra cute and sexy tonight, mostly for your man. But so far, he was coming off like he didn’t deserve any of that.

You turned to him, sniffing rudely at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” you muttered. 

In a poof of nothing, he was gone from his spot on the bed and suddenly standing in front of you and the bathroom door. When you turned around, you nearly slammed into him. “Hey!” you shouted, glaring up at him. But Law could glare like it was his profession, making your stomach flip. 

“Don’t play with me like that,” he demanded, not even having to raise his voice. “Now what did you mean by that? And what’s under there?” He cocked a pierced eyebrow at your robe, giving you the impression that he would take it off if you didn’t. 

You rolled your eyes, but disrobed yourself anyway. There, you revealed your costume to him––a sexy, slutty schoolgirl outfit with a white top tied at your midsection to show a sliver of tummy and low enough to show off your cherry red bra underneath and a blue plaid mini skirt that stopped at mid-thigh and hiked up slightly in the back, barely covering your asscheeks where matching red lace panties were.

You glared up at Law. “There,” you scoffed. “Happy now?” 

Law didn’t answer. He was too busy running his eyes over your tits which practically spilled out of your bra and how you filled out the little school skirt. “It was gonna be a surprise, but then you decided to be a grump and ruin it,” you blandly continued. 

You watched his face for a reaction, but it was completely blank. Then again, Law had a poker face that he could’ve been born with. “Where…are your pants?” he carefully asked.

You almost laughed at the randomness of his question. Was he dumb? “In my drawer,” you replied. “Pants would’ve ruined the outfit. That’s why I’ve got stockings.” You pointed down at your skintight, white stockings that Law thought were absolutely adorable and wanted by his ears while he fucked you stupid in your school skirt. 

He was still quiet, giving you the impression that he was criticizing your costume. It made you nervous. “So do you like it or…?” Still, he said nothing. But when you went to close your robe again and forget about this whole party, he put a hand on yours, stopping you. “You sure you have to go to this stupid ass party?” he asked. 

“Law,” you criticized him, “it’s not–“ 

“Because I think it’d be may more fun for you to stay here and let me fuck you in this,” he continued without missing a single beat. You paused, blinking at him. “W-What?” you dumbly stuttered. 

You now noticed how hooded and dark his gaze had become. He stepped toward you and you instinctively stepped back. “You heard me,” he softly growled. “You talkin’ ‘bout meeting some stranger to spend time with at this party just to spite me, when in reality, they’d have no idea what to do with this.” 

He took another step your way and you stepped back, ending up falling into the bed back first. You gasped as you tripped backwards and Law immediately found his perch above you where he stooped down to run his lips over your breasts. “Stop,” you softly whined. “C’mon, Law, I have to–“ 

Your words died in your throat, replaced with a broken moan as one of Law’s skillful hands traveled down between your thighs to rub your pussy through your panties. He did it slowly; deliberately; taking his sweet time getting you wet as his lips kissed your neck.

“Could he do this?” he asked, still referring to that imaginary guy at the party you probably wouldn’t have met tonight. “Could he make my naughty girl feel like this?” 

He nibbled at your earlobe, causing you to gasp. “Answer me,” he demanded. 

“No,” you whimpered. “Law, please.” He knew exactly what you were begging for, but he wasn’t going to give it to you that easily. 

“No, he couldn’t,” he agreed. “And other than a punishment, I think you need some reeducation.” He then rolled off of you, standing before you in all of his big, muscled glory, his cock hard beneath his sweats. “If you wanna be a naughty girl and dress like this, it’s only fair.” 

So when he sat down on the bed and patted his lap, you absolutely knew what time it was. You ended up missing the party. Your ass stung too much from Law’s big hand spanking it to walk, your body ached from his rough fucking session to move, and your school skirt was stained with his cum as he pumped his cock all over your ass as he fucked you out of three orgasms. 

And you loved every second of it.

SHANKS (SAILOR GIRL) 

He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

Seriously. He’d been playing poker with his crew for an hour and lost three rounds because he kept staring at your fine ass from across the bar. 

He just couldn’t get over your little Halloween costume. It looked as if you were a sailor judging by the blue mini skirt that barely covered your plump asscheeks, striped low-cut top where he could just make out the red lace of your bra underneath, suspenders, and sailor hat tipped low over your head. You were standing by the bar laughing with Nami in her mermaid costume, and Robin in her skin-tight cheetah costume that Sanji was all over earlier. 

Shanks felt like a old pervert watching you, especially with how his body reacted to the sight of you. His heart thumped and his cock surged in his pants, desperate to feel you. Why the fuck did you have to come here dressed like this of all places? Sure, it was a Halloween party, but it still wasn’t fair! Did you realize what you were doing to him?

“Damn, Shanks!” Yasopp laughed along with Shanks’ crew. “You’re losin’ everything!” Shanks came back to reality, realizing that one of his mates won and took his share of coin, emitting laughter from everyone surrounding him. “That’s the fourth round in a row,” Yasopp pointed out. “You losin’ the magic touch, Captain?” 

Shanks didn’t have the energy to defend himself or even give a shit. Not when he could hear your gorgeous laughter from across the bar. At this point, his cock was ready to rip a hole through his pants with how much he was chubbing against the fabric. He stood abruptly, causing Yasopp to look at him like he was crazy. “Just hold my spot,” he said, barely even sparing his crew member a glance. “I’ll be right back.” 

Yasopp noticed his captain’s hyper-fixation on a particular point across the bar and turned to see who exactly Shanks had his sights set on. As soon as he saw you in your sailor fit, it hit him. “Ohhh,” he said in realization. He smirked up at Shanks knowingly. “Alright then. Just try not to scare her off.” 

Shanks didn’t even give him an answer. He just downed a shot to give him some liquid courage and put on the charm that he knew was there beneath the butterflies you gave him. They, however, only gave him a harder time, fluttering about in a frenzy the closer he got to you. He could smell your perfume now, giving him some very horrible, dirty, nasty visions that he couldn’t wipe away the harder he tried. All he could do was act like you weren’t getting him hard when he finally approached you and the girls.

“Hey, you,” he smoothly said, already putting on as much of the charm as he could while tipsy. 

You turned around to face him, holding your rum punch. The glass was stained with your red lipstick that he desperately wanted to see around the head of his cock. “Shanks!” you happily said. “You finally took a break from poker to be with us freaks?” 

“More like with one freak in particular,” Nami giggled, giving Shanks a knowing smirk. She knew exactly what he was here for, as did Robin. “We’ll just leave you two alone,” the black-haired beauty said with a sly smile. “We’ll be playing pool if you need us, Y/N.” She gave you a wink before walking off with Nami, leaving you two alone. 

You gave Shanks an apologetic smile. “Sorry about them,” you sighed. “They’re very protective.” Your eyes darted to the left while you sipped on your drink. You appeared shy and almost nervous around him. Unbeknownst to you, it made him feel a lot more confident despite his horniness. 

“As they should be,” he replied. “Especially in that little get-up.” He nodded at your costume, emitting a cute little giggle from your lips. “So you’re a sailor? I didn’t realize they made skirts that short for ‘em.” 

“Yeah,” you said, almost shyly. “Figured I stick to a sea-based aesthetic for my Halloween fit this time around. The skirt was a little too short for my liking, but Nami insisted I wear it.” You picked at the skirt, trying to tug it down over your luscious thighs that Shanks pictured licking on. “Is it too much?” you asked, second guessing. 

Shanks wanted to do everything in his power to make sure you didn’t second guess shit about yourself. Didn’t you realize how fucking sexy you were? “Not at all,” he replied. “You look perfect in it.” You smiled lightly at his compliment, making him feel like he won the fucking lottery. “I’m sure all of these other drunk, horny bastards would agree with me,” he chuckled. 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “What, you’re seriously tellin’ me you ain’t notice all the eyes on you since you walked in here?” he asked. Even he noticed it, especially from Sanji’s perving ass. He made Shanks’ horniness look tame. 

“Well, they’re irrelevant anyways,” you said, your pretty, brown eyes trailing down to stare at the floor. Shanks raised an eyebrow at your response. “And why is that?” He asked, his interest piqued. 

“Because they’re not you,” you murmured. 

Shanks heard you. It was impossible not to with how close he was to you, even over the music and loud chatter in the bar. He was initially shocked by how bold of a statement that was, especially from you, but then he grew even more insatiable for you. Now that he knew that the feeling he felt for you was mutual, he was more than ready to stop the flirty shit and get right to having his tongue down your throat; his hands on your ass; his lips on yours. 

But he wanted to hear it again, louder this time. No more of that shy shit. So he stepped closer to you until his chest was right in your line of sight, blocking out everything behind him so you couldn’t escape him. “Sorry, what was that?” he whispered. “You’re gonna have to speak up for me, darlin’. It’s too loud for these old ears to pick up your pretty voice if you’re talkin’ low.” 

He could how your body reacted to his words––your breath hitched; your teeth sunk into your bottom lip; your eyes grew hooded as they peered up at him through your lashes. “I said because they’re not you, Captain,” you softly replied, your voice taking on a more seductive tone that Shanks noticed immediately. 

Yeah. He was definitely fucking you. He’d take you out for the finest lobster dinner and a nice walk on the town later, but right now? He needed to feel you squeezing around him and your soft, pretty voice letting out those moans he knew were inside of you. 

“So you wore this for me, hm?” he questioned. His fingers toyed with your skirt, making your breath hitch again. “Interesting. Maybe we can discuss more about this over a walk?” You looked up at him, your lips still caught between your lips. You didn’t nod or even say yes. You just took his hand when he offered it and let him lead you out of the bar into the night. 

Moments later, under the starry sky and in the quietest part of town, miles down away from the bar, you and Shanks find yourselves together with his cock buried deep inside of you and one hand pinning your thigh up against his hip while his other hand had your wrists pinned against a brick wall. Soft moans and gasps left your lips every time his cock slid inside of you, stretching out your wet walls, while he groaned at the feeling of you wrapped around him.

Your soft hands gripped his shoulders as his hips nailed into yours, your nails digging into his broad shoulders. You were doing your best to keep quiet, but it felt so good that you just couldn’t. That made him want to cum faster than he planned. “Sorry we couldn’t do this in a nicer place, sugar,” he groaned. “You just look too damn good to pass on.” 

His hand slid down under your teeny, tiny skirt to grip and toy with your ass, your panties at your ankles. A shuddering moan escaped your lips as his pelvis rubbed against your clit, sending shivers throughout your body. “Fuck, I don’t care,” you whined into his ear. “Just don’t stop! Please, Shanks!” 

Shanks pulled away to look down at you, his body pinning you harder again the wall. “That’s not my name, darlin’,” he sternly said. “Correct yourself or you’ll be missin’ out on an orgasm tonight.” He slowed down his thrusts and he swore that your soul nearly left your body.

“Captain!” you shouted to the starry skies. “Please make me cum, Captain!” He smirked happily at your reaction and his cock surged in response. “That’s much better,” he chuckled. “Now cum on this cock, sugar.” 

And you did, right at the same time he burst inside of you, leaving cum dripping down your thighs only covered by the skirt he pulled down for you. The panties though? He kept those. 

BUGGY (HARLEY QUINN COSPLAY)

“Is this you coming out as a slut?” he curiously asked. “‘Cause you didn’t have to go through all this trouble, doll face. I already knew.” 

He stood in the bathroom brushing his teeth while you stood behind him in the Halloween costume that you were very proud of. You made the outfit and did your makeup yourself. But his reaction sucked all the joy and excitement out of you instantly. 

You smacked him upside the head, earning a glare through the bathroom mirror. “Dickhead!” you shouted, irked at him trying hard to peck at your nerves. “It’s my Halloween costume! I’m Harley Quinn!” 

You decided to go for the Harley Quinn outfit from the Batman animated series, with the red and black checkered jester one-piece and hat with the cute little pom-poms that dangled from either side of your hat. You paired it with some heeled leather boots and Harley’s mallet which you painted during your downtime. You also did your makeup, painting your lips red and wearing a mask over your eyes that Harley often wore in the show. 

You felt cute and sexy. Sexy enough to seduce your clown boyfriend after a night of trick-or-treating…but of course, he had to be a dick and ruin your plans for role-play sex. He turned to you now, standing big and tall so he practically blocked out the sink behind him.

“I don’t know who that is,” he deadpanned. “And were you in my makeup again? ‘Cause that red lipstick looks awfully familiar.” He squinted at your lipstick, running a hand over his blue facial hair. 

“No,” you sighed, rolling your eyes behind your mask. “And she’s from Batman. You know the DC comics?” Buggy still stared at you like he had no idea what you were saying. Then a light flickered behind his eyes. “Ohhh, nerdy shit,” he snickered. “Figures as much.” 

He turned back around to the bathroom mirror, nearly dripping toothpaste on his wife beater than he filled out completely. Seriously: Buggy is huge. Anytime you stood near him, he made you feel like an ant (which also turned you on). “Says the guy who walks around in clown makeup,” you retorted. “The only nerd here is you, Buggy.” 

He smirked in the mirror as he spat in the sink bowl and then dabbed at his mouth with a towel. “And yet people still tremble at the sight of me,” he cockily chuckled. He turned back around to face you, his eyes trailing over how your body filled out the jester suit. “So now what? Am I supposed to fuck you or something?” 

You scoffed at his brazen words, planting your hands on your hips. “Oh, my God, you’re horrible,” you groaned, frustrated. “You’re supposed to take me out trick-or-treating!” 

Buggy’s eyes widened at you and your plan. ”In that?” he asked, surprised that you even came up with such an idea. You nodded, not at all piecing together how much the suit stuck to your form. It left nothing for imagination, your titties and ass pushing against the fabric. “In that suit, you’d be getting more than just candy, sweetheart,” he chuckled, turning back around to fix his ponytail. He took the aqua-blue locks out of his hairband, letting it fall down his back. 

You glared at him, wondering why you even tried in the first place…until an idea came to mind. You smirked at him as he continued to ignore you and prep himself. “Oh, I bet I would,” you purred. “All the fathers out there, especially, will probably be very happy to see me and give me every single bit of their candy.” 

Buggy stopped moving entirely, leaving his hair out of its ponytail. “Maybe Shanks would appreciate my costume a little more, you think?” you asked. “Maybe I should see for myself.” 

You turned to walk out of the bathroom, a giddy smile on your face as you laughed to yourself. That smile fell from your face the moment Buggy’s disembodied hand zoomed across the room to wrap around your throat. It squeezed, hard, emitting a gasp from you as you struggled to breathe. Buggy’s heavy footfalls thudded behind you as he came up to you.

“Say that again, slut,” he growled. “You know damn well that redheaded bitch couldn’t do shit with you. You’re way too much of a deviant little cockslut for him.” 

His hand squeezed your throat tighter, making you squeak out a noise between a gasp and a whimper. His other hand slid down between your thighs, feeling the heat radiating there. “Admit it,” he demanded. 

His grip loosened, giving you a chance to breathe. And be a fucking brat. “Not until you admit how much you love this costume,” you weakly shot back. 

Buggy pressed himself against you, giving you a feel of his hard-on that slid against your lower back.

“Maybe,” he sighed. “After I’m done fucking that mouth until this makeup runs.” He turned your face to his and ran a thumb over your lips, smudging your lipstick. “Maybe then I’ll love this stupid costume even more.” 

A devious glint appeared in his eyes, giving you a taste of what was to come next for you.

[brownsugarwrites]

Hold on.

Pairings: countryboy!kenshi x citygirl!black!reader

Warnings: cursing. smut. praise. vaginal sex. spitting. fingering. creampie. nipple play. reader has braids and nipple piercings. mentions of lingere. Pet names (sugar, baby, sunshine, babygirl, pretty girl, my wife). you and kenshi are newlyweds on yalls honeymoon!.

wc: 2.0

notes: Loved writing this. I hope you enjoy. If theres any warnings I miss please let me know. For your listening pleasure.

The crackles of the wooden fireplace could be heard throughout the quaint cabin as the aromas of the freshly made chilli could be smelled throughout.

It was always in the plan for you two to have a winter honeymoon and you were shocked it came so soon. But the wait was worth it. You spent some much needed time with your husband and even learning things about him you never knew.

When you two went snowboarding he was actually good at it. It made you jealous he was able to ride more of the intermediate slopes while you had to stay on the kiddie ones. 

Out of side hitting the slopes, most of you and Kenshi's time was spent hiking, exploring the woods, and going to the city to explore and eat. 

While you weren't complaining you missed your man in ways only he could statsify. You had brought this pink frilly lettuce trim lingerie set to wear for him since it was your honeymoon but by the time you got back from your activities each day, the two of you just wanted to shower and sleep.

But luckily for you the last day in the cabin was spent just relaxing and cuddling. The two of you watched the snowfall with a cup of hot chocolate and watched a few movies to pass the time.

Now that it was a little later into the night. The two of you migrated to the room with the floor-to-ceiling windows directly looking over the frozen lake which the moon reflected from as the warm lights from the lamp illuminated the room.

“Did you enjoy your time sugar?” his honey-thick accent rung out 

Looking into his eyes, you nodded before sitting on your knees.

“I did Ken. The scenery was so nice and all the delicious food! You chose a great spot” you said smiling

You watched as he put both his hands behind his head smiling at you. Closing your eyes gently you sighed trying to drown out the inappropriate thoughts about your newlywed husband before opening them up again. 

Quick flashes of the way he went down on you on your wedding night still had you captivated and had wanting for more.

But the winter season was so rough on him on the farm so your sex life wasn't like it was before the two of you got married. You let him focus on his crops and animals while you made sure to take care of him the best way you could. But the lingering touches and kisses really set your body on fire. You felt like a teenage girl experiencing touch for the first time. 

Coming on this trip you expected sex on top of sex. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. You were damned if you were going to let this last night go to waste.

“Something on your mind sweetheart?” Kenshi would ask seeing that you started to stare off into space.

“Yes actually,” you said eyes meeting his 

Gesturing for you to expand further you told him to wait on the bed and you’ll be right back. Going to your duffle bag you stuffed the lingerie set under your shirt before scurrying into the ensuite bathroom. 

Cocking an eyebrow he shrugged his shoulders before going back to his phone to check on some orders pertaining the farm. A couple of moments flew by and he wondered if you were ok in there.

“You ok in there baby girl?” he asked from the bed.

Becoming startled you quickly closed the top of your mascara and sounded back a yes telling him you’ll be out in a moment. You were nervous for some reason. It wasn't like he hadn't seen you naked but it's been a while since you've been intimate and this was your first time dressing up for him.

Your pierced nipples with the hearts on the barbells could be seen through the mesh of your top and so could the small wet patch seen from your underwear as well. You finished putting on your pink glittery lip gloss before adjusting the cute pink bow that held your knotless braids in a ponytail and fixing the pendant with your husbands initial on it.

“Baby I'm coming out,” you said peeking your head outside

“Ok I'm ready f’you” he said smiling while doing the come here motion with his fingers

“You have to close your eyes, Ken!!! It's a surprise,” you said excitedly 

Closing his eyes you made sure he wasn't looking before peeping over to the bed and going back to your previous position of sitting on your knees. As he felt the bed dip he got a whiff of that particular flower scent you loved.

“Open your eyes,” you said through small giggles 

Opening his brown eyes, he saw you sitting so pliantly in the skimpiest of clothing with the cutest smile on your pretty face as the diamonds of the necklace sparkled against your brown skin.

“ ‘s all for me, sweetheart?” he asked sitting up on the headboard and watching you as you nodded your head chewing on your glossed lip a little

“What for?” he asked before rubbing up and down your thigh that held the lacy bow garter. 

“You know… it's our honeymoon and I wanted to look pretty for you! Also because we haven't had sex in a while” you said mumbling the last part.

Giving a “hm” in satisfaction he played with the garter for a minute before snapping it against your thigh. Hissing at the sensation you playfully hit his chest before giggling.

“You too quiet,” you said meekly 

“Just enjoying the view sugar that's all,” he said grinning up at you before going back to rubbing your plush thighs 

Repositioning yourself back onto your knees Kenshi took notice of the sticky wet spot that clung onto your sheer panties. Smirking he looked up at your soft face before opening his mouth to speak. 

“You look so pretty in this lil get-up you have on” he teased moving his hands closer to your clothed cunt

Your cheeks burned as the compliment went towards your pulsing cunt. Giving a thank you he slotted his fingers into the inside of your thighs before giving it a squeeze. Without being told your thighs fell open exposing that wet spot on your panties.

Feeling his thumb stroke up and down you sighed squeezing your eyes shut 

“Tell me where you want me sugar,” he said continuing the teasing motion.

“Right there Ken please” you pleaded to him grinding yourself onto his hand

Flipping you over to your back his hands found purchase on your hips before moving your underwear to the side swiping his fingers up and down your silt

“Missed this s’much” he said pushing his fingers inside your warm cunt

Whimpering at the sensation your breath came out more of a hiccup as you squirmed under him. 

“You’re so good to me sweetheart. Getting all dolled up just f’me. Makes me feel like the luckiest man.” he expressed while putting pressure against your clit

“K-kenshi please bout to cum” you whined back arching off the bed 

“Cmon sweetheart let it out” he instructed you as you came undone from his fingers

Letting out a squeal your body went limp on the bed as you caught your breath

“Fuck” you rasped out breathless coming down from your orgasm 

This is what you wanted. What you craved for all those nights leading up to this honeymoon. Your plan was coming into fruition. 

Looking to where your husband was seen taking off his shirt revealing in the intricate tattooed arm sleeve that transformed to a chest piece. You smiled sweetly at your beloved husband as your head rested on the pillow.

You had to be some angel that fell from the sky. At least thats how he felt about you. He knew from the first date he wanted to make you his wife. Even with the stark differences of you being a city girl and him being a traditional country boy. 

He knew he wanted to take care/provide for you as long as you lived. He would do anything if it meant seeing you smile. He loved you more than anything.

Pulling you to the edge of the bed he hooked your plush thighs across his hips as you rested on the palm of your hands. Staring at you his eyes trailed to the diamond K pendant that stopped right before the valley of your breasts he placed a kiss to your collarbone leading up to shoulder eventually finding his way to your neck. Moaning softly you tilted your head in order to give him more access to you. 

Deciding to become bold with your words you told him what you wanted.

“Kenshi.. I need you to fuck me.. Please” you said feeling your self go crazy at the incessant teasing

Hearing those words fall from your glossed lips he groaned in response before yanking your thin panties off and quickly unbuckling his pants. Freeing his dick from its confines he held out his hand as he instructed you to spit on it before going back to stroke himself a few times.

Squirming at the sight you tried to pull him as close as you could so that he was close to your entrance. Bringing you into a kiss he gave himself a few more pumps before lining himself with your pussy and pushing in gently. 

“Oh shit” you whined little tears pricking at your eyes as your eyes squeezed shut

“Just focus on me sunshine, relax let me make you feel good” he cooed as his free hand came to your pierced nipple rolling it gently feeling your hips buck into him

“Thats it pretty girl. You can take it all right baby?” He asked pushing in further as you choked back a yes 

“I know you can babygirl. Such a good wife f’me isnt that right” he asked as you nodded your head in agreement

Bottoming out he quickly began to give you long and deep strokes as you moaned in his ear about how deep he was. One hand held you to him as plowed into you hearing your cries for more and your babbling. Your nails dug in his toned back as you came again for the second time with out warning. 

Not giving you much time to think he flipped you over onto your stomach placing a pillow under your lower stomach you tried to catch yourself from falling but quickly felt a pair of hands steady you as he pushed back in.

“Oh fuck, w-ait Kenshi please” you begged as tears fell from your eyes still sensitive from your prior orgasm.

Ignoring your cries he plowed into you watching the way your ass rippled everything time he pushed back into you. Your head rested on duvet as they caught your tears as your hands tried to push him away to slow him down. 

“Nun uh sweetheart you can handle it. Doing s’good for me just hold out for me” he said taking your hand and kissing the finger that held the wedding ring he put on your finger

Coming close to your orgasm again your cries became louder as you asked your husband to let you cum. Nearing his release he gave you the greenlight as he came with you cum filling up your pussy as it still clenched around his dick.

Pulling out gently he watched as his load seeped out of you before turning you back over to see you falling asleep

“Hey, sweetheart, wake up f’me gotta get you cleaned” he said placing soft kisses along your face to wake you up

“Need a few minutes ken. Please” you said in between breathes laced with sleepiness

Laughing at your fucked out state he gave you one more kiss before letting you rest. Watching your chest rise and fall as the soft light illuminated you 

“Thank you for being my wife. Thank you for everything” he said quietly as he ran his hand over your braids. 

[meabh-mcinness]

Found Love Chapter One (Narnia Naberius x afab!reader)

Summary: Finding yourself in a hospital, pregnant, and missing several months of memories was not amusing to you in the slightest. Still, as time goes by and more and more memories return, you can't help but be determined to give your child the best future they could have.

And that means finding a way back to the Netherworld.

Previous Part

********* 14 Weeks *********

Something was beyond wrong. You were certain of it.

One second you had been hiking through the woods, the next you were scaring the living hell out of a couple of hunters with your sudden appearance. It wouldn't have been that unusual if you weren't quite certain that you were hiking in spring and hunting season was most definitely an autumn thing in your area. And while accidentally scaring them had been amusing for a split second, you were decidedly less amused when a bullet ripped through your shoulder.

At first, you felt nothing, a decided numbness filled the area before a severe burning sensation overtook it. A scream ripped from your throat before you fell to your knees. It was pure instinct that you shoved your palm against the wound and felt your own hot blood pouring out and over it. Nausea and lightheadedness built up inside you the more blood you lost, and soon enough you were incredibly faint. The suddenness of what you could only describe as severe déjà vu-like but different, combined with the pain of being shot, was simply too much for your mind.

You faintly overheard the panic of the two men who did this to you as you succumbed to darkness. A name on the tip of your tongue that couldn't leave your mouth as you fell over.

**********

The next thing you knew was loud beeping and the severe smell combination of antibiotics, cleanliness, and sickness that only a hospital could achieve. After that, you noticed the rather uncomfortable mattress and the scratchy thin blanket that just barely covered you. Definitely a hospital.

With a groan, you opened your eyes to confirm what you already knew, only to immediately shut them again. It was so insanely bright, the kind of bright that only occurred when false lights and pristine white walls met. You were definitely in a hospital.

Frantically, you tried to recall what happened as you slowly adjusted your eyesight. You had decided to try to be healthy for once and go hiking in the neighbouring state park. You had even eaten breakfast! Toast with a side of yoghurt and some orange juice.

You then made your way to the park, picked a random trail, and set off. Occasionally stopping to admire some flowers or some random shiny rocks that you had found. You even pocketed a few of them, a couple of rose quartz, one or two tiger's eyes, and a bright yellow stone that reminded you of the sun. You remembered playing with a particularly large quartz that you had found, rolling it about in one hand, before tripping over a loose root.

You distinctly remembered the falling sensation, and yet the next thing you knew you had been walking upright by the hunter's hiding spot. You couldn't even recall hitting the ground, but you still knew that you had known somehow that when you fell, the quartz you had been carrying had sliced your palm open. That was when-

When what? What happened in between your falling and then meeting the hunters? You couldn't remember for the life of you. It was like this big emptiness filled your brain and yet was just barely there. Almost as if there wasn't such a big difference between the two memories, you wouldn't have even known it was there. But you did know, knew that something vital was missing, and it made your heart feel shredded and tears well up if only you could recall why.

A door slid open, startling you out of your thoughts, and in walked a short, chubby woman staring at her clipboard muttering to herself (this Avery person sounded like they were insufferable). She hadn't even glanced up at you yet as she bustled around, almost as if you weren't even there, or perhaps you had been asleep so long she wasn't expecting you to be awake. Still, her appearance reminded your body of some rather basic needs and of want for answers.

"Hell-" you tried to catch her attention, only to end up in a coughing fit. By the gods, your throat was so dry. It was as if you had the entire Sahara desert stuck in your body, only without the mercy of its few oases. At least it had done its job. Her head had shot up like she was part meerkat, and her mouth dropped open in shock before her training kicked in. She immediately rushed to your side, black locs and curls flowing behind her, and helped pull your body up and tilted it so that any possible liquids that came up didn't choke you.

Once the fit was over, she gently laid you back down before bustling off again and returning with a plastic cup filled with cool water. Helping you sit up properly, she gave you the glass to drink, only letting go when she was certain you weren't going to drop it.

"Ya have no idea how happy I'm at seein' you awake, darlin'!" A southern drawl spilt out from her dark purple lips, low and smooth like butter that made you want to melt from hearing it. Though that could also have been from the relief the cold water gave your parched throat.

"I'm quite happy to be awake miss...?" You paused, unsure of who exactly you were talking to. Was she a nurse? A temp? A doctor?

(An imposing male figure, easily resembling a snarling dog with his curved back horns and intimidating scowl, stood tall before you as obviously dangerous as he was beautiful. While you stayed crouched as far away from him as possible. You didn't have to know who or what he was to know he could kill you, but like hell, you wouldn't go down swinging. Your lips peeled back as you bared your teeth at him and a growl rumbled in your chest, you may not have his large fangs but you could still do some damage. Just like you did to the other one.)

"Oh! How rude of me, I'm Doctor Williams, but ya can call me Tanya. Normally it'd be a nurse checkin' in on ya, but we're a small hospital with an even smaller staff at the mo'. I'm an all-in-one right now." She quickly took your now empty cup and placed it on a small table by your bedside before pulling her clipboard back up and writing some things down. Likely your vitals from the way she kept glancing up at the machine you were hooked up to. Not even noticing as you blinked furiously trying to figure out where that image had come from. A fragment of a leftover dream perhaps?

"You're quite lucky, ya know," she continued on, "If that bullet had pierced anywhere else, ya would've either bled out from a cut subclavian artery or lost all function from a torn brachial plexus. There also seem to be no signs of severe infection or blood poisoning either. Even luckier that the baby hasn't seemed to take any damage other than bein' a lil' shaken up." The doctor continued on, not seeming to notice as your entire body froze up like a statue as she fuddled about with the equipment by your bedside.

The.

What.

You couldn't hear anything else coming out of her mouth as everything faded away until you could only hear the blood rushing in your ears and your own thoughts.

A Baby. Forget the formidable-looking dream man. You were pregnant, and you didn't know how. You couldn't decide what was more terrifying, having a child or the fact you couldn't remember where said child had come from. After all, you hadn't been sexually active in a few d̶a̶y̶s̶ years and unless there was something about the human gestation period length you were unaware of, then this baby should not exist.

One of your hands trembled as it lifted to rub down your abdomen and there you felt it. A slight hard curve that was nothing like the softness of the rest of your flesh. Barely noticeable if you hadn't been looking for it, but there nonetheless.

"Iss...miss...Miss!"

You startled when a hand gently grasped your shoulder, staring up into dark brown eyes that were far closer to your face than you remembered them being.

(Purple irises so dark they mimicked black gazed at you as long thin fingers ran up and down your arms, caressing your shoulders with each pass. Goosebumps trail in their wake as you plead for more touches.)

"Miss, are you alright? Does something hurt or...oh did ya. Did ya not know you were pregnant?" Tanya finished softly. Your mind was racing a hundred miles a minute. How could this even happen? You knew how the human reproductive system worked and couldn't wrap your mind around this. After all, humans weren't asexual reproducers, they didn't just spawn children like certain other animals and cells. What the hell had happened in your missing memories?

"No," you finally manage to clamp out, "I didn't. Are you certain though? No chance of a mistake?" It was a last-ditch effort you knew, while false negatives were uncommon, false positives were quite frankly even more rare. But not impossible, which your brain clung to. Never mind that that knowledge was generally for at-home tests and not trained doctors.

She shook her head minutely and you felt your heart drop, "Sorry sweetie, I did the tests myself to ensure everything was ok with you. I even did an ultrasound to see if there was any internal damage from your collapse since you fell on your stomach and slid down into a ditch from what the folks who brought ya in told me."

First, you were shot and then you fell into a ditch? This really wasn't your day, was it? Wait.

"What day is it? How long have I been out?" You would deal with the impossible fetus later when your brain could actually handle it. In other words, probably never. Not until you were forced to at least.

"October-" she began before you interrupted her.

"October!" You cried out, "but it should still be March! April at the latest! I've been here for six months?"

"Goodness me no! You've only been here for a night, they brought ya in yesterday afternoon in a right panic. Terrified out of their gourds they were. Claiming ya appeared out of nowhere. Just walked right in front of them as if coming out of an invisible door. Seemed to think ya were some kind of alien and that they had brought ruin to a possible peace treaty between our races," here she rolled her eyes communicating without speaking exactly what she thought of that theory and making you stifle a laugh as you calmed down, "they've already been brought in for questioning and tested for all sorts of things. Not even a drop of liquor much less anything else was found but their licenses are definitely revoked if they can't even notice a human walking ten feet away from them. Ya ain't gotta worry about them no more though the cops will probably be in later to question ya now that you're awake." The longer she talked the more her southern accent really slipped through and it brought you some comfort to hear it. Something was soothing about that low drawl right now.

"Though there is something worrying me now, do you not remember what happened to get here? Temporary or short-term amnesia isn't too uncommon here but they're generally caused by head injuries or traumatic events. Though I suppose being shot is traumatic enough, they don't usually take an additional several months with them. Then again, everyone reacts to these things differently. I'd really like to make sure there's nothing wrong with your head though. Head injuries can be very serious and they're not something you want to find later on. Any pain in a particular area?"

(A large warm hand tilted your head to the side as the other brushed your hair out of the way to get to the cut.

"Honestly, how did you even manage this? This is why I told you to be careful of the dragonsnaps." He scolded you gently, his thumb brushing the fresh blood trickling out away before suckling on it. It had taken you a while before he was comfortable taking your blood freely, but as you saw it, it was far better he took it and enjoyed its side effects otherwise it would just go to waste.

"It was just nuzzling me in thanks, it's no one's fault that the one head that did it was the only one left that I hadn't pruned the horns of yet." Feeling truly chastised as you wrung your hands together, despite your statement.

The poor dragon-looking flowers had managed to look absolutely horrified that their caretaker was suddenly injured by their own hand (horn?). When the wind blew the scent of your blood into the open window of the rather foreboding-looking home, Narnia had charged out in a panic. Cerberia already formed behind him teeth snarling. It had taken you a good minute to calm both down before your poor plants were decimated. You could guarantee that every single one that had seen Narnia would cower behind you now whenever he showed up.

He huffed in agitation before sighing and mumbled some words under his breath. A warmth started in the centre of the cut before spreading outwards through your entire head. You hadn't even realized you had a headache too, but you hummed in relief when it left. The hand tilting your head to the side gently urged it to look up. You followed easily staring into his narrowed eyes that you had once found terrifying. Now you wondered how you ever thought that.

"Is there any pain left?")

"No Miss Tanya, no pain anywhere but no recent memories either. The last I knew it was March 28th so the past six months right until I was suddenly shot is a complete mystery to me." The sudden random images that kept popping into your mind spoke otherwise, but you were not about to tell a doctor about a tall horned man who had a giant pet dog and flowers that had actual dragon heads made of silky petals. Nope, no siree, that was a surefire way to end up in a padded room or at the very least on a very uncomfortable leather couch.

"Just Tanya, miss makes me feel old. It's good you're in no pain but let me check just in case. Tell me more about the last thing ya remember, maybe we can figure out a clue. May I?" Her hands gently reached out, pausing before they touched you seemingly waiting for permission. You nodded your agreement before trying to focus as she moved your head this way and that.

"I was in the park. It was early spring and with the nice weather, I decided to go for a walk. While doing so I picked up a few stones and it was when I was playing around with a particularly large one that I tripped. I remember falling but not hitting the ground, and then I was walking through the same clearing only the new leaves were now crunching under my feet and there was a severe burning sensation in my shoulder before passing out and waking up here. That's all." You recounted easily, and yet you could still feel something missing. Did it have to do with this mysterious horned man? It had to right? What other reason could there be?

The door to the room slid open with a loud clang and you flinched as someone outside swore. A middle-aged man with a large top that slimmed down to rather thin legs for his size (reminding you much of a walrus, especially with his fluffy moustache sitting proudly above his lips) peaked through around the doorframe with a wince. It was all topped off with a dark blue uniform and even a little cap sitting above a bald head and a far too little notebook clutched in his far too large hands. This couldn't be anything other than one of the officers Tanya mentioned.

"Roger!" Tanya berated and Roger jumped and lifted his hands in surrender towards the small woman he easily towered over. It rather reminded you of a clip you saw of a tiger being scared off by a regular house cat. Apparently, even kings of the jungle bowed to the little beings who acted like deities. "How many times do I have to tell you to be careful with my doors!" She continued on, finger raised as if she was scolding a child rather than a full-grown adult who looked at least twice her age.

"Sorry Tanya! It'd be a lot easier if these things had at least some traction though. They slip and slide like butter no matter how soft a touch I use."

"They're meant to ya big lug! Can't be fightin' with a door when I'm fightin' for someone's life. What are ya even doin' here anyways? Besides running doors off their tracks!"

"I had some time before my patrol shift and just wanted to check on our new mystery person. If I could just have a couple of minutes now that they're awake-"

"Absolutely not! They just woke up and I haven't even done a full check-up yet. Go! Shoo! You'll not be botherin' for a single second more till I deem them ready!" Tanya started to march towards him with all the power of a bull, constantly flitting her hands in a shooing motion to get out.

"Miss Tanya," you croaked out before letting another cough, catching both of their attention. Good, best to get this over with. "It's fine, really. I'd rather get the few questions out of the way and rest than push it off till later."

"Oh, I'm afraid it migh' be a bit more than a few questions, Miss," Roger said, taking his hat off and winging it in his hands as he dared to step closer before Tanya shot him a look. You blinked in surprise.

"Aren't you just here about the shooting? I promise it's a really simple story of two unaware people who caught each other off guard." No need to mention the lack of awareness that had to do with missing memories. Something in you just knew that the fewer people that knew, the better.

"Well there's that, and there's also the fact that your fingerprints have turned you up as a missing person for the past half year, at least. Abandoned home, no note, no ransom, no trail. Just poof, gone. We really thought you dead, another potential victim of them Devil Woods." Well, there went not mentioning anything.

Most of that had made sense in a way. Even if you didn't like it. After all who heard of someone actually disappearing off of the face of the Earth only to reappear far later with no memory of where they had gone? This was starting to sound more and more like the Sidhe tales from Northern Europe than you were comfortable with.

No, you mentally shook yourself. People disappeared into woods, forests, and (mostly) jungles all the time. Especially solo hikers. Wild animals and natural disasters were a big threat. But not many of them returned with missing memories. Maybe you had hit your head after all? You knew that you couldn't remember anything before you got shot but perhaps that was just a side effect. Only thinking you didn't remember then because it was so close to the memory of injury. A glitch in the brain if you would. Still, that name...

"Er, Devil Woods sir? I was under the impression it was a state park?"

"Oh it is, but us locals know it as something different. Folks upstairs can rename it all they want but it'll always be the Devil Woods to us. Folks have been whisked away from there for centuries and most of them haven't returned and the ones that do say strange beings roam those woods-"

"And it's all absolute hogwash," Tanya interrupted, full force glare on Roger, hands on her hips. "You know as well as I do most of those stories were made up for tourist attractions back in the day. A scam to bring money to a dyin' town and you'd be a fool to believe 'em. And I won't have you scaring my patients with 'em either. Ask your questions or better yet leave and wait till they can come into the station on their own."

"Alright alright don't get your cherries in a twist now Tanya. They asked, I obliged. Now then," he turned back to you, tiny notebook with its own tiny pen out and ready to be used, cap replaced back on his head, "what all can you tell me? From the time you first visited till the shooting if you would be so kind."

With a sigh, you recounted everything you had already told Tanya. Why did you have the nasty feeling that you would be repeating this story a lot? **********

With night having fallen and the cops on the merry way after thoroughly questioning you settled back into the hospital bed that you were laying on.

(You were beyond scared but at least you were no longer hungry. Nor were you covered in blood or barely maintaining dignity with shredded clothes. Whoever this long-haired man (Demon? Fae? Alien?) was you knew, at least so far, he wasn't a threat. He had even kept you covered and hidden from the other beings' gazes as they swept over you. You had been rather startled to be swept into his arms like some princess but whatever had transpired after you had bit him had left you drained of strength. Too hungry, too tired, and no more adrenaline to keep you going left you almost listless and practically dead in his arms.

You figured you must have passed out at some point because the next thing you knew you had found yourself in another unfamiliar room, the scent of something delicious invading your senses as a drizzling sound showered far off. It was probably raining, which made you glad for the shelter even if you didn't know where said shelter was yet.

A groan left your mouth as you attempted to lean up and hunt down whatever was making that smell. Turning your head to the side of what appeared to be a rather elegant-looking couch, you noticed a tray with a steaming hot bowl of some kind of stew on the table next to you. You didn't even fully register what you were doing as one second you were laying there and the next you were sitting on your knees polishing off the last few licks of the broth.

You didn't know what you had consumed and you really didn't care at this point, all you knew was that you wanted more. Despite the size of the bowl you hardly felt any different. In the back of your head, you knew that you should slow down and wait, consuming food so fast after none at all for who knew how long was not good. Too bad the way your stomach curled in anger with what felt like measly amounts caused you to ignore it.

Sitting back on your heels you lifted your head up and tried to sniff out where there might be more. Hoping beyond hope that any lingering animal instincts you might have will activate and help you out here. There! A lingering aroma to your right. Struggling to get to your feet, you settled with crawling your way across the wooden floor towards what appeared to be a rather Addams Family-esque kitchen. Reaching up to grasp the dark marble counter you forced your body to stand up and leaned heavily against it to catch your breath as you tried to search out where the food could be.

On what appeared to be a pointier version of a gas stove was a soup pot. A pitch-black ladle was balanced precariously on top of the lid and you already knew you were going to turn it into a giant spoon.

'Wasn't it wonderful when tools were multifunctional', you thought slightly hysterical. Now whether to risk standing up and possibly falling while you're eating or attempt to bring the pot to the ground and potentially spill it all, certainly gaining the attention of whoever else might be here.

The more you scooted over to the pot the stronger your limbs seemed to be as the promise of more food lay before you. Standing it was then. Grabbing the ladle you placed the handle in your mouth to move the lid over to the side. 'Jackpot!' You thought. An almost full pot that would soon be empty if your stomach had anything to say about it.

Vaguely, you wondered why no matter how much you drank or chewed, as you practically inhaled the stew, you still didn't really feel full. Definitely better than before but this stew almost seemed to vanish by the time it left your mouth towards your stomach. It was rather confusing and especially frustrating as you kept shoving more into your mouth. There was something else, you knew and yet couldn't put your finger on it. Frankly, you would figure it out later as scooped more in. First, you were going to do your best to stuff yourself.

"Dafast dag ven kalis?" A low timber growled out as you took the last sip. Startled you jumped only to not have the strength to land properly. Falling to the ground you immediately skittered back away from where the voice had come from. With back to the wall, heart leaping, and blood rushing you finally realized what was wrong. The drizzling sound was gone. Not rain at all, but a shower. Their shower.

Staring up at the creature's sudden appearance you realized that it was the man from before. Only much wetter and wearing far less. A furious blush leaked over your cheeks as you registered just how much pale skin was showing (and ignored your disappointment at what wasn't). You watched carefully as he started to squat down across from your hand reaching out slowly, reminiscent of when you first met him in that horror house. Body tensing as pain spread out and oh, you were biting your lip to the point of breaking skin, but you ignored it as your mind raced.

Friend or foe? Danger or safety? Carrot or stick? He took you from the old place which means good, but what if he just wanted you for himself? He left you food, but oh gods what if it was poisoned? You probably should have thought that through, but you had just been so hungry. The hand was getting closer and his eyebrows were furrowing and you had seconds to decide. Stay or fight?

Too late he was there and - "Dag ven teh?" petting you? You blinked in surprise, yes that was definitely a light pressure from the top of your crown to streaking down the side of your head before starting over again. This-this was ok. This was nice, no pain only pleasure. His claws gently ran through your hair, undoing small knots in the process, and after everything you had gone through this felt amazing.

"Dag ven teh?" He repeated himself more firmly, as you helplessly leaned into the touch. You blinked again as you tried to focus when all you wanted was to shut down as the feel-good gesture kept being repeated.

'Dag ven teh' he had said. You tried to rack your mind for any semblance of a language you might know that could match but came up with nothing. You were simply too tired and didn't know much more than your native tongue. And who said he was even speaking an Earthly language? You had seen too many unearthly creatures, himself included, that even disoriented as you were you had no doubt you were no longer on your home planet.

"Da-Dahg van teh?" You tried repeating back to him but kept slurring the words as you fought falling back asleep. Hopefully, you didn't insult him, that would be really bad. Those claws gently scratching you could easily slice through your flesh like butter, you just knew. Not to mention those massive canine fangs you had glimpsed earlier.

You couldn't help but flinch as he raised an eyebrow at you, lips furthering into a worse frown and his hand pulled away. A whine left your throat as your mini head massager left before a squeak left your lips at the sudden sensation of going up. As your mind caught up you realized his arms were wrapped under your legs and behind your back again, head lolling on his chest as you were moved. You tried to grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself but they lacked the strength to hold on and slipped back into your lap as he took you further into his domain.

A few moments later you heard him mumble something before the squeaking of a door opening hit your ears. As he moved again you could only feel yourself be drained more and more (seriously was he a psychic vampire or something). Finally, he stopped once more and you were deposited onto something warm and fluffy that you sunk into. 

A mattress, you hoped. You weren't certain you could stay awake much longer so a bed would be good news even as unsure as you were about sleeping in this strange place. Not that your body cared for what you wanted.

"Nooz." He commanded placing one of his hands over your face and gently forcing your already semi-closed eyelids further downwards. That one was pretty easy you assumed. 'Sleep.' And so you did, drifting away and dreaming of horned men and dangerous worlds turned not so dangerous in the world of dreams.)

You grabbed your rather flat pillow and repositioned it so that you could curl around it and still keep your head on it as the memory washed over you. It was a rather poor substitute you could feel. Your body was demanding the presence of another and you felt the throes of loneliness but couldn't figure out who you were yearning for. All of your little flashbacks were centred on this long-haired pale man whom you didn't even know the name of yet, and so you assumed it was him but in the end, had no idea. For all, you knew these were all delusions anyway, a fantasy escape your brain was creating to fill the emptiness of lost memories. It made more sense than world jumping and magic men. You knew that.

And yet you had never felt more desperate to return to this fantasy land as you silently wept into the pillow, waiting for sleep and preferably someone else to come claim you.