#second chances mixtape

[medusapelagia]

Second Chances Mixtape

I have joined custody of the boys with @maikaartwork… but I missed having a pic of little Steve so I commissioned one!

This is a scene from the second chapter of my fic that I was deeply in love with and Morgan did such a wonderful job that I couldn't wait to share it!

It's so detailed and I love it so much!

Please meet: Eddie, little Steve, and Rocket!

Read it on AO3

[kamaluhkhan]

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.

♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)

track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen

(winter — age 17)

“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”

it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember. 

you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers. 

“vi?”

“....yes?”

“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”

vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.

you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.

“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.” 

“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.” 

you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control. 

neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.

“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”

“i remember. you…you must miss her.” 

of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.

“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.

you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”

“your mom going, too?”

“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”

vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top. 

she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you. 

“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”

you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips. 

“why’s that?” you ask. 

there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go. 

vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins. 

vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.

“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.

“yeah?” 

vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being. 

“i want that too.”

vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults. 

you taste like home.

….

so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.

merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.

….

track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love

(winter — age 12)

you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’ 

when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world. 

“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”

you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.

“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”

you nod, smiling. “ekko!” 

your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them. 

you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.

…..

hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.

i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.  

…..

track 3: last christmas by wham!

(winter — now)

vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac: 

no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.

it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.

so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —

vi’s heading back home, back to you.

she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.

powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.

your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work. 

it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor. 

vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:

“violet? is that you?” 

she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.

“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs. 

she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do. 

vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party. 

with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke. 

“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”

vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways. 

so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow. 

“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”

“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”

“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”

the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.

“of course,” vi says. 

vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out: 

“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.

“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”

vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.

“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”

“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi. 

“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.

“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”

“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”

layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.

and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with. 

when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.

“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you. 

“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.” 

you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.

“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”

“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws. 

“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….” 

the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time. 

“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?” 

she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.

you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”

vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again. 

so, you do remember. 

she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —

“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’ 

vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years. 

“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue. 

“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.

“sure, but it ends hopefully.”

“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure? 

“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”

“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses. 

by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave. 

you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.

“not all of them.”

“yeah? which ones haven’t?”

vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”

you blink away and cut the engine.

….

you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating. 

he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.

should be fun. 

it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.

you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.

“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision. 

then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try. 

“you know powder’s graduating this year?” 

“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision. 

vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.

it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.

except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.

vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely. 

“hey. you still with me?”

you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.

…..

when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed. 

a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.

vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.

“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.” 

“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”

“oh, i know it.”

a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.

“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”

ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”

“i didn’t.”

“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”

“sure.”

“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…” 

“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”

“convincing her to go.” 

“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”

“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge. 

vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.

“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.” 

a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you. 

vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.

but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.

and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.

….

baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.

please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please. 

it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice. 

….

track 4: river by joni mitchell

(winter — age 23)

it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd. 

more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand. 

“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock. 

a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth. 

“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you. 

you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).

“me neither,” you smile. 

vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.

she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.

you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace. 

“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”

the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.

you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you. 

instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.

there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out. 

“wait, what the fu —”

you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.

“please, baby, let me explain —”

“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”

“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”

“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”

“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”

you stare at her, then start to laugh.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not.”

“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —” 

“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?” 

“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”

“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”

“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”

“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying. 

you take a deep, shaky breath.

“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”

vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.

…..

vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry. 

please come home.

…..

track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton 

(winter — now)

karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21. 

you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house. 

which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.   

right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’

about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass. 

“you remember.” 

“are you surprised?”

vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.” 

something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”

that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be. 

vi’s soft blue eyes search yours. 

“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”

you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’

you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.

as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.

“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”

“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.

“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.

you rip away from his grasp. 

“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”

“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —” 

“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”

“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder. 

oh, fuck no.

“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”

james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor. 

james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego. 

in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again. 

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. 

somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact. 

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.

“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.

vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.

she remembers. 

somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.

“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.

vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks. 

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”

while i’ve been away. 

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart. 

vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time. 

her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.

“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”

“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to. 

you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”

“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”

“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.” 

“you were my dream.”

you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”

“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.

“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work. 

you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door. 

logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….

you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying. 

so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.

she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear. 

“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”

“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”

vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.

you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.

“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”

“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”

you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear. 

“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”

you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her. 

“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl. 

you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.

“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.

her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes. 

“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.  

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.

vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake. 

“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi.  “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.

you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.

“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek. 

you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away. 

there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone. 

but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move. 

"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.

vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."

you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath. 

you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.

"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs. 

all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin. 

unacceptable.

the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.

with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."

vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.

"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."

at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head. 

with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open." 

vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”

“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer. 

“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit.  you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple. 

“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.

she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.

vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess. 

strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving. 

you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.

….

vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream. 

she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.

instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers. 

“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another. 

“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.

you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.

“shit, i — did you want some?”

you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”

vi nods.

okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash. 

it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before. 

“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?” 

you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand. 

“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”

your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:

“i do.”

vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday. 

“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”

you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back. 

“ekko talked to you, huh?”

“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”

“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.” 

“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling. 

“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”

vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours. 

“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.” 

“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?

“anything.”

“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”

“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”

“hey.” vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”

vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.” 

you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.

“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”

you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.

“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”

“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round.  “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.” 

“sounds like a plan,” you smile.

the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:

“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”

beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder. 

she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye. 

“i better go.” 

“....yeah.”

you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room. 

the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later. 

you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.

"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.

you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”

....

hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..

anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s. 

i’ll see you later. love you!

[leyavo]

Wife/girlfriend series, Ghost, Price and Gaz already done. Soap’s around 26 years old and more interested in progressing in his career. So I don’t think he’d be married, but would have a girlfriend…. [Wife/Gf masterlist]

Soap’s girlfriend is wild.

You’re few years younger than Johnny and making the most of your youth whilst you can. He likes that things are fun and not too serious. You’re always scratching that itch, trying new things out and pushing him to play more.

Play electric guitar in a band, every Friday night, rock night at a pub which promotes independent artists. Johnny met you when he went there on the off chance, you jumping down the platform after your set and kissing him. Johnny thinks the lead singers a little prick.

Started as a fuck it and see relationship (where he called whenever he was home and you had sex). Turned into you staying longer each morning to cuddle him instead of rushing out straight after.

There was just something that pulled the two of you back together. The back and forth messaging whilst he was away, filled with nonsense but fun nonetheless.

Sending him videos of you dancing in the nightclub and taking shots on the weekend whilst he’s away working. A pic of your breasts in a push bra and a little black dress.

“Fuckin’ hells bells,” he mumbles to himself as your video blares through his phone speaker (he’s always forgetting to turn the volume down). Gaz and ghost glaring at him as they pick their own personal items up after a long mission.

He replies instantly, but doesn’t get anything in return for hours. Just you sending a pic of yourself hungover in bed with your best friend.

You always meet him at the train station or airport. Waiting for him, running and jumping into his arms.

Dragging Johnny to rock festivals in the summer when he’s home. Making him mixtapes of your favourite bands so he can listen to it back at the base.

You work part-time at a tattoo studio doing piercings. Pierced Johnny’s eyebrow once and pouted when he had to remove it to go back to work. Also have random temp jobs here and there.

Johnny can’t believe the stuff that comes out of your mouth, even he wouldn’t say half of it.

“I would’na say tha’ lass.”

“Well I bet you’ll be using that line on your little radio with the boys.”

Constantly teasing him about being a serious military man. Even more so when a guy gets a bit too comfortable with you. Whenever you go out you’re never on time and he’s telling you down to the minute how long it’s been since you were supposed to leave.

“what’s that drop and give me twenty?” You shout back. Johnny stomping into your room and diving over the bed to get you. Mock saluting him as he’s got you cornered, as if that’s going to make up for it.

“Drop and give me somethin’ else.”

Love to play fight, but you’re still mad at Johnny for breaking your lava lamp that you bring it up all the time. You also bite him to get out of his hold, a scar on his bicep where your teeth sunk a little too deep.

When you finally move in together it’s chaotic, Johnny’s got a set routine and you just follow whatever mood you feel.

Loves hearing you play the acoustic guitar in the apartment, laying on the carpet in the living room whilst you sit and play. The scratch of your pen on paper as you create something new. Sunlight warm on his face, eyes closed as he listens to you humming along. Finds your guitar picks everywhere, even in his wash bag when he opens it at work.

Lazy Sundays are his favourite, your hand tracing the side of his shaved head as you hum.

Understanding about Johnny’s need to check the security regularly in the apartment and reminding you to keep your location on. Likes how you reassure him that he’s safe, those seconds when he wakes from a night terror and the weight of your hand on his, grounding him. Your scent comforting him as he rests his head on your stomach. Words whispered of all the things you used to be afraid of as a kid, silly little things to make him laugh.

“You know I think I was actually scared of my shadow.”

FaceTiming him to ask his opinion on your outfit for a night out. Johnny saying it’s not quite you, only so he can watch you change out of your clothes again.

“I have nothing to wear.” Your camera panning to the mess in the bedroom. The piles of clothes strewn over the floor and bed.

“Just stay, talk to me.” Johnny’s plan to keep you on the call working quicker than he thought. Leads to phone sex.

Johnny gets you a guitar that your dad used to have, your dad passed away years ago. Even down to the red embroidered guitar strap attached to it, so alike the one in the photograph of your dad teaching you to place as a kid. You try to teach Johnny how to play too, but he’s too distracted by how soft your voice is and the way you move his fingers each time. Distracted with how soft you are with him.

You’re not as scared of certain things, Johnny showing you that you can be strong on your own. Scared to drive after what happened to your dad. Johnny even taught you how to drive and now you can go anywhere, including visiting him at the army base.

When you meet the rest of TF141 guys you and Johnny are having a hot make out session on the sofa of the residential house at the base which they all live in. Thankfully it hadn’t escalated from just his tongue in your mouth, but you didn’t let it bother you as climbed off Johnny’s lap and greeted them.

You end up staying in and playing poker with the guys. Trading cigars, coins and anything you could find in your pockets. Price loses all his cigars to you, but you give the guys one each so you can smoke on the patio at 3am. Simon talking to you about an obscure rock band that isn’t really mainstream and you trade stories about some concerts he went to when he was teen. Gaz asks you if he can still use earrings even when he hasn’t for over a decade, which you repierce for him. Price telling you that you have a good one in there, his head nudging over his shoulder to Johnny in the house as you finish off your cigars.

[stevesgother]

Let's Hear It For The Boy!

Pairing - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.4k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, cursing, oral (f receiving), emotional sex, aftercare, tooth rotting fluff bc i love them, latter half as usual is not proofread bc i can't bring myself to read my own smut. maybe someday!

AN: here’s a little Dress bonus chapter bc so many people loved that series! I know i didn’t let them bang in the final part, so here ya go. I hope it scratches the itch :)

The sounds of a specially curated mixtape drift and settle over the room. Steve has you underneath him, his entire weight crushing you like your own personal safety blanket. He peppers kisses over every inch of exposed skin and then some, giving you a brief reprieve from the steamy makeout session you were previously engaged in.

It had been 3 weeks since New Year's Eve. In that time, Steve has managed to spend every waking second with you that he could. He’d taken you on lavish dates to the only fancy restaurant in this dying town– Enzo’s, and you’ve spent countless days snowed in, watching “borrowed” tapes from Family Video. He takes you grocery shopping and puts your favorite cereal in the cart before you get the chance to grab it yourself. To be loved by Steve, is to be seen. You think he knows you better than you know yourself, in every way except for one.

You had decided to take things slow, for the fear of risking everything the two of you had worked so hard to build over the length of your entire friendship thus far. Steve loved you, and you loved Steve. He had a reputation, or he did at one point, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel taken advantage of. More importantly, he wanted to take his time with you.

In the midst of a sweet, languid kiss, you hear the beginnings of Deniece Williams’ ‘Let’s Hear It For The Boy’ and break away from him with an excited gasp.

“Stevie Baby, this one’s for you!” You brace yourself against him enough to flip him onto his back, reversing your previous position and straddling his hips. He giggles when you grab your hairbrush from your nightstand to use as a makeshift microphone, and sing pitchily to the verse.

“‘Cause everytime he pulls me near, I just wanna cheer, let’s hear it for the boy!”

You give a seated performance as you sing and wriggle on his lap. He rolls his eyes in an attempt to pretend like he doesn’t find your theatrics the most endearing thing he’s ever seen.

“Let’s hear it for my baby!” You shake both his shoulders and give him a smacking kiss on the cheek, “You know you gotta understand!”

Steve didn’t know it was possible to be more in love with you than he already was. The adoration he felt for you was insurmountable; the blood in his veins seemingly replaced by pure sunlight that seeped from him wherever you touched. He wanted to marry you, he was sure he was going to marry you.

When the song finally hummed its last notes, you flopped dramatically against his chest. Hair mussed and chest heaving with the exertion of singing him all four minutes of the song. He deserved it, after all.

“Have I ever told you you’re a horrible singer?” he asks playfully.

You swat his chest and laugh, “Rude!”. Forget the other five, teasing was Steve’s love language.

“I still love you, though,”

“Yeah I don’t know, the juries still out,”

“Alright, I think that’s enough out of you,” he says as he flips you over in one sweeping motion to lay on your back again. You’re a fit of laughter as he presses open mouthed kisses down your neck and over your collarbone. 

Your giggling starts to subside when your senses clock how good his lips feel against your skin. You exhale a breathy sigh when one of his large hands presses firmly up your side, his other hand cupping your cheek. He grins up at you before returning to passionately collide his mouth with your own. You moan into it, presenting him with the opportunity to slide his tongue eagerly against yours.

“Nothin’ else to say, huh?” He smirks down at you. You can only respond with a blissful shake of your head ‘No’.

Your legs are hugging either side of his torso, and he gives an experimental grind of his hips against your clothed core. You can feel the hard outline of him and it elicits a groan from you, tugging the hair at the nape of his neck that you have woven through your fingers.

“That feel good?" You’re embarrassed to be panting slightly already, it's just the effect he seems to have on you.

“Yes– Steve,”

The most the two of you had done until this point was hand stuff, and even then it was few and far between. That’s not to say you haven't thought about doing more; lately it actually seems to be all you can think about. You feel like a horndog teenager again.

Steve continues to kiss you as he slips a hand beneath the waistband of your pajama shorts, and he can feel the wet spot already forming on your cotton panties. You let out a breathy whine at the sensation.

“Pussy feels so good baby,” he murmurs against your mouth, “wonder how she tastes,”

Your eyes turn to saucers at his implication, but he only smirks at you as he shuffles slowly down your body, pressing kisses all the way down your torso and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

He makes eye contact with you as he slips two fingers beneath your waistband again to ask, “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please,” you try not to sound too pathetic as you lift your hips to assist him in removing your layers.

Steve’s never seen you in anything more intimate than a bathing suit on a hot summer day. Now he’s staring at you like you’ve hung the moon just for him. His best friend, the love of his life, and he’s about to go down on you. It feels like an episode of The Twilight Zone.

“Everything okay?” you chuckle nervously, feeling the weight of his gaze on unexplored territory. It feels vulnerable in a way you’ve never felt before, and you’re scared he doesn’t like what he sees. You weren’t a virgin, and neither was Steve; but right now, you might as well have been.

“Yes, yes, sorry. You’re beautiful. It’s perfect, everythings perfect,”

It always feels like the greatest privilege to watch Steve’s usual dominant and confident exterior melt away. It’s not often you get to make him flustered instead of you, and you can’t help but find it adorable.

He nuzzles his stubbly face into your thigh, and inhales deeply; taking in your scent. It causes your stomach to erupt in somersaults. He locks eyes with you as he slowly removes the last barrier between you and his mouth. Self consciousness takes over when you realize he can finally see all of you, causing you to tighten the space between your thighs.

Steve’s quick, though. He stops you with a hand on each leg, keeping you open for him. “Don’t be shy, honey. I wanna see you,”

“Okay, I trust you,” You stare up at your popcorn textured ceiling to escape the intensity of it all. Just then he places a tentative kiss to your clit. It’s barely anything but the surprise of it makes you cry out in pleasure. Steve takes it as a sign to properly begin, and he laps at you like you’re his last meal.

“Oh, Steve!” Your hands fly to his hair and you tug, eliciting a groan from him that vibrates through your core and amplifies the feeling of his tongue on you.

“Taste so sweet, baby,” you can hardly hear him as he’s nose deep in your pussy. The sharp point of it massages your sensitive bud as his tongue teases your entrance.

If that wasn’t enough, you’re seeing stars when his index and middle finger breach your hole, hitting that spongy spot inside of you that only Steve could reach. He curls his fingers as his lips wrap around your clit and you all but grind against his face. He quickens the pace, and you can already feel the beginnings of your climax in your tummy.

“Steve– ah!– I’m gonna come,” you cry and he doesn't change a thing. No speeding up, no slowing down. There’s not a thing on this earth that could separate his mouth from you. All that matters to Steve is making you finish on his tongue, and hearing those sweet little sounds you make when you do.

Your release washes over you in waves as you sloppily grind your hips against Steve’s face. When he finally looks up at you from between your sticky thighs, his face is shiny with you from nose to chin and he’s beaming. Actually beaming.

“Did so good, baby,” he praises as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans down to kiss you, “so beautiful,”. It’s a strange thing to taste yourself on someone else’s tongue, but you really don’t hate it. If anything, it turns you on more.

He continues to kiss you with a renewed fervor, you reach a hand between your bodies and palm him against his sweatpants. The whimper you elicit from him spurs you on enough to slip a hand beneath his waistband and take his velvety length into your hand.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so hard in his entire life, every nerve in his body alight like a live wire. Unconsciously, he thrusts into your hand– desperate for some friction. The soft skin of your fingers feels euphoric wrapped around his length.

“God– I love you,” he half groans into the crook of your neck as he grinds against your palm.

“Baby,” you gasp, “I want you– I wanna feel you,” Your hips start to lift again, in search of any type of stimulation. This seems to break him out of his arousal induced trance as he snaps his head up to look you in the eye.

“I– like you want to, want to–?” he sputters, suddenly nervous at the idea. Still, you find his hesitation at your request charming. It’s obvious how much he cares for you.

You giggle, “Yes Steve, I ‘want to, want to’,” you repeat his words back to him in the same cadence, causing him to roll his eyes, though the action has no real irritation behind it.

“Okay– Yeah, Okay,” he’s reeling as he reaches into the drawer of your nightstand to retrieve a condom from the box you’ve kept there for a little over a week now. Tearing the foil with his teeth, he rolls the rubber down his length with expert fingers. You try not to think about the fact that he’s done this probably a million times before you.

“If it hurts or you want me to stop or you don’t like something–”

“I’ll tell you,” you cut off his anxious rambling with a hand on his cheek, “I promise.”

He nods and presses his forehead to your own. It’s a little sticky with sweat already, but you don’t mind. He smells like cinnamon and mint and something so ineffably Steve.

When he finally pushes into you, you’re both gasping into each other's mouths. He wraps his arms around your back in a sort of hug, not bothering to hold himself above you anymore. He needs to be as close to you as he can possibly manage. You return the embrace, locking your ankles behind the small of his back and placing his cheeks in your palms to kiss him deeply.

When he’s finally to the hilt and your hips are completely flush, he gives you a moment to adjust before setting a rhythm.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes– yes, I'm good. You feel so good, Steve,” You can feel tears brimming at your lashes with the intimacy of it all. Having him like this– this is something you’ve only ever dreamed of. The affection you feel is insurmountable.

His hips start at a slow pace, he’s so big you can feel him in your stomach. “Faster, baby, please,”. And who is he to deny you when you ask so politely?

“Don’t cry, love,” He removes a hand from behind your back to wipe away a stray tear, and kisses the salty trail it left down your cheek.

“I just love you– I’ve waited so long,” you hug him tighter around his neck as he starts to pick up the pace.

“I know, I love you,”  You can feel his hips stutter and you realise he’s close. The shared sweetness bringing you both closer to the edge. You cry out again as he repeatedly hits that sweet spot, the small thatch of hair at his base providing the perfect friction.

“I’m close–” he manages to strangle out.

“Me too. Inside me– please,”

He falters only for a moment, “You sure?”

“Yes, Steve, I need you,”

Your nails dig and leave crescent shapes in his shoulders. You miss the sound he makes when you tug gently on his pretty locks, so you do it again. It’s enough to send Steve hurtling over the edge of his orgasm.

“Oh -- I’m coming,” He all but shouts and the sounds he’s making are obscene enough to have you there with him.

“Look at me, baby,” he commands, not unkindly. He’s so pretty like this– cheeks flushed pink, lips permanently fixed in a ‘O’ shape, sweat beading at his upper lip; his brow bone and hairline.

You stare at each other as you come; it’s the most intimate thing either of you have ever experienced. Suddenly you realize Steve has tears welling in his eyes, too. You pull him into a slow, languid kiss. You press your lips to the corners of each of his eyes, as well.

When he moves to pull out, you wince slightly and he soothes his hands up and down your leg as he stands. “I know, honey. Stay there, I'll be right back,”. With that, he slips his boxers back on and makes his way towards the bathroom. When he returns, he’s holding a warm washcloth and a small dixie cup of water. As you drink, he takes the liberty of cleaning you up, as gentle as you’ve ever seen him.

He kneels by the bed to be level with you, and runs a hand over your head to brush away stray hair. The repeated motion in which he does it nearly puts you to sleep.

“Want me to run you a bath?” You almost cry again. How is he real?

“That’s okay, maybe in a little while,” you’re becoming too sleepy to talk properly now, you raise your arms signaling for him to join you in bed. “Just want you to lay with me,”

“I think I can manage that.”

He moves to hold you against his chest, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, and you fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart.

[cei1ne]

—What the Bakusquad does for you on Valentine’s day, aka the most romantic holiday!

:..｡o○Summary: Heacanons and Scenarios about Bakusquad members and what they do for you on Valentine’s Day and how they act

:♡.•♬✧⁽⁽ଘPairing: Bakugou Katsuki ; Kirishima Eijirou ; Denki Kaminari ; Sero Hanta

✧༺༻✧Tags: Fluff ; Cute ; Dating ; In love ; Tsundere ; Loving ; Acts of Service; Words of affirmation; Giving gifts

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Wordcount: 11k

⡈⡠*✩A/N: Happy late Valentine’s guys! I was super sick the past few days so this is a little sloppy but I hope you guys will still enjoy it! Love you and hope you enjoyed the holiday! And btw I am half-asleep so I’m sorry if it’s sloppy again, I tried my best. Don’t be afraid to give your opinions in the chat I want feedback xx!

Part 2!

«───── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ─────»

—Headcanons of how the Bakusquad members would act on Valentine’s Day!

Bakugou Katsuki

1. Lowkey but Thoughtful: He acts like he doesn’t care about Valentine’s Day but secretly puts in effort. His gift isn’t flashy—it’s something deeply personal that proves he pays attention to you.

2. Homemade Meal: He refuses to deal with crowded restaurants, so he cooks you an insane homemade dinner instead (and it’s amazing).

3. Actions Over Words: He’s still terrible at expressing feelings, but his actions scream love. He’ll pull you close while watching a movie, hold your hand tightly when walking, or brush hair from your face when you’re not paying attention.

4. Jealousy Shows: If someone flirts with you, expect him to glare daggers and throw an arm around you, making it very clear who you belong to.

5. Soft Moment Before Bed: When the day is over, he lets his guard down just a bit, murmuring something gruff but affectionate like, “Tch… had a good time, I guess. Don’t get used to it, idiot.”

Kirishima Eijiro

1. Big Romantic Gesture: He’s the type to go all out—roses, a big date plan, maybe even fireworks if he can pull it off. He wants to make you feel special.

2. Handmade Gift: He’s great with his hands, so he’ll craft something for you—maybe a custom bracelet, a carved wooden keepsake, or a cute love note hidden in a heart-shaped rock.

3. Adventurous Date: He doesn’t want to do the typical dinner thing—he might take you rock climbing, ice skating, or even on a surprise trip to the beach just to be different.

4. Physical Affection Overload: Expect him to be extra cuddly, with bear hugs, forehead kisses, and randomly lifting you off the ground.

5. Endless Compliments: He can’t stop telling you how amazing you look and how lucky he is to have you—he genuinely means every word.

Denki Kaminari

1. Goofy but Sweet Gift: He tries to find the coolest or funniest Valentine’s gift—maybe matching heart-shaped sunglasses, a mixtape of love songs (including meme songs), or a plushie that says something ridiculous when squeezed.

2. Surprise Flash Mob (or Attempted One): He definitely tries to put on some grand, embarrassing performance, whether it’s a public serenade or a TikTok-worthy dance.

3. Gets Super Nervous: He’s confident until the actual date starts, then suddenly starts panicking about whether you’re enjoying yourself.

4. Accidentally Short-Circuits: If you kiss him or say something super sweet, there’s a good chance his brain fries for a second. You might have to reboot him.

5. Late-Night Stargazing: After all the chaos, he genuinely enjoys a peaceful moment just lying down together, looking at the stars, and talking about random things.

Sero Hanta

1. Laid-Back But Sweet: He’s not the type to go overboard, but he does make sure you feel special—whether it’s with a handwritten letter, your favorite snacks, or a playlist of songs that remind him of you.

2. Unique Date Idea: He avoids cliché fancy dinners. Instead, he might take you to a drive-in movie, set up a rooftop picnic, or go roller skating together.

3. Jokes to Hide Nervousness: He’ll make dumb jokes the entire time to cover up how much he actually wants the date to be perfect.

4. Cuddles Over Everything: He loves just being close to you—whether it’s throwing an arm around your shoulders, resting his head on yours, or pulling you into a cozy blanket fort.

5. Cute but Teasing: He’ll absolutely playfully tease you all day—“Whoa, you’re really into me, huh?”—but the second you tease him back, he gets all flustered.

«───── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ─────»

—Scenarios of how they would plan out the Valentine’s Day!

_________________________________

Bakugou Katsuki

Valentine’s Day wasn’t really Bakugou’s thing.

He hated the commercial nonsense, the heart-shaped decorations everywhere, and the way couples acted extra just because it was February 14th. The idea of being forced to be romantic just because of a stupid holiday pissed him off.

But… then there was you.

And somehow, you made all that crap seem a little less annoying. Period were the best

Which was why, despite all his complaining, he found himself standing in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a deep scowl on his face as he meticulously chopped vegetables for a homemade dinner.

He could’ve easily taken you to a restaurant—hell, he had the money to rent out the nicest one in town if he really wanted to. But that wasn’t his style. Too many people, too much noise, and the last thing he needed was a bunch of extras gawking at him while he was trying to have a date.

No, he wanted tonight to be personal. Just the two of you.

The smell of seared meat filled the air as he worked, his movements sharp and precise. He was making your favorite dish—not that he’d ever admit he remembered the exact way you liked it. But he did. Of course, he did.

As he flipped something sizzling in the pan, he glanced at the clock. You’d be here soon.

His heart did a weird little thump.

He ignored it.

_________________________________

When you arrived, you were met with the surprising sight of Bakugou—apron on, standing in the middle of a very put-together candlelit dinner. The table was set, the food smelled amazing, and if you didn’t know him better, you’d think he’d actually been excited to do this.

“Wow,” you breathed, looking around. “Did you—?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just dinner. Sit down before it gets cold, dumbass.” We all know damn well—

You smiled, sitting across from him. The first bite was heaven. “Katsuki… this is amazing.”

He scoffed, but you didn’t miss the way his ears turned pink. “’Course it is. What, you think I’d cook you some half-assed shit?”

Dinner went on like that—him pretending not to care while absolutely caring. He made sure your glass was always full, that you had enough food, that you weren’t too cold. It was subtle, but every action screamed I love you louder than any cheesy Valentine’s card ever could.

Then, of course, came the small mishap.

You reached across the table to grab something, and your sleeve brushed a candle. Within seconds—

“Shit!” Bakugou was up in an instant, grabbing your wrist and patting out the tiny flame before it could do anything. His hands, warm and calloused, lingered just a second longer than necessary.

“You good?” he asked, his red eyes scanning yours, full of concern he wouldn’t dare voice.

You nodded, biting back a smile. “Guess dinner really was fire.”

He groaned. “I swear to god—” I can see the grey hair coming early

_________________________________

After dinner, you both ended up on the couch, watching a movie—not that either of you was paying much attention. Your head rested against his shoulder, his arm draped lazily around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm.

Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out, shoving it into your hands.

A small box.

You blinked. “What’s this?”

“Just open it, idiot.”

Inside was a delicate, simple bracelet. It wasn’t flashy, but it was you—elegant yet strong, the kind of thing you could wear every day. And on the inside, barely noticeable, was a tiny engraving.

Dumbass.

You laughed, eyes watering. “Did you… engrave an insult on my Valentine’s gift?”

His face was burning. “Tch. Just thought it’d remind you who you belong to.”

You turned to him, eyes soft. “Katsuki…”

His jaw clenched, like he was physically holding back the words he wanted to say. But then, finally, in a voice so quiet you almost missed it, he muttered—

“Yeah, yeah. You know I love you, right?”

You grinned, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I know.”

His grip on you tightened. “Good. ’Cause I ain’t ever letting you forget it.” MY SHAYLASSS

Kirishima Eijirou

Kirishima went all out for Valentine’s Day.

None of that “lowkey” nonsense YEAH BAKUGOU—he wanted today to be special. For you.

Which was why you were currently blindfolded, his hands gently guiding you forward. “Almost there, babe,” he said, voice full of excitement.

You laughed. “Eiji, if I trip and die, I’m haunting you forever.”

“Not happening! I’d totally catch you before that!”

Finally, he stopped, hands resting on your shoulders. “Alright, ready?”

You nodded, and he removed the blindfold.

Your breath caught.

In front of you was a beautiful setup—soft blankets, pillows, and fairy lights twinkling under the night sky. A picnic spread was laid out, complete with your favorite foods. The best part? You were on a rooftop, away from the crowds, just the two of you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, babe!” Kirishima beamed. “I wanted to do something different.”

Your heart swelled. “Eiji, this is amazing! I’m overjoyed! You’re the best!”

_________________________________

As you two settled into the blanket fort, the stars above providing a soft glow, Kirishima could hardly keep his excitement in check. “Wait, I’ve got one more thing for you!”

He disappeared for a moment and then came back with a small, carefully wrapped box. His face was red as he handed it to you. “Open it,” he said, voice trembling a little.

You hesitated only a moment before ripping off the wrapping paper. Inside was a custom-made bracelet—a piece of raw, polished stone, shining under the dim light. It was rugged and strong, much like him, but also delicate in its own way.

“I thought you might like something that’s… you know, us,” he said, his voice rough but full of tenderness. “I wanted to give you something that represents how I feel about you.”

You held it up to the light, the stone glinting in the soft glow of the fairy lights. “Eiji… I love it.”

A grin spread across his face. “It’s not much, but it’s a promise.”

“A promise?” you asked, looking up at him curiously.

“Yeah. A promise that I’m always gonna be here for you, no matter what.” His voice was steady, but his eyes were full of sincerity.

You took his hand, gently pulling him into a soft kiss. “You’re everything to me, Eiji.”

He smiled, leaning his forehead against yours. “And you’re everything to me, babe. Let’s make this day one to remember.”

_________________________________

As the night deepened, you and Kirishima stayed on the rooftop, watching the stars slowly appear in the sky. The city around you buzzed with life, but up here, it was just the two of you, away from everything else. For a brief moment, it was like the world outside didn’t exist.

Kirishima had an arm around you as you leaned against his shoulder, listening to the sounds of the night. It was peaceful, comforting. His presence alone made everything feel right.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” you said quietly, tracing the silver necklace around your neck. “I’ve never had a Valentine’s Day like this before.”

He chuckled softly, his hand resting on the small of your back. “I don’t do things by halves. You’re worth it.”

You smiled up at him, your eyes full of love. “You’re more than enough, Eiji.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. It was like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something. And then, softly, Kirishima said, “I love you.”

You nodded, a gentle tear slipping from your eye. “I love you too, Eiji.”

The night stretched on, the two of you in your own little world, no need for words. You felt like you could stay there forever, wrapped in his warmth, knowing that no matter what, you would always have each other.

And with that, you both made a silent promise to keep this love strong, just like the stone that lay around your neck—the symbol of a bond that would never break.

Denki Kaminari

Denki had never been good with romantic holidays. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to do something special for you—it was just that he had absolutely no idea how to pull it off.

He tried to plan the perfect Valentine’s Day, but everything kept going wrong. He bought chocolates… but they were melting. He got you a bouquet of flowers… but the store sold him the wilting ones.

It was a disaster.

He sat at his desk, surrounded by half-eaten chocolates and dead flowers, a full-on panic attack settling in. What if he messed this up? What if you didn’t like anything he did?

Before he could spiral too much, his phone buzzed.

“Denki, you okay? What’s going on?”

It was from you. You could tell he was freaking out, and that made his heart soften just a little. He hated that you could read him so easily, but also, it made him feel closer to you.

He quickly typed back, “I’m fine. Just trying to make today perfect for you, that’s all.”

A few minutes later, he received another text from you. “You’re already perfect to me. Don’t stress, okay? Let’s just have fun tonight.”

Denki stared at the message, his heart doing a little flip. How could you be so calm when he felt like he was about to short-circuit?

_________________________________

When you arrived at his apartment, you were greeted with an explosion of color—streamers, balloons, and lights everywhere. The room looked like it was in the middle of a party, and Denki, dressed in his most ridiculous, sparkly “Valentine’s Day” shirt, greeted you with the biggest, goofiest grin you’d ever seen.

“Ta-da!” he shouted, throwing his arms up dramatically.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Kaminari, what… is this?”

“I wanted to do something fun! A Valentine’s Day party for two!” he said, holding up two tiny glasses of… something that looked suspiciously like pink lemonade with glitter.

You took the glass, smirking. “You’ve been a busy guy, huh?”

“Only the best for my best girl!” he said, striking an exaggerated pose.

After a bit of awkward dancing, Denki tried to serenade you with a cheesy love song. It wasn’t the best rendition, and at one point, he forgot the lyrics and had to ad-lib, but it made you laugh so hard you nearly cried.

But there was something real in the way he looked at you, his eyes softening when he held out his hand for you to dance.

“Okay, maybe I’m not the best singer,” he admitted, pulling you close. “But I want you to know that I’m serious about us. I know I can be a bit of a mess, but I care about you so much.”

You smiled, letting him pull you into a slow dance, your bodies moving in sync as you rested your head against his chest. “You’re perfect, Denki. I love you.”

He froze for a moment, his heart stopping in shock. Then, with a goofy grin, he spun you around. “I love you, too!”

_________________________________

The night had settled into a comfortable rhythm. The arcade date, the neon-lit laughter, and the chaos of Denki’s very extra Valentine’s Day surprise had left your cheeks sore from smiling. Now, the two of you sat side by side on the floor of your apartment, a mess of candy wrappers, discarded game tickets, and plushies from the arcade scattered around you.

Denki stretched his arms over his head, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Man, I think I really outdid myself this year. I mean, come on, best Valentine’s Day ever, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Confident, are we?”

He grinned, wiggling his fingers playfully. “Babe, you literally have proof of my greatness. Look at all these prizes I won you.” He gestured at the pile of plushies he had proudly collected throughout the night. “That’s love in stuffed animal form.”

You laughed, picking up one of the plushies—a tiny Pikachu that he had fought to win from the claw machine. “I’ll admit, I was impressed by this one. But the real highlight of the night was watching you almost get kicked out for trying to ‘hack’ the basketball game with your Quirk.”

Denki pouted. “Hey, listen. That machine was rigged. I was just leveling the playing field.”

“Uh-huh. Tell that to the manager who threatened to ban you.”

He scoffed. “Joke’s on him—I’ll just wear sunglasses and come back in disguise.”

You shook your head, leaning against him. “You’re such an idiot.”

Denki’s arm snaked around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

You smiled, tilting your head up to look at him. “That’s true. And I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

For once, Denki didn’t have a joke ready. His usual cocky smirk softened, and he just stared at you for a long moment, his golden eyes warm and full of something deeper than his usual playful charm.

“You know, I’m not always the best with words,” he started, his voice quieter now. “I joke around a lot, and I know sometimes people think I don’t take things seriously. But I do take this seriously. Us.” We love a serious and romantic man

Your heart skipped a beat as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out something small—a delicate, silver ring, thin and simple, with a tiny lightning bolt engraved on the inside.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Kaminari…”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost nervous for the first time that night. “It’s not, like, an engagement ring or anything—I mean, unless you want it to be someday, then heck yeah—but right now, it’s just a promise. A promise that no matter how stupid I act, no matter how many dumb jokes I make, I’m always gonna be here. For you.”

You stared at the ring, your heart swelling with so much love you thought it might burst. Slowly, you took it from his hands, slipping it onto your finger. It fit perfectly.

“You’re such a dork,” you whispered, your eyes glistening.

He grinned. “Yeah, but I’m a dork who loves you.”

You launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep, lingering kiss. He melted into you instantly, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his touch warm and electrifying all at once.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his. “I love you too, Denki. More than words.”

He beamed, his cheeks flushed. “Well, that’s good. Because I plan on making every single Valentine’s Day better than the last. So, y’know. You’re stuck with me.”

You laced your fingers with his, glancing down at the small silver ring that now rested on your hand. “I think I can live with that.”

And as the night stretched on, filled with laughter, soft kisses, and the comfortable warmth of being wrapped in each other’s arms, you knew one thing for certain—Denki Kaminari would never stop lighting up your life, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sero Hanta

When you walked into his apartment, you were met with a comfy, casual setting—candles, soft music, and a cozy homemade dinner laid out on the coffee table which was burnt. There was no extravagant setup, just a simple moment between the two of you.

“Hey, babe,” Sero greeted you with his trademark grin, his arms opening wide. “You ready for a chill night?”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Chill night? I don’t know… I was expecting a little more flair from you.”

Sero just shrugged, leaning against the back of the couch. “Hey, I didn’t want to overdo it. I figured we could just hang out, eat, and relax. You down for that?”

You smiled, immediately feeling comfortable. “Sounds perfect.”

_________________________________

After dinner, you sat together on the couch, enjoying the quiet. Sero was doing that thing where he would gently pull you closer, his hand resting on your thigh as he smiled lazily at you. He loved moments like this—easy, laid-back, where you could just enjoy each other’s company.

Then, he suddenly reached into his bag, pulling out a small box. “I got you something,” he said casually, handing it to you.

Inside the box was a delicate necklace, simple but beautiful. It was silver with a small heart-shaped charm that had your initials engraved on it.

“You know, I thought about getting you something big, flashy, like flowers or chocolates,” Sero began, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. “But I figured… I wanted to give you something you could keep with you. Something that would remind you of me.”

You felt a warmth in your chest. “Hanta… it’s perfect. I love it.”

His grin widened. “Good, ‘cause it’s a reminder that I’m always thinking about you.”

You leaned forward, giving him a soft kiss.

He teased, pulling you closer for another kiss.

_________________________________

The soft glow of the streetlights outside your window painted long shadows across the walls of your apartment. The warmth of Sero’s laughter still lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. After the incredible night he had planned—you found yourselves curled up on the couch, tangled in each other’s arms under a thick, cozy blanket.

“You know,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest, “I think this might be my favorite Valentine’s Day ever.”

Sero chuckled, his fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles on your back. “Oh yeah? Even with the burnt cookies and the—what was it? Oh, right—highly questionable pasta?”

You playfully nudged him. “I don’t care about the food. I care about this—being with you.”

His teasing smirk softened, and he gently tipped your chin up so that your eyes met his. “Good. ‘Cause that’s all I wanted today to be about. Just us.” AWWWW

There was something unspoken in his gaze, something deeper than just his usual lighthearted charm. For all of Sero’s jokes and laid-back attitude, you knew how much he truly cared. He showed it in the small things—how he always made sure you laughed on bad days, how he remembered the little details about you that no one else did, how he made even the most ordinary moments feel like an adventure.

And right now, he was looking at you like you were his entire world.

You swallowed, your heart swelling. “You’re amazing, Hanta. You know that?”

A slow, lopsided grin spread across his face. “Oh, I definitely know that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ugh, why do I even bother?”

“Because you love me,” he teased, shifting so that he was lying on top of you, pinning you under his weight. He grinned down at you, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. “And admit it—you love my stupid jokes.”

You huffed dramatically, pretending to consider it. “Mmm… debatable.”

Sero gasped, clutching his chest as if you had stabbed him. “Wow. After everything I’ve done for you tonight? The rooftop movie? The candlelit disaster dinner? This is how you repay me?”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down closer. “Fine, fine. I love you, and I love your stupid jokes.”

His expression softened at the sincerity in your voice. He leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. “Good,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “Because I love you too. And I plan on making every Valentine’s Day just as chaotic and ridiculous as this one.”

You grinned. “That’s a promise, right?”

“Cross my heart,” he whispered.

And as you lay there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world outside faded away. Nothing else mattered—not the burnt food, not the cheesy rom-coms, not even the chaos of the day.

All that mattered was that, for the rest of your lives, you’d always have each other.

And maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t mind being tangled in his love forever.

[demie90s]

Youngin

Kahleah Cooper x Rookie!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE | Part 2

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You’re 20, cocky, and convinced you can handle a woman like Kahleah.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Slow-burn smut, tension, age-gap energy

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Language, age gap (20+), dom!Kahleah, bratty!reader, explicit content (eventually)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~ 6k

(gotta make a part two. I’m outta town.)

ᴠɪʙᴇ: “You grown? Prove it.”

I was a rookie. No shit. Born knowing I’d be great. Not humble about it either—why would I be? Valedictorian in high school. Top recruit coming out of Cali. Ran USC like I paid rent there, then bounced early, just to get drafted and drop jaws in the W. Rookie of the Year runner-up. And fine. Like real fine. God took her time on me.

So yeah, I’m cocky. Loud with it. Post up in the common area like it’s my living room. Walk through the facility like it’s mine. Cameras love me, fans scream for me, and half the league want my number—on or off the court. But I only got eyes for one. And she don’t give a damn.

Kahleah Copper.

She’s the one. Smooth, seasoned, and unbothered. She been in the league, stacked rings, stacked respect. I grew up watching her highlight reels like they were gospel, and now I sit three chairs from her like that don’t mean something.

Except it do.

I flirt every chance I get. In post-practice interviews? I shout her out. At lunch? I sit a little too close. When she walks into a room? I don’t just look—I stare. She notices. Of course she does. But every time I get a little bold, every time I drop a line she should be biting on, she shuts it down.

“You just a baby.”

“Ain’t nobody studying you.”

“You ain’t got no clue what to do with me.”

And that would humble most people. But me? I just grin. That’s the problem with women like her. She thinks just because she’s older, wiser, that I’m not built for her. She don’t get it. I’m not chasing her for fun—I’m chasing her like I already know what I’d do if she let me catch her.

Today, I’m lounged across the arm of the couch in the facility lounge, legs stretched out, hoodie rolled up, sports bra peeking just enough to start shit. She’s sitting across from me with her AirPods in, scrolling her phone like I don’t exist.

I know she can hear me.

“I got practice footage,” I say, loud enough to carry. “Dropped thirty-four last week. Y’all seen it?”

A couple teammates nod, laugh. Kahleah? Don’t even flinch. So I push.

“She prolly got it saved. Watch it before bed like a highlight mixtape.”

That gets her. She looks up slow, eyes like heat. Not a smile—just a twitch of her lips, like she wants to laugh but won’t give me that.

“You talk too much,” she says.

“And you listen,” I shoot back.

Silence. Then her head tilts, lazy and amused.

“You really think you grown, huh?”

I smirk, tongue in cheek, and nod. “Grown enough to know you want me.”

She leans back, one brow arched, lips parted like she’s trying not to laugh. Her eyes drag over me once—real slow, real subtle. And for a second, I swear she looks where she shouldn’t.

But then she scoffs. Sharp.

“Girl, please. Give up.”

Just like that. No smile. No wink. Just straight disrespect with a shoulder check as she walks past, brushing me like I’m in the way.

I let her go, eyes still locked on her back, the way her hair swing when she moves. And right when she’s almost out of earshot, I mutter just loud enough:

“You gon’ be mad when I stop trying.” She doesn’t turn around.

Just lifts her hand, waves me off without looking back—like I’m the problem and she knows it.

I smile. She ain’t ready.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

I was mid-bite, walking into the team kitchen with a protein bar in my mouth and the devil in my smile. Real casual. Oversized tee, shorts low on my hips, socks dragging like I owned the whole damn building. It wasn’t even about being seen—I just knew if she was in there, I’d make a moment of it.

And there she was.

Kahleah, leaned back at the table, arms crossed, scrolling through her phone like she ain’t the baddest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her skin glowing, lips pressed, eyes focused—but not too focused. She saw me. I know she did.

I dropped into the chair next to her like I’d been invited. One leg wide, elbow propped, still chewing slow. Real smug.

“Wassup, baby?” I said, mouth half full, all confidence. “Miss me?”

She didn’t look up at first. Just kept scrolling. Then finally, finally, her eyes flicked up, heavy-lidded and unreadable.

“You bored?” she asked.

“Nah,” I said, licking my thumb and wiping a crumb from my lip like I was trying to piss her off. “Just wanted to see what you was doing. You stay ignoring me, I was starting to feel neglected.”

“You need attention that bad?”

“From you? Hell yeah.”

That made her pause. She set her phone down slow, turned her full body toward me, and gave me a look that felt like fire on bare skin. She leaned in, elbows on the table, real close.

“You talk like you ready for something you can’t handle,” she said, voice low and smooth like a dare.

I blinked once. Kept my mouth shut. Couldn’t let her know how fast my heart was thumping or how my throat got tight just from her being this close. I never broke eye contact, but I didn’t move either.

She smiled like she saw everything.

Then—quick as hell—her hand slid up my thigh, slow enough to make my breath catch but firm enough to say she wasn’t playing. She leaned even closer, her mouth damn near at my ear.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” she whispered. “You just a kid. Act like it.”

Then she pulled back. Calm. Cool. Collected. Got up. Grabbed her water bottle.

And walked out like she ain’t just shake my entire world with one touch and a sentence. I sat there frozen, bar half-eaten, ego bruised, thighs still tingling. But I kept my mouth shut. This time.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

It was late. Gym mostly cleared out except for me, some janitor pushing a mop, and Kahleah on the court stretching like she didn’t just run the whole team ragged. She had her headphones in, sweating under those low lights, and the music from her phone bled faintly through.

She looked good. Like too good. Sports bra clinging to her back, shorts hanging low on her hips, and that focus? Lethal. I was leaned against the wall, pretending to scroll, but my eyes weren’t moving from her. I don’t think they ever did when she was in the room.

She finally caught me. Pulled her headphones out, sweat glinting on her collarbone. “You good?”

I shrugged, slow. “You tell me.”

She let out a little breath, like a laugh, but it didn’t reach her lips. Then she walked toward me—calm, unbothered, like I wasn’t already standing at attention. She stopped right in front of me, bent down to fix her sneaker, and glanced up like she knew I’d been staring this whole time.

“You always watching,” she said, voice low, like a secret. “You gon’ keep frontin’, or you finally ready to admit what you want?”

I didn’t say shit. Just stared back at her, jaw locked but my eyes… man, they probably said too much. Because truth was? If she told me to get on my knees, I would’ve. No hesitation. Not out of weakness—out of worship.

She stood up slow, brushing the sweat off her neck with her towel. Real close now, like I could feel the heat off her skin.

“You’d do anything I told you to right now, wouldn’t you?”

I swallowed. Smirk gone. “If you asked,” I said, voice rough, “I’d do it.”

She leaned in, lips brushing close enough to make my chest hitch. Her breath hit my jaw, and just when I thought she was gonna kiss me, she tilted her head and whispered—

“Not yet.”

Then she was gone. Just walked out, towel slung over her shoulder like she ain’t just ruin my whole world in five seconds.

I stayed standing there. Breath caught. Hands shaking.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Next morning, I’m on a mission. Still buzzing off that gym moment. Not that she kissed me—but that she almost did. That’s worse somehow. She knew exactly what she was doing, walking off like she didn’t just get in my head and live there rent-free.

So I slide into the kitchen of the facility like i built it, jersey sleeves rolled, protein bar in one hand, eyes set on the only woman who ever made me shut the hell up without even raising her voice. She’s standing at the counter, arms folded, scrolling her phone like she ain’t the main character in my brain.

I drop down in the chair next to her, lean back real casual. “Wassup, baby,” I say, licking a crumb off my thumb just to be stupid. She side-eyes me. Not amused.

“You start every conversation like that,” she says, sipping her water. “But never finish ‘em.”

I grin. “That’s ’cause you never let me.”

She cuts her eyes at me. That slow, dangerous drag from my shoes to my mouth. Then she leans in, elbows on the table like we about to play poker with hearts. “You think this some game?”

I blink, smile falters for half a second. “You tell me.”

And she does. She stands up slow, walks around behind my chair, leans over until I can feel her voice press against my neck. Her breath is warm, but her tone? Icy smooth.

“You keep pushin’, baby girl,” she whispers, “and I’ma show you exactly why you not ready. You hear me?”

I swallow. Nod once.

She doesn’t stop. “I don’t care how cute you think you are. How many little one-liners you got tucked in that smart-ass mouth. You not grown just ‘cause you say you are.”

She grabs my chin—not gentle. Turns my face toward hers. “You wanna act bold? Back it the fuck up. Otherwise—” she lets go and walks away like nothing happened—“act your age.”

I sit there, still. Chest tight. Mouth open like I had a comeback but she snatched it from my lungs. I watch her leave.

Damn. She got me again. I’m not giving up. But she’s making me rethink the rules of the game.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

I had on a plain black tee, gray sweats sitting low on my hips, and beat-up Jordans that told the truth—I wasn’t tryna impress nobody. Locs pulled back into a bun, I looked regular. Not raggedy, just chill. Still, that didn’t stop the attention.

It was some open fan event for the Mercury. A couple vendors, some PR tables, and media drifting through like flies to honey. Players were mingling. Signing things. Smiling for photos. I was posted at the edge of the crowd, finishing the last bite of my acai bowl, when the first girl came up.

She was cute. Same age as me. Maybe a little older. She had the lashes, the nails, the high ponytail that swung when she walked. She leaned in like we knew each other. “Aren’t you—? You play for Phoenix, right?”

“Mmhm,” I mumbled around my spoon, giving a half-smile. Friendly enough. But I didn’t mean it.

Then her friend slid in, looping her arm around mine like we was besties. “Oh my God, you’re actually so fine in person. Like, wow.”

A third one laughed too loud. “You single? Or just mysterious?” I blinked once. Then twice. And didn’t say a damn thing.

Because across the event space—just past the media tent, between two folding tables and a crowd of distracted interns—stood Kahleah.

Hair laid. Edges sleek. Lips glossy. Skin deep and glowing like she soaked in the sun itself. Her fit was simple but sharp—tight long-sleeve, sleeves pushed to the elbow, black pants hugging all the right angles. She wasn’t even trying. And that’s what made it worse.

She looked calm. Tall. Quietly dangerous. And she was watching me.

She hadn’t moved. She hadn’t smiled. But those dark eyes were locked on mine, like she could see through the fake laugh I gave when one of the girls touched my arm. Like she knew damn well I hadn’t heard a single word they said.

I glanced back at the girl still hanging off me. She said something about going out after the event. I just nodded absently, licking the edge of my spoon, still looking right over her shoulder at Kahleah.

It wasn’t even a game. I wasn’t doing it to be cold or cool or mysterious. It was just that none of them were her.

They were pretty, sure. Bold. Flirty. But they didn’t make my chest tighten. They didn’t make me sit straighter. They didn’t carry that kind of weight.

Kahleah did. She raised one brow like she was asking, “You done yet?” Not with them. With the act.

I dropped my spoon into the empty bowl, handed it off to whoever was closest, and excused myself without looking back. No apology. No explanation.

I wasn’t rude. But I wasn’t interested either. Because when a woman like Kahleah’s watching you like that, it don’t matter how many girls say your name.

You already answered to hers.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

I made my way toward her like I had no other choice. Not rushed, not cocky—just quiet, locked in, my hands shoved into my hoodie pocket like they’d betray me if I let them out.

Kahleah didn’t say anything when I stopped in front of her. She just tilted her head, looking me up and down with that same unreadable expression.

“You busy?” I asked, voice low.

She scoffed, barely audible. “Now you wanna act right?”

“I always act right,for you” I muttered.

Kahleah folded her arms, long sleeves hugging her toned arms just tight enough for me to get distracted. “You looked real comfortable with all your lil’ friends back there.”

I smirked, leaning in. “I wasn’t even listening to them.”

“I know,” she said flat. “You were lookin’ at me.”

I paused. Swallowed. Then nodded once, real slow. “You’re hard not to look at.”

That earned me a shift in her jaw, like she was fighting a grin but wouldn’t give me the satisfaction.

“Girl, you still a baby.”

“You keep saying that.”

“‘Cause you keep proving me right,” she snapped, stepping closer. “Always starin’. Always followin’. Always talkin’ shit you not ready to back up.”

Her perfume hit me then—something clean and warm, like skin and sunshine and the backseat of a black truck after dark.

“I’m ready.” I said it soft, sure. I didn’t even blink.

Kahleah stepped in again, close enough to smell my lip gloss now. “You sure?” she murmured. “’Cause if I put my hands on you, you gon’ fold.”

Maybe I would. I didn’t say a word. Just looked up at her lips, heart somewhere in my throat.

She studied my face for too long, then came close—not to kiss me, not even to touch. Just close enough to press her mouth next to my ear and whisper:

“Not yet.”

Then she walked past me, hand grazing my arm like she didn’t even mean to. But she did.

And I stood there—chest tight, palms sweating, the whole damn world blurring around me.

Because I swore I would’ve dropped everything right there if she asked. And she knew it.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

The Phoenix Mercury locker room was buzzing—music low, team stretched out across couches and floor mats. I was lounged sideways on a bench, picking at trail mix, half-listening to two of the vets argue about some old mixtape battle. I was dressed down today: baggy sweats, tank top, and a fitted cap tugged low. Basic. But it worked for me.

Then Kahleah walked in.

I ain’t gotta describe her again. You already know. Tall, smooth, skin lit up like she swallowed the sun. Hair done, laid perfect, like she woke up late just to make people stare. And of course, everybody did. Even me. But I played it cool—eyes flicking up for half a second before dropping back down to my snack like she wasn’t already carved into the back of my skull.

She glanced around, clocked the open space next to me, and took the long way around to avoid it. Petty. I smirked and kicked my legs out across the bench. “You scared to sit by me now?”

She paused. Just for a beat. Then raised an eyebrow.

“If you really bout that,” she said, real calm, real slow, “come sit between my legs then.”

Everything went quiet in my head.

And before I could cover it, my body betrayed me—a small shift, a twitch like I was gonna move. She noticed. Of course she noticed. That mouth tilted into a smirk that wasn’t really a smile.

“Mmhm,” she said. “Exactly.”

I let out a little laugh and shook my head, scoffing like girl, please, but the heat behind my ears was giving me away. I stayed right where I was. Not frozen—just…calculating.

“You just love makin’ people sweat,” I muttered.

She leaned down slightly, looking me dead in the eyes. “Only the ones who talk too much.” And then she walked off.

The rest of the day, I was thrown. Couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t focus in the gym. I kept messing with my water bottle, stretching when I didn’t need to stretch, tying and untying my laces. And it didn’t help that the whole damn team had picked up on the vibe.

“She really got you in a chokehold,” Sophie teased, throwing a towel at me after practice. I grinned, biting my lip. “What if I like it there?”

A couple of the girls howled, one clutched her chest like I broke her heart. But Kahleah? She was posted in the corner, shooting free throws, acting like I ain’t exist. Until the teasing kept going.

“You always on somebody. She flirt with everybody like that?” one rookie laughed. That made Kahleah stop. Turn.

“She don’t,” she said—flat, unreadable.

Everyone got quiet again. I just stood there like a deer in headlights, mouth parted, caught mid-sip of Gatorade. And she walked straight over. Slow. Steps sharp.

“You flirt with everybody like that?” she asked me, one brow raised.

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off with a whisper only I could hear.

“Or just the ones you want to fuck you?”

I choked on my drink. Caught myself. Tried to play it off with a cough. She didn’t laugh. Didn’t blink. Just gave me a long, knowing look. Then turned and left again. Always leaving.

Later that week, during a post-practice cooldown, I cracked some dumb joke—something about me being the team’s morale booster—and she laughed. Like really laughed. The sound was warm and sudden, and a few girls looked over like they’d never even heard her laugh before.

I took that win, started walking past, but then—Her hand caught my wrist.

“Keep playin’ with me,” she said, low and sharp. “You gon’ end up somewhere you not ready for.”

I stopped cold. Looked back. She didn’t smile this time. Just let my wrist go and walked off again, leaving heat blooming under my skin.

That’s when I knew she had me. She’d had me. I was just cocky enough to think I had a chance, and just soft enough inside to know I’d crumble the second she snapped her fingers.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

I don’t know what it was today. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was that red hair she had slicked into a low bun like she knew what it did to me. Maybe it was the fitted tee that hugged her back just right, or the gold chain around her neck catching every inch of light like it belonged there. Like she belonged on a damn pedestal. Either way—whatever it was—I couldn’t fake it today.

We were out with the team, walking through the open-air plaza after some community event. I’d been good. I’d been so good. Just talking shit, keeping my space, doing my little rookie smile. But then a few girls my age slid up, trying to flirt, fake-laughing at shit I didn’t even say. One touched my wrist and I didn’t even blink. My eyes were locked on Kahleah across the way, biting into some fruit cup like sin had a face.

“Damn, you ignoring me already?” one of the girls said with a pout. I didn’t even answer.

Kahleah turned slightly, just enough to catch me staring. Her eyes narrowed, slow and knowing, like she could already hear what was about to leave my mouth. That was all it took. My chest felt hot. My throat dry. And the next second, I was walking. Not thinking. Just moving. Fast.

She looked surprised when I stepped in front of her, but not shocked. Not Kahleah. She just stood there, looking down at me like she’d already won whatever game I thought I was playing.

“What?” she asked, brows lifted, voice low.

I didn’t sit. I didn’t smile. I didn’t pretend. I looked up at her with the softest, rawest, realest face I’d ever worn and said, “Baby, please.”

Her tongue ran over her teeth.

“Please what?” she asked.

I shook my head. “You win. You been won. I’m tired of pretending like I’m not ready to do anything you ask. Just show me something. Please.”

She raised a brow. “Ain’t even sit down yet and you begging?”

“I can kneel if that helps.”

Her face twitched—barely. Just a hint of a grin, some smug curl in the corner of her mouth. Her fingers flexed against the drink in her hand. She was thinking. Dangerous thoughts. The kind that turned heat into fire.

“You sure you ready for me?” she asked, stepping in close, voice in my ear now.

“No,” I breathed. “But I want it anyway.”

And that’s when she chuckled—deep, slow, mean. Like she knew. Like she’d been waiting for this moment since the first time I called her baby with no business doing so.

“Good,” she whispered, pulling back with that look. “Then act like it.”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

She didn’t touch me. Not yet. She just stepped back, slow, like a warning. Like she wanted to see if I’d really follow. I did. I followed her like a dog on a leash made of pure lust and pride I was too far gone to care about. Kahleah didn’t say a word as she led me through the side door of the venue and into the hallway—cool, dim, empty except for the sound of our sneakers and the wild heartbeat thudding in my ears.

She stopped near a supply closet. Leaned against the wall. Looked me over.

“You shaking.”

I wasn’t. I didn’t think I was. But maybe I was breathing too fast. Maybe my hands were trembling, just a little, like they knew what I wanted before my body could admit it.

She tilted her head, slow. “You really gon’ let me teach you somethin’ tonight?”

I nodded, too fast. She clicked her tongue, stepped forward, and grabbed my face with one hand—firm. Her thumb dragged over my bottom lip. Her eyes? Heavy. Studying me like I was her favorite sin.

“Say it.”

“I want you,” I whispered. “I want you to make me shut up for once.”

That smirk. That dangerous, deep, grown woman smirk that said I’d asked for it.

“You don’t even know what you want.”

“I want you,” I said again, chest rising. “Every version. The soft one. The mean one. The one that makes me cry ‘cause she knows I’ll still beg for more.”

That did it. She kissed me—finally. And not soft.

Teeth. Tongue. Hunger. She kissed me like she was claiming something. Like she’d waited long enough and was ready to collect. My back hit the wall. My head spun. I moaned into her mouth and she ate that sound up, pressing her body against mine, her knee slipping between my legs like she already knew every spot that made me weak.

“You still think you grown?” she murmured against my jaw, licking up to my ear.

“N-no—fuck. No, baby. You got it. You got me.”

“Damn right I do.”

Her hand slipped under my shirt, up my spine. I arched into it like a prayer, like a promise, already gone.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

I swear to God, I could taste her already. Her breath against my ear, that hand still dragging slow under my shirt like she was memorizing me fingertip by fingertip, and I almost dropped right there. My knees? Jelly. My brain? Gone. I was clinging to her like I was about to pass out and she was the only thing tethering me to the planet.

She leaned in closer, lips brushing mine again but not kissing me this time. Just breathing the same air, letting it sit heavy between us. “You wanna faint, huh?” she whispered, low and smug. “That desperate for me already?”

I nodded. Couldn’t even pretend to be cool anymore. My voice was hoarse, wrecked. “Yes, baby… please. I need you. Like right now.”

She laughed, soft and mean, and grabbed my chin again. “Look at you,” she murmured. “Acting like you ain’t just beggin’ to be told what to do.”

“I am,” I breathed. “Tell me, I’ll do it. Anything. I swear.”

“Mhm.” Her thumb dragged slow over my bottom lip, then tapped it twice like she was thinking. “Then be a good girl… and wait.”

I froze. “Wait?”

Her mouth brushed mine again—just a breath, no pressure. “Yeah,” she purred. “We in public. You think I’m finna show out for a bunch of strangers when I can ruin you in private?” She looked me dead in the eye. “You want me that bad? You sit with that feeling. You let it build. And if you’re real good… real good… I’ll give you a taste. Maybe.”

And then she stepped back. Just like that. Left me there. Shaking. Throbbing. Gripping the wall like I’d just run ten miles and saw God at the finish line.

I watched her walk away, slow and smug, like she didn’t just bring me to my knees with words.

My hands trembled. My jaw clenched. But I waited. Because if waiting meant I got her? I’d sit in that heat all day.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

It’s been hours.

I’ve showered. Twice. I’ve watched two movies, laid out on my stomach in nothing but a towel, legs kicking behind me like I wasn’t going through hell, and she still ain’t show. Not a text. Not a call. Just that smirk she gave me earlier like, you’ll wait, won’t you baby?

I did. I am. But barely.

I paced. I sat. I read the same page of a book five times and still couldn’t tell you what it was about. My phone buzzed once—it wasn’t her. I almost threw it across the room.

And then I heard it.

I didn’t move, but my body snapped to attention. Eyes on the door. Breathing slow. Still draped in my towel, skin soft and still warm from my shower, lotion barely soaked in.

She walked in like she lived here. Calm. Bag slung over her shoulder, locs up, skin glowing, lips shiny like she’d been out somewhere good. Her eyes flicked to me and she paused. One brow raised.

“You still waitin’, huh?”

I just stared. Didn’t blink. Didn’t say a word.

Her mouth twitched into that dangerous little grin as she set her stuff down, slow and deliberate. “You ain’t touch yourself, did you?” I shook my head.

“Good.” She stepped closer. One step. Then another. Like she was checking the temperature, easing her way in. “You know I’m not here to reward disobedience.”

“I’ve been good,” I whispered. “So good. Please.”

She stopped in front of me. Ran a hand up my thigh, over the towel. “Mhm. You smell clean,” she murmured. “Soft too. You read your little book?”

I nodded. “Tried.”

Her grin widened. “Music?”

“‘Say Yes’ came on.”

She laughed. Low and deep and mean. “Oh baby. That’s cruel.”

“You did this,” I mumbled, jaw tight. “You made me wait.”

“And you did.” She leaned in, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Now let’s see if it was worth it.”

And baby—she ain’t even touched me yet. But I was already trembling.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

She doesn’t kiss me. Not at first.

She makes me stand. Taking my clothes off herself, slow like she’s unwrapping a gift. Looks at me like I’m something delicate and sinful all at once, but her grip on my waist says she owns it. Owns me.

“Hands behind your back.”

I do it. No hesitation. Bare, breathing hard, skin buzzing from nothing but her voice. She walks around me like she’s inspecting her work. Like she’s not just about to fuck me—she’s about to teach me.

“You talk a lot of shit,” she says, fingertips grazing the back of my thigh, “but when I tell you to wait, you wait. When I say no, it’s no. And when I finally let you have it…” She moves closer, pressing her mouth to my neck, just under my ear. “You say thank you, baby.”

I nod, lips parted, body arching toward her even though she hasn’t told me to move.

“You really think you’re grown, huh?”

“Yes—yes ma’am.”

“Mmm.” Her nails trail down my stomach. “Don’t ‘ma’am’ me now. You wasn’t that polite when you were smirkin’ in my face and tryna act bold.”

I won’t lie. She hasn’t even touched me right and I’m losing it. She grabs my chin, forces me to look at her. “Get on the bed. Hands on the headboard. Don’t you dare move them.”

I obey so fast it’s embarrassing. Kahleah stands at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, letting me squirm. Her eyes are hungry, patient, cruel in the way only a grown woman can be.

“Now,” she says, pulling her shirt off slow, revealing skin like bronze under honey-light, locs brushing her back, lips parted just slightly. “You want me?”

I breathe, “Yes—please—”

“Then take it.” She crawls up the bed like a storm about to hit. “But only what I give you.”

She’s on top of me but not giving me anything. Just a smile. That same one from practice, from the gym, from every time she caught me staring and said, “Eyes up here, youngin.”

Now?

My eyes are up, wide, pleading. My thighs shaking and I haven’t even been touched right yet. My back’s arched, head pressed into the pillow, fists gripping the headboard so tight my knuckles burn. But I don’t let go. I don’t move. She said don’t move, so I don’t.

Because I want her that bad.

“You look like you might cry,” she whispers, tracing a finger down the center of my chest. Her nail drags light. “All that mouth. Now you quiet, huh?”

I can barely breathe. I nod. Bite my lip so I don’t moan just from that. From nothing.

“Kahleah, please…”

“Please what?” She’s so calm. Like this isn’t torture. Like she doesn’t see me aching. She brushes her lips near mine, never touching, and I almost flinch forward—but I catch myself. She sees it. Smirks wider.

“You gon’ behave? You gon’ be a good girl?”

“I—I been good,” I stammer, eyes fluttering. “I waited. I listened. I didn’t even—fuck, I need you.”

She hums. Her hand comes to my jaw, turns me slow, tilts my head like she’s studying something rare. “Say it.”

“I need you. I need you so bad I can’t—” I suck in a breath as she presses her body against mine, full length, skin to skin. “I can’t think when you look at me like that.”

“Good,” she murmurs. “You’re not supposed to.”

Then she kisses me. Deep. Rough. Her tongue in my mouth, her thigh sliding between mine, her hand in my hair—finally taking. And it hits me like a wave: I’d do anything. Anything to keep her here. Anything to stay under her hands. Anything to make her proud.

She’s not even touching me now. Just standing there. Watching. That slow drag of her eyes down my back got me hotter than the damn desert. My thighs are trembling. My breath? Gone. Like she snatched it right out my lungs the second she stepped back in the room.

I waited. I showered. I stretched. I paced the damn floor like a dog in heat and she—she—walked in like she ain’t left me aching for hours. Red hair tied up. Nails done. Lip gloss poppin’. Sports bra on. Loose sweats sittin’ just low enough to be disrespectful.

I reach for her and she grabs my wrist mid-air.

“Did I say you could touch me?”

I freeze. Swallow. Nod. Wrong move.

She pulls me forward by the wrist, spins me, pushes me right back against the mirror.

“You don’t run nothin’ here,” she whispers, breath hot against my ear. “Not tonight. You asked for grown? I’m giving you grown. So stay. Still.”

And I do.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Chest to glass, knees weak, arms braced against the mirror like I’m about to confess my sins to it. Her hand travels down my spine—slow, dragging, claiming me like she owns every inch.

“You waited,” she says. Her voice almost sweet now. Mocking. “I like that. You learning.”

I whisper, “I’ll learn anything you want, just—please.”

Her hand slips between my legs, and I cry out.

“Damn,” she murmurs. “So wet for me and I ain’t even touched you right.”

“Kahleah…” She grabs my chin from behind, forces me to look at myself in the mirror.

“Look at you. That’s what I do to you. That’s why you not out there with them other girls.”

And she’s right. I couldn’t even fake it. Couldn’t look at anybody but her. Couldn’t want anybody else. She got me locked in, strung out on her voice, her body, the control in her hands.

When she finally slides two fingers in—deep, slow. Finally sinking her fingers into me making sure it was slow and pleasurable as it could be.

Staring to kiss and lick right up to the top of her inner thighs teasing her now very wet pussy with gentle kisses.

“You better not fall.”

I hold on to her arm. Breathe through the ache.

“You gonna come for me, already baby?”

“Please. Just—don’t stop.”

She curls her fingers again, harder, and my whole body bows.

“You ask me. Don’t tell me.” I whine making her pause.

“Ask me, and maybe”

I meet her eyes in the mirror. Red hair messy now. Sweat glistening. Her lips parted like she wanna taste me for real.

And I whisper like it’s holy, “Please. Please, Kahleah. I need- please.”

She kisses my shoulder. Smirks against my skin.

“…no”

I whimper. Genuinely. My legs are clenched so tight I could break steel. My hands curl into the damn sheets.

She leans in close, lips brushing my jaw but never kissing it. “You wanted this. Right?”

“Yes.”

She backs away completely.

And that? That almost broke me. I turn fast, eyes wide, “You can’t be serious—”

“I am serious,” she cuts me off. “You think I waited all day just to give you what you want? Nah, baby. You gon’ learn patience.”

“Kahleah, please—”

“You not even begging right. You still loud, still bratty. Still think just ‘cause you fine and wet and moaning my name, I’ma fold.”

I’m frozen in place. Burning. Trembling. She tilts her head, looking amused. “You wanna come?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure—”

“Then wait.”

She walks out. Just like that. Leaves me on the edge, soaked, aching, legs shaking. The door shuts behind her like judgment. I bury my face into the pillow. Whimper. And I wait. Just like she said.

[steddieas-shegoes]

When Eddie comes out to him, Steve makes a big mistake. His first reaction was to thank him for trusting him, which is what Robin told him to do in this situation.

But his second reaction was to say “I also like guys.”

Eddie blinked at him, clearly confused and defensive, like maybe Steve was making fun or not taking him seriously.

“Uh. You do?”

“Yeah man! I mean, no one else knows, but yeah.”

Eddie smiled and thanked him for trusting him with it, said they should hang out more, and recommended a queer bar in Indy if he needed a safe place to explore.

And Steve smiled and nodded like he couldn’t agree more.

As soon as Eddie was gone, he rushed to the phone in his kitchen and called Robin.

She called him an idiot, a dingus, a bisexual disaster —whatever that was—, and told him he absolutely wasn’t allowed to go to a queer bar without her.

She did at least agree to keep up the lie until he could find a way out of it without Eddie thinking he lied to hurt him or something.

But he started hanging out a lot more with Eddie and finding that they had more in common than he originally thought.

Eddie took Robin and Steve to the queer club and Steve…felt at home, felt welcomed, felt like he belonged. Robin kept giving him these looks all night, and Eddie kept dragging him to meet people who he cared about, and one of the guys on the dance floor kept pulling him out there to dance with him.

He felt free and alive and-

Queer.

It hit him as the guy, Paul maybe, was pulling him closer by his waist as his hips rocked to the beat of a song he didn’t recognize but felt like something he wanted on a mixtape. It hit him that he liked this because he liked dancing with Paul like this. He liked this because he saw himself visiting more, even without Eddie and Robin. He liked this because he could picture making out with Eddie in the bathroom.

He froze.

“You okay, sweet thing?” Paul asked him.

“I think I’m in love with my friend.”

Paul’s eyes widened momentarily before patting Steve’s hip. “Is he gay, honey?”

“Huh?” Steve was already trying to find Eddie in the crowd. “Oh, yeah. He’s here tonight.”

“Shouldn’t you be dancin’ with him then?”

Steve finally looked back at Paul, who had his hands on his own hips now, teasing smile on his face.

“Yeah. I should,” Steve thanked him, apologized for any misleading, which was immediately brushed off. Paul was here to dance, he didn’t much care for who he was dancing with.

“Send that beauty over here. She looks like she needs some lessons,” Paul pointed to Robin, who was still looking a little nervous despite the friendly bartender handing her sodas every time he passed by her.

“She’s gay, man.”

“So am I! Doesn’t mean we can’t dance!”

Steve laughed. “You’re right.”

He walked over to Robin quickly, avoided getting pulled back into the crowd.

“I’m in love with Eddie.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “I know, dingus. You literally risked your entire reputation to come to a queer bar to try to impress him.”

Steve balked. “That’s not what this was!”

“Uh huh. Well he’s sulking in the bathroom if you wanna go tell him.”

“Sulking? Why?”

“He saw you dancing with that guy. Think he assumed you were interested in him.”

“Not a chance. I prefer long hair and ripped jeans,” Steve winked. He turned to walk towards the hall with the bathrooms when Robin stopped him.

“Don’t do this if you’re not 100% sure,” she said seriously. “Eddie really likes you and it would destroy him if you were lying to make him feel better.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Steve started, but stopped when Robin gave him a look.

“You’ve literally been pretending to be queer for the last two months because he came out to you and you accidentally came out to him. You’re lucky it wasn’t a complete lie.”

“Yeah but I wouldn’t fuck with his feelings like that.” Steve knew what it was like to be led on. He wouldn’t do that to Eddie. “I’ll be careful with him.”

“And be careful with you.”

He saluted her as he walked away.

When he found Eddie sitting on the counter at the sink in the bathroom, he was swinging his legs back and forth and humming something distinctly less pop than what was playing on the dance floor. No one else was in here, but that didn’t mean no one would walk in.

He walked over to Eddie and placed a hand on his knee.

Eddie immediately stopped kicking his feet and looked up.

“What’s with the face?” Steve asked, reaching up to touch the line between his brows that always appeared when he was pouting.

Eddie shrugged. “Just not feeling it tonight I guess.”

“The music isn’t really your thing. Kinda surprised you like this place,” Steve said as his hand drifted down to his wrist. “Seems closer to a small club than a bar.”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

Eddie’s tone was sharp, laced with jealousy. Even if Steve hadn’t had his realization five minutes earlier, he would’ve seen what that was from a mile away.

“I was until I realized I’d rather be out there with you.”

Eddie snorted. “I don’t really dance.”

“But you’d dance with me if I asked, right?” Steve’s fingers circled his wrist and he tugged Eddie off the counter. “Even if I asked you to do it right here with no music?”

“Steve, what are you doing?”

“Dancing. Or trying to.” Steve rested his hands on Eddie’s hips and started swaying them in sync with his. “It is hard without music.”

“Why don’t you go back out there?” Eddie’s hands went around Steve’s neck.

“Because you’re not out there. I don’t wanna be where you aren’t.”

“Steve-“

“You know I didn’t actually know I liked guys until tonight?” Steve huffed out a laugh. “Well, I really like this one guy. Not sure about others yet.”

Eddie was silent, but didn’t push Steve away.

“He was hiding in this bathroom though. I didn’t really think he’d join me out there, so I brought the dancing to him,” Steve winked.

“You like me? You? Like me?”

Steve nodded.

“And you just realized this?”

“Kinda.”

“In a queer bar?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s pretty gay, dude.”

Steve snorted and smacked Eddie’s chest. “That’s the point.”

Eddie moved in impossibly closer, no room for Jesus between their chests anymore. “So you lied when you came out to me?”

“I panicked! But it doesn’t actually count as a lie if I’ve seen the light.”

“Was it a rainbow light? Or the reflection of the disco ball in the glitter shorts Perry was wearing?” Eddie joked.

“Perry!” Steve smacked his own forehead. “He’s nice. Made me come tell you how I feel.”

“Oh. He did?” Eddie seemed shy for maybe the first time ever.

“Yeah. Said I should come dance with you if I’m in love with you.”

Steve hadn’t felt like this in a while, and hadn’t left his heart on his sleeve like this in even longer. As Eddie’s face went from shy to shocked to flustered, Steve thought about how long he’d been dancing around these feelings.

But no more dancing around them. Now it was time to dance with them.

“Can’t believe you just said you’re in love with me in the bathroom of a queer bar. Don’t even think they clean this place,” Eddie laughed, letting his forehead fall against Steve’s.

“I’ll tell you again outside.” Steve kissed his cheek. “And in the van.” His nose. “Your house, my house.” The corner of his mouth. “Everywhere.”

Eddie licked his lip, skipping over a soft kiss for a hungry one. It was hot, desperate, impatient. Everything Steve hadn’t known he needed.

Then again, he hadn’t even actually known he liked guys until tonight. Maybe he was just late to learn things about himself.

[allurearia]

"I said I love the Smiths"

Where Mattheo tries to find the girl who said said she loved the Smiths.

I know I know the desc is very bad but I'm writing this at almost 4am 😭😭 the mattheo brainrot is real.

The quidditch season had just ended, crowing Slytherin as this season's winner. The Slytherin's of course taking this opportunity to throw the year-end party they weren't lying when they said it was going to be huge, even Gryffindor were invited just for their loss to be rubbed in their faces. Everyone's who's spent at least a year at Hogwarts knew that the Slytherin's throw some of the best party, alcohol and drugs were just the beginning of it.

Usually mattheo would join his friends at the main couch playing some sort of drinking game, but today he just wanted some peace, not even two hours had passed since Slytherin took the quidditch cup home, and they were already halfway through the party.

Mattheo was absolutely exhausted, only having to chance to shower, then directly being dragged to the party.

Mattheo quickly found solace at the corner of a table and put his wired headphones in, which were connected to a mixtape that Theo had gifted him for his birthday. Blocking out all the surrounding noise, Mattheo closed his eyes.

There is a light that never goes out - the smiths.

After a few seconds he hears faint sounds of glasses clinking, brushing it off as someone trying to get some drinks, he resumes being in his trance when suddenly with a tap on his shoulder brings him back to reality.

Mattheo quickly opens his eyes and pulls his headphones down, and the sight in front of him reveals that of a very pretty girl. He swore he's seen her in the bustling halls and somewhere he couldn't remember yet.

"I love the Smiths!"

"What?!"

"I said I love the smiths!! You know the whole if a double-decker buss that!"

"well actually i didn't mean to interrupt you but I could hear the the light that never goes out from your headphones!!" the girl shouted over the music

Mattheo swore he saw a twinkle in her eyes. He opened his mouth to say anything, someone he guessed to be her friend had shouted, which had caught her attention.

"Sorry, my friends need me good music taste though!!" She shouted over the loud music and quickly disappeared into the crowd. Mattheo still looking like a fish out of water was staring at the crowd of people hoping he would meet her again.

"What are you staring at?" Mattheo turns around to find Enzo presumably stacking up more food for the group. "Nothing, just spaced out" Mattheo quickly retorted.

"Okayyy you haven't joined us the entire night wann-"

"I'll be up in my dorm" Mattheo said, and he quickly sprinted towards the stairs, disappearing into the boys' dormitory. All he could think was how he was going to find her again.

"You guys are actually dumbasses, I told you not to drink so much last night" pansy said as she looked at almost all of her friends with droopy eyes and shoulders slumped down.

"Pansy, this was the party of the year, how could've we not gotten drunk??" Draco quickly retorted.

“Yea and we saw you last night you drank way more than the rest of us, my question is how are you not hungover??” Enzo says

“Apparently I was the only one smart enough to drink a hangover potion before I passed out”

Blaise quickly put an arm around pansy’s shoulder’s know how riled up she gets after a long night. “You blokes saw the way pansy was practically checking out lovegood last night?” Draco said, Theo finally plucked his face up from the table, suddenly very interested in the conversation.

“Pansy wasn’t the only one ogling someone last night, isn’t that right, mattheo?” Enzo perked up, nudging mattheo who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” mattheo replied with slight flushed cheeks.

“Oh come on, I noticed the way you were eyeing Y/n from that brooding corner of yours”

y/n? So that's her name

“Wait Y/n as in the Y/n Y/L/N the one we have history of magic with??” Pansy questioned

Now he remembered why she looked so familiar.

“Since when is riddle so whipped for a girl, huh?” Draco asked, Blaise nodded while everyone’s attention was shifted to the onyx eyed man.

“You lot are ridiculous” mattheo said as he got up and strutted down to the exit of the great hall. Just as he turned to the courtyard he caught a glimpse of those familiar eyes, it was a look he knew all too well having experienced it just last night.

He quickly changed his course, his steps quickening as to not lose her again.

“Hey smiths girl”

[saturnsag3]

can you do a part 3 of them being in a healthy relationship 🥺

Slowly, Carefully - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: they’re approaching the healthy zone (everyone cheered)

wc: 3,707

part 1 here, part 2 here

It was four days after Will showed up at Mack’s door again. Those days were full of cautious text exchanges and small, tentative steps back into each other’s orbit.

They hadn’t kissed.

They hadn’t even touched.

But Mack let Will call him. Let him ramble about his shitty psych professor and his weird neighbor who kept asking for sugar but clearly just wanted to flirt. Mack even laughed once—quiet, involuntary. Will didn't comment on it.

That morning, Harper texted:

Come over. I made banana bread and you owe me emotional tea.

Mack hesitated. He’d avoided the conversation so far, the one he knew was coming. But she was right. He owed her honesty.

So he threw on a hoodie, grabbed his keys, and drove the three blocks to her apartment.

---

“You’re doing the face,” Harper said the second she opened the door, arms crossed. “The guilty little raccoon face.”

Mack sighed. “Hi to you too.”

She stepped aside to let him in. “Don’t try to charm me with your sad little eyes and tragic cheekbones.”

“I’m not,” Mack mumbled, flopping onto her couch. “I brought you gossip. And emotional tea. Like you asked.”

He handed Harper her tea and sat cross-legged on the opposite cushion before she spoke up. “Okay. Spill. What happened after he came over?”

Mack took a sip, bracing himself. “He apologized. Like... really apologized. No deflections. No excuses.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Is the

apocalypse happening too or...?”

“Harper.”

“I’m just saying, the bar’s in hell.”

He gave her a look. “He admitted everything. That he’d been a coward. That he led me on. That he didn’t think he was good enough and thought not saying anything would hurt less when he left.”

Harper didn’t say anything for a second. Just stared at him, her expression unreadable.

“I told him I’m still mad,” Mack said, voice quieter now. “And that I don’t trust him. But I said... I said if we’re starting over, it’s one chance. And no bullshit.”

Her mouth pressed into a tight line. “And you believe him?”

Mack hesitated. “I believe he wants to try. For the first time, I believe he’s actually scared of losing me.”

Harper sighed, setting her mug down with a thud. “Celly. You know I love you, right?”

“Obviously.”

“And you know I don’t entirely hate him.”

“I’m sensing a but.”

She leaned in a little, voice softer now. “But I watched you fall apart countless times over this guy. I held your hand while you stared at your phone for hours. I watched you sleep on my couch because your bed felt too empty. And I just... I don’t want to do that again.”

Mack swallowed hard. “I know.”

“I’m not saying don’t give him a chance. I’m just saying be careful. Guard your heart a little. Don’t hand him the whole thing just because he showed up with puppy eyes and emotional growth.”

“I’m not,” Mack said quickly. “I’m trying to be smart this time.”

Harper nodded. “Okay. Good. Because if he hurts you again, I’m going full nuclear. Like, sugar in his gas tank, signing him up for the military levels of nuclear.”

Mack let out a low laugh. “You’re terrifying.”

“I know!” she said brightly. “Now give me the rest of the tea. What’s he actually doing to show he means it?”

---

Later that night, Will showed up with Thai food and a list of potential “first date again” ideas scribbled on the back of a CVS receipt.

“I know you said mixtape,” he said, handing it to Mack as they sat on the floor of Mack’s apartment, “but I panicked and started writing instead. Also, fun fact: Spotify playlists are not as romantic when the first song is labeled ‘Sad Bastard Vol. 3.’”

Mack snorted, unfolding the paper.

It read:

* Arcade + slushies (nostalgic and cheap)

* Bad movie marathon (you pick the worst ones)

* I make dinner, you judge me harshly

* Picnic by the sculpture garden where you once said “that statue looks like a traumatized bird”

* Just walking. Anywhere. As long as I get to be next to you

Mack blinked. “Okay, that last one’s kinda sweet.”

“I was drunk on sentiment. Sue me.”

Mack glanced at him. “You weren’t drunk when you wrote this.”

Will smiled, soft and self-deprecating. “Nah. Just stupid in love.”

Mack looked down again, a lump rising in his throat. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it scares me.”

Will didn’t push. He didn’t reach for his hand. He just nodded, folding a napkin in half over and over again. “Okay. Then I won’t say it. Not until you want to hear it.”

They sat in silence for a while, eating noodles and letting the quiet settle. But this time, it wasn’t awkward.

It felt like maybe they were both learning how to speak again—how to be gentle where they used to be reckless.

---

Over the next few days, Will didn’t disappear.

He sent good morning texts. Checked in between classes. Showed up with coffee and studied on the floor while Mack sat on the couch, flipping flashcards.

It wasn’t perfect. There were still awkward silences, moments when Mack would flinch if Will’s tone got sharp, or go quiet when Will took too long to text back.

But Will noticed now. And he didn’t run from it.

“Are you okay?” he’d ask. “Did I say something wrong?”

And Mack would breathe, then answer. “No. I’m just remembering.”

Sometimes they’d talk. Sometimes they’d sit in the silence until it passed.

But they never left it hanging.

That felt new. That felt good.

---

Two weeks after the Thai food and the receipt list, Will officially asked.

They were sitting on a bench outside Mack’s building, sharing a bag of peanut M\&Ms and arguing over which *Mission: Impossible* movie had the best chase scene.

Will popped a blue one in his mouth, then turned to him with this look—open and shy and a little bit terrified.

“So,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about the list.”

Mack raised an eyebrow. “The traumatized bird picnic one?”

Will grinned. “Precisely. And as enticing as that traumatized bird picnic sounds I figured I’d start with something less poetic and more... properly date-y.”

Mack stilled, the word hanging there between them.

Will swallowed. “Like, an actual date. I want to take you out. Not as penance. Not as a redo. Just—because I want to. Because I like you. Still. Always.”

Mack looked away, heart thudding too loud. “You already do that stuff. Bring me coffee. Text me dumb memes.”

Will nudged him gently with his knee. “Yeah, but I want the real thing. The official ‘we’re trying again’ version. Macklin Celebrini, will you go out with me?”

Mack glanced back at him. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

A slow smile curled at Mack’s lips. “Okay. I will.”

---

Their first “again” date was classic Will: slightly chaotic and trying way too hard.

He picked Mack up with a bouquet of gas station flowers and a playlist labeled Mack's Smile: The Sequel. They got dinner at the ramen place near campus, then walked around aimlessly, ending up at the sculpture garden just like Will had scribbled on the receipt.

They stood in front of the bird statue.

“It still looks traumatized,” Mack murmured.

Will smirked. “It’s got nothing on me, honestly.”

Mack rolled his eyes, but he was smiling—really smiling this time.

They didn’t kiss. But Will reached out, offering his pinky like a bridge. Mack linked his with it and held on the whole walk back.

---

Date two was a movie night at Mack’s. Will made boxed mac and cheese that somehow came out blessedly good, and Mack picked the worst vampire movie he could find.

“This is unwatchable,” Will said halfway through.

“You love it.”

“I love you, and you’re making me suffer.”

Mack’s heart stuttered—but Will didn’t flinch when he said it this time, didn’t immediately take it back.

Mack didn’t say it back either.

But he leaned his head on Will’s shoulder, and that was enough.

For a second.

Then he went still.

His body didn’t tense, exactly—but something in his breathing shifted, just enough for Will to notice.

Mack didn’t move away, didn’t make a scene. Just tilted his head a little, eyes still on the screen, and said, casual as he could manage, “Those three words are gonna get you in trouble, William.”

Will blinked, lips parting like he wasn’t sure if it was a joke or a warning.

Mack glanced at him then, the faintest smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You can’t just drop the L-word mid-vampire monologue and expect no consequences.”

Will relaxed a little, chuckling. “Consequences like what? Eternal emotional limbo?”

“No, worse,” Mack said, nudging him with his elbow. “You’ll be the guy who said ‘I love you’ while a poorly CGI’d bat burst into flames. That’s a legacy you can’t undo.”

Will laughed—but the look he gave Mack was softer now, more careful. “Okay. Noted. I’ll save it for a more romantic backdrop next time.”

Mack didn’t answer right away. Just let the silence hang between them, the fake blood and wooden stakes flickering on the screen in front of them.

Then, quieter, more honest: “I’m not ready to say it back.”

“I know,” Will said, no hesitation. “I don’t need you to. Not until it’s real for you.”

Mack finally turned, met his eyes. “It’s not not real.”

Will smiled. “That’s good enough for me.”

And somehow, that was true. Mack leaned into him again, and Will let him. No pressure. No rush

---

By the third date, things felt easier. Softer.

It was a double date.

Harper had been “seeing” this guy named Eli for three weeks and decided, in her words, 

“It’s time to cross the beams.”

She chose the diner near campus. Somewhere loud enough that awkward silence wouldn’t echo, and familiar enough that Mack wouldn’t feel like he was on display.

Harper and Eli were already there when they arrived. Harper waved them over, eyes sharp.

“Hello, my love,” she says to Macklin, squeezing him into a hug before dragging her gaze to the man next to him. “William.”

Will straightened, offering a polite smile and his hand. “That’s me.”

Harper looked at him for a beat too long. Not smiling. Not shaking his hand yet. Just watching, weighing something behind her eyes.

Then she finally took his hand, firm and deliberate. “Nice to see you again”

“You too,” Will said, careful.

Eli leaned toward Will, stage-whispering, “This is the calm before the storm. I once said Derek Shepherd was overrated and she gave me the silent treatment in a CVS.”

Will chuckled nervously. “Duly noted.”

Harper’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Let’s sit.”

The rest of the night was surprisingly... fun. Eli was awkward but funny, Harper loosened up after her fourth side of fries, and Will kept sneaking glances at Mack like he couldn’t believe he got to sit next to him again.

Mack caught him once, mid-smile. “What?”

Will shrugged, grinning like an idiot. “Nothing. Just enjoying this.”

But right as they were waiting for the check, Harper stood abruptly. “Will. Come with me.”

Mack frowned. “Harper—”

“I need him to walk me to the counter,” she said, breezy and fake-innocent. “Very dangerous out there. Cash registers and teenage waitstaff everywhere.”

Will stood without hesitation. “Sure.”

Mack watched them cross the restaurant. Harper didn’t look back. Will glanced over his shoulder once, just briefly. Mack nodded.

He let it happen.

Harper didn’t speak right away. She led Will to the counter, stopped just past it near the pie display case, and folded her arms over her chest.

Will waited.

Finally, she said, “You know I don’t trust you, right?”

Will nodded. “Fair.”

“You disappeared. You let him think he meant nothing.”

“I know.”

She tilted her head. “And now you’re back, all prince charming-ish, heart-eyes, and late-night texts, acting like you’ve been here the whole time.”

“I’m not acting,” Will said quietly. “I am here. Now.”

Harper scoffed. “Yeah? What changed?”

He hesitated, then looked at her—really looked at her. “I was scared before. I kept thinking if I gave in to it, if I let myself have him, it would hurt more when I lost him. So I acted like I didn’t care. I kept him at arm’s length.”

“And then what?” Harper asked. “You woke up one day and had a life changing moral epiphany?”

“I woke up and realized I missed him more than I liked protecting myself.”

Harper stared him down. “You really don’t get another screw-up, Will. He’s still hurt. He still flinches when your name pops up on his phone. You don’t get to break him again, he won’t survive it.”

Will’s throat felt tight. “I know. I’m not planning on it.”

She studied him for a long moment. “Do you love him?”

Will didn’t flinch. “Yeah. I do.”

Harper’s eyes narrowed. “Does he know that?”

“I told him once,” he admitted. “But he didn’t say it back.”

She exhaled slowly. “He’s not ready.”

“I know,” Will said. “I’m not asking him to be. I just want to be here until he is. However long that takes.”

Harper blinked. A moment passed, and her expression softened—just slightly. Then she reached out and touched his arm.

“If you mess this up again,” she said calmly, “I will destroy your entire bloodline and make it look like an accident.”

Will gave a shaky laugh. “Understood.”

“Good,” she said. Then she turned and walked back to the table.

Will followed, heart pounding, but lighter than before. Because somehow—he knew that Harper wasn’t just protecting Mack anymore.

Mack watched them return, Harper sliding back into her seat like nothing had happened. She stole a fry off Eli’s plate and made a joke about their waiter’s haircut before Will even sat down.

But Mack didn’t miss the flush in Will’s cheeks, or the way his shoulders were just a little straighter.

When Will finally took his seat beside him again, Mack leaned in, voice low. “What did she say to you?”

Will blinked. “A lot.”

Mack raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”

Will shook his head. “No. Just... intense.”

Mack paused, studying him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Will said, meeting his eyes. “She loves you. That’s all.”

Mack’s expression softened, just slightly. “She does.”

Will nudged his knee under the table. “She’s not that bad, but please don’t tell her I said that because I do genuinely believe she’ll rip my balls off.”

Mack let out a quiet laugh, not pulling away. “You’re an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” Will murmured, and Mack didn’t correct him.

---

The first kiss happened on date seven.

They’d just spent three hours losing tragically at mini golf. Will blamed the wind. Mack blamed Will’s inability to hit a ball without spinning in a circle first “for luck.”

On the drive home, the air between them felt electric, buzzing with something unsaid.

Mack unlocked his front door, turned to say goodbye—

And then Will was close. Not too close. Not assuming. Just... hopeful.

Mack looked at him, really looked.

Will was fidgeting.

Not in an obvious, twitchy way—but his fingers tapped lightly against the side of his thigh, his jaw clenched, unclenched. He was trying so hard to play it cool, and failing spectacularly.

Mack tilted his head, curious. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Will said quickly. Too quickly. “Yes. I just—uh.” He took a breath, eyes flicking to the ground, then back to Mack’s. “I really don’t want to pressure you. Or rush anything. And please, seriously, tell me if I’m reading this wrong, like if this isn’t what you want, or if this is too soon or just—”

“Will.”

Will stopped mid-ramble, wide-eyed.

Mack raised an eyebrow, amused. “Breathe.”

Will let out a shaky laugh, then scratched the back of his neck. “Right. Breathing. Got it.”

There was a beat of silence, warm and waiting.

Then, quieter now, softer: “Can I kiss you?”

Mack blinked.

Will’s voice was almost a whisper. “I know you’re not there yet. With, like... the words. And I don’t need you to be. I just—I’ve wanted to kiss you since that day I came to your apartment to apologize.”

Mack’s breath caught.

Something about the way Will said it—quiet, almost reverent—made the air between them shift, heavier and more fragile all at once.

He looked at Will, really looked. At the hope in his eyes, the way he was standing like every nerve in his body was braced for rejection. And underneath it, the patience. The restraint. Like he was holding himself back for Mack’s sake, even now.

Mack stepped forward.

Not much. Just enough that their shoes touched.

“You’re an idiot,” he said softly.

Will smiled, unsure. “You’ve made that very clear.”

Mack’s fingers tugged lightly at the front of Will’s jacket, anchoring them. “And I’m still not there yet. With the whole— the words thing.”

“I know,” Will said, so quickly it almost overlapped. “It’s fine. You don’t have to be.”

“But I still want this,” Mack added.

And then—finally—he leaned in.

The kiss was nothing like their old ones, from the before. It wasn’t rushed or desperate or burning with the panic of what-if. It was steady. Real. A promise drawn slow across lips.

Will’s hands hovered at Mack’s waist like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed, until Mack moved closer, nudging their bodies together.

That’s when Will exhaled against his mouth, a sound halfway between relief and awe, and kissed him back like he meant it.

When they broke apart, Mack didn’t move away. Just rested his forehead lightly against Will’s, his voice barely audible.

“Hopefully that was worth it”

Will’s smile was soft and certain. “Hell yeah, it was”

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: i really love writing for this universe and i think i have a few ideas for some bonus content and stuff but please send requests if you want to see anything specific and once again i hope u girlies enjoyed <3

[hippiegoth97]

Where Is My Mind?: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by me :)

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Description: It's your two-year anniversary with Eddie, and you both spend the evening exchanging 'gifts'...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: Smut, female reader, fingering, oral sex, squirting, consecutive orgasms, embarrassment, crying, overstimulation

Word Count: 4.8k

divider by @firefly-graphics

Where Is My Mind?

"Oh, God, Eddie!" You cry out as an overwhelming orgasm rocks through you. Your hands are tangled in Eddie's hair as he's been going down on you for the last hour or so. You’ve already cum three times, but he refuses to let up. You're soaked in sweat, your body sparking as he keeps licking and sucking on you to build you up again. "Baby, haven't you had enough? Your tongue must be getting tired." You whine, feeling your insides tighten in preparation for yet another orgasm.

He stops for a second to answer you. "Not at all angel, you taste so good. I could do this all night, and I love hearing you scream my name." He immediately dives back in, sticking his tongue inside your soaked cunt. His cock strains against his jeans, but he manages to get a little friction from kneeling against the side of his bed as he works on you.

Earlier tonight, the two of you had been celebrating your two-year anniversary. Eddie made spaghetti for dinner, and he gave you a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers. He also made you a mixtape, one he said was perfect for eating you out. Eager to test it, he popped the tape into the portable stereo and pounced on you. You hadn't even had the chance to give Eddie his gift, he was too preoccupied stripping you of your clothes and kissing every inch of flesh on your body.

Eddie has managed to keep all of his clothes on, he knows he'll get what he desires from you soon enough. But he wants to show you just how much he loves you. You're his whole world, a queen ruling over his cynical heart. Until he met you, he'd never truly believed in love or romance before. He thought those things were just make-believe bullshit made up by The Man to force people into model nuclear families. But he swears the moment he laid eyes on you, everything changed for him.

Funnily enough, you'd met him in a land of make-believe, so to speak. A Renaissance Faire in Indianapolis, to be exact. You'd gone with some friends, the lot of you were highly obsessed with medieval times and the mythology surrounding it. Eddie went by himself, unable to convince anyone to go along with him. He figured this was the only way to experience anything resembling Lord of The Rings and D&D in real life. Neither of you had high expectations, you assumed it would be pretty cheesy or mostly meant for little kids.

Once you'd arrived however, what you saw before you blew your minds. The entrance to the Faire was a giant castle, with a moat and a drawbridge. Everyone was dressed up, and all the employees were deep within their characters. It was a fantasy nerd's paradise, you thought you'd died and gone to heaven. And you hadn't even stepped foot inside the fairgrounds yet. But once you paid the admission and walked through the gates, your brain exploded all over again.

There were stalls of handmade jewelry, wands, swords, leather-bound journals, costumes, tiaras, fairy wings, the list went on endlessly. A field was blocked off for the knights to joust on massive horses, and rows of games lined the other side of the grounds. There were fortune tellers, face painters, people dressed as fairies and elves and royalty. A regal food court boasted giant turkey legs, popcorn, many sweets and treats, and more than enough booze to knock you on your ass. It was all so much to take in, but in an odd way it felt like you'd been waiting to find a place like this your entire life.

You and your friends explored every inch of the Faire, unable to resist buying the cute trinkets from the little shops. You watched the noble knights joust for the honor of marrying the fine princess, the winner giving her a big kiss for everyone to see. It was surprisingly romantic, sending your heart aflutter. You've always loved mushy things like that, waiting for your own knight in shining armor to save you from your boring life.

After a while, your stomach started growling. Your friends wanted to keep playing the carnival games, one of which was throwing tomatoes at a jester's face as he insulted you. You told them you'd come right back, heading to the other side of the Faire to try one of those famous turkey legs. It's at this point that Eddie spotted you from afar, though you took no notice of him. Your stomach lead you blindly to the smell of roasting meat, blocking out everything else happening around you.

Eddie caught a glimpse of you as he was walking the other way to check out the games, stopping dead in his tracks. He saw you were dressed in a long, red chemise, which left your shoulders bare. A black, corseted overdress sat atop the chemise, pushing your tits up for the perfect amount of cleavage. Your hair was tied in braids, which were wrapped immaculately around your head. Some loose strands of hair framed your face, and he was instantly enchanted. He decided to follow you, to perhaps buy you an ale or something. He hadn't expected to really interact with anyone outside of the employees at the Faire, but you seemed special.

You sidled up to the stand selling the turkey legs, ordering one for yourself. You'd contemplated buying for your friends too, but the legs were probably too big to carry so many at that great of a distance. You paid for your food, and made your way to the busty woman selling beer. You were just about to order when you heard a voice speak to you. "May I be so bold as to buy a fair maiden some ale?" You turned to see where the voice came from, stunned to find a very handsome man standing before you. He was tall, slender, with long, curly hair and a devilish smile on his face. He was wearing a red, billowy shirt that exposed some of his chest, and tight, black leather pants that tied with laces in the front. Matching leather boots adorned his feet, and a rather large sword sat sheathed at his hip. His hand rested over the handle of the sword, which made you take notice of the chunky rings on his fingers. He was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen, and he was talking to you.

You smiled at him, blushing at his deep brown eyes boring into you. "Why, thank you, kind sir. I'd be honored to indulge in a libation with you." You said, giggling at how silly you sounded with a terrible accent. He chuckled at you, reaching out for your hand. You gave it to him, blushing even harder when he planted a kiss to the back of it. He led you wordlessly to the line for drinks, ordering for you when it was finally your turn again. Once he paid, he found a nice quiet spot for you to talk. The two of you sat on a bench, knees touching as you positioned yourselves beside each other. You'd forgotten all about your turkey leg at this point, but you didn't really care to remember it when you were in the company of this mysterious man.

"So, what's your name, my lady?" He was still playing along, though you weren't sure how long the act could be kept up.

"Y/N. And yours?" You said coyly, sipping from your metal mug.

"Eddie, it's nice to meet you, Y/N. What brings you to the Faire?" He chugged some of his own drink, belching loudly which made you laugh. "Pardon me." He said sheepishly, wiping his mouth with his hand.

"I'm here with some friends. We've always liked medieval stuff, so we figured this would be a fun time." You couldn't keep speaking in Olde English, it was giving you a headache to think of the correct phrasing. Eddie took notice, relaxing his shoulders as it seemed he was also struggling to keep up. "What about you, Eddie? Are you here with anyone?" You asked, worried that maybe he had a girlfriend or something. A man as handsome as he was, he had to be taken, right?

"Nope, I'm here all on my lonesome. Well, until I saw you, the most gorgeous young woman I've ever seen." He put a hand on your knee suggestively, which made you tense up. You were struck by his words, no man had called you something so flattering before. Your eyes met his again, and you couldn't resist licking your lips. He continued speaking, much lower in volume. "And I also quite enjoy 'medieval stuff' as you called it, though I think you already figured that out." You set down your beer, and he put his aside as well. He brushed one of the stray strands of hair behind your ear, smoothly making a move to cup your cheek afterwards. "May I kiss you, princess?" He asked softly, his breath shaking with nerves. You'd barely spoken to each other, and yet there you were, centimeters away from your lips meeting.

"Yes, kind sir. You may." You replied, too caught up in anticipation to laugh. He closed the gap between you, gently pressing his mouth to yours. He tasted like beer, and tobacco. You were instantly hooked, pulling on his shirt collar to bring him closer to you. You both moaned down each other's throats, enamored by how thrilling it was to kiss someone you'd just met. You began to feel quite warm, tempted to straddle his lap right there for anyone to see.

A little bit later, the jester from earlier brought everyone's attention to you. He ran up to your bench, standing behind you as you kissed. "Well, it seems we doth have some rather rambunctious lovers in our midst! Perhaps we shall quell their burning lust, lest they shed their clothes for all eyes to see!" The jester jumped in the air, ringing a loud bell which hurt your ears. You broke apart, blushing madly at being called out. Passersby stopped to see this display, eager to watch your public humiliation. "Ah, and you dare to waste such fine ale? In favor of lashing tongues at one another? For shame!" He shouted, and the crowd mimicked his final words.

"FOR SHAME!" The bystanders were all laughing at you, though it was all in good fun. The jester picked up your mugs, holding them over your heads. You looked to Eddie, unsure of what to do. All he could do was stare back, blushing just as hard as you were while he shrugged his shoulders.

"FOR SHAME!" The jester laughed maniacally, dumping the remains of your drinks onto your heads. You shrieked as the cold beer soaked through your clothes and hair. You stood up, swatting at the jester in an attempt to hit him. He quickly dodged your blow, tutting at you. Eddie reached out to reel you in, but you took no notice. "Oh! I see you have quite the fire inside you, young maiden! Methinks one ought to quench thine whorish flames!" You felt another cold splash of liquid rain down onto you, much larger than the last. Eddie gasped, horrified that these people would go so far to humiliate you. You turned back around to see a burly man holding a large wooden bucket, which you guessed previously held the water that was poured onto your head. You glared at the jester again, unamused at getting soaked like that. "Oh, sweet lady. I beg thee to calm thyself. 'Tis all in good 'jest'!" He laughed again, dancing a jig before he went on his merry way. The onlookers also left to go about their business, the little show was over. Your friends caught the end of it, watching as you struggled to stand upright, the ground beneath you melting into sloppy mud.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Eddie asked quietly, reaching for your arm. You flinched at first, still shaken from being made a fool by the fool. You just nodded, trying not to cry. You knew it was just a joke, and you had made the mistake of making out in public when the performers loved any opportunity to make a silly interaction. Eddie pulled you close, innocently holding your waist to calm you. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault." He sounded sad, guilty for causing this whole ordeal.

"It's alright, I should've seen that coming. I'd heard the workers can be quite mischievous." You wiped your face with your hands, and your group came up to ask what happened. They were also very intrigued to find out who the handsome man next to you was. You explained it all, introducing them to Eddie. They eyed him up and down, making various approving noises or remarks in the most unsubtle way. You tried to apologize to Eddie for their rudeness, but he thought nothing of it, in fact he found it quite flattering. He walked with you and your friends to the exit, considering you being drenched made it quite uncomfortable to stay at the Faire.

You'd coincidentally parked your car right next to his van, and he clumsily dug around inside his vehicle to find a scrap of paper to write down his phone number for you. Eddie kissed you again before you parted ways, his wet hair rubbed against your cheeks as he slipped the paper into your hands. The feeling of his lips on yours stole the air from your lungs, but a warning honk from your friends signaled it was time to let him go. You held that little scrap of paper tightly the whole way home, eagerly dialing him later that evening. And the rest was history, from that moment on, you and Eddie had been inseparable.

Returning to the present, Eddie's tongue is furiously flicking against your clit to drive you over the edge for the fourth time this evening. An endless flow of moans falls from your lips, and Eddie drinks it all in. He loves the sounds you make, they're so vulgar and beautiful at the same time. He inserts two fingers into your soaking pussy, taking his mouth away to have a small break.

Eddie's eyes scan over your glistening body, watching you squirm and ball up the sheets with your hands. Your tits bounce as every touch he gives you makes your body jolt. Tears stream down your cheeks, your mouth fixed agape. "You're so gorgeous like this, sweetheart. So perfectly fucked for me. Do you want me to make you cum again?" He purrs at you, pumping his fingers inside you teasingly. His pace is excruciatingly slow, it brings you right to the edge without letting you fall off.

"Yes, please! I'm very close, Eds. Make me cum, I can't take the teasing." You're so needy for him, your tone making his cock even harder as you speak. He picks up speed, watching your head dig further into the pillow. Your back arches off the bed, and your pussy flutters around his fingers wildly. You're so, so close, and you want him to see you lose control. "Just like that, baby. Fuck, you make me feel so good." He adores when you praise him, it always casts his self-doubt about his performance aside.

"I'm happy to please you, sweetheart. Be a good girl and make a mess on my fingers." He coos at you, watching every micro-expression that swipes across your face. He moves his digits even faster inside you, using his thumb to rub vicious circles on your clit.

"Eddie!" You scream as another explosion of bliss engulfs you. Your legs shake violently, arousal pooling into Eddie's hand. Your insides are on fire, your abdomen sore from your muscles flexing involuntarily with every orgasm. He stills his fingers, letting your high fade away before slowly pulling them out. He brings them to his lips, hungrily sucking your juices from them. He moans at the taste, sucking down every last drop of you as his eyes flutter closed.

"Mmm, so fuckin' good, baby." Eddie observes you again, admiring how spent you look. You're panting, your face staring at the ceiling. Your hair clings to your sweat-soaked face, and your whole body glows with lust. Tremors rock through you randomly, making you whimper as they shock your clit. Eddie’s really done a number on you. You're sure if he dared to simply blow air against your pussy, you'd lose it all over again. He crawls over to you on the bed, laying next to you carefully. He turns your face to look at him, smiling lovingly at you. "Did you enjoy yourself, angel?" He asks.

"Y-yes, Eds." You stutter your words, shivering slightly as your sweat turns cold. He pulls you close, quickly warming you back up in his gentle arms. He kisses you tenderly, and you can't help melting into putty. "Do you want your present now, baby?" You ask quietly, nuzzling your head into his neck.

"Sure, sweetheart. Stay here though, I'll grab it." He lets you go, stepping off the bed to grab the small box you put on his dresser as he ambushed you earlier. He gets back into bed, bringing you back into his embrace. You quickly snuggle him again, eager for his body heat to radiate into you. Eddie opens the box, finding a beautiful ring inside. He removes it from the box, inspecting it closely. It's chunky and silver like the ones he has already, but in the middle is a large, blood-red stone in the shape of a heart. The band itself is an intricate weaved pattern, and there's an engraving on the underside of the stone. It reads: 'For Eddie, My Heroic Knight' in an elegant script. He's speechless, he never expected you to get him something so nice.

"Do you like it, darling?" You ask, playfully stroking his chest as you watch his awestruck face. It's amusing that you seem to have caught him off guard, which is not an easy feat. After a moment of admiring the ring, Eddie slips it on one of the free fingers on his right hand.

"I love it, angel. It's the best gift anyone's ever given me." His eyes meet yours, his hand cupping your cheek. Your lips touch again, but this time you climb on top of him as you kiss. You straddle him, his hands gripping your ass roughly. Your mouth leaves Eddie's, migrating to his jaw and neck. He moans as you suck dark hickeys onto his flesh, marking him as much as you can. Your cunt rubs against Eddie's hard cock over his jeans, and you're eager to get him out of his clothes. You sit up, tugging his shirt up his chest. He helps you out, quickly discarding it to the floor.

"You're so handsome, baby." You tell him as you stare at his beautiful chest. You lean down to kiss his tattoos, nipping his skin playfully. Eddie groans, fixated on every touch you give him. Your mouth meets every inch of him you can reach, slowly traveling down to the small trail of hair above his jeans. You lift your head, smirking at him as you unbuckle his belt. He grins back, resting his head on his hands to observe your actions. You unzip his fly and yank his pants down his legs, tossing them aside. You glance down at his boxers, a tent formed in the thin fabric. Licking your lips, you shed Eddie of his final layer of clothing, watching his dick stand at attention. You kneel between his legs, leaning down you lick a long stripe up his length.

"Fuck." Eddie sighs, wanting to shove himself down your throat so badly. But he lets you take your time, not breaking eye contact as you do so. You teasingly swirl your tongue around the head, swallowing the precum that's gathered on it. He moans, an almost tortured look on his face. "Baby, please don't tease me." He begs, needy for your hot, wet mouth. You happily sink your lips down onto his cock, letting him hit the back of your throat. More noises spill from Eddie's lips as you work him, deepthroating him expertly. He loves when you give him head, there's nobody else on this earth that does it like you.

"Mmm." You moan on his length, increasing your speed. Sure, you mainly wanted to send vibrations through Eddie to drive him mad, but you also really enjoy sucking him off. Watching him whine and moan and praise you, it gets you unbelievably hot and bothered. You massage his balls gently in your hand, feeling them tighten as Eddie's high draws closer.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You're such a good little slut for me. Can you bring your pussy over here while you do that, though?" He asks, insatiable lust tinging his voice. You roll your eyes goofily, of course he wants to eat you out again. You already know it won't take long for him to make you cum, you're still so riled up from before. You continue blowing him, carefully maneuvering yourself to put your cunt in his face. He notices the arousal dripping from you, groaning at the site. "You love having my dick in your mouth, don't you, baby?" He says rhetorically, he already knows the answer.

"Mmhmm." You reply anyway, humming on him again. But it quickly morphs into a moan as Eddie's tongue begins toying around with your clit. He stops for a moment, biting your ass cheek to get your attention. You look back at him best you can, letting his dick slip out of your mouth. "Yes, my love?" You ask, quite used to this form of communication with him.

"Slow down on me a little, angel. I want you to focus on enjoying yourself." He strokes your thighs sensually, his tongue playing at the edge of his mouth mischievously. Eddie's always been so giving in bed, even when he's obviously desperate to have some pleasure of his own. You nod at him as you bite your lip, before turning away to take him back in your mouth. You slowly bob up and down, your tongue swirling around his length languidly. "That's it, keep that pace, Y/N." He groans again, trying to hold back his impulse to buck his hips into you. Eddie savors the feeling for a second, calming himself. You can feel his breath stuttering as it fans over your pussy, mentally smirking at just how close he is.

You want his mouth back on you, though he seems to be a little distracted. You lean your behind backwards to him, tempting his tongue to see just how sweet you taste. He chuckles at your wanting, before giving you what you need. Eddie sucks your clit back into his mouth, focusing his moans onto your core. The vibrations are nearly enough to make you lose it, you practically scream on his cock. You want to go faster, make him cum down your throat right now. But he asked you to go slowly, and you'll do anything to make him happy. It takes everything in you to maintain your pace, due to Eddie's moves making your head spin. You're sweating all over again, and it feels like your brain is melting.

Eddie relentlessly licks and sucks on your pussy, drinking up any arousal that drips from it. There's a nonstop cycle of moaning from the two of you, sending tremors through your flesh where you need it the most. You instinctively push yourself closer to his face, and he takes this as his cue to shove his tongue inside your needy hole. Your fifth orgasm takes you over, your walls clenching his tongue. Juices run out of you, spilling down Eddie's chin and onto his chest. He holds you steady as your legs threaten to give out, they tremble violently as pure bliss cascades through you. Your release brings Eddie to the end as well, his cum shooting in thick ropes down your throat. You swallow every last bit, your head falling onto his hip once he's finished.

But Eddie doesn't stop using his mouth on you, building you up yet again like his life depends on it. "Fuck, Eddie. You're gonna make me cum again." You cry out, tears stinging your eyes. Your high doesn't end, only dulls as he tries to give you another. His hands are hooked around your hips, holding you firmly in place. He's like a goddamn machine, whose only purpose is to get you off. "Oh, god!" You scream, your nails digging into Eddie's thighs as you cum on his face, even harder than all the previous times tonight. He's getting absolutely soaked by you, but he still doesn't want to stop. You hear your arousal leaking onto him, almost worried he's going to drown. But he keeps going, not letting you have a second to breathe.

You're panting wildly, constant tears staining your cheeks as his fucks you with his mouth. He keeps moaning against you, trying to make your head blow into smithereens. You've almost drawn blood as you continue to cling to him, making ungodly sounds as you're on the precipice of yet another fucking orgasm. His lips leave you for just a second. "Come on, angel. Just one more for me, be a good girl." He's breathing so hard, it's like he ran a marathon. Though when you think about it, he kind of has in a way. He adds his fingers to the mix, hammering them into you while licking your clit again.

"Eddie!" You scream, loud enough that you suspect the whole trailer park can hear you. Yet again, Eddie has managed to make you cum harder than you ever have before. It's like you're splitting in half, blinding white heat engulfing you in thick flames. An obscene amount of juices gush from you, more than you thought humanly possible. It all splashes onto Eddie, soaking his face, his hair, his chest, and the bed beneath you. You collapse, laying over Eddie's body. All you can see is stars, and your legs won't stop convulsing. The oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, you've forgotten how to breathe. Once it comes back to you, your chest heaves harshly as you gulp in air. You sob uncontrollably, unable to move.

"Y/N?" Eddie asks, watching you lay helplessly on top of him. He notices you crying, quickly slipping out from under you to rush to your side. He helps you sit up, taking a spot next to you. He's shiny with sweat and your cum, holding your head close to his chest. "Shhh, it's okay, angel. Just relax and breathe, okay?" He coos at you, stroking your damp hair comfortingly. Eddie keeps holding you, trying to calm you down. You focus on your breathing, eventually getting it mostly back to normal. You sit fully upright, gazing into his eyes. He looks so worried, but he shouldn't be. "Was it too much, baby?" He asks, cursing himself for how overzealous he was with you.

"No, Eddie. I promise it was amazing, I've never cum so hard before. God, I love you." You pull his slippery face to yours, kissing him deeply to show how much you mean what you're saying. "It wasn't too much for you, was it? I was worried you were gonna drown." You ask as you pull away, but he just smiles.

"I love you too, baby. And you were absolutely perfect, Y/N. So fuckin' sexy, though I imagine we'll both need some water and a shower." He chuckles, glancing at the head of the bed. "Probably some clean sheets too." And you both laugh heartily together. "Let's get cleaned up, darling. Then we can cuddle in bed and I'll read to you." Eddie stands, taking your hand to lead you to the bathroom.

Once you're nice and clean again, and the bed has been tidied up, the two of you get under the covers. Eddie pulls out a Stephen King novel, opening it to the dog-eared page he left off on. You lay your head on his chest, eagerly waiting to hear what happens next in the story. "Happy anniversary, Eds." You say just before he begins to read, craning your neck to give him another kiss.

"Happy anniversary, princess." He meets you in the middle, his heart skipping a beat as your plush lips touch his. "Now, be quiet so we can see what happens with this evil clown." He chides you jokingly, making you giggle. One of his arms wraps around you, while the other holds the paperback open to find his place. You hum lowly as his fingers stroke your back, barely brushing against your skin. He starts to read, his words and warmth putting you in a very content state. "Henry Bowers had gotten too big too fast to be either quick or agile under ordinary circumstances..." He goes on, reading calmly to you in a velvety voice until you fall asleep.

The end.

[medusapelagia]

Title: Second Chances Mixtape Word Count: 49.000 Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Rating: Mature Pairing(s): Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson & Wayne Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, The Party (Stranger Things), Nancy Wheeler, Argyle (Stranger Things), Jonathan Byers, Henry Creel | One | Vecna, Original Characters, Wayne Munson, Mike Wheeler, Will Byers, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Terry Ives, Martin Brenner, Becky Ives, Scott Clarke Tags: Pre-Relationship, Guns, POV Alternating, Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feelings, Abusive Parents, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Past Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Presumed Dead, Child Neglect, Blood and Violence, Gun Violence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Found Family, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Hospitals, Blood and Injury, not too graphicif you have seen season 4 you know what I’m talking about, Reverse Big Bang Challenge

Summary: It's 1986 and the plan to kill Vecna was a disaster: Vecna escaped, Hawkins was devasted by an earthquake and Eddie Munson is dead. Or so they presume.

---

“The cassette player broke.” Lucas whispers after hours of silence. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t help her. I was right there, but I couldn’t help her.” Steve holds him tighter, he has no words of comfort for him and he knows exactly how he feels. How hard is he judging himself, how he is playing the entire movie of the night in his head trying to find the point in time where he could have fixed everything. Steve knows all of that because he and Lucas are so similar and he is doing the very same thing, thinking about Eddie. Only…. Only Steve has another thought that doesn’t let him breathe: did he really hate him? Steve can’t deny that he was jealous of Dustin’s new cool friend but… did he let them risk their lives because he was jealous?

Beta Readers: @soaringornithopter and @house-of-chant Art link and credit: art 1, art 2 by @maikaartwork Fic link and credit: fic by @medusapelagia

[lewinblue]

Put It On me || Harrison Knott

A/N: I haven’t written smut in a while so please give me some grace. If you like it please let me know!

Warnings: It’s smut. It’s public but no one is around.

W.C: 2.7+

Summary: You weren’t expecting Harrison to remember your interest in this song. Especially not in this moment.

You had moved to California two months ago and only recently met Harrison through his sister a month ago. When you had first wandered into Lost & Found with your friend you knew that her brother worked there. You hadn’t expected the immediate spark that sizzled in the air when you were left alone with him as Chloe browsed through the store.

“It’s an empty cassette,” Harrison had answered when you asked what it was that he was fiddling with in between helping customers. “I’m waiting for the right songs to put on it.”

“You know you can just download Spotify or something write?” You teased him as you gently took the tape out of his hands and looked it over.

You had only ever seen cassette players in your parent's attic or at record shops. You had no idea people still made mixtapes.

You didn’t try to stop the smile of endearment at the thought of the attractive boy in front of you making a mixtape.

He snatched it back from you playfully as a new song came over the speakers in the store. It took you a second to place it. For the past hour you’ve been in here waiting around for your friend and pestering her brother, every song has been calm. Songs that you could listen to and lose yourself to as you sat on the beach.

You couldn’t name those other songs, but you did know this one. Put It On Me by Matt Maeson, is not a song that you would have expected to play in here but one that left a smirk on your lips.

“This is the first song I’ve seen you react to since you came in here,” his blue eyes on your face felt more intense than they were a second ago and you could feel your cheeks heat up a bit. “You like this song?”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. You only knew him for less than two hours and somehow his blue eyes swam with mirth and something darker and more intense.

“Of course I do. Haven’t you listened to it?” You asked, looking up from the counter and scanning the store for your friend, trying your best to not look back at Harrison. Without looking at him you said somewhat shyly, “I don’t know if it’s a song I’d play in a public store, though.”

The man hummed and when you didn’t look back at him he finally said, his voice deeper and rasper but his smile still present. “Where do you think this song should be played then?”

It took you a second but when you looked back at him, you paused. Your mouth was dry and you knew you looked flustered under all of his attention. Thankfully before the silence stretched too long, Chloe came rushing back up the front declaring that she couldn’t find what she wanted and that the two of you should stop at the new coffee shop before heading back to your shared apartment.

You only nodded and pulled your bag up higher on your shoulder. You were about to say your goodbyes to Harrison before he jumped in before you could, “actually, your friend was about to give me her phone number.”

You raised your eyebrow at him and he only smiled devilishly at you and handed you a pen from behind the cash register. When you looked for a piece of scrap paper, Harrison slid the empty cassette player over to you and tapped the front for you to put your number.

You ignored your squealing best friend as you did and only let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding when you finally returned the pen and walked out of the record store.

You couldn’t help yourself, you had to have one more look so quickly you turned back to see if you could see Harrison from where you were walking away with Chloe only to see him already looking at you. When he caught your eye, he winked playfully and waved your phone number as a reminder that he would be calling you.

That chance meeting (or set up if the mischievous twinkle in her eyes told you anything) had only happened two weeks ago and already you had spent most of your time with Harrison. If you weren’t with him physically then you were talking on the phone and if you couldn’t do either you were thinking about being with him.

It made you giggle like a child with a schoolyard crush but you couldn’t deny that you were down bad for him already.

Harrison seemed unlike most of the men and general people you had gotten to know since moving to California. He loved to surf and he loved music but it didn’t feel fake or like it was for show. You could tell by the way he talked about music that he loved it. It didn’t matter the genre, the singer, or the decade. He always had an opinion on it and if he didn’t he would listen until he did.

I’m such a short amount of time you felt like you had gotten to know him better than most people you had known for years.

Still, over the past two weeks and the handful of times the two of you went out nothing went further than a kiss. Chaste at first but this last time after he dropped you off at your apartment the way he held the back of your neck and your waist in a strong grip to hold you tighter as his tongue finally danced its way into your mouth left you hot under the collar. At that moment you wanted nothing more than to drag him upstairs to your bedroom and not let him leave until you were both spent. Tired, spent, sweaty and giddy.

So when he finally pulled away, you hadn’t thought twice before grabbing onto his blue t-shirt and trying to pull him back to you. His laugh was low and charming and if you stood there any longer you could have sworn that you would have melted right there.

Harrison grabbed your hand that was fisted in his shirt and brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles. Never letting his baby blue eyes leave yours.

“My sister’s home. I just saw the bedroom light flicker and I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to come in tonight with her here.” He said. You could tell he was trying to calm you down but it was clear that he was just as riled up as you.

“We don’t have to do anything.” You said. You knew it was a lie and so did he. He leaned in again to nuzzle your cheek and kiss your jaw. “We could just hang out”

He kissed the beating pulse on your neck before pulling away. “I promise you, if I move one step closer to that door I won’t be able to just “hang out””

You kissed him once more and nodded. Accepting that things wouldn’t be going further tonight.

“Tomorrow,” he said, as he finally backed away. “I’ll take you to the cliffs by the ocean at sunset. Just me and you and the waves.”

You smiled happily, not thinking about how your fingers grazed where his lips touched your neck. “Tomorrow.”

Sitting on the roof of Harrison’s car overlooking the crashing waves was picturesque, to say the least. Even after settling down here you still hadn’t made the time to really take in your new surroundings.

The way that the sunset over the waves and the warm breeze that blew your hair gently felt like Heaven. It all came together when you remembered the man lounging beside you and the sounds of the song playing from inside the car.

and I fall to pieces (Bitch)

I fall to pieces when I’m with you

(Why?)

Cause I love you so much

I fall to pieces

My cherries and wine

It felt like something out of a film.

When you finally pulled your eyes away from the water to look down at Harrison who had his face angled up to the sky, showing off the scruff on his chin and neck. You bit your lip to stop yourself from leaning in to place kisses on his neck and jaw.

“You enjoying the view?” Harrison questioned quietly.

You knew that he wasn’t talking about the oceans or the rocks. He knew you were looking at him and you couldn’t deny it. He was handsome and hard to take your eyes off of. He was kind and funny and had a good taste in music. He was intoxicating and in this moment there was nothing more that you wanted than him.

You hummed I’m agreement and when a slow smile spread across his face you couldn’t stop yourself. With his eyes still closed, you leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips before murmuring against them, “The best view in all of California.”

When you pulled away his eyes opened and you were met with his blue eyes. Dark with what you could only define as lust.

He didn’t say anything as he looked around to make sure that the two of you were completely alone. You watched as he slid off of the roof of his car.

“Stay there for a second,” he called as he jogged to the driver’s side door and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. Harrison was already back and grabbing your ankles, causing you to giggle, to pull you to the edge of the car roof as a different song started to play from the radio.

You didn’t have a second to process the lyrics or the song as his lips connected with yours. The kiss was hard and desperate and full of need and when he finally pulled away, you were breathless.

“We’re finally alone,” you said quietly and you were surprised that he heard you over the waves of the ocean.

His large hands slid up your thighs and under your dress slowly as he kissed your collarbone and smirked before saying, “That we are.”

You couldn’t think of anything else to say. You didn’t really want to say anything else, you just wanted to feel Harrison’s lips on yours and his hands on your body. He must have felt the same because, with a small nip to your bottom lip, he slid his tongue into your mouth.

Between the grip he had on your thighs and the way his tongue played with yours and licked into your mouth, you felt like a gourmet meal that he was tasting.

The whine that left your lips when he pulled away wasn’t something you were aware of until you saw him smile and then kiss your nose softly.

“Lay back for me,” his tone was firm and gentle at the same time. Your heart was racing and you could feel the dampness pooling in your panties as you did as he said.

Thankfully, you decided to wear a dress tonight because it made it easy for Harrison to pull your underwear down your thighs and put them in his back pocket. You would blush if you could but you were sure at this point you couldn’t turn any more red.

His eyes never left yours as he grabbed your thighs and spread them wide, putting your wet cunt on full display for him. You closed your eyes and tried to control your breathing. You knew you wanted this for a minute now and now that it was finally happening it felt overwhelming.

You bite the inside of your cheek and listen to the waves and the familiar song playing and Harrison kisses the inside of your thigh. The softness of your skin and the roughness of his stubble made you squirm in the best way.

Then, nothing.

You were certain that you might have given yourself whiplash as you whipped your head up to look at him. He chuckled at your reaction before saying softly but loud enough for you to hear him clearly, “I’m just making sure that you want to do this.”

Barely a second passed before you nodded your head enthusiastically, “God, you have no idea how much I want this Harrison.”

“That’s all I needed to hear, baby.” With those words he dragged his middle finger through your slit, collecting the wetness that was there before pushing his digit in.

You sighed in relief and dropped your head back down. Forgetting that you were on the roof of a car for a second and rubbing where you hit your head. Harrison laughed and gave you an inquisitive look before you confirmed you were fine.

Believing you he dropped his own head down and pressed kisses across your waist and your thighs as he flexed his finger inside of you. Almost as if he could read your mind he slipped another digit into you and he nipped gently at your thigh.

The feeling in your core was no longer relief. Tension was building and you needed him. Needed more of him.

You tugged on his t-shirt and whined his name. “Harrison, please fuck me.”

You felt a stuttered breath across your stomach and a falter in his strong fingers at your words.

“Baby, trust me, I want nothing more than to spread those pretty legs of yours further and make you take my cock but I didn’t bring a condom and I want to hear how you sound as you cum before I ever bury myself in you.”

His words made you groan and buck your hips. Just the thought of him fucking you was enough to bring you closer. You had to remember to buy a box of condoms tomorrow because after this Harrison was going to have to call into work for at least a week.

Just as his fingers found that sweet spongy spot in you, that was the moment that Harrison finally put his mouth on you. He licked the wetness on your folds before wrapping his lips around your clit.

He ate your cunt like he kissed. Desperately and like there was nothing else he wanted to do.

Your hands found their way into his sandy brown hair and held tightly and you ground your hips against his face. His moans and groans vibrating against your most sensitive parts were enough to make you moan louder than any wave that was crashing against the rocks below. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

The tension inside you just kept building and when Harrison wrapped his free arm around your thigh and pulled you closer to him, as if you weren’t close enough. You came with a loud moan. Twitching under him and pulling his hair until you could compose yourself enough.

At some point during your orgasm, you must have closed your eyes because when you opened them again, Harrison was standing straight again with a cocky smirk and he wiped his mouth of your juices off with his fingers only for him to stick them back in his mouth and groan.

“You taste divine,” his words were closer to a growl than anything and when he leaned in to kiss you, he flicked his tongue against yours so you could taste yourself. It was obscene and downright delectable.

It took you both a moment to collect yourselves and when you saw the time on his watch you knew that there was no more time for fun because it was late, later than you two usually stayed out and you both had work tomorrow.

When you slipped back into his car after trying and failing to get him to give you your panties back you finally put your seatbelt on and played with the radio while he started the car and pulled off.

It was only after you realized he had a cassette tape in that you thought to press eject and see which one it was. You must have looked surprised when you looked down and saw your phone number and inside the song written down ‘Put It on Me’ by Matt Maeson.

“You didn’t think I forgot the first song you introduced me to did you?” Harrison laughed, “And trust me that song that was playing before is definitely going on here too.”

You laughed lightly and put it in his center console.

“So what I’m hearing is that you plan on making a sex mixtape.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

[strangelyunfinshed]

Twelve years after your best friend Eddie Munson left you heartbroken with nothing but a mixtape as his only goodbye, he walks back into your life, looking for a second chance.

With a wedding to Steve Harrington on the horizon and a career that's everything you've ever wanted, you're on the cusp of the perfect happily ever after. But pressing play on the past could unravel everything, especially when it leads to a kiss that should never have happened. 

Amidst a soundtrack that spans the highs and lows of love and loss, you're faced with your deepest fear—not just the secrets you've kept hidden but the silence of ending up alone.

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Steve Harrington X Fem!Reader

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago, with flashbacks at the beginning of each chapter.  Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Eventual smut. Cheating. Mentions of past DV. Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

For updates follow @tornupdates & turn on notifications.

Song 1. Scar Tissue WC: 5162

Song 2. Sour Girl WC: 6558

Song 3. Disarm WC: 8554

Song 4. Fake Plastic Trees WC: 12399

Song 4. Remix Version WC: 11646

Song 5. Clumsy WC: 12261

Song 6. TBA

Song 7. TBA

Song 8. TBA

Song 9. TBA

Song 10. TBA

Song 11. TBA

Blurbs

Snowy Morning

Eddie & Chris

Articles Playlists & More

Spotify Playlist

4 Questions with Eddie Munson

4 Questions with Steve Harrington

4 Questions with Argyle

Locations Board 1

[gyuswhore]

Dahlia

🎁 Em Birthday + Dino Mixtape Special 🎁

PAIRING: lee chan x reader

SYNOPSIS: When Chan brings you a bouquet filled with promises and hope to begin your birthday, you're happy to accept them with the love they come with. Chan, however, is quick to remind you that the flowers were only the beginning.

CONTAINS: fluff, smut (MINORS DNI) bikerboyfriend!chan, fem!bodied reader, soaked chan (literally), tiny bit of crying (happy tears!!), loads of acts of service, making out, handjobs, breast play, clit stimulation, fingering (f. rec), penetration, chan wont let reader breathe kjgfnekfjn, these two are so in love it gets sappy at the end lmk if theres anything else

WORD COUNT: 4.4K

masterlist

[AN]: if yall didnt think that insane meltdown i had on the tl a while ago wasnt gonna spawn into this, you would be crudely mistaken. ANYWAY in honour of em day falling on dixtape release day i present to you this thing i wrote out of the worst brainrot ive had in a very long time. have fun with channie lol

“Thank you!” Chan yells behind him to the flower shop owner as he walks out, the small tinkle of the door chime making itself known despite the near midnight time. Chan checks his watch as he approaches his motorcycle that stands on the empty sidewalk: 11:38 PM.

He might be able to make it, swinging his leg over the seat as he thanks his luck that he was able to catch the last florist before she closed for the day. The owner sends him a smile as she begins her own trek to her car, lights out. 

Revving his engine to life, he attempts to tuck the bouquet into his riding jacket, praying the delicate petals would hold up during the short ride to your place. His helmet is strapped on within seconds as he kicks up his stand to take off into the empty streets, making a beeline for your apartment. He stops at a red light, taking the chance to check his watch again: 11:47 PM. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, whipping his head around to check the ghostly empty streets of the intersection. He briefly wonders if he can afford a ticket when he sees the droplets fall on his gloved hands. 

“No. No, no, no, come on!” The light turned green as the rain began to thunder down onto his helmet, seeping through the collar of his jacket and trickling down his skin. He pushes away a shudder, trying not to shiver in the now even colder November night, wanting nothing more than to get to your place as quickly as possible. 

The rain grows nothing but stronger as he finds himself needing to wipe his shield every few seconds, his desperation increasing with the strong winds. By the time he’s kicking his stand and yanking his helmet off, the pour seems to have slowed itself to a drizzle, something he thinks he would’ve appreciated just a few minutes ago. In the few seconds it took him to kill the engine and inspect his flowers, the slow droplets infiltrated his hair, too. 

The flowers are soaked, Chan finds out soon enough as he inspects the droplets that have collected on the short petals of the red dahlias he’s picked out. He dumps the bouquet upside down to pour out the accumulated water onto the pavement, watching the amount of liquid that continues to spill out. 

So much for the flowers holding up. 

“I think you need some flowers for your water,” Chan flicks his sopping wet hair off his forehead to look up at the sound of your voice, eyes meeting your delighted face over your low window. 

He glances back down at the water-specked flowers, and hears a ghost of a chuckle escape him. Chan realizes in the moment how frazzled he looks, dripping wet with a thing of dejected flowers in his grip. 

You’re still smiling at the sight, “Come up before the hypothermia sets in, idiot.” 

He’s quick to oblige, bounding inside despite the droplets he leaves in his wake, checking his watch in a glance: 11:58 PM. You’re quick to open the door for him just as he reaches your place on the first floor, folds upon folds of bath towels in your arms. 

“You look like a wet dog,” you snort, laying down a towel for him to step inside on. 

“Wait!” he yells, and you freeze in your crouched spot. You’re slow to come back up, watching him stare intently at his watch. 

11:59 PM… 12:00 AM.

His face breaks out into a big smile, causing you to mimic his elated expression. He grabs your limp hand and thrusts the bouquet into your hands. 

“Happy birthday, babe.”

You can’t help but huff out a little laugh. The sight of dripping hair, sodden socks on a towel, his hand that pushes the flowers into your own, all complete with a stupidly accomplished look on his face. 

You push forward, flowers in hand, as you wrap your arms around his neck in a tight embrace. Pushing your chest into his, you leave no room between what your clothing would allow. It’s wet. Really wet. You can feel your shirt grow warm under the retention, but you pay no mind as you continue clinging to him with all you have. 

“Thank you, Chan.” He can hear the elation in your voice, and it’s enough to make it all worth it. He hugs you back, cautious at first, but relents when he realizes you don’t care about coming out of the hug as soaked as him. It isn’t until you feel the unnatural cold of the tip of his nose kiss your neck that you realize he’s probably freezing. So you pull away, albeit reluctantly. 

He keeps his hands on your hips as you continue, “Let’s get you dried up first.” 

Thus, a freshly washed and clothed Chan exits the bathroom, finding you in the kitchen huddled over the island. It isn’t until he’s engulfed you completely from behind, arms coming to pull you into his bare chest, that he sees what you’re doing. The crimson flowers had been tended to, placed into a pretty vase as you fiddle with the petals to spread them into a pleasing arrangement. 

“It’s freezing, Chan, put a shirt on!” you gasp as you turn around to realize your boyfriend is sporting nothing but trousers and a towel around his neck. 

“In a minute,” he mumbles as he drops his forehead to your shoulder. 

Running your fingers through his wet hair, you attempt to comb them out. “Why didn’t you stop when it started raining? You catch colds so easily.”

“I was running late, and the flower shop fucked my order. It was my fault. Spent ages trying to find one open that had these ones.” 

“You still could’ve stopped.”

“And miss being the first to say happy birthday? Fat chance.” 

You sigh as you give in to him. “Thank you. For testing your immune system for me.”

He snorts at the comment, coming back up to face you, forearms resting on the counter as he pushes your body against the edge. He glances at the flowers briefly.

“This wasn’t the end of it. We still have another twenty-four hours to go,” he murmurs. “The rest of the surprises will be less chaotic, I promise.” 

“It’s not you if there’s no chaos,” you comment with an undertone. “I’ll like anything you give me, no matter how chaotic or calmly you deliver it.”

He hums for a moment, and you sense the mischief coming from a mile away. The half-serious warning leaves you before you can help it, “Don’t make me eat my words.”

He barks out a laugh at that, coming in to capture your frown in a momentary kiss, giving you one peck after another. You stand in each other’s arms for a long while, barefoot in the kitchen, as you talk about your plans for when the sun eventually comes up. Most of which Chan refused to relay to you anyway, so you were really just making guesses. 

His drying hair doesn’t leave your fingers throughout, combing through the strands as you massage his scalp along the way. He melts under the touch, moving the towel around his shoulder way so you can rest your arms on him. He falters slightly at the feeling as he continues to talk. 

You can’t help but notice the wonders the kitchen light seems to be doing for him, the blue-ish glaze illuminating the highs of his face and hair, the glowing lines moving past his neck to his shoulders, and undoubtedly casting the rest of the ridges of his body aglow — you aren’t sure if you can handle finding out if you gaze any lower. The little you can see of his eyes past the flop of hair that covers them is sparkling in the low light. 

Chan doesn’t stop you as you slot your mouth against his, taking the way the light illuminated his lips as a sign. He’s equally as quick to reciprocate, moving his mouth against yours, almost more eager than you. His hands have left their place on the counter and move to grip your hips instead, pushing your lower half against him with a force that has you breaking away from his lips. 

He doesn’t stop, moving his mouth down to leave his own open-mouthed kisses on your jaw as you grip his bare bicep, a content sigh leaving your lips. 

“Have a really pretty thing waiting for you when you wake up,” he whispers delicately in your ear, placing a kiss on your earlobe. “The nice satin thing you’ve been eyeing for a while.” 

Your breath stops short in your chest, the thought of the pretty piece of lingerie you briefly mentioned you liked a while ago. 

“Chan,” you groan at the thought. 

He continues to mumble with a slight chuckle, “Don’t know if that’s a present for me or you.”

His hands have migrated everywhere at this point, moving up to squeeze of your breasts in his hold, his other hand continuing to run over your ass and hips. It’s your own hands that drift past his abs to toy with the drawstrings of his pants when you begin to fall impatient, needing to feel him. 

Feeling his hard-on through his underwear is easy, and you wonder how long he’s actually been horny with how defined you can already feel him to be. You watch as he grinds into your palm, groaning into your neck at the feeling. You continue your ministrations through his boxers till you feel him wrap his hand around your forearm to yank it out of his pants. 

“I’m not fucking you on the kitchen counter,” he says, pulling you out of the blue fluorescent lights and into the hall to your bedroom. 

It’s easier for him to discard your clothing with the space he’s given, yanking your shirt off to leave you in your barely-there sleeping shorts. Sparing no second, you watch him push off the soft plush of the mattress, moving away to get rid of his own clothing. 

Chan’s lips meet yours once again as he hovers over you on the bed, continuing to feel up your sides as he shoves his tongue into your mouth, massaging it over your own as he continues to push you up the bed. 

You arch your back, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, only to find him beating you to it as he unhooks it, flinging the padding somewhere amongst the flown clothes on the floor. The cold hits your chest in a way that has you gasping, his hands immediately cupping over both your breasts before attaching his mouth to a nipple. His other hand toys with your other nipple, rolling the perked bud between his fingers before running his thumb over it repeatedly. It’s so easy to zero in on the feeling of his tongue gliding over the sensitive area, the contrast of his warm mouth, and the air that hits the glistening surface of your skin. You can’t help but hum, hands grazing over his own that pinch and press into your other nipple. 

You realize soon enough that his knees are spread just wide enough for you to shove your own leg in between, bringing your knee up to grind it slowly against his crotch, feeling him through his underwear. The motion comes unprovoked, a vibrating groan escaping him as he cursed against your skin. 

“Fuck, babe, you’re so impatient.”

Removing his mouth from your chest, he pushes your knee down in haste to give himself room to pull down your shorts, pushing your thighs apart when he’s done as he kneels back. His gaze wanders across your near-bare body, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip as he locks you in place. His eyes hover but choose to remain on the visibly darkened patch on your panties. You feel his fingers move slowly, ghosting over the insides of your thighs, moving ever so close to where you screamed for him. 

Right as you’re about to say something out of growing frustration, he hooks his fingers under the waistband of the final obstruction, pulling them down your legs to expose yourself to him completely. His unprovoked compliance comes as a bit of a shock to you, but you assume he’s being nice for the sake of your birthday (not that you’re complaining – anything that gets him in your pants faster counts as an automatic win in your book) 

You can feel him massage the skin of your thighs as he stares, making sure you keep your legs wide open for him. His gaze doesn’t wander, you find, locked in as he bites his bottom lip at the sight. His eyes hold a dangerous lace, one that you wish he’d unleash. He all but pushes your thighs even further to get a better look at your undoubtedly sopping wet cunt. It took a lot for you to not attempt to bring your knees together despite the embarrassment – you know he liked to look. 

“Chan.” His name leaves your lips in a desperate attempt to get him to do something, anything. His lips all but lift into a curl of trouble.

“What is it, baby?” 

“Please,”

“Please, what? I know it’s your birthday, princess, but I won’t know what you want if you won’t tell me.” His eyes graze over your contorted expression, urging you to say it. “Say it, my love.”

“Chan,” you whine. “Touch me. Please.” 

His grin morphs into something downright diabolical as he taps your hips. “Get up, baby. On my lap.” 

Chan pushes his back on the headboard as he invites you on his lap, your hips over his thighs as the rest of your body lays on the sheets. 

It isn’t until then that he finally migrates his hand, placing his middle finger on your clit, spreading your lips apart with his pointer and ring finger. He grazes over it lightly as he moves down to your hole, feeling the pool of arousal that’s accumulated in the area. He gathers your arousal on his fingers, moving back up to pay attention to your clit. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Chan’s voice comes out hoarse, and it somehow has you gushing even further. 

The angle gives him perfect access to work on your cunt as he likes, pushing your legs apart when you’d close them subconsciously. His fingers are merciless as they take turns circling over your nub before rubbing through them up and down. He places open mouthed kisses on your thigh, the one he holds open against his bare chest. 

You’re writhing at the feeling, trying your best to not move in his hold too much as you let out the most desperate streams of moans, only encouraging him to keep going. Your hands grope everything in your shaken state: your breasts, his thigh, his arm that holds your legs apart – anything to keep you tied to the feeling. 

Chan’s fingers slow before coming to a complete halt, wet fingers trailing up your thighs, leaving a trail of your arousal in their wake. He brings them back, fingers now lower as he traces a lone finger at your entrance. You feel yourself clench at the feeling. 

“Fuck!” You clamp your hand over your mouth, the profanity leaving your mouth before you can stop it. Chan pushes that finger into your tight hole, clenching around the digit. He pumps in once before pushing in another. 

“Uh-uh,” you hear him tut. Yanking your hand away from your mouth, leading it away. “Let me hear you.” 

His statement has you letting out another groan, the sound of his voice adding to the pleasure you’re receiving at the mercy of his fingers. He continues to pump in and out, his other hand moving to continue circling over your clit. 

Your back is arching off the sheets at this point, hands desperately gripping the sheets as you throw your head back. The feeling is building to a breaking point, your pants growing louder as your jaw falls slack. 

The knot breaks, and it has you fluttering your eyes shut, your mind going completely blank as the only thing that consumed your being becomes Chan’s godly hands. Registering absolutely nothing is easy when he refuses to stop his fingers, letting you ride out your high as far as it would take you. He doesn’t stop, even while you're squirming in his hold from overstimulation.

“Ch-Chan, I can’t!” Your own hands attempt to grasp his arm, his wrists. 

Your now blown out pupils catch a playful look on his face as he quit brushing his fingers on your spent cunt, letting you lay back for a breath. Your chest heaves as you attempt to come round from the feeling, vaguely registering Chan, setting your lower half off of his lap. He hovered above your frame, leaving pecks all over your face, neck, and chest, waiting for you to recover. 

“Good?” he asks you with a smile once your breathing seemed to have evened out. 

“Yeah,” you reply with a laugh, attempting to sit up from your position to kiss him. He lets you. 

It isn’t until you’ve pushed him back on the headboard that he realizes what you’re trying to do. You’re legs that straddle him begin to wiggle lower as you detach from his lips, fiddling with the waistband of his boxers to pull them off. He obliges, letting you take the fabric off, watching you as you pump his hard length in your palms. 

You doubt you’d ever get over the feeling of having him in your hands, the weight of him fitting into your palm like his dick was meant to fall straight into your hands. Chan is gracious in how he lets you have your way for a few minutes, using his precum as lube to begin pumping him faster and faster.

The feeling is overwhelming, considering how long his lower half has been waiting for this, for you. He reminds himself what he’s really here for and somehow finds it within himself to stop you, flipping you over on the mattress so he’s back to hovering over you. 

“Not today, baby.” 

“Chan, let me–” 

He knows the only way to get you to quit insisting is by occupying your mouth, so that’s exactly what he does as he places his mouth against yours, kneading both your tits under his hands to get you all worked up again. It works as you let out the smallest whine against his mouth, all of that fighting drowning in your chest as you melt into putty in his hands yet again. 

Chan continues to tease, bringing his tip to your entrance, circling it before dragging it up to your clit, spreading the mix of both of your arousal all over your cunt. Your hips buck and stutter at the feeling, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. 

It isn’t long before he’s dragging himself back, tip pushing in hard as he continues his pressure. You’re both moaning at this point, mixing in profanities as he begins to thrust into your cunt, setting a pace for himself. You wrap your arms around his neck as he holds himself in a hover above you. 

Soon enough, you feel him begin to brush against a particular spot inside you, one that has you moaning louder than you have all night. It’s almost like he knows what those sounds mean, angling his hips in a way that thrusts directly into that one spot that has you seeing stars.

“Chan, I’m—” 

“I know, princess, I know,” he grunts out in response. “Let go, baby.” 

And you do, hurtling into your second orgasm as you clutch the forearm he’s rested on the bed. Your back that arches off the sheets is met with his hand that runs over the expanse, coaxing the feeling out with the intimate touch. 

You feel him pull out, moving away from you to let you breathe. You want to have the energy to tell him to come close to you again, but it sires difficult when you can barely breathe. You find yourself not needing to open your mouth, though, as you realize Chan’s mercy lasted barely a few seconds before you feel him push into your entrance again with no warning. 

The gasp that leaves you is muffled by the mouth that’s put on yours as Chan fully engulfs you in his arms again. You take the opportunity to touch him, wrapping your arms around his torso, hands roaming as you feel up the expanse of his back and shoulders. He’s thrusting into you slower than before, his moans coming in directly into your ear now. The sound is enough to have you gushing around him again, your fingers finding his nape to tangle them in his hair.

“Fuck — you’re not keeping me in,” he groans, and you suddenly realize why he was going so slow. 

It wasn’t like you could help it when you continued to clench around him like your life depended on it, but he didn’t seem to really mind it either when you felt his own cock twitch. Once he’s had quite enough, he pulls back momentarily to push your legs up against your body. Your thighs are pressing against your chest as you register that he’s basically folded you in half, giving him the room he so desired to properly fuck you. 

“Keep those legs up for me, baby,” he orders as he helps, letting you rest them against his shoulders.

He slips himself out before going back in entirely, moving his hips at a pace that has you seeing stars. You feel him move his head to kiss the inside of your thighs, dragging his tongue over every surface he can reach. With his mouth occupied, the only sounds that encase the room are your own string of moans, paired with the absolutely lewd squelch that comes with every slap of Chan’s hips. 

With the force he’s going at, you don’t doubt the bruises that’ll grace your lower half once he’s done. The fact that this wasn’t gonna be the end of it has you wondering how you’ll handle the next 24 hours with him. You decide you’ll think about that later as you let the feeling of him engulf you now. 

“Oh, I’m so close,” he announces, and you can tell by the way his pace grows increasingly sloppier. He lets down one of your legs to free up his hand to bring back to your bruised clit, rubbing haphazard circles to make up for his also haphazard hip pace. 

You can’t imagine minding, though, especially not right now when the desperation of it all has you building up your third high, “Me too, fuck, me too.” 

Chan thrusts into you a couple more times before you announce that you're cumming, and the way you're clenching down on him harder than ever before has him letting out the loudest moan of the night as he begins to cum mere seconds after you. You can feel his hot liquid shoot into your walls, the slickness making your head spin even further. 

You’re near passing out when Chan pulls out of you, flopping down on the bed next to you. Neither of you speak as you catch your breath for the nth time that night, somehow finding it within yourself to turn over to land your head on Chan’s outstretched arm. He doesn’t hesitate to bring you in as you curl up under his arm, head on his shoulder. 

“Where do you get all that energy from?” you mumble into his arm. 

He laughs a little at the question, dropping a kiss on your head, “Comes naturally when you have such a pretty thing to please.” 

You snort in response, trying to hide the very apparent fluttering in your chest. Even after the amount of time you’ve spent having him all for yourself, you doubt the butterflies would ever leave – especially when he continues to drop his corny yet effective lines at any given opportunity. 

“Shut up.”

“I don’t think you want me to,” he retorts, lolling his head to look at you, hair flopping on his forehead as he smiles at the sight of you. 

“Fair enough.” 

You both giggle a little, a little dazed at the cloud in the room. It falls into comfortable silence after, as you continue to gain your bearings after a session like that. Your mind begins to wander, thoughts landing you in the kitchen where the red flowers are now decorated. 

“I know you’re a sap, which is why I’m asking you this,” you start, shifting to look at him. His face is glistening. “But what made you choose those flowers in specific?” 

He thinks for a moment.

“The dahlia itself means… lasting grace. Beauty that remains, love to be declared.” 

You stare at him as he licks his lips, “Red dahlias, those mean perseverance. Strength, power.”

He shifts so he isn’t on his back anymore, facing you entirely. “I don’t know much about flower talk, but I hoped both of those things together would tell you that… my love for you is stronger than the years. And I intend to prove it to you if you’ll let me.”

You’re tearing up now, and he can see it in the way your eyes turn from shiny to an overwhelming pool. Before he can say anything, you’re lurching forward to kiss him, smashing your mouths together in a way that you can only call dramatic, your tears dropping to hit his cheeks. 

He brings a hand up to steady you, cupping your face to hold you there as you continue to peck his lips over and over. 

“Thank you for loving me,” you mumble against his lips in a nasally voice. 

“Thank you for loving me. Thank you,” he kisses you again, “for being born.”

You laugh a little, wet cheeks and sniffles to complete the look. 

Chan can only wipe your tears away with a brush of his hand and hope that those tears remain happy, with him, for the rest of your days. 

[tally-hautism]

Tally Hall Songs Iceberg

This is not counting covers of other artist's songs, however I am including the Mr. F Mixtapes

Air (Lay of the Land) - If you've heard a Tally Hall song but haven't heard of Tally Hall it's because of these. Not counting the Rob Ads.

MMMM, G&E, Miracle Musical, Shia LeBeouf, Perfect (1 song 29 celebrity impressions)

Surface (Sun in the Sand) - If you've spent a little bit of time interested in Tally Hall you've probably heard of these.

Complete Demos, Admittedly Incomplete Demos, Joe Hawley Joe Hawley, Not a Trampoline, Listed Black, Light & Night Magician's Elephant, Smile Like You Mean It, I Know It's Just the Same, We Need Cash, All of My Friends/I'm Gonna Win, Praise You, Just a Friend

Subsurface (Everything Suddenly Falls out of Sight) - The start of Tallying out.

Cojum Dip, Mr. President Musical, Popular Rob Originals ( Cuckoo, Going Purple, Country Good, ), Hawaii Pt 2 demos, Sketches 3d, yelwaH eoJ yelwaH eoJ, White Rabbit, Candle on the Water, Stationary Love, Nathan Naimark Theme, Pingry EP, Variations on a Cloud, Sleigh Ride Invincibility Star, Special, Weird Bed &/or Yes Please, Good Day Simlish

Center (Every Attachment is Made of the Light) - Yeah, sorry if you've heard these Tally Hall is part of you forever.

Toy Orchestra, Etudes 1 and 2, Hawaii Pt 2 Video Game OST, Happy Monster Band, Kazoo Song, Rob Disney Songs, Christian Bale is at Your Party, White Collar Prison, L'frou Jibet, Lady Madonna, Why Bother?, Gobble Chicken Song, Andrew Has No Power (It's So Sad), We Think We're Playing in a Band: A Tribute to Tally Hall

Bottom (Everything Will Fall Away) - If you've heard these you probably run a tally hall blog or YT channel, Tally Hall is no longer part of you, it controls you.

Maybe in the Night, At Least a Day, Grandpa is Hiding, Tomorrow and Today, Videojuegos, Club Can't Handle Me, Casey Shea's Music ( In Your Head, Love is Here to Stay, Take the Bite )

In The Water (To Order From the Disarray) - Some of these are only on SoundCloud, genuinely impressive if you know most of these.

Rob Rarities ( Chevrolet, Comcast Xfinity, Einstein, I Stand by Your Side, Monopoly and Clue, Summer Song, The Animator, Take a Second Chance on Me + Together Forever (TGaMM), Winter Song ), Joe Rarities ( Dot's Uke, Pu (Woo~Hoo) ), Andrew Live Unreleased ( Fishes, Good Morning Mr. Butterfly, Monsters, Someone Will Be There, Worlds in My Head ), Mr. F ( Yeah Yeah Without Me Vampire Sea, Mix Tape, Mix Tape 2, Mix Tape 3, Top of the Park, Ann Arbor MI August 9th 2019 ), The Baker Bros

Honorary Mentions (There are Some Things We are Never Meant to Know) - These are currently lost media or just things I couldn't find a recording of. If you have a link to one of these lmk please.

Toys R Us, Three Tales From a Messy Kitchen, Let Your Little Light Shine, the song at the end of Mobile Phone Premonition (This is probably a cover, not a lot is known about it)

Honorary Honorary Mentions (Who Do We Think We Are) - These are partial or bad recordings, but not quite lost media, and as such they appear elsewhere in this list as well.

Kazoo Song, The Start of Our City, At Least a Day

[soukokuluvs]

My Wind Breaker Spotify playlists ✨

Hello, everyone! I'm a huge fan of making playlists for everything that I really enjoy! So, in this case, I've created a ton of Spotify playlists for Wind Breaker! Most of them are focused on my favorite ships, but right now I'm adding songs to Tsubaki playlist and the Mixtape one! I even have a playlist just for Sakura, based on my perceptions of him.

I hope you can enjoy it!

OBS: I'm a swiftie, so expect Taylor Swift! :D But you can expect small artists too!

#1 Endochika | for Endo and Takiishi

Something happens and I'm head over heels

What can you expect? Undying love, devotion, catholic symbolism, obsessive behaviour (well, it's Endochika)

#2 Hirasako | for Hiiragi and Sako

I would stay forever if you say, "Don't go"

What can you expect? Breakup songs, second chance romance, grieving a relationship

#3 Umetsuba | for Ume and Tsubaki

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

What can you expect? Young love, mutual pining, romantic fluff, cute songs

#4 Togatomi | for Togame and Choji

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night and now I see daylight

What can you expect? Songs for Shishitoren arc (a little angst), sun/moon relationship, devotion

#5 Haruka Sakura

Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans

What can you expect? Family issues, the act of making friends, growing up

#6 Wind Breaker, the mixtape

泣き声、遠く 息を合わせて、もう一度

そんな、僕らの未来を強く願う歌

What can you expect? Opening/ending songs from Wind Breaker, friendship, fighting and coming of age

Once I finish the other playlists, I'll update this post!