#shopping for the party granted but still!

[tetrakys]

Devon suddenly became 10000x more attractive to my eyes the moment he handed me his credit card and told me to go shopping.

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twelve ⭐︎ When the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive?

Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact! angst, jealousy, misunderstandings, mutual pining, mentions of unrequited feelings, mentions of cheating (not on reader), mentions of past stancy, jealous!Steve, slightly mean!Steve (kinda?), smut smut smut, bathroom sex, car sex, fingering, squirting. I like to picture Jacob as Drew Starkey hehe

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve had never handled his jealousy very well, but being jealous over you, brings out a new side in him. He would do anything to keep you, anything.

Word count: 17.4k+

Author's note: I've been waiting for this chapter since forever, jealous men are always my jam, and @hellfire--cult took these ideas to a whole new level, enjoy this filthy chapter. This one is for all my Steve girlies who haven't given up on me after my last story ♡ Roe, I should grant you a thousand wishes at this point, you keep me so hyped for this story. Also this chapter wouldn't have been this good without you, don't even try to fight me

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Nancy’s brows are furrowed in concentration, her pink lips pursed as she looks through the many dresses to find the perfect one, her curly hair is pulled up into a bun, held together by a white scrunchie with pink polka dots, she’s wearing one of the outfits she had gotten on your last shopping trip together, this is only your second time, but it’s fun, you like hanging out with her. 

You drove to Indianapolis since Hawkins doesn’t have all too many clothing stores, especially after the ‘fire’ at the mall, you prefer it here anyways, the big city has much more to offer than the small town. 

“What do you think of this one?” Nancy asks as she shows you the yellow sundress. 

You tilt your head, pressing your lips together as you eye it, not quite liking the way too bright color. You walk around the clothing rack to get to the other side, holding the clothing items that you threw over your forearm a little tighter as you take in the different colors of the dress she’s still holding up. 

“Mmm… No, maybe the blue one, Nancy?” You ask, as you point your finger at the baby blue color, when your eyes widen as you catch sight of the purple one, “or, the purple one! That one would look cute, it matches the color of your eyeshadow!” 

She smiles at you, nodding excitedly. She puts the yellow dress on the rack, and looks through the purple ones to find her size. 

“But you should go for the yellow one if you like it more.” 

She shakes her head, looking back at you, “no, I trust your judgment,” she smiles and picks out the dress, “besides, this color is way cuter.” 

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips, “yeah, it’ll look amazing on you.” 

Her dimples show and her eyes light up a little. 

Nancy has been nothing but kind and sweet to you, and you can’t help but feel guilt and regret growing inside of you for the way you once felt about her. 

You weren’t only jealous of her because she had Steve, you also hated her for having him, and you’d spent your shared classes with her, staring at her and comparing yourself to the girl he loved so dearly – the girl he still loves. You were never rude to her or mean, you never glared at her or threw comments at her the way other girls did, after Steve had humiliated her in front of the whole town, despite your feelings for him, you did feel disappointed for what he had done, even when you didn’t even like her, at that time. 

“You should try this one on!” Nancy pulls you out of your thoughts, a grin on her face as she holds up a black dress – a daring black dress. It’s short and flowy, the straps are thin, it’s  low cut with a dainty bow on the front, the back very exposed. “You could wear this one to Vickie’s party.”

A smile tugs at your lips, you step forward and slowly reach your hands out to take it from her. 

“You will look hot in it,” Nancy wiggles her eyebrows at you, nudging her shoulder against yours as she brushes past you to look for more dresses, “I’m sure I won’t be the only one who thinks that,” she says in a sing-song voice. 

Nancy had been very persistent in trying to get you to go on dates. The last time you went out together, the Barista at your local coffee shop had put his number on your takeaway cup after giving you the order for free. She tried to convince you to give him a call, gushing over how sweet he was to you and how he looked at you, and yeah, he was sweet, he was very good looking too, and maybe you would’ve given him a call if things were still the same they were months before this. Yeah, you would’ve definitely given him a call, but only to forget about the certain someone who woke up in your bed this morning. Whose bed you will go to sleep in tonight. 

As you stare at the dress, all that you can think about is Steve, and how he will react to seeing you in this. 

Will he think that you’re pretty? 

Will you look irresistible to him?

Will he want to tear it off of you? 

After all, he does like your dresses, your sundresses especially, you see the way his eyes darken whenever you step into his house with a new one on your body, like he is ready to rip it to shreds and devour you for the next few hours or so, and he usually does, sometimes he doesn’t even take it off, and only pushes it aside, bunching it around your waist.

This sundress is by far more revealing than any of the other ones you have worn before. Excitement bubbles in your stomach as you think of his reaction to it. 

You are definitely getting it. 

After taking forever to pick out what clothes to keep in the dressing room, you both make your way out of the store with full bags, stuffed with new summer clothes. You stroll around town for a while, looking for new jewelry and shoes to go with the dresses you both bought. 

You never realized just how much you missed having a girl friend to do these things with, until you sit down at a cute café to eat some late lunch. It’s something you always used to do with your childhood best friend, that you always try not to think of, too painful are the memories of Chrissy and how you couldn’t be there for her, how you couldn’t save her. You always wondered if things would have gone differently had you both not drifted apart the way you did when you both went separate ways.

But it’s no use to overthink about it, you won’t ever find out. 

“Funny how we’re shopping for clothes, when a few weeks back we were fighting for our lives against something the whole world doesn’t even know about,” Nancy says as she looks over the menu. 

“Yeah,” you nod with wide eyes, glancing up from your own menu to look at her, you realize that you never asked how she got involved in all of it, in the first place. 

You clear your throat, “I never asked… how did you get involved?” 

She raises her brows at your question, taking a deep breath before she puts down the menu. 

“I–It was when Barb went missing, right after Will… What the police said about her wasn’t right, I knew my Barb, so I looked into it all, and I dragged Jonathan in with me because he was looking for his brother, only to find out that my brother and all of his friends were in it too…” She rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. 

You laugh a little, shaking your head. 

A shiver runs down your spine as you think of how long it had all been going on in the shadows, how long you had been unaware of the Upside Down and the existence of monsters, how children were involved in something they shouldn’t have been. 

“And then, poor Steve… He showed up at Jonathan’s place when we tried to lure in the Demogorgon, he almost ran off… but he came right back to fight him with us.” 

You know all about it, Steve told you how he fought the Demogorgon with Nancy and Jonathan, how he had been dragged into it all by accident, how he helped Dustin find Dart, how he protected the kids and climbed into the tunnel after getting beaten by Billy. 

You know most of what happened, not only from Steve, but also from Robin, but you feel intrigued, you want to know more… from her.

Something flashes in her eyes, a look of guilt, a look of regret. 

You know exactly what she’s thinking about, and you know that you shouldn’t bring this up, but your curiosity gets the best of you. 

“I-I was at Tina’s Halloween party.” 

Nancy winces at that, she doesn’t seem uncomfortable by your words, just… regretful of the memories that night brings her. 

You remember the night just as well as she does. Steve had bumped into you after he rushed out of the bathroom you didn’t even know he was in with Nancy, he glared at you and nudged your shoulder harshly, he rudely told you to move out of his way and murmured some incoherent curse word at you. 

You remember how deflected you felt, all night you had avoided him only to bump into him in his worst moment. 

Everyone knows what happened that night, not in full detail, but it doesn’t take a genius to find out what happened between King Steve and his girlfriend after he had stormed out of the house without her, and she left with Jonathan instead. 

Word traveled around, rumors circulated, but you didn’t listen to them, it wasn’t any of your business, and it wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened anyways. Just as Steve and Nancy’s relationship ended, she showed up to school, holding hands with Jonathan. Clearly, something happened between them long before her relationship with Steve had ended. 

Steve hated you, but your heart broke for him still. 

It was so very obvious how much he loved her, and you can imagine how much it hurt when she cheated on him, and left him and his heart in shambles. 

“I-I will never forgive myself for it. No matter if– he did forgive me. I was horrible to him, no amount of apologies can take away the guilt I will forever feel.”

“W-What happened?” You ask nervously, not wanting to overstep but still feeling the curiosity tugging harshly in your chest. 

She sighs, looking around the bustling street before her eyes move back to yours. 

“I-I always blamed him for what happened to Barb, I should’ve gone home with her that night, but I didn’t, even though I promised I would. I went with him, a-and the Demogorgon got her,” she explains, shaking her head a little as she closes her eyes, “it wasn’t Steve’s fault, not at all, but I-I blamed him and every time I looked at him, I just thought about her and what happened to her and how things would’ve gone differently if I didn’t leave her that night, if I didn’t went with Steve.” 

You dig your nails into your palms, swallowing harshly as you watch her. 

“He was good to me, he was there for me, b-but I couldn’t stand him sometimes, and how he tried to act like everything was normal, when it wasn’t.” 

The feeling of irritation sparks inside of your chest, crawling into your bloodstream. 

“And then, the Halloween party… I just, I was still grieving and I was angry, I let it all out on him, I should’ve handled things differently, I shouldn’t have been so harsh but… I-I called him bullshit,” she confesses to you, scrunching up her nose as she cringes at her own self, “and then I confessed my true feelings for him and our relationship.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, the anger that you are holding back after those leave her mouth. Bullshit. 

How could she do that to him? 

How could she hurt him the way that she did? 

How could she call him that?  

You can tell that it takes a weight off her shoulders, that it’s something she hasn’t talked about since it happened, not to Robin, not even to Jonathan, because after these words leave her mouth, she takes a deep breath, and her body relaxes as she leans back in her seat. 

Her face is edged with shame, but also with relief to finally be able to let it out. 

And you try, you really try to hide your own feelings, the anger, the hurt that you feel for the man that you hold so dearly in your heart. 

You feel thankful for the waiter who interrupts your thoughts, he places the drinks that you ordered on the table, and reaches for his notepad, taking Nancy’s food order first. 

You take a sip of your iced tea and you watch her for a moment, reminding yourself of how long ago it was, how much she changed, how much he changed, how it’s none of your business, how you shouldn’t feel angry at her, even when she’s the one who hurt him, when she’s the one he still wants, despite what she did. 

He would take her back in a heartbeat if she came back to him, and the thought breaks your heart. 

But you can’t help but keep dancing around the topic, so after the waiter takes your order and leaves, you ask her something you’ve been wondering about for weeks now. 

“Do you… regret it? Do you sometimes wish that things between you went differently?” 

She leans her elbows on the table, placing the straw between her lips, she takes a sip of her drink before she leans back again. 

“The only thing I regret is how I led him on, I wish I could go back, and lay it all out on him in a different way… Explain to him why… I didn’t feel that for him, give him a reason instead of making him think that he’s damaged.” 

She cared about him, you can see it in her eyes, you can hear it in her voice. She cared, even if only poorly. 

“I see,” you nod, trying not to sigh. “And… well– when the whole thing with Vecna…” You pause as you feel the weight on your chest crushing you with nervousness. 

She tilts her head at you, “what?” 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, you lick your lips as you look around, watching the people in the busy street across the café for a moment, before you return your gaze to her. 

“Well… It was noticeable you know… and then… you two weren’t exactly quiet in the RV,” you mumble, trying not to sound bitter as the day catches up to you, what Steve had said to Nancy, how he looked at her, how she looked at him – and the rude things he said about you before the white picket fence conversation came up. 

Her eyes widen a little, cheeks blushing a deep red as she looks down sheepishly. 

You don’t know what you had expected, but you certainly didn’t wait for her to blush, it makes your stomach clench uncomfortably. 

“I–I was just hurt because of Jonathan. Feelings are cunning, evil… I was angry, and I think my heart and mind looked for where I could find comfort.” 

Oh, how ugly the feeling in your chest now is, how bitter the taste on your tongue is, how the sweetness of your drink does nothing to make it better, because you know, you know that you wouldn’t be sitting here now if Jonathan didn’t come back, you wouldn’t wake up in Steve’s bed or fall asleep in his arms. 

Because she would be the one.

You knit your brows together as you stare at her, “but Steve–”

“I know but… I think it was just a heat of the moment kind of thing.”

You physically have to restrain yourself from clenching your jaw or rolling your eyes. So, you look away for a moment, staring into a blank space as you try to calm your breathing. 

Heat of the moment. 

You want to scoff and laugh at her words, because telling your ex-girlfriend that you want to have six kids with her is totally, a heat of the moment kind of thing, right. 

You’re very well aware of the jealousy that is boiling inside of you, worsening every passing second, and yet, you can’t help but want to fuel the fire even more, and find out what she would’ve done if she needed more comfort. 

So when you look at her back, you ask, “so… if you were still hurt and Jonathan didn’t come back…?”

You see the way she freezes, the way she hesitates, the way she takes way too long to answer your question. 

“I-I don’t think that I would’ve been with Steve again… Even if my urges and desires told me to… That’s the only thing they were… desires or… attractions. I wouldn’t want to hurt him again and give him the idea that there’d be a chance for a future,” she sighs, shaking her head, “I’m not the one. I’m not the woman for the future of his.” 

You don’t know whether to feel sad for Steve or yourself. 

She is that woman. 

She is the one, the only one that he wants in that way, so why is she denying it? 

The question lingers in your mind and you can’t help but wonder, what would happen if she stopped denying it? If her feelings were more than just desire after all? If she came back to him? 

There is no doubt about what he would do. 

You’d be nothing but a faint memory the moment she’d come back. 

You’d no longer occupy her space in his bed. 

You’d no longer be the one he’d kiss, touch, feel. 

And you, you would step aside without a moment of hesitation, because despite your feelings for him, you would want him to be happy, and you know that he would never get that with you. 

“Besides, I don’t want to be. Steve was my first boyfriend, puppy love,” she chuckles. “It’s different with Jonathan, I want him in my future, a-and I’d honestly take any future with him,” she says, as a soft smile creeps on her face, “I didn’t love Steve but, I love him,” she says truthfully and honestly. 

She isn’t someone you have to worry about. 

She isn’t someone who will take your temporary space, at least not now, not anymore. 

But you still can’t find peace within you after this conversation, you can’t push aside the thoughts of him, of how much he still wants her, of how much he still loves her, of how much he wishes to be with her again, and it upsets you, even when it shouldn’t. 

So, when you come home, you throw your bags on the stairs and make your way into the kitchen, you pick up the telephone and you call him, coming up with some weak excuse as to why you can’t see him tonight. 

You want to see him, but you wouldn’t be able to control your feelings, you wouldn’t be able to hide the pain in your eyes. If Nancy wasn’t with Jonathan, she would be with Steve, and he would choose her, then and now. 

You heard the sigh on the other end, the disappointed ‘okay… bye, Blondie.’ before you hung up the phone abruptly. 

You want him, you want to be with him, you want to feel his touch, his hands on your skin, his lips on yours, and yet, you don’t at the same time, because right now, it would just hurt too much. 

You need to calm your anxious thoughts, or you will give yourself away completely. 

-

Two days. 

It’s been two whole days since Steve had last seen you, and both his mind and his body were going crazy over the lack of you. 

When you had called him on Wednesday evening, he was already waiting for you, giddy and excited for another night with you, but when you announced that you wouldn’t come, he felt deflected, a little crushed even, but he understood, you sounded tired and like you needed your rest, so he didn’t even try to convince you to let him come see you. 

But the next day, there was no trace of you either, you didn’t call, you didn’t visit him at work, you didn’t come over, and when he tried to call you, you didn’t pick up the phone, you also weren’t home, your car wasn’t in your driveway, you were gone. And it made him feel… weird. 

Because where were you? 

You had never done anything like this before, always eager and ready for him, but never this. 

He craved you so terribly, he wanted to see you, he wanted to hear your voice, to feel your touch, to feel your body beneath his. 

He longed for you, and two days away from you, only showed him just how much of a hold you have over him. 

The past two days went by so slowly, it was almost agonizing – just like the terrible music that blasts through Vickie’s house as more and more strangers make their way into her home, filling the empty spaces. 

With his back against the wall, Steve stands there with his arms crossed over his chest, a bored expression on his face as he nods along to Eddie’s rambling about some band he had never even heard the name of, occasionally putting on his meanest face to glare at the people who give Eddie dirty looks. He can’t stand them. 

He takes a sip of his coke, looking around the crowded room in search of you. 

He knows you’re here, but he has yet to see you. 

You came with Eddie, but while the latter instantly came to find him, you apparently left to find Robin, who he hasn’t seen in a while either. 

He has been here for at least two hours now, and he is beginning to grow restless, wanting to just push himself away from the wall and go find you. 

“--And I can’t wait to see them live, man! No more headbanging in my room,” Eddie laughs as he sips on his beer. “Judas Priest is sick! You gotta come with us, I’m sure Gareth won’t mind.” 

“Mmm.” Steve nods, glancing at Eddie with a plastered smile on his face, he feels a bit bad for not listening to him, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, he continues talking.

Steve cranes his neck, looking into the kitchen, then into the hallway, and out into the backyard, trying to catch a glimpse of you, but all he sees are people he doesn’t care about. 

The music is starting to give him a headache, and the smell of liquor and weed is beginning to make him feel hazy. He's not drinking, he’s got other plans that hopefully won’t be canceled tonight but the more time passes, and there is still no trace of you, his hope is beginning to dwindle, because a part of him starts to believe that you are doing this on purpose, not showing yourself to him. 

Are you avoiding him? 

The thought makes his chest ache weirdly, a feeling that he can’t even describe floods through his veins. 

He doesn’t want you to avoid him, he doesn’t want you to stay away from him, he doesn’t want you to get bored of him. 

“I got Robin to listen to my mixtape, you’re next, I’m telling you, you’re gonna be a metalhead in no time,” Eddie chuckles, bumping his shoulder into his, he pulls Steve out of his thoughts. 

“Huh?” Steve furrows his brows at him before a forced laugh falls from his lips, “y-yeah, sure.”

Eddie snorts, knowing that he wasn’t listening to a single word he just said and still agreed. A smirk tugs at his lips, he tilts his head, “so, you’re gonna listen to it?” 

Steve nods, pursing his lips as he scratches the back of his neck. 

“Promise?” Eddie asks, almost cackling.

“Yeah, promise,” Steve shrugs. 

Eddie shakes his head, bringing his beer up to his lips, “you’re gonna regret that,” he murmurs against the glass before he takes a sip. 

Steve hates the music Eddie listens to, he’s hated every song he has shown him so far, but Eddie will take that promise in satisfaction, knowing that Steve never breaks any of his promises. 

Eddie takes a look around the room, recognizing a few people from school, some of whom have already graduated the year before. The guy by the snack table is the one who catches his attention the most, he squints his eyes as he takes a better look at him – tall, dark blond, lean, the gold ring that he always wore on his middle finger, still in place. Jacob Leeney. 

He hasn’t seen him since last year when Jacob was back from college for the weekend, the same weekend you made this guy lucky. 

He wants to make a joke to Steve about it, knowing that he hates the football captain’s guts, when from the corner of his eye, he notices how Steve stands up straighter. 

Every hope that began to dwindle, comes back in a rush when Steve sees you for the first time in two days. 

You walk into the room with a drink in your hand, a smile on your lips that grows brighter when your eyes lock with his. 

His own eyes light up at the sight of you, something in his chest swells with a feeling he grew unfamiliar to. His lips curl into a smile as he stares at your face for the longest time, before he lets his eyes roam your body, the exposed skin that isn’t covered by the pretty dress that you’re wearing, begging for his attention, begging to be marked up by his lips and to be touched by his hands.  

If only he could look into his own reflection to see just how awestruck he looks at the sight of you, how you lit up the whole room for him with your presence. If only he was focused on the beating of his heart or the fluttering in his stomach, the butterflies he thought were long gone, rising back up and filling him with life. 

Your skin is glowing beneath the dim fairy lights, your glossy lips that he craves to feel on his own, looking even more kissable than usual, and he already begins to count down the second until he can actually feel them. 

You start making your way over to him, the platform heels that you’re wearing making you look taller than you are. 

Steve licks his lips, having to fight the urge to just meet you halfway, throw you over his shoulder and get the hell out of here so he can have you all to himself. 

Your eyes are locked with his, a blush creeps up on your face and you grow flustered beneath his stare, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you raise your hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear – good, nothing changed in those two days. 

His excitement grows, the closer you get, he has nearly all forgotten about his friend next to him, about the other people in this room, but the reminder that it’s not just you and him in this room, catches up quickly, when the smile falls from your lips and your eyebrows furrow as a hand on your upper arm stops you, not enough to startle you, but enough to make you turn around in and look away from him. 

Steve’s own smile falls, and he straightens his back even more. 

He no longer sees your face, your expression or your reaction, but he sees him, Jacob Leeney. And the sight of him alone, is enough to turn the fire that you lit up inside of him, into raging flames. – And not because of the rivalry that was once between them, but because of what he had found out about you and the football captain not too long ago. 

Steve can’t hear what he’s saying to you, but the smile, the smirk on Jacob’s face makes his blood boil. The look in his eyes as he stares you down, making him clench his jaw. 

He pulls you into a hug, hand coming to rest between your shoulder blades, but not quite staying there, he moves it lower and lower until it rests dangerously low on your back as he hugs you for longer than necessary. 

“Damn,” Eddie mumbles from beside him, “Leeney’s about to get another best fuck of his life,” he chuckles, repeating the words that the jock had said to him months back. 

And it does little to calm Steve down. 

“I mean, unless they’ve seen each other this week before, I heard that he was back in town… a few days ago,” Eddie shrugs, watching him closely. 

He watches the way you take a step back, putting distance between you and Jacob after you pull away from the hug, but his hand lingers, not on your back anymore, but now on your elbow as he taps his fingers against your skin, talking to you with a look on his face that gives away his intentions. The sparkling in his eyes matches the one of his own, he wants you, he wants you badly. The interaction between you seems so… trusted, intimate. 

And then, Steve registers what Eddie had said to him, just now. 

A few days ago. 

Steve freezes. 

The cold shudder that runs through him, weakening the flames that just ignited. 

Is that why you canceled your plans with him?  

Is he the reason why you haven’t called? 

Did you stand him up for Jacob?

Were you with him? 

Did you let him kiss you? 

Did you let him touch you?

Did you forget all about him? 

He can’t decipher his own emotions at this very moment, too many are running through him, anger, frustrations… and a very ugly emotion that he won’t admit to feeling. 

He takes a deep breath, unable to hide the frown on his face as he watches you. 

Steve knew it, he knew that his own rule would come to haunt him, and he suddenly feels a deep regret for suggesting the inclusivity that allows you to see other people, he doesn’t want you to do that, he doesn’t want you to see other people, he wants to be the only one for you. 

He is watching you, so closely, so intensely, glaring at the touchy man in front of you, like he’s ready to light him up with his own eyes for putting his hands on places only he should be allowed to touch. 

Eddie slaps his shoulder, “I’ll be right back,” he announces before he scurries away from Steve who refuses to tear his eyes off of you.

He continues to watch you like a hawk, eyes not straying away from you and the man before you, and despite the intensity in his gaze, he is blind to your reactions, to the subtle, tiny steps you take to put distance between you and Jacob. All that Steve can see is the burning red that flashes in his eyes every time he touches you.

He sees the way your shoulders shake from laughter, the way you brush your hair back as you tilt your head up to look at him. 

And the more time passes as you stand across the room, spending time with someone who isn’t him, he begins to grow impatient, restless. 

You should be here, with him, by his side. 

And he wants to show you that the only one you need is him. So, without a second of hesitation, he slams his drink on the table, and he lets his feet carry him over to you, no longer wanting to stand there and watch how someone else might steal you away from him, he won’t let it happen. 

He let it happen with Nancy, he probably would’ve let it happen again if he was still with her, if this was her with Jonathan in front of him, he would’ve looked the other way, despite the aching in his chest.  

But you aren’t Nancy, and his feelings, his reactions, his action that he’s about to take, didn’t fully sink in yet. 

Once he is in earshot, Steve hears Jacob’s annoying, flirty voice. 

“You’re the prettiest girl at this party.” 

Your giggle follows, and it makes Steve’s skin crawl – if he wasn’t so driven by jealousy, and blinded by anger, he would’ve heard how fake it sounded.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” 

Jacob chuckles, opening his mouth to speak, to throw some lame pick up line at you, probably. 

But Steve doesn’t let him. Stepping up beside you, he places his hand on your back first, before he slides it down to your waist, gripping it tightly. The feeling of your body beneath his palm, your warmth and the way you melt into his touch after you turn and tilt your head to look at him, makes his stomach flutter pleasantly. 

You step closer to him, relaxing further when he squeezes you with his large hand, though your eyes are wide and your lips are parted as you stare at him. 

Right now, he can’t even find it in himself to care that your friends could see the intimacy between you and him, all he cares about is you and dragging you away so he can finally have you all to himself. 

“Can I talk to you?” He asks, calmly. 

Your wide eyes spark with curiosity as they look into his own, your glossy lips parting further for him as you come up with words, only to be cut off by Jacob.

“Oh hello, Harrington, long time no see!” The jock grins.

Steve clenches his jaw, but still turns to face him, biting back the distaste on his tongue, he nods at him, “yeah, yeah man, I’ll take her for a minute, okay?” He mumbles with squinted eyes and a fake smile on his lips as he points to you. 

Before the blond can even respond, Steve’s hand leaves your waist, and moves over to your wrist. He grabs your much smaller hand and holds it tightly, giving it a squeeze as he pulls you away and begins to walk, basically dragging you out of the room, and you don’t protest, you follow him, without a single word, slamming your drink on the counter on the way out.

You both walk into the crowded hallway, and he pulls you closer to him when you pass by a group of guys who are talking rather loudly. He pushes you towards the stairs, bringing your hand up a little as he gets behind you.

He doesn’t even bother to look out for your friends, they aren’t on his mind right now and he finds himself not caring about who could see you together. He also doesn’t care about one of his many rules that he is about to break when he pushes you into an empty bathroom. 

You switch the light on and let go of his hand when you walk in further. 

Steve turns around to close and lock the door, his fingers linger on the handle as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“What’s wrong, did something happen?” You ask. 

He opens his eyes again and turns around to face you, he raises his hand up, running it through his styled hair, he licks his lips as he lets his eyes roam your body for a second, taking a better look at the dress he hasn’t seen on you before, it must be new. 

The light that shines on you from the ceiling is golden, making your soft skin glow, making it look even more delicate, more desirable. Your chest rises up and down heavily, a worried expression etched in your beautiful features as you stare at him with furrowed brows. Your pouty lips parted. 

Can he blame Jacob for trying to go after you? Not really. 

“Nope, nothing happened,” he mumbles as he makes his way over to you. 

You shake your head a little, frowning, “then why–”

He practically lurches forward, cupping your cheeks, he leans down and presses his lips against yours, the way he wanted to, all night. 

You squeal in surprise, a noise that only fuels his lust even more, prompting him to deepen the kiss roughly. He can taste the sweetness of rum and pepsi on your lips, the strawberry from your gloss, he can taste you, he can smell the intoxicating scent of your perfume, he can feel your arms around his shoulders now as you start moving your lips against his, picking up the pace to match the speed of his own. 

He moans when your fingers get lost in his hair and your nails graze his scalp as you try to pull him closer against you. 

He licks your bottom lip, parting it with his tongue so he can slip it into your mouth. You let him. His palm slides down to your jaw, he holds it there for a moment as his other hand moves down to your hip, gripping it tightly as he presses you against the counter behind you, fingers now playing with the flimsy material of your sundress. 

A needy moan blesses his ears, the delicious sound rushing to his cock, making it stir in his pants that are now getting way too tight around his groin. 

You place your hand on the back of his neck as you place your other on his chest, pressing yourself further against him as you kiss him with whimpers and a neediness that he thought only he was feeling. 

God, he missed you.

But, did you miss him? 

Did your lips touch someone else’s when you weren’t with him, where you were supposed to be? 

The flames that are still raging inside of him, sparking a new kind of anger in him at the thought of it, it prompts him to do something that he has never done before – he bites your bottom lip, making you wince and moan at the pain. 

He pinches your chin between his fingers, pulling away from the kiss to look at you. 

With furrowed brows, you open your eyes to look at him, leaning back in to steal a kiss, but he keeps you in place, ignoring the whine that falls from your lips.

“Jacob Leeney, huh?” He mutters, instantly clenching his jaw after saying that name out loud. “Why did you talk to him, hm?” 

Steve moves his hand under your dress. 

“W-What?” You ask, shakily. “He was just talking to me about college.”

Right. That is the reason why he looked at you like he was ready to tear your dress off and devour you, right then and there. 

“Right,” he mumbles, gritting his teeth in anger. 

You stare at him with a frown on your face, tilting your head a little as you reach your hand up to wrap it around his wrist. And then, realization flashes in your eyes and your lips twitch a little. 

“You plan on fucking him tonight, Blondie?” He sneers, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. 

You raise your eyebrows, pressing your lips together, he watches the way your throat bobs as you swallow. 

The silence between you is nearly deafening, he can feel your breath on his thumb as he still holds your chin, he waits for you to answer his question.

Your eyes crinkle, and your lips curl into a smile before you suddenly burst into giggles, making his irritation feel worse than before. 

Steve’s muscles tense up and he bites the insides of his cheeks, pressing his knee in between your thighs, he holds you tighter. 

“Why are you laughing, huh?” He asks, as he leans closer to you, cupping your jaw again, he tilts your head to the side, making your giggles die down the moment he latches his lips onto your neck. 

You suck in a sharp breath. 

“Mmm, nothing,” you murmur, “w-what if I am? What if I do plan on fucking him?” 

Steve has to hold back to growl, threatening to escape as he presses another rough kiss to your neck, his fingers now digging deeper into your hip. 

“Well, I have a little priority here, don’t you think?” He murmurs against your skin. 

“Wasn’t it you… the one who said no exclusivity, Steve?” 

His breath stopped for a moment, regret gnawing up in his throat like vile. He wants to back out of that rule… but you are not his, so he waters it down. 

“New rule then, Blondie,” he mumbles, not stopping with the kisses on your neck, “we leave with each other when we are at the same place. So, meaning today it’s me.” 

You furrow your eyebrows at his words, questions already lingering in your mind. 

You would always choose Steve. 

There is no one else you would go home with. 

And you can’t help but want him to know, but you don’t get to tell him because just as you open your mouth, Steve starts kissing your neck differently, intensely, roughly. He sucks on your neck, marking you up and blessing your delicate skin with hickeys as though he wants to show everyone that you’re his, that you belong to him. 

And you do, you do belong to him, but he doesn’t know it. 

He doesn’t know that your heart is his, that your mind and body is in his possession. 

He doesn’t know how crazy you go over his touches, how your heart flutters at every slightest touch of his, how weak and vulnerable you feel when he holds you, how no one else could ever come close to make you feel the things that he can make you feel. 

“How many drinks did you have, Blondie?” 

“J-Just half of the drink I left downstairs,” you say, tilting your head to the side to give him more access to your neck. 

“Just that?” He asks, “you’re not drunk, are you?” 

You shake your head quickly, “no, not at all.” 

“Good,” he nods. 

Your eyes flutter shut when you feel his fingers on your ruined panties, he pushes them aside and slips his long fingers through your folds, dipping them inside of you before he pulls them back out to tease your clit, digits now coated with your slick. 

You jerk a little, wrapping your arm around him so you can hold onto him, a needy moan escapes your mouth. 

You could have had this on Wednesday night, you could have had this last night, but you were too busy worrying about something that filled your heart with pain. 

“S-Steve!” 

He gets lost in his feelings, lost in the rage, in the possessiveness and the urge to show you that he should be the only one for you. His teeth graze your neck, his lips suck harshly on your skin as he spreads you open with two fingers. 

You mewl when he starts pumping them inside of you, in and out, deeply and slowly at first. 

“Who are you so wet for, huh?” He asks, pulling away just enough so he can look at the marks he left, appreciating the sight in front of him for a second, before he pulls your face towards him, gripping your chin tighter than before, his thumb now lingering on your bottom lip. “Tell me, Blondie” 

You open your eyes, revealing to him just how dark they are, how much lust lingers in them. 

“You, Stevie! Just you!” You whine needily before you wrap your lips around his thumb, catching him off guard, once again. You swirl your tongue around it, looking into his hazel eyes as you start sucking, you watch the way they widen and darken, the tension in his jaw now leaving as he is only focused on this, on you. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, picking up the pace of his fingers, he drags them out of you and slams them back in, nearly moaning himself when he listens to the squelching noises as he finger-fucks you, “just me?” 

Your jaw drops and you throw your head back, letting go of him to hold onto the edges of the counter, he has got you pressed against at. You nod quickly, “yes, yes! Just you, only you!” You ramble as you squeeze your eyes shut again, enjoying the feeling of his fingers inside of you. 

“Good.” 

Steve can feel how you clench around him, how you’re already so close even though he didn’t even get started yet. He leans in to peck your lips as he curls his fingers inside of you, and he presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing it slowly. 

He feels himself growing harder – the feeling of your tight, wet walls around his fingers being too much, along with the needy moans that keep falling from your pretty lips. 

He stares at you, watching the way your nipples poke through the thin material of your dress – of course, you’re not wearing a bra. You bite your lip, your brows are knit together, and your head falls to the side as you let yourself get lost in the feeling he provides you with. 

Not Jacob, definitely not Jacob. 

The jock could never make you feel this, he is so sure of it, and yet, Steve can’t shake the thoughts of you and him together. 

Would you be this wet for him too? 

Would you moan so prettily for him? 

Would you be so needy for him? 

The anger just won’t leave him, it refuses to, it has him in its tightest grip, urging him to prove something to you. 

His chest heaves up and down heavily, his darkened eyes are nearly black now. 

You’re close, he can feel that you are with the way you’re clenching around him, but he doesn’t let you cum like this tonight, so he pulls his fingers out of you. 

Your eyes shoot open and your lips part as you’re about to protest, pouting at him. He grabs your hips with both of his hands, turning you around abruptly, he bends you over the counter and presses himself against you, and he chuckles darkly when you gasp at his action. 

Steve reaches for the hem of your dress and he flips it over, exposing your ass to him and the lacy thong you’re wearing, he groans at the sight of it, unable to hold back, he rears his hand back before he smacks his large palm against your skin, slapping your ass harshly. 

Steve has never, never treated a girl roughly before, not any of his hookups, not Nancy, but then again, he never had this much fun with any of them. Letting go of his inhibitions, taking what he wants for once, and the fact that you let him, and even love it, makes him go feral.

But as the realization sinks in of what he had done, his eyes widen as fear rushes through him, worried that he had gone too far, but you ease his mind with the filthy whimper that sounds through the room as you press your ass against his dick, rubbing it against him as though you’re asking for more. 

He can’t help but chuckle, the shock and the fear vanishing just as quick as it came. 

“Oh, you like that, Blondie?” He asks as he presses his palm against your ass, this time not slapping it, but grabbing it roughly, making you whine again. “Of course you fucking do,” he murmurs as he lets go, only to smack you once more, making you gasp his name in pleasure. 

“Please!” 

He looks at your reflection in the mirror, needy eyes meeting his. 

“Please what?” He asks as he unbuckles his belt and pops the button of his jeans, he reaches for the condom in his back pocket – mentally thanking his needy self for placing one there before he left his house, in hopes that he would get this. 

“Please, fuck me!” 

He pushes his jeans and boxers down, just enough to free himself, not wasting any more time, he rips apart the foil and throws the empty packet on the ground, making quick work of rolling the condom over his length. With his chin against his chest, he looks down, stroking his dick for good measure, his spit curl falls in front of his eyes, but he doesn’t bother to push it out of the way, he looks up through hooded eyes, glancing at you through the mirror, he almost wants to chuckle at the desperation in your eyes, but it gets stuck in his throat when you push your ass back against his dick, whining. 

His stomach flutters seeing you so desperate for no one but him. 

He grabs your hip with his left hand, pressing himself against you, he teases both you and himself by slipping his shaft through your wet folds, he watches the way you look at him, begging for more with your eyes as you push yourself up a little. 

He presses his palm against your lower back, pushing you down so your chest is flush against the marble counter, he lines up with your entrance and pushes inside of you slowly. Waves of pleasure rush through him in an instant. You scrunch your face up, lips parting as a sigh escapes you.  

You throw your hand back, reaching for his forearm, you grab it tightly as you shut your eyes and drop your head a little, your hair falls in front of your face, hiding all your pretty features.

Steve looks down, watching his cock disappear into your weeping pussy. 

“You take me so well, holy shit,” he murmurs under his breath. And it was the truth, you take him like no other, making you the most addictive.

He sinks into you, deeper and deeper, stretching you out and splitting you open, the tension inside of him grows and his heartbeat increases. He pulls out again, watching the way the condom around him glistens with your slick – how he wishes that he could feel you without it. He slams back in, making you gasp and arch your back in pleasure. He starts thrusting, in and out, deeply and slowly at first, but with an intensity that makes you open your eyes again.

“Steve!” 

“That’s right,” He grunts, reaching his hand forward, he grabs your hair and tilts your head back up, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror as he moves his hips faster, quickening his pace until he’s pounding you. “Look at who’s fucking you right now, Blondie.” 

The loudest moan falls from your lips, and you instantly bring your hand up to cup your mouth, panic flashing in your lust filled eyes. Despite the loud music, you are scared that someone might hear you, and it only prompts him to fuck you harder and rougher against the counter, holding you tighter as heat spreads in his chest – who do you want to hide from? Your friends, or Jacob? 

But while Steve worries about something that isn’t even on your mind, you are so far gone, so lost in the pleasure that you feel because of him, your insides so sensitive already, yet aching for more. You focus on the way he thrusts in and out of you, how heavenly it feels to feel him inside of you, to feel him in your stomach. 

You are so drunk on him that there is not a single thought in your brain, only him. 

No one has ever done this to you, no one has ever made you feel so weak, so submissive, so lost in the heat of the moment, no one has ever taken such control – you wouldn’t have let them, only he can have this. 

Your eyes turn glassy, rolling back as you throw your head back, your weak hand falling from your face again. 

“Yeah, as if that asshole could fuck you like this,” he grunts, letting go of your hair and moving his hand forward to cup your cheeks, “say it. Say no one can fuck you like this, Blondie, because I know it’s true.”

Your walls clench and flutter around him, a cry leaving you as he pulls your ass up a little, slamming in and out of you, hitting the spot that makes tears fall from your eyes, making him even more aroused than before. 

“Only you, Steve!” You sob as a tear spills down your cheek and onto his thumb. 

Your knees buckle and your body begins to tremble, sobs and moans turn into needy whines and whimpers, your flustered face decorated with pretty tears making his muscles tense in his stomach. 

You try to keep quiet as you press your lips together, trying to breathe calmly through your nose despite the pounding in your chest, when he suddenly changes the pace again, pounding you so hard that he knocks you forward, hitting so deep inside of your squelching pussy, that you can’t help but cry out loudly as stars blur your vision. 

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie!” 

Steve nearly busts, eyes widening at the way you chant his name so desperately. His hips stutter a little and he has to suck in a sharp breath, eyes shutting for a moment. He twitches inside of you, and it doesn’t help that you keep clenching. 

The sound of the music, of laughter and voices outside are so far away, the only thing you both hear are your moans and how wet you are as his skin slaps against yours. 

He slows down a little, enough to make you whine again, to make you move back against him, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. 

“F-Fuck,” Steve moans, he opens his eyes again, reaching forward, he grabs your shoulder and pulls you up and against his chest before he lets his hand travel down your stomach, he pushes your dress out of the way, and his fingers find their way to your clit. 

A high pitched moan echoes through the room, your body shakes harder and you grab his forearm tightly as he rubs circles on your sensitive nub. 

He presses his lips to your neck, moaning himself as the tension in his stomach grows bigger and bigger. He kisses your delicate skin, his mouth brushing the dark marks he left. 

You cling to him, nails grazing his skin, you press the side of your face against his, staining his cheek with your tears.

“I know, baby, I know.” 

If only he knew just how such a simple yet special word affects your heart, making it beat faster and harder in your chest, setting all your insides on fire and igniting something in you that throws you into a pit of love and glee. 

Steve had never called you this before, and you could only dream of such sweet nicknames, until now. 

Your eyes roll back again, eyelashes fluttering as you squeeze them shut completely, mouth ajar as filthy noises fall. You’d fall over if it wasn’t for his strong arms holding you up, his fingers moving so fastly on your clit, his dick so deep inside of you, his lips biting gently on your skin, all it takes is another rough thrust and your body begins to shake for a different reason, you fall apart for him, once again. 

You don’t even feel yourself drooling, you no longer feel the tears spilling down your cheeks. 

“Good girl,” he whispers into your ear, kissing the spot behind it before he grabs your chin and tilts your head to the side so he can press his lips against yours, pulling you into a soft kiss as he keeps fucking you, chasing his own high. 

Steve furrows his brows, his muffled moan vibrating against your lips as he gives one last powerful thrust and spills into the condom, secretly wishing that he could spill inside of you and paint your walls white instead. 

His body relaxes after the high it had been on for the past minutes, muscles loosening, but lips still moving gently against yours. 

Both yours and his moans die down after a moment, but you’re still panting, trying to catch your breaths as you pull away from one another. You open your eyes, and look into his, the blackness slowly fading away and you see the pretty hazel color again. His tongue licks his bottom lip, eyes flickering between your own and the marks he left on your neck. 

A lazy smile appears on your face and you feign confidence as you tilt your head to the side and reach your hand up to move the spit curl away from his forehead, the tips of your fingers brushing his skin, he holds you tighter in response. 

“I didn’t think you could get so jealous, Steve,” you whisper, ‘jokingly’ but most of all, painfully to yourself.

You’d hope that he was jealous, that all of this was the result of the burning red emotion, but why would he feel jealous over you? 

Just the presence of Jacob was enough to bruise Steve’s ego. That’s all that it was.

You know he never liked the jock, and the fact that he got his hands on you first, must’ve hit a nerve. But it has nothing to do with you. Steve is not jealous of who you sleep with, he doesn’t care. He is just bruised cause he felt threatened with an ex hook-up you had, afraid of them stealing you for tonight.

Steve huffs at your words, shaking his head at you. He pulls out of you with a hiss, cursing under his breath. 

“Well, did you think I’d let him steal you away from me…?” He asks, clearing his throat as he adds, “tonight?” 

And then he looks down, not wanting to show his face, to show how jealous he really is. 

He doesn’t need you to know that. 

He slips his hand between your thighs again, adjusting your panties and putting them back in place before he fixes your dress, pushing it back down over your ass. 

Your eyes soften at his action, heart fluttering in your chest. 

It’s not the first time he does this, he always takes care of you – he cleans you up, he helps you put a shirt on your body whenever you stay over, whenever you’re too weak to move. He is good to you, gentle and soft, and that is dangerous, because despite the thoughts in your head, the logical part that tells you the truth, his actions keep putting false hope into your heart. 

You grab the counter, and on shaky feet, you step closer and hold onto it tightly, watching as he fixes himself next, throwing the condom and the discarded foil into the trash, he tucks himself back into his pants and steps towards the counter beside you to wash his hands. 

His lips are stained with your lipstick, his hair is messy and his cheeks are flushed – he looks so cute like this. 

You tear your eyes away from him and finally look at your own reflection, your eyes widen and you gasp in shock – not at the mascara that runs down your face, the messy hair or just how puffy your lips are, no, this is not exactly an unusual sight to see, but the marks on your neck are, because they are so much bigger and darker than they usually are. 

You throw your hand up towards your neck and turn to face him, “what the fuck, Steve?” 

He winces, quickly drying his hands before he turns to face you, as well. Eying your hand that is covering the hickeys he left, your big eyes filled with panic. He can’t help but think you look cute like this, with your hair all messy and your lips curled into a pout. 

“H-How am I gonna hide–”

He grabs your face and pulls you into a soft kiss, just a quick peck, one that is enough to cut you off. 

“You think I’m done with you and we’re gonna go back to the party?” He chuckles, caressing your cheek as he pulls away from your puckered lips, “no, we’re leaving, Blondie.” 

You gulp at his words and squeeze your aching thighs together as excitement rises back up in you. 

“So, fix yourself and meet me downstairs,” he murmurs, placing another soft kiss to your lips before he pulls away. “I’ll wait by the front door.” 

He takes another look at your neck, hiding his satisfied smirk by turning around. He unlocks the door and opens it, leaving you alone in the bathroom as he makes his way downstairs to find Eddie or Robin, to announce that he will be driving home a very sick Blondie. 

While a smirk keeps playing on his lips, you are panicking in the bathroom, not knowing how to hide the marks he left, what lie to come up with this time if Eddie sees and asks questions again. 

You do your best to fix your hair, running your fingers through it and wiping away the mascara streaks on your cheeks, and the smudged lipstick, that you only now realize, is still on his lips, he didn’t even bother to wipe it away – what an idiot. 

You step back and take a look at your dress, smoothing it down and moving your hands back to your hair. The marks on your neck are so strong, so very visible, you’re not even sure if foundation and concealer will be able to hide this. A groan falls from your lips. 

You should do the same to him, he surely won’t fix it with makeup. 

You press your palm against your neck, testing out how it will look if you just go out like this. 

“This looks so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes. 

You pray that you won’t run into any of your friends on the way out, all you have to do is make it downstairs and to the front door. You haven’t seen much of Eddie before, and Robin is too busy with Vickie anyways. 

You take a deep breath and then you step out of the bathroom and into the hallway. It’s not as crowded as it is downstairs, but there are still a few people you have to pass, as you awkwardly keep your hand on your neck, pretending to scratch it. 

You feel eyes on you, but you don’t bother to turn around to look at them, not even caring if they heard you and Steve – as long as your friends didn’t hear, you’re good. 

Your legs are shaky, and walking in your platform heels feels like a workout after Steve just railed you into oblivion, your stomach still flutters, yet feeling empty at the lack of him. 

You walk down the stairs, carefully. You hope that your knees won’t buckle. 

The party is still in full swing, some Billy Idol song blaring through the speakers as the living room is still filled with dancing people. Red solo cups are everywhere, empty bottles and cans litter the counters and tables – poor Vickie will regret throwing a party when she wakes up tomorrow morning. 

Your eyes fall on him, the smug look on his face making you huff in annoyance. Steve enjoys seeing you struggle after what he just did to you, he licks his lips as his eyes run up and down your body, they flash with amusement when they fall on your hand, you see the way his shoulders shake, he is chuckling at you as he plays with the car keys in his hand. Smug bastard. 

You roll your eyes at him, and turn away, looking around to see if any of your friends are around, but the only people you see are strangers and a few known faces from school, you sigh in relief, knowing that you won’t have to lie into Eddie’s or Robin’s face. You return your gaze to Steve whose face is suddenly no longer as smug as it was a few seconds ago, his eyes aren’t even on you anymore, but rather on someone behind you as he looks over your shoulder. 

Someone calls your name, someone who is the reason for the rage on Steve’s face that you had already seen before. 

You turn around when your name is being called again, to find Jacob walking towards you. Oh. 

You grow flustered knowing that the fucked out look on your face is so very obvious. You can’t even hide it. 

He catches up to you, and he reaches his hand out to place it on your upper arm, “hi, there you are,” he smiles, towering over you. He is tall, much taller than you, even taller than Steve. 

You greet him back, forcing a smile. 

He furrows his brows as his eyes scan your face, his smile falling a little, a frown appearing instead, “are you okay?” He asks, worriedly. “Do you feel sick?” 

You shake your head and open your mouth to speak when the words get stuck in your throat after his hand leaves your arm and comes to rest on your face instead, surprising you and angering Steve. 

“Do you need me to take you home?” He asks, caressing your cheek. 

You would have moved, but you are frozen in place as you stare at him, completely caught off guard by his action and the look in his eyes. 

“I-I…”

A different hand appears on your lower back, one that your body instantly recognizes, because your skin heats up and your chest blooms with warmth – it’s scary how well your body knows him. 

Steve pulls you into his side, wrapping his arm around you, “I got her, she’s in good hands, Leeney.” 

Sometimes you wish that he knew how you felt about him, how your heart nearly explodes every time he says something only a boyfriend should say – maybe then, he would take pity on you and your heart. 

You melt into his touch, the smell of his cologne is so intoxicating. 

Jacob retracts his hand, he looks between you and Steve, his shoulders slumping a little as he steps back, he looks down at you, nodding, “alright.” 

“Come on,” Steve murmurs, squeezing your waist as he begins to pull you away, wanting you away from the jock and towards the front door. 

“Bye Jacob–”

“Wait,” he rushes forward, and reaches for your hand, placing a folded note into your palm. “Here, I’m not making the same mistake again.” He gives your hand a squeeze and smiles at you, not waiting for your response, he steps away and takes another glance at Steve, before he turns around and leaves. 

You stare at the note in your hand, you don’t have to open it to know what’s written on the paper. 

You fail to notice the absolute rage in Steve’s eyes, how much more intense it is than before, how tense the muscles in his jaw are, how it takes everything in him not to slam you against the wall and kiss you in front of Jacob and everyone else. 

He pulls you out of the house without a single word, he grabs your hand instead as he leads you outside, he shuts the door and the sound of music and the many voices begin to fade away as you both make your way to his car, which he parked on the side of the road. 

Your heels click against the cobblestone, your hands hold tightly onto his, you’re quiet, and so is he, but a storm is raging in his mind, and everything he felt before, now feels so much worse. 

Can he keep you when there’s other people who want you just as much as he does? – And even, in different, much more intimate ways? 

He saw the way Jacob looked at you, he wasn’t only interested in another quick fuck, he wanted more, and it irritates Steve, it makes his stomach churn uncomfortably, it makes his heart clench in his chest – it shouldn’t, there is nothing more between you than this, and yet, he is scared to lose it, the little secret that you both have, he isn’t ready to let it go, he isn’t ready to let you go and watch you fall into someone else arms. 

He wants to keep you, and he will do everything to make it stay that way. 

He knows that there is only one way to show you that he is the only you will ever need. At least, for now.

He opens the passenger door and lets go of your hand so you can get inside, eying the note that is still in your other hand. He closes the door once you’re seated, and he makes his way around his BMW, when he gets inside as well, he notices the now unfolded note in your lap and the number that’s written on it. 

He grits his teeth but bites back his bitter words. 

You won’t call him, he will make sure of that. 

It’s not easy to focus on the drive when his mind is in such a whirlwind and his eyes keep glancing back at the note in your lap, that you folded back together again. 

You aren’t looking at it any longer, your eyes are focused on the road and the passing trees. 

“What do you plan to do with that number, Blondie?” He asks, unable to hold back and hide the jealousy this time. 

You narrow your eyes at him, taking a look at his hands, you see how hard he is gripping the steering wheel when you take in the sight of his knuckles. The veins in his hands nearly popped. You gulp as your eyes move along his arm, muscles that are hidden beneath the black sleeve of his shirt peeking out just a little, his cheeks are red, his jaw clenched. 

He is angry, but a part of you can see through your insecurities. 

It’s not only his ego that was bruised, it’s not only the anger that shines through, there is more, so much more. 

The jealousy that only you ever felt is lingering in his eyes. 

He is jealous. 

Steve is jealous over you. 

And there is really no reason for him to feel that way, but you can’t stop the rush of excitement and happiness that floods through your body. 

If he felt that way before he dragged you into the bathroom, over an innocent conversation, what will he do now that Jacob has made an entirely new move?

Will you get another taste of what he gave you before?

Will he call you baby again?

You’re stepping into a dangerous territory, you know it, but the thrill over it makes heat pool in your stomach. 

“I don’t know, Lego Head,” you shrug, trying to keep a straight face as you look at him, “maybe I’ll keep it… You know, for when you don’t answer your phone.” You lie as you pick the note back up. 

Steve huffs, shaking his head in disbelief. 

He rolls down the window, giving you no time to react, he snatches the note from your hand and wastes no second to throw it out onto the road, letting it get lost in the darkness. 

“Hey!” You gasp as your eyes widen. 

“Whoops, my hand slipped,” he flashes you an innocent smile as he closes the window again. 

“What if I want to call him!?”

Your question makes him grip the wheel even tighter, knuckles turning white. 

“You don’t need him,” he mumbles. 

You sit up straighter, raising your brows at him, “oh really? I don’t? Why’s that?” 

Steve can’t take it any longer, the feelings inside of him boiling over, controlling all his actions now. 

He pulls the car off the main road, and drives into the isolated wooded area that leads to a stream, a hidden part of Lovers Lake that he only ever came to when he needed to clear his head. 

He slams his foot on the brakes and turns off the car, turning off the lights and unbuckling the seatbelt, he turns to you in anger, “because you literally just said no one can fuck you like I can!” 

Your heart begins to race, goosebumps rise on your skin, and you press your palms against the leather seat beneath you. The giddiness inside of you is now so difficult to keep hidden. 

“Ah, so that should make you exclusive,” you smirk, tilting your head to the side, “okay, well, maybe he got better–”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence, you don’t get to taunt him anymore as he turns his back to you and gets out of the car, slamming the door shut and rounding the car to get to you, he rips open the door on your side. 

“You don’t learn, do you?” 

“W-What?” 

“Get out.” He demands, not nicely. 

You frown at him, watching his stance and how angry he looks at you. “What the fuck–”

“Get out,” he repeats, in a much calmer yet angrier voice. 

You shiver at his command, and you take a deep breath as you unfasten your seatbelt, your heels hit the grass as you get out of the car. Steve places his hand on your back and pushes you out of the way so he can close the door before he opens the one to the backseat. He glares into your eyes, “get in.” 

Your frown transforms into a look of complete confusion as you look between his hand and the seat that he points at. 

“You’re making me change seats?”

He steps closer to you, “get the fuck inside, right now.” 

The demanding, aggressive tone in his voice doesn’t make you question him again, you swallow harshly and turn around, you place your hands on the leather seats as you crawl inside, moaning in surprise when he smacks your ass again.

He chuckles darkly behind you, “you really like that huh?” 

You glare at him over your shoulder, earning another slap to your other cheek, making you jerk and whine. 

He chuckles again and follows you inside, closing the door behind him, “noted.” 

The leather beneath you is cold, and you grip it tightly, sucking in a sharp breath, and just as you go to turn around and sit down, Steve’s strong hands grab at your hips, flipping you over and manhandling you underneath his body as he forces you to lie down on your back. He pushes your thighs apart, settling in between them, he presses his palms flat against the seat on both sides of your head. 

A shiver runs down your spine, not from fear, but from excitement, because he probably didn’t want you to realize he was jealous, but he is showing you. He is clearly showing you and you can’t help but feel absolutely happy, accomplished. 

You know that you’re in for something when you look into his eyes – you can’t even find the right words to describe the emotions that are lingering in them, but they make your inside flutter so wildly, you feel the need to clench your thighs together as he looms over you, but you can’t, he doesn’t let you. 

His nose brushes against yours, his hair falls in front of his eyes as he inches closer to you, his breath kissing your skin. 

“Has anyone ever put you in your place, Blondie?” He asks as he drums his finger along your shoulder, hooking it around the strap of your dress. 

“W-What?” You stutter, hating how weak and shaky your voice sounds. 

“I’m taking that as a no.” 

Steve drags the strap down, and he leans down to press his lips against your shoulder, “I wanted to be nice, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, “wanted to take care of you, but fuck, you leave me no choice.” 

You squirm beneath him, digging your nails into the flesh of your legs as you furrow your brows at his words. 

His lips ghost over your collarbone, his hand now pushing your dress down a little, he exposes your chest to him, and he traces the outline of your breast before his fingers pinch your nipple, making you whine again. 

“Time for you to understand–” He murmurs as he plants a kiss to your jaw, “-- that I’m the only one you need.” 

His movements are soft, his touches are gentle but to your surprise, they don’t stay that way, after a few more kisses, he flips the bottom part of your dress over, bunching it around your waist, he hooks his finger around your panties and tears them off of you, throwing them over his back, not caring where they land. His fingers trace your legs, hands finding their way to your heels, he unfastens the straps around your ankles, and takes them off before he returns his attention to where you need him the most. 

He teases you with his fingers, torturing your clit and chuckling darkly at the whines that start filling the space around you. 

Steve had been intense and rough before, but one look into his face shows you that you will get more tonight, so much more. 

He splits you open with his fingers again, sinking them into your soaked hole, he fucks you with them, he taunts you with his words and sucks more marks onto your skin, littering the other side of your neck and your chest with hickeys. He makes you see stars with the way he curls his digits inside of you and rubs your clit. 

To your surprise and confusion, he doesn’t let you cum, he pulls his fingers out and stops touching you when you’re about to fall apart, just like he did before in the bathroom. Nothing like this ever happened before. 

You don’t think anything of it at first, not when he seems desperate to fill you up in a different way. He fumbles with his pants and pushes them down, along with his boxers. He rolls a condom over his length again, one of many he has in the glove compartment because sometimes you two don’t even reach a bed when seeing each other, rushing to do it just as he did earlier, your mouth waters at the sight of his leaking, red tip. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs, grabbing your waist and pulling your weakened body on top of him, you instantly reach for his shoulders, grabbing them tightly as he gives you no time to react before he makes you sink down on his cock – you don’t mind. You are so needy, so wet for him that your juices soak your inner thighs. 

But you need to feel his skin on yours, so you reach for the hem of his shirt, and pull it over his head, he leans forward as you rip it off of him. You throw it on the seat and wrap your arms around his naked shoulders, pressing yourself against his hairy chest.

You are the first to start moving, rolling your hips and riding him slowly, but he isn’t satisfied with that, he wants something else, he wants more. 

Steve makes you bounce on his dick, he holds your hips harshly and uses you as though you’re a fleshlight, filling you to the brim and slamming you up and down on his dick, fucking you rather disrespectfully. 

He makes you fall forward, as your eyes shut at the roughness and the intensity. He is buried so deep inside of you, you’re not sure if you have ever felt this before. Tears blur your vision again that night, moans turn into whimpers and whimpers into cries, the pleasure so strong, so overwhelming. 

You throw your hand against the fogged up window, slamming your palm against it, leaving a handprint there for him. 

No words escape you, not even his name, the only thing you can do is fall limply against his body and hide your face in the crook of his neck as drool starts coming out of your mouth but the moment it touches his skin, Steve grabs the back of your neck and pulls you back to him again, so he can see your face. 

“Does he even get to see you like this?” He grunts, fucking up into you and watching the way you squeeze your crying eyes shut. “Drooling? Crying? I bet I’m the only one you’ve ever been this cock drunk for… aren’t I?” 

You nod your head wildly, panting and gasping as pain and pleasure mix together. He thinks it’s just physical, but there is so much more to it. You knew you would turn into this for him and just him, you’ve always known.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Steve lets go of your neck, making you fall back against him, he decides to tease you more by smacking your ass, causing you to jolt and whimper, filling him with satisfaction. 

He makes your pleasure the more unbearable, causing you to clench around him. 

And just like before, just as you’re so close to reaching your peak, he stops your movements all together, filling you with anger now, making you snap out of the haze he put you into. He stills and grabs you tightly, so you won’t move, he lifts you up and off his cock, biting back a groan. 

“W-What the fuck, Steve?” You cry out, “I-I was so close!” 

His eyes are nearly unrecognizable when he squeezes your cheeks together with one hand, forcing you to look at him. The angry sight in front of you, only makes you clench around him even harder. 

“You’re not cumming until I say so, Blondie.” It was stern, but Steve had a point to make, he needs to make it happen. 

You aren’t even aware of what is going on inside of his troubled mind, you could never even guess, not even when he flips you over and throws you down under him, placing your left leg over his shoulder. 

The position is quite cramping, but you forget about any kind of pain, when he sinks back inside of you and starts pounding into you with a force that makes the stars shine brighter and your heart race faster. 

Steve is not even focused on his pleasure, despite how good you feel around him, all that he can think about is your pleasure. He gives his all, he gives everything to kill any memory of what any of your other hookups did to you, of the pleasure they made you feel, of the pleasure he once made you feel. 

He snaps his hips into yours, fucking you so deeply and roughly, making his dick ache in pleasure. 

He surely never fucked anyone this way before. He never felt this angry before.

He watches you closely, the way your pussy flutters around his dick, the way you grip the leather beneath you, nearly ripping through it with your nails as tears of pleasure stream down your face and you tilt your head to the side with furrowed brows, your tits bouncing as he slams you back and forth on the seats. 

Your moans are so loud that anyone who were to pass by, would freak out and almost faint or call the cops. 

He is not even touching your clit, not even grazing it with his fingers, not giving it any pleasure again… yet. But he feels your fluttering walls, how tight you are getting around him, how high pitched your moans are getting – you are close, so close. 

And so is he, he keeps thrusting in and out of you, not tearing his eyes off of your beautiful face as he chases his own high, roughly and deeply. Your name falls from his lips, and his hips stutter as he finishes into the condom, groaning as your walls grip him tightly. 

Steve pulls out of you reluctantly, stopping your pleasure once again. 

He pulls your leg off his shoulder gently and places it back on the seat, giving it a squeeze.

His chest heaves up and down, he breathes heavily as he stares at you, biting back the chuckle when your eyes shoot open and a bewildered look crosses your face, the tears in your eyes still shining brightly as you raise yourself up on your elbows, frowning angrily at him. 

“You– I’m going to fucking kill you, Steve, it’s not fair!” Your bottom lip trembles, you are clearly very frustrated with him. 

He looks down to hide the amusement on his face, taking the condom off, he ties it up and throws it on the ground, making a mental note to throw it away later on. 

Steve tugs himself back into his boxers and pulls his pants up, not bothering with his belt just yet. 

He shakes his head at you when you squeeze your thighs together, hiding yourself from him. He hooks his hands around your knees, pulling you closer against him before he tears them apart again, exposing your glistening swollen pussy to him. 

He licks his lips as he hooks your leg around his hip, holding it there as brings his other hand back to your center, he bites down on his lip, looking at you with mischief in his eyes as he delivers a slap to your clit. 

“Wha– Steve!” You gasp in surprise and if he weren’t so determined, so centered on you, he would have been surprised by his action too. 

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, using his pointer finger to tease your slit, he spreads your folds apart, and slips his middle finger and ring finger into your sopping pussy, he focuses on your face. 

Your angry features slowly relax again, mouth parting as he starts to move his fingers again, this time he does aim for your orgasm… and more. 

He moves slowly at first, rocking his fingers in and out of you, moaning himself at the noises he draws from your pussy. 

Despite the pleasure that you’re falling back into again, you grow flustered at the noises and raise your hands up to your face, covering it and hiding yourself from him, but your action only earns you another slap to your clit. 

“Uh uh,” Steve shakes his head at you, letting go of your leg, he reaches forward and grabs both of your wrists with one hand, dragging your hands away from your face, “don’t hide from me.”

“But–”

He curls his fingers into your g-spot, tearing a gasp from you. 

“No buts,” he grumbles, as he moves steadily, fingering your pussy roughly now. He angles his hand differently, the end of his palm now brushing against your aching clit every time he thrusts his fingers deeply into you. 

He shuts you up quickly, making every word, every sentence get caught in your throat. 

His left hand fondles your boobs, your waist, your stomach, your hip – he touches you everywhere, leaving every inch of your skin burning with desire. His fingertips dig deeply into your leg as he keeps you spread open, his thigh keeping your other leg from closing, as he abuses your cunt with his fingers that are much longer than your own. 

Your back arches in pleasure, your sensitive core crying for more. 

The feeling inside of you is different, new, but you aren’t surprised by it, he edged you three or four times tonight, tears of frustration fell from your eyes, those tears that are now caused by pleasure and sensitivity. 

Your whimpers are so erotic to him, just like the wetness he can hear as he is knuckles deep inside of you, stretching you open. He can see the goosebumps on your skin and the way your stomach tenses up, the way your breathing stutters. 

You are in bliss, he can see it on your face, there is not a single thought in that pretty head of yours. 

He leans down, pressing into you as he inches closer to your face, pecking your lips, “no one else can make you feel like this… no one.” He whispers against your lips, placing another kiss upon them before he moves to your marked up neck, ghosting over it and inching down to your chest, trailing kisses along the way to your boobs. He wraps his lips around your nipple, looking up at you, he begins to suck, adding more pleasure to your body. 

You belong to him. 

“Steve!” You whimper, throwing your hands into his hair, you let your fingers get lost in it. 

He moans against you, quickening the pace of his fingers, curling them even harder inside of you, making you shudder at the feeling, jolting even when he presses his thumb against your swollen clit. 

You tremble beneath him, the wave of pleasure being so strong that a sob falls from your lips, your fingers curling into his hair roughly, “fuck… baby,” you whine. 

A surprised whimper falls from his own lips, the nickname stopping every thought in his mind, for a second. 

Baby, Baby, Baby… 

No one has ever called him that, no one. The fact that you are the first, somehow makes it better, and he doesn’t even know why. 

The coil inside of you grows bigger and bigger, an unfamiliar feeling bubbles in your lower stomach, making drool form on your tongue and stars blur your vision. Your nerves feel as though they are on fire, your skin prickling as he fucks you roughly. 

“I-I’m so close,” you whimper and scrunch your face up as you move your hips a little, meeting his thrusts. 

He is so lost in you and your moans, he doesn’t even realize that he is biting, tugging on your nipple with his teeth until a new, higher moan escapes you. 

“O-Oh my god,” you whisper shakily as your eyes roll back, “S-Steve! That feels so good!” 

“Yeah?” He murmurs against you, lips returning to your neck, he pecks it a few times as he looks down, watching the way your thighs tremble, the way the muscles in your stomach tense so tightly and your chest rises up and down so much heavier than before, “your thighs are shaking so much… holy shit.” 

The pressure inside of you becomes so overwhelming, it feels a lot, it feels too much. 

“S-Steve,” you tremble, “t-that feels weird.” 

Your voice sounds so small, unsure, yet the moans won’t stop escaping you. 

“No, baby, you’re doing so good,” he whispers as he lets go of your leg, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, he wipes your tears and brushes your hair out of your face, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip, “just trust me… let go for me.” 

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, not even when he starts peppering your face with kisses. 

The pleasure is too much, the pressure makes you panic slightly, but he doesn’t stop, if anything, he fucks you harder and faster with his fingers, keeping them curled inside of you, his palm keeps brushing your overstimulated clit. He is hoping to get what he has been seeking. You haven’t trembled this much before, and he is confident, he is so confident that you won’t forget this, that you won’t forget how he made you feel, that you won’t forget him. 

“C’mon,” he murmurs against your lips, “I know you want to.”

Your bottom lip shakes, the pressure threatening to explode inside of you, every inch of your body now burning and quivering. 

You let go of his hair and throw your hand down to wrap your fingers around his wrist, your eyes open, and you look at him through your blurry vision. 

Your moans and the squelching that gets louder and louder, sounds that are like music to his ears, making his stomach flutter and his dick twitch again – to his own surprise. 

“I-I can’t– too much, Steve!” You whine, nearing an edge you have never touched before, “I’m gonna–”

You never get to finish your sentence, because as Steve plunges his fingers in even deeper, and curls them harder. You can only throw your head back, a mix between a squeal and a whimper falling. 

Steve nearly stops all of his movements when you clench around his fingers like a vice. 

Your hips jerk upwards as liquids shoot out of you, and he gets to where he wanted. 

“H-Holy shit–”

Steve’s eyes widen, a chuckle of amusement and excitement leaving his lips, he stares at you in awe. Surprised at the tent in his pants, he is rock hard again. 

He keeps pounding his fingers in and out of you, not stopping his movements just yet. With a smirk, he leans down to kiss your cheek, cooing at you, “you’re such a good girl for me.” He says possessively. 

Your walls unclench around him, and he thinks it’s all, when you suddenly clench again, tighter than before, another shockwave rushes through your body, and you squirt even more, the leather beneath you becoming even wetter than before. 

Steve’s hand is drenched, up to his elbow, and so is the front of his jeans, his stomach and the window behind him. The evidence of how good he made you feel is all over his seats, filling him with pride. 

A satisfied smirk plays on his lips, he feels like he’s on top of the world, he feels like a fucking king again, knowing that he brought such pleasure to your body. 

He never even thought that this was possible, that this move in porn movies is nothing but a myth, but he had to try, he had to try it with you. It would have shamed him before to admit he had been watching more porn than usual just to do the things he sees with you, but now? He feels like he is the most intelligent person in the world.

Your body falls limp, whines and whimpers still filling the space around you, tears roll down your cheek as you’re trying to catch your breath. 

Steve pats your cheek, caressing it gently as he stares at you fondly, “hey, are you okay?” He whispers, unable to stop himself from pecking your lips. 

You nod weakly, still needing a moment to come down from the high. 

He keeps kissing you, playing with your hair as he caresses your skin, pulling his fingers out of you after a while, making you whine again. 

You open your eyes, struggling to keep them open after the intense orgasm you just had. You look into his eyes, they’re filled with victory. A proud smile playing on his lips. 

You raise your eyebrows when you notice the drops on the window, the wet seats, his soaked hands and the wetness beneath you. 

Heat rushes up to your cheeks, embarrassment rushes through you and you can’t help but gasp as you look around the mess that you made. Tears blur your vision, “o-oh my god!” You say weakly, shakily as you start crying, catching him off guard, “I-I’m so sorry, Steve!” 

You press your palms against the wet seats and push to sit up. 

Steve shakes his head at you, he cups your cheeks and shushes you by kissing your lips again, “fuck, Blondie, don’t cry – holy shit, that was so fucking hot,” he chuckles, “it’s just leather, sweetheart. And honestly, this feels like a fucking victory to me.”

You blink through your tears, looking at him with big and glassy eyes, your heart still pounds in your chest, shame swirling deeply in your chest. 

“Really?” 

He nearly faints at the look in your eyes. 

Who would’ve thought that Steve would ever get to see you like this or that he’d get to be the one to make you come undone so intensely? 

You are so vulnerable, right now. It tugs at his heartstrings, knowing that you struggle with emotions, that you hate showing weakness and tears – yet here you are, even if it’s only out of shame, it shows him that you trust him, even if only a little. 

You’re unaware of the fluttering in his chest that you cause, the warmth around his heart as he stares at you. He traces your cheek before he slips his hands down to your waist. 

You look so fucking cute. 

How can he not adore you when you look at him like this?

He gulps as he is completely aware of the way his heart feels. 

You’re going to be a problem, that’s for sure – but he can’t find it in himself to care, not now. 

He sits back and pulls you along with him, dragging you into his lap, he surprises you by wrapping his arms around your shaking, hot body. He pulls you into him so he can hug you, he cups the back of your head and makes you relax against his chest. He presses a kiss to your forehead, feeling the need to treat you gently, sweetly. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, his actions doing nothing to calm your racing heart.

It takes you a moment, but eventually, you calm down and close your eyes as you bury your face in his bare chest, his hair tickling your cheek a little. Steve runs his finger up and down your spine, making your heart race. 

Your body is aching, your legs are trembling, you nearly squeal when his crotch brushes against your center as you try to move closer to him.

“Wait,” he whispers, he grabs your waist again and changes your position, moving both of your legs over his thighs instead, so you don’t have to straddle him, and then, he pulls you back into his chest again. He brushes his fingers against your upper arm, stroking your skin softly, “is that better?” 

You nod. 

“Good,” he whispers, letting all his emotions guide him as he presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Y-You made me squirt,” you whisper, blushing. 

He chuckles, looking down at you and the way your cheek is pressed against his chest, “yeah Blondie, I made you squirt. I never did that in my life, you never did that in your life, we should put a memory plaque here.” 

Finally, a giggle falls from your lips, and you look up at him, amusement shining in your eyes. 

“I need a shower and sleep for like… three days straight.” 

Steve chuckles, squeezing you tighter, he finds himself liking the feeling of holding you this way, he can’t help but want to pull you closer. 

“I’m happy to provide all that for you,” he smiles down at you. 

Steve likes to see you in his clothes, he likes it when you take showers at his place and make his bathroom smell like your shampoo and your sweet body wash. 

He missed it last night. 

He clears his throat, his smile falling a bit, “why didn’t you uh… call me the past two days?” 

You hesitate, not wanting to show your face to him, you keep your head down. 

“Oh uh… I felt sick, nauseous, probably because of something I ate, maybe it was Eddie’s attempt at the homemade burrito…”

Steve’s mind was plagued with ugly thoughts after seeing you with Jacob, but this is beginning to ease his mind a little. 

“Wait so,” he blinks, sitting up straighter as he continues to look down at you, “you were home?” 

You nod, meeting his eyes, “where else would I be?”

It’s not exactly a lie, but it isn’t the whole truth either. You had an appointment in the morning, one that you had been nervously awaiting for weeks. 

The tension that remained leaves his body completely now, relief rushes through him, making him relax fully. 

“I thought… since Jacob was back–”

Your lips part in surprise as your eyes widen, before a smile appears on your lips. 

“Aw, is Stevie jealous and worried that someone is going to take his place?” You ask him, taunting him a little. 

Yeah, he actually is. 

But he can’t tell you that, can he? 

He pinches your ass with his fingers, a smirk tugging at his lips, “don’t get all bratty now, or I will show you how no one can replace me… again.” 

You’re a little taken aback by all the comments, by his actions today, by the softness of his touch, right now. He didn’t fight you on it. He just told you to not be bratty instead of telling you to stop thinking that way.

Today, he treated you as though you were his. 

He acted out of jealousy and was possessive over you, and in the end, he pulled you into his arms, treating you with such gentleness that it will surely leave a stain in your heart forever. 

This is dangerous, he is dangerous. 

He is giving you a glimpse of something that you will never have. 

He is showing you colors, you can’t ever see with anyone else. 

And maybe, this should be enough to make you run into safety, to protect your heart from the pain it will suffer when it’s all over. 

But in what world, would you ever run from him?

You know how this will end, but it won’t stop you from kissing his lips and letting him into you. 

He can break your heart and shatter your soul for all you care. 

It’s all his anyway. 

-

Eddie looked all over for you, the backyard, the kitchen, even the bathroom and the bedrooms, he was sick with worry as he searched for you. He got distracted when Robin forced him into a game of beer pong, with Argyle and Vickie, and lost sight of you. 

The girl ended up calming him down, when she told him that Steve took you home, you looked sick apparently. But Eddie knows better than that. 

He knows deep in his gut that his suspicions were right, that he wasn’t thinking into it too deeply. 

On his way out of Vickie’s house, he bumps into someone, turning around to apologize, he finds a very drunk Jacob, he raises his hands up, slurring out an apology, but then a confused frown appears on his face when he seems to recognize him. 

“Munson, you’re friends with her, right?” 

“Huh, with who?” Eddie mumbles, tilting his head. 

Jacob says your name and Eddie blinks a few times and slowly nods, “best friends actually, what of it?”

The tall jock smells like beer and weed mixed together as he steps closer, invading his space a little. 

“Well, I mean, is she dating Harrington or something?” Jacob asks, shaking his head. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows, curiosity sparking inside of him. 

“Um…” He could say no, he definitely could, but Jacob seems like a source of information right now, and he decides to use this opportunity to find out more, “what makes you think that?” 

“Well, the fact that this guy cockblocked me two times tonight is the main one. Tried flirting with her and he just pulled her away and even dared to glare at me as if I were the one interrupting his conversation, man." Jacob is slurring, rambling, and he just looks like a guy that lost the opportunity, not someone who would push you into a date or something. 

But Eddie is stunned by the revelation, so he pressed forward.

“Two times?”

“Yeah, the first one he took her somewhere as soon as I started talking to her, and the next he interrupted us so he could leave with her... Say sorry to Harrington for me, she didn't tell me she was dating him,” he mumbles, waving his hand as he rolls his eyes and steps.

Eddie’s gears work, trying to figure out a way to confirm all of this, but for now, the information is enough, his suspicions only growing with certainty. A small honest smile appears on his face and he pats Jacob on the shoulder.

“Thank you Leeney. I'll make sure to let Stevie know.” 

The blond nods and steps away, giving him a weak smile before he walks off, leaving Eddie by himself. 

His dark brown eyes flash with understanding and realization, a laugh of disbelief falling from his lips as he puts all the puzzle pieces together. 

He brings his hand up to his chin and shakes his head when he thinks of the marks on both yours and Steve’s skin. 

A scoff falls from Eddie’s lips. 

“Chandler and Heidi, right.” 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

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

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗤𝗨𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt skips Tara Yummy's 1M party to have quality time with his girlfriend.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Matt's car glided through the moonlit streets of Los Angeles as he headed toward Y/N's apartment after dropping off his brothers at Tara Yummy's 1 million celebration party. The radio played the playlist created by him and Y/N, which they constantly fed with new songs that reminded themselves of each other.

Matt smiled as he looked to the little surprise he had prepared for his girlfriend. He made a brief stop at a flower shop on the way, where he bought a simple bouquet of pink tulips - Y/N's favorite. His eyes momentarily found the bouquet carefully wrapped and placed on the passenger seat before returning his gaze to the road.

Upon arriving at the building where Y/N lived, his access to the parking lot was quickly granted, the doorman already knowing him very well. The boy didn't take long to take the bouquet in hand, locking the doors and taking the elevator to the corresponding floor.

The sound of the keys against the front door lock sounded faintly through the living room, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing seconds later, Matt quickly taking off his shoes and resting them against the wall.

"Baby?" His voice echoed through the walls, expanding to the nearest rooms, while his eyes quickly surrounded the space, searching for the girl.

"Kitchen!" Y/N shouted back, an involuntary smile growing on her face almost automatically, her body reacting to Matt's presence.

Matt made his way to the kitchen and found Y/N with her back to him, focused on the counter as she moved her arms over the ceramics. With a smile on his face, he approached her silently and hugged her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his hands on her stomach covered by her hoodie and little green apron.

"Hi, pretty boy." Y/N murmured softly, rubbing her hands together to shake off the flour before wrapping her arms around his, caressing the hoodie-covered skin. "I thought you were going to Tara's party."

"Without my girl? Never." He responded in a low tone against her neck, laying his head on her right shoulder so that his face was facing her neck and sealing her jaw gently. "I brought you something." Matt pulled away slightly and retrieved the bouquet he had rested on the table.

Y/N turned to him with eyes full of curiosity and confusion, which soon turned into pure ecstasy, her heart overflowing with love.

"Oh my... Matt, they're beautiful!" The girl beamed, accepting the bouquet and cradling it in her arms as if it was a newborn.

"I always bring you flowers, I don't know how you still react so surprised." Matt murmured jokingly, smiling as he watched her enjoy the little gift.

As Y/N carefully arranged the tulips in a new ceramic vase, Matt approached the oven to peek at what she was preparing. The delicious aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the air, making his stomach growl with anticipation.

"Did you make cookies?" The boy asked excitedly.

"Yes! I was baking it to take it to you tomorrow." Y/N nodded quickly, returning to her starting position. "Do you want some, hon?"

"Yes, please."

Matt watched in awe as Y/N bent slightly, opening the stove door and carefully taking out the baking tray with her hand covered in the soft yellow fabric glove, resting it on the counter.

He knew he was lucky to have someone so incredible in his life, someone who cared about making every moment special.

The girl rose to her tiptoes after closing the oven, opening the cabinet above the stove and retrieving two dessert plates designed with little strawberries. She placed them side by side next to the tray before taking a small spatula and moving two cookies to each plate carefully, afraid of breaking or dropping them.

Matt walked over, taking one of the cookies from the tray with the tip of his fingertips, ignoring the slight burn from the high temperature. He lifted his own hand, blowing on the sweet before biting off a piece, closing his eyes automatically and letting out a sigh of pleasure through his nose. The way the cookie was still warm made it melt in his mouth, the chocolate exploding against his tongue, multiplying the variety of flavors.

"Is it good?" Y/N giggled, watching him with a smile gracing her face, receiving a quick nod with wide blue eyes. "Come on, baby."

She took the plates in her hands delicately, leaving her kitchen and walking to the balcony with Matt following close behind as he licked his fingers, removing all the chocolate residue.

The night was cool and clear, with the sky dotted with twinkling stars. The couple snuggled into the cushioned chairs that decorated the small space, Matt quickly reaching for the pink blanket that was folded on the small table on the right corner, opening it and throwing it over his and his girlfriend's legs, protecting them against the light breeze.

"Oh! Matt, remember the dog constellation I was telling you about the other day?" Y/N's excited voice cut through the comfortable silence, her eyes lighting up just like the stars above them.

"Sirios? No, wait, Sirius... Right?" Matt frowned, a cute look of confusion spreading across his face as his eyes darted from Y/N to the sky and back again.

"Exactly! Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky. Right there." The girl raised her arm that wasn't holding her plate, pointing her index finger upwards.

Matt looked in the indicated direction, navigating through the stars for a few seconds until he found it.

"Wait, it's actually beautiful. What else do you know about it?"

Y/N smiled truthful, her heart warming at being able to talk more about something she loved so much, without having restrictions or feeling ashamed for her excitement.

"Well, Sirius is a binary star, which means it is actually two stars orbiting around each other. It is part of the constellation Canis Major, the Greater Dog, and is known as 'The Dog Stars'. Oh, oh! Do you remember Sirius Black? My favorite Harry Potter character? So, this star..."

Matt listened intently, slowly chewing the small cookie pieces while keeping his eyes fixed on Y/N. Her passion for astronomy and the universe always fascinated him, and there wasn't a time when she brought up the subject that he wasn't willing to give her his full attention.

As the night progressed, Matt and Y/N continued to stargaze, lost in conversations about the cosmos and its mysteries.

As the last cookie crumbs disappeared from the plates and the sky began to brighten with the sun that appeared over the horizon, Y/N felt a wave of comfort and contentment envelop her body, resting the ceramics on the corner table and moving gently towards Matt, settling on his lap.

The boy opened a big, involuntary smile, automatically wrapping her with his arms and the pink blanket, protecting them from the slight cold of dawn, while she laid her head on his chest, feeling the peaceful rhythm of his heartbeat and serene breathing.

Together, they kept their eyes fixed on the sky that was beginning to take on color, the sound of the first cars on the street, and the laughter of children going to school filling their ears.

Little by little, Y/N began to feel the effects of exhaustion after staying up all night, her body relaxing against Matt's comforting warmth. Sleep came like a gentle wave, enveloping her senses in an embrace.

Her breathing became slow and regular, while her body became limp and light. Her brain shutting down and giving in to deep sleep, to the point where she didn't hear the little whisper of "good night, petal" from her boyfriend, let alone his arms carrying her to her bed, where they finally slept in each other's arms.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @bellasfavbisexual @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @bellasfavbisexual @soso-scarlettolivia @maryx2xx @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[evilminji]

The inside of a Door looks like however the Lair Owner wants right?

And? Presumably, the stronger and older the ghost, the larger the Lair the could feasibly create? Not so much because its a show of power itself. But because it takes time to build things and ectoplasm to build WITH. You can't just go to the shop for that couch. You have to will it into existence.

Which also, in and of itself, takes practice.

And? Yeah, maybe most people don't really DO that much? They get a studio apartment and go "meh, good enough"? Maybe add a room or two if they REALLY need it? But OTHERS?

Others would go full minecraft.

You would NEVER be able to tell you were in the Zone from inside that Lair. Much less FIND the doorway out. You've been flying for days. Have you hit the edge yet? Nope. Can you even SEE the walls? Also no. You are... Hella lost. Pls help.

Why do I say this?

Because there are PESTS in Bethany's tranquility garden! Vermin! Disgusting little HUMANS with their FLESHY MEATS and ORGANS just walking around TOUCHING THINGS! They made WASTE PITS in her Lair! WASTE PITS!!! Granted, that's better then spreading it about... and YES, she acknowledges, it HAS been days and they ARE disturbing little meat creatures... BUT STILL!

Your Majesty! Please! They're UNSANITARY! Eating her plants! Touching things with their WEIRD LITTLE MEAT HANDS! Make it stooooop! *sobs in ghost dryad*

Smash cut to said "Vermin"?

Come party in GOTHAM they said! It'll be great PR, they said! You'll HAVE FUN, THEY SAID! Bullshit. Bruce was right and even HE isn't happy about it. At least Diana has had decades of Magical Weirdness training and can take point.

Constantine is still unconscious. Thankfully not concussed, just drained from being used as a battery to force them all HERE.

Well, all things considered, at least the forest is... weirdly tranquil. And glowing.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[chainelunaire]

love languages

gojo satoru

recieving: words of affirmation/acts of service. he's completely fine being far away for a long periods of time, him being the strongest takes a lot. however, he greatly appreciates direct attention to his persona, and not necessarily in a sexual way. i'd say, expecially not in a sexual way. he feels loved when you talk your literal worst thoughts to him, when you express everything that goes through your mind. the most non-judgemental person one could ever met, he would never blame someone he loves for some dark thoughts, he's all here for it. he likes when you tell him directly how much you care, and even if it's worded quite rough, he'll still take it. that way he feels like he means something. he'll never feel enough of your thoughts, and of course, he won't ever be satisfied with how much you praise him. however much, he always craves more. he also appreciates every litlle thing his loved ones do for him. it might look like he doesn't notice sometimes, with him acting this nonchalant. but knowing how perceptive he is, he really does notice everything.

giving: physical touch/acts of service. he's very touchy, sometimes it feels like he needs to touch more than he needs breathing. he literally explores the world with his fingerpads. it's his first instinct - to hug, when you feel bad, to kiss to make it better. he's just as innocent as a child when he expresses his love through touch and without thinking. he will kiss the pain away, he will do your hair and hold your hand - honestly, he's the sweetest when he does such things out of heart. he also enjoys helping his love ones out whenever he can - granted, he's often away, but he does what he can. he rarely complains about chores in his home, in some way he even loves to do them. makes him closer to the ones he loves. he's very simple in that sense, he enjoys simple things in life. do not tell him he's the strongest. he knows that already. however, you might hug him and say that you're so grateful he did the dishes today - and he will be so happy, he'll do them more often just to hear you saying it every time.

geto suguru

recieving: quality time. he feels loved when he feels welcomed, when someone wants his company. moreover, he himself is very social, caring person, who does poor job at being alone. he loves people, loves to spend time with his loved ones, it comes natural to him to care about his family and friends - he's not a loner at his core. so even when alone time are needed of course, in his case, he really lights up from inside when someone is seeking for him to specifically spend some time together. he doesn't really care how you will spend this time, you needing him and standing by his side is what matters to him. call him after midnight - and he will always pick up that call and join you wherever you want. he will be by your side at your grandma's party laughing at her stupid jokes, he'll go shopping with you. he'll help you with laundry and taxes. he will never ever turn yhis loved ones down, no matter how boring or stupid you think the whole thing is. just show him that you really want him near you.

giving: words of affirmation. he's so good, it's unfair. he has this natural talent of finding the right words. he's also great with timing, he reads the room perfectly (probably the second best). there's no such thing as 'i didn't mean to say that', he only says what he has carefully thought of. likes to give instructions, it's one of his ways to show that he cares. very verbal and talkative, when in his natural habitat. he's generous with his praise, he believes in letting people now how good they are (if he really thinks so). and even if not, he will always find something to say to you. such a smooth talker, he will now every one of your secrets without you realising. not to mention he's like an ariel the little mermaid with his sweet soothing voice, it's just nice to hear him saying things.

nanami kento

recieving: quality time. goes without any saying, he values quality time above all else. he too feels very loved when someone seeks his presence. unlike geto, he's doing way better by himself and he's really fine being alone, it's just that he prefers not to be alone (even if he states otherwise). sometimes he finds it amusing, because he often is so tired, he has no fun activities to offer, therefore he's wondering why even seek for his company. sometimes he may think of himself as too stern or even boring, he has some insecurities. but he's very happy, when you express that you want to spend some time together, he's subconsciously waiting for it. he's very unassuming and he never like... expects you to want to spend time with him. so when that happens, he's ready to do whatever, just so it lasts longer.

giving: quality time/physical touch. he just kinda wants to be near his loved ones all the time, can you blame him really. he's very chill with quality time, but sometimes he wonders if you get annoyed with him. like you know when you want to spend time with someone and at some point you'd be like okay that's enough i need some alone time - well, never happens with him. he fears to look desperate so much, he's always so quiet. like there's no possibility to get tired of spending time with him, because most of the times it's just existing in the same room, and that's enough. very laid back and casual, his whole presence if very relaxing and calm. physical touch is very sweet and comforting too - like sleeping together on a sofa on a rainy day, holding you by the shoulder when going through the crowd. it's more out of wanting to protect rather than something else.

fushiguro toji

recieving: words of affirmation. i'm actually very sad about him, his relationship with affection is rooted in such tragedy. he needs praise more than he's willing to admit. of course, him being traumatized to the core plays a crucial role in it; he'd never heard that he's doing well, that he's good. anything that is not insult or a joke in some way. i think he could get burned once or twice because of how easily he could be manipulated. he's actually very wary of people being kind to him, but he can't fight himself when it's somebody being parcticularly kind to him and being verbal with this kindness. it's his vulnerable spot, and he can't do anything about it, falling for it every time. for instance, his first wife was very good with her words, bringing him comfort and safe place withing her company. he very much needs the praise and insctructions how to do... basically anything in his life. not because he's helpless, not at all. but because that's what love is to him, to care enought to let him know what to do, and when he does it, telling him he was good. it's insane to witness what it does to him, how visibly happier he looks.

giving: acts of service/quality time. he does everything he can, that's it. what he doesn't know how to do, he'll learn. he's great with predicting what you need, the absolute best at reading the room quickly. for instance, he rarely needs to know your face expression to know that you're mad (not necessarily at him), he knows it by the way your feet stomp on the floor (yet another oh so useful skill from a loving former household). he prefers to prevent the explosion than to deal with it. he has a mental list what he can do to make you feel better. it's almost like he proves himself every time (and it's a rather sad view, especially at first). with time he relaxes. when he's not in his proving mode anymore, he still helps whenever he can, but in a more chill way. that's when his wish to just spend more time together comes. usually it's just coexisting, but sometimes he'll think of few ways to make time more fun and exciting. he's willing to spend some money on a fancy place from time to time. and he can be surprisingly creative.

ryomen sukuna

recieving: quality time. never the one to miss the opportunity to learn something new, he's actually a great companion for a good talk or sparring (not recommended, in this case you might end up dead). while he's good being all alone, he genuinely enjoys a good company. he won't seek for one himself, but he's willing to accept the offer. surprisingly, he has a lot to give, you just need to find the right words. he's extremely intelligent (probably the most out of all), and he expects from his companions the same level of intelligence, otherwise why bother? he knows a lot about art and culture, he pays his respects to literature and especially poetry. you can always learn something new from him, and he likes when someone listens to him, like actually listens and takes everything he says to heart. when in a mood, he's up for a debate: if you can handle it, he'll be amused and even glad. as long as you are interesting to him, you're fine. he doesn't like boring stuff, that's what you need to think about. the thing is, he's not the one to waste his time on someone he doesn't treasure in one way or another, so when he does accept an offer to spend time together, it already shows his rather warm feelings towards you.

giving: gift giving/words of affirmation. because of his appreciation for culture, everything he gifts is carefully thought of and has it's meaning. if he chooses to gift something, let it be the best. he won't give such treasures to anyone, he saves it for the ones he respects (basically the equivalent of care in his mind). be it some book, weapon, clothes or some art piece, it truly means something to him. and because of his erudition, he expects you to understand everything he wanted to say with this gift. it really is some sort of language to him, you can say so much without saying anything. he likes to hear your opinion on them, he expects you to discuss them with him later. another thing, while he doesn't like to express himself verbally that much, he's actually good at doing it. he's generous with praise, it's more of a deserved-not deserved case to him. becuse he's so skillfull and knowleadgeable, he's not insecure in a sense that he'll withhold praise bc he doesn't want to come off as soft. he really doesn't care. in some weird way, he almost wants you to be better than him in whatever field you discuss. so when he feels like you deserve the praise, he will give it to you. and his praise hits just right, even when he doesn't say much.

itadori yuji

recieving: physical touch/gift giving. oh, how much he loves those hugs, i can't even tell you. he loves to initiate them, but the greatest joy of his is when someone he loves does this first. he feels so loved when someone ruffles his hair, fixes his uniform for him, covers him, when he's taking naps. he literally feels warm from the inside. maybe because it reminds him of his granddad and the fact that he's still not alone. he's still so young, going through so much, and he finds that he feels secure when someone holds him really tight. it's like a heavy blanket to him, like nothing bad could happen in that moment. also, he cherishes everything that has ever given to him. no matter how trashy it is, even if it's just a candy wrapper, he'll cherish it, if it's from someone he loves. he enjoys recieving those little sometimes meaningless things. they matter a lot to him. they bring his loved ones closer, like there's some physical evidence this was real.

giving: words of affirmation. while he's great at almost everything, his greatest power is finding the right words for every person he loves. he says everything kindly, easily, in a very lighthearted manner. never ever you will hear him being rude even by mistake. he's borderline unable to hurt anybody with his words, he's just that good. he's not the one to give a long profound speech, he's very simple yet very impactful. his words would have a longlasting effect even without him realising it. never prepares anything he wants to say in his head (as yuta or geto), a force of nature. he doesn't really say much, when he's not blabbering about something silly. in a serious setting he gets noticeably more quiet. not only that, but he really knows when not to say anything. his silence is very telling. he knows how to make that silence soothing and comforting, or deeply uncomfortable, depends on a situation.

fushiguro megumi

recieving: quality time/words of affirmation. he's very simple, he likes to spend time with his loved ones, and he loves hearing them speak (especially about him). he desperately tries to hide that fact though. he wants to be cool and unaffected, but in reality he's very sensible and reactive. he doesn't understand that that's what everyone love about him. so when he gets praised, it's such a fun scene, like you can see he clearly enjoys it, but still tries to act cool about it. he also likes to just hang around people he loves, he never turns down an offer to spend time together (even when he acts like he'd rather be home than here). however, he really likes some meaningful quality time, so if not you, he'll think of some ways himself. he doesn't like doing 'stupid things', it takes a lot to convince him to participate. it's good for him though, it relaxes him a lot more than he's willing to admit.

giving: quality time/acts of service. i'll be honest, he's not very creative with his ways to spend time. he's almost too serious (he has his reasons, obv), so what he suggests is usually 'let's do homework together', something like that. do not turn down that offer - he'll make it really worth it. not only is he a very comforting to be around, usually being the calmest person in a room, he'll also make it a very... nice experience. he'll prepare you the best tea he has, he'll bake you cookies to snack on while studying, he'll bring out the blankets. he'll ask you if you feel comfortable every five minutes, apparently. he'll tell some stories he never told anyone, he'll ask gojo-sensei to light the fireplace, if you feel cold. you may notice that at home even gojo also gets quieter around him - almost everything is much slower and softer. he very much enjoys these peaceful moments. and he likes to share them only with the ones he truly cherishes.

okkotsu yuta

recieving: words of affirmation/physical touch. he needs a lot of reassurance in his life, he really does. and he's not one for subtle gestures, he needs to really feel it - he needs to feel like somebody holds him safe and sound, he needs to hear that somebody understands him the way he is. he has a lot of dark, dark thoughts, and when someone is able to reassure him that these thoughts are normal, that he's still worthy, that even the best of people have something dark in them - that's when he feels appreciated and loved. he lives on praise, and, like gojo, is very openminded. he actually likes to hear everything you have to say to him, even if it's not necessarily good.

giving: words of affirmation/physical touch. has a silver tongue, never slips up. everything in his head is played so well, the words he says are always on point. bc he's so openminded, he can see everything from different points of view, so he comes of as a very understanding. nothing you say can throw him off, he'll listen to everything and he'll say his word. he knows the power he holds, actually, but he rarely uses it, because usually he's just shy. it's more of a last option to him. he saves it for the rare people he treasures the most - like his friends, sensei, etc. - around who he already feels free and appreciated. he much prefers to show his affection in more physical ways. he doesn't necessarily like to hold hands, it takes a lot to him to trust like that, but he can rub someone's back or offer a massage - and he's great at it. he also kinda subconciously usually stands or sits really close, so the shoulders are touching. he also likes to rest his head on your lap, when he's now really close to you. however, he really tries not to make other person uncomfortable, but, to be fair, almost all of his touches are featherlight and completely innocent. it's just a comfortable way to him to express himself.

[azuries]

here it is!! my VERY self indulging sees!ryoji au masterpost ;w; i hope you guys enjoy reading through it! i was heavily inspired by all the amazing art and content ive seen of the concept that i wanted to explore it too!

ART:

Moonlight Trio

Yukari and Ryoji going shopping (SEES!Ryoji winter clothes variations)

Ryoji accidentally hitting MC with his scythe

SEES!Ryoji sketch dump

SEES!Ryoji Theurgy splash

SEES!Ryoji Theurgy Storyboard

Ryomina in Tartarus

Cooking with Yukari

SEES!Ryoji Sprite edit

SEES!Ryoji fanmade P3RE screenshots

Ryomina SEES!Ryoji animatic

feral SEES!Ryoji

Clumsy SEES!Ryoji

Charmed Ryoji

All Out Attack Splash

SEES!Ryoji Cut In Splash

Comic

silly mitsuru and ryoji comic

Twitter post

SEES RYOJI AU 

After Ryoji finds his resolve through the Hero, he offers to join his team. He gives him a choice to go through a better, yet harder way to get through Tartarus, a way only he can access. It features new bosses, content, and a new spin of the final fight with Strega.

Contains: Art, battle stats, Theurgy, combat dialogue, Tartarus dialogue and banter, and more!

Full post under the cut:

—-

This AU explores the idea that instead of Ryoji leaving for the last  month, he offers to join the team as a temporary team member to lend his power to help SEES reach the remaining floors of Tartarus before he merges with Nyx. More events happen that prolong the time you spend together. 

Ingame, it’s treated like a bonus mission and an addition to get to know Ryoji better during the aftermath of November. 

As a new addition to the team, he’ll join SEES in the dorm and have his own version of FTEs with plant tending, movie watching, book reading and cooking. He’ll have interactions with other party members. 

The player will also get to know more on his personal feelings as the Appriser. Through conversing with Ryoji, you learn in depth about Tartarus, and the player gets to see a more subdued side of him as he tries to come to terms with his identity. 

He uses an evoker to trigger his form as Thanatos instead of using it to summon a Persona.

The player can choose to go through this route, or play the game like how it was originally set. The ending remains the same.

Party Stats:

Level: Scaleable, 2 levels higher 

Element: Dark and Almighty

Weakness: None, reflects pierce damage 

Combat style: Prioritizes debuffing, tank 

Theurgy - Death’s Call: Deals massive almighty damage to all foes. Fears both enemies and allies. 

Theurgy condition: When Ryoji sees his friends suffer a lethal blow, he feels determined to take vengeance.

Theurgy Personality bonus:

Chance to grant Arcana Burst even without completing your Major Arcana stack.

+ More damage to weak foes. 

Inflicts distress to all foes in start of battle. 

DIALOGUE:

Ryoji’s first Tartarus entrance dialogue: 

Ryoji: - So this is Tartarus.

I, I can feel her. She’s keeping an eye on us. On me.

Remember that I’m here to help. Tartarus is Nyx’s realm, but I should know a better way to help you get to the top. 

Keep in mind that I may not be as impenetrable while I’m here, and shadows will be a lot more hostile if we go this way. Are you sure you wanna do this?

MC:

> Nowhere to go but up.

> Let’s do this.

> Are you sure there’s no other way?

Don’t worry. Whatever‘s waiting for us, I won’t let anything happen to you. They’ll have to get through me first. 

First Summon dialogue: 

I have to do this. Everyone..I’m sorry for what you’re about to see. 

Get out here, Thanatos! 

Turning into Thanatos (Persona Summon) 

If this is what it takes.

Please look away.

Thanatos!  

Do what you must!

Combat 

Shift dialogue:

All up to you! 

We’re in this together!

Receiving end of shift dialogue: 

I’m on it! 

They’ll get what's coming to them.

Item use: 

This will help, right? 

Getting healed:

I don’t deserve this.

Death:

I-I hope it was enough. 

Sorry..

AILMENTS

Distress

It’s over.. Why do we still try?

Confuse 

Guys? What’s going on?!

Rage

Come on! Take me down if you can! 

Charm

So, how about dinner?~

Down

You’re kidding me! 

Shock

What is this?! 

AOA

Before All Out Attack:  

We’re going in! 

Before splash art: 

And that's how it's done! 

Splash art Caption: 

DEATH IS INEVITABLE

All Out Attack splash art line:

Pointless to deny your fate.

Basic victory dialogue: 

I hope it was worth it. 

Heh, how was that? 

Battle aftermath:

That was impressive. You’re all amazing!

Stairs discovery

Found the stairs. There’s no time to lose! 

Found the way up! You know best, leader.

Treasure

Ooh, something shiny! 

Hey, guys! Found something useful? Maybe?

SEES advantage: 

They never saw it coming! 

Ambush / enemy advantage: 

Leader, stay close to me!

Hit by crit: 

That’s impossible! 

SEES Tartarus dialogue w/Ryoji 

Junpei: Hey, so.. Ryoji… What’s with the long scarf? And how do you not slip from it when you run? 

Ryoji: I don’t think it’s that long! 

Yukari: Seriously? Out of all the questions you can ask him, that’s what you go with? 

—-

Mitsuru: For someone with no prior experience, you’ve been keeping up well, Ryoji-kun. 

Ryoji: I’m glad you think so, Kirijo-senpai.

Akihiko: Don’t push yourself, though, alright?

—-

Junpei: Ryoji! Now that you live with us, we have got to continue the game we were playing! 

Ryoji: I don’t think you’d want to…Didn’t I delete your save on accident?

Junpei: Eh, I wasn’t paying much attention to the story in the first place. 

—-

Ryoji: I never got to thank you before for helping me settle in, Fuuka. How about I take you out? 

Fuuka: Oh, of course! Let’s invite the others too!

Junpei: …Yikes, dude.

—-

Fuuka: I’ve always wanted to do karaoke with you all. You should join us, Ryoji-kun!

Ryoji: Oh, m-me...?

Junpei: Yeah, you’re always holed up in your room and we never know where you’re out at night! How about we sing our hearts out instead? 

Ryoji: Ahh.. haha..I… I’ll think about it. 

—-

Ryoji: *Humming Mass Destruction* 

Aigis: Ryoji-san. Were you the one making those sounds? 

Ryoji: Sorry! Makoto-kun and I were listening to some songs, and now I can’t get it out of my head. 

—-

Ryoji: Aigis..About what happened before. I feel like I should apologize one more time. 

Aigis: Instead of apologies, let’s make a promise. That we’ll see this through, together.

Ryoji: …Yeah. You’re right.  

—-

Aigis: It’s strange. In the real world, you’re impenetrable. But in Tartarus...

Ryoji: Until the promised day, I’m an obstacle to Nyx. I wouldn’t put it past her to limit my power. 

Mitsuru: So she was expecting this. Well, we just have to plan accordingly, then.

—-

Aigis: I decided to live, but…how do I even begin? How would I know? 

Ryoji: I already sense life within you, Aigis. You’re doing more than enough.

—-

Ryoji: Wandering Tartarus must feel repetitive. Maybe I can try something! I can add some arcade machines? 

Ryoji: Oh… but if I do that, Tartarus will just take it away again. *sigh* Nevermind, then.

Ken: Can.. Can you actually do that?!

Yukari: *sigh* Of course he can’t. 

—-

Akihiko: How are you holding up, Mochizuki? Think you can still keep up?

Ryoji: Heh, that’s not even a question, Senpai.

—-

Ryoji: I hope I’m not bringing you guys down. What do you think, Koromaru-san? 

Koromaru: *barks enthusiastically*

Fuuka: Hahaha. Koro-chan seems to enjoy your company!

—-

Yukari: Whew..! You guys notice the shadows have gotten…much more alert?

Akihiko: You’re right. It’s like we unlocked the deepest depths of Tartarus that Nyx didn’t want us to see.

—-

Junpei: Jeez Ryoji, you weren’t kidding. The shadows of this detour are a whole different monster! 

Ryoji: I’m sorry, Junpei. But I promise it’s just a little longer. 

Junpei: Who am I to back down from a challenge? This’ll be a piece of cake! 

—-

Mitsuru: Are you settling in the dorm well, Ryoji-kun?

Ryoji: Oh. I am, thank you. 

Mitsuru: Of course. Just let us know if you need anything.

—-

Ken: Did anyone hear footsteps in the boys’ dorm last night? 

Yukari: Must have been Aigis sneaking to Makoto’s room, even if I told her to not leave past curfew…

Aigis: It was not me. I was out for my monthly checkup. 

Yukari: Then… who was it?

Ryoji: It wasn’t me! 

Yukari: No one said it was you! 

—-

Ken: So, where have you been living before, well, all of this, Ryoji-senpai?

Ryoji: I-I actually don’t know. Anything outside of school and Makoto-kun becomes a blur.

Fuuka: Ryoji-kun…

—-

Ryoji: You’re amazing to lead such a capable team, Makoto-kun. You look good like this. 

—-

Yukari: Ryoji-kun and I went thrift shopping the other day. It was actually pretty fun!

Ryoji: Thanks for taking me out, Takeba-san. I wanted that jacket, though.. 

Yukari: Unless you wanna blind someone with that thing, there’s no good reason to wear it! 

Ryoji: *sighs sadly*

—-

Ryoji: There were so many couples on Paulownia Mall for Christmas Eve. It was lovely to see.

Junpei: Ooo, does our newest member have a special someone they have in mind?

Ryoji: I-I wouldn’t say that..

Junpei: Hahaha! You’re like a tomato right now, dude! 

Ryoji: Hey, knock it off!

—-

Ryoji: Wait, you’ve reached past the 200th floor?! Akihiko: All in a day’s work. Everyone has been putting in their all. 

—-

Akihiko: You’re hardly breaking a sweat. What’s your routine, Mochizuki?

Ken: I’m guessing it’s him not being human in the first place?

Akihiko: Ken, that’s not..!

Ryoji: It’s alright, I don’t mind. He has a point, though.

—-

Yukari: I won these chocolate bars, I brought them in case anyone wanted a snack. Want some? 

Ryoji: Oh, that’s okay. I don’t eat sweets that much. 

—-

Mitsuru: I have to say it was quite convenient for the Kirijo Group to have an extra weapon. 

Ken: Yeah, and what’re the odds it was a scythe too?

Ryoji: Hahaha…. I guess.

—-

Koromaru *bark*

Aigis: Koromaru-san is asking that if you’re Death, what will that make of the Reaper?

Junpei: I bet Ryoji here can take him down, no problem! 

Ryoji: I’d rather not stick around to find out. For your sakes.

—-

Ryoji: I was told you lost a close friend to the Dark Hour. I’m sorry for your loss.

Mitsuru: …Thank you, Ryoji-kun.

Akihiko: He’d want us to move forward. There’s no use dwelling in the past.

Ryoji: I guess you’re right. I’m here to help however I can. 

—-

Koromaru: *bark bark* 

Junpei: Hey… you think Koromaru sensed Ryoji’s true identity? 

Ken: Oh, do you mean because  of dogs’  intuition to ghosts and spirits? 

Fuuka: I don’t think Ryoji-kun’s just any ghost though..!

—-

Ryoji: Hey Takeba-san. Can I ask you something?

Yukari: I swear, if it’s you trying to ask me out again…

Ryoji: Oh, that’s not what I was gonna- Wait, do you want me to? Because-

Mitsuru: -I think I saw something important there, leader. Let’s check it out.

Ryoji: This feels too familiar.

—-

Junpei: Kyoto was so fun! School trips should happen more often. 

Yukari: *glare*

Junpei: Eep! 

Ryoji: Ah-! I-I swear, that wasn’t our intention! It was all a misunderstanding! Leader, tell her! 

—-

SP LOW: 

Mitsuru: Ryoji-kun. Make sure not to strain yourself. 

Ryoji: I’m fine, please don’t worry. I can’t let up in front of a pretty girl like you, now can I? 

—-

Fuuka: Leader… Ryoji seems tired. 

—-

If Makoto has low SP: 

Ryoji: You don’t look good…Please, pace yourself. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.

FTEs: (WIP)

Plant tending event

anddd thats it so far!! if this post ever needs updating, i definitely will!

thank you so much for reading! it really means a lot!

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

Sinking

Natasha romanoff X civilian fem reader

Warnings: sadness. Lots and lots of sadness. Angst. All the angst. Reader has a past with self harm and abandonment issues. Allusion to self harm. Allusion to suicide. Suicide. If any of these trigger you don't read this.

Summary: Natasha loved you. And you loved Natasha. But sometimes when the everything is too much and Natasha choses her work over you you don't know how much longer you can go.

You loved Natasha. You really really did. And Natasha loved you. Well that's what she said. But Natasha's job was literally to be a brilliant liar. But even if it was a lie you cling to it like a lifeline. Because in more ways than one it was. The only tether you had left. That final strand connecting the rope. And at first everything was fine. Truly it was. You and Natasha moved into an apartment not far from the Avengers so Natasha could still have easy access to work and it was close enough to the coffeeshop you worked at. It was fine. Everything was brilliant.

Those first few weeks were heaven. Natasha coming home from a mission or just work as an Avengers in general. You coming back from the coffee shop making Natasha her favourite drink because you made sure to learn it just the way Natasha liked. The days ended cuddled up on the couch by a fire watching a movie or just sleeping. It was perfect. Picture perfect. Too perfect.

It started a month after you moved in with her. Natasha came home later and later. Sometimes sending messages to say she couldn't be bothered driving home or she was too drunk. You tried picking her up. But Natasha called you clingy. You were clingy weren't you. You always were. Maybe it took moving in for Natasha to see that.

It was three months after you and Natasha moved in together did you notice that Natasha didn't have the energy for you anymore. She never wanted cuddles or to curl up in the couch by the fire anymore. You thought it was because Natasha was just tired. But even when she came home on time or hell even early Natasha just didn't want any affection. But you knew that. She had said she wasn't very affectionate. It was here that Natasha stopped telling you when she would be home. Why does this hurt so much.

It was seven months after you moved in with Natasha did the assassin finally come home early and spent the afternoon with you. You went to a fancy dinner you wanted to try for weeks. And then at the end you and Natasha curled up by the fire with a movie. Just like those first few weeks together. And you thought it would be ok. That you could once again stop looking at knives funny. That every time you saw something sharp you had to stay away or else.

It was eight months after you moved in with Natasha did you start again. It wasn't meant to go that far. Natasha had come home drunk and you got upset and concerned. Natasha called you overbearing and clingy. She told you that that was why she was never home anymore. You locked yourself in the bathroom that night to calm down when you saw them. Simple razors. It won't spiral you told yourself. It was your fault it did. Granted in the morning after that fight when Natasha sobered up she took it all back. But drunk words sober thoughts right. You always messed up. Every damn time.

It was a year after you moved in with Natasha did the assassin finally get the hint that something may be wrong. She had come home and asked for a hug because that day had been rough. But your wrists hurt and you didn't want Natasha to know. She couldn't know. So you refused. Then you hid not wanting to be questioned. After that Natasha looked at you funny all night. How was it you always ruined everything.

It was a year and a half after you moved in with Natasha did you finally break. She had come home drunk again. Another stark party. It was long past two am. And you were done. Done with the long nights and constant worries. Never knowing if Natasha would be home or not. Forgetting to eat because your only reason before was making Natasha food. Never sleeping out of concern. Locking yourself in the bathroom after particularly difficult days at the coffeeshop or from worries with the razor again. Only now you had a stash if razors. It wasn't meant to spiral.

It was two days after you left Natasha's apartment were you standing at that bridge edge. Staring down at the unmoving water below. It felt so bad. You weren't in a hoodie anymore. You had sat down with your feet dangling over the edge. Razor in one hand and phone in the other. A draft to Natasha ready to be sent. A blade ready to be used. You had sharpened it first. Your favourite out if all of them. It wasn't meant to spiral.

It was an hour after you jumped did Natasha read the message. She stared down at the text as she entered the shared apartment. She thought she shared anyway. It had been two days since you had left after your argument. Natasha thought you would be back soon. Not gone. Natasha hadn't considered what she had done as bad. But looking back at it now as she sunk to the floor by the kitchen counter. Natasha's favourite drink made just how she liked and the left over blades from the collection waiting on the counter. Natasha had screwed up badly. She hadn't seen the neglect. How abandoned you must've felt. Wanding these rooms alone when Natasha couldn't be bothered coming home. And now she was the wanderer.

It was a year and a half after you left. Natasha stood at your grave stone. The blades on your grave had rusted from the weather. Red roses Natasha had left wilting slightly. She had come to renew the bouquet. Tears threatening her face as she pinned yet another letter under the rock by your headstone. Natasha didn't know why or when she began writing to you. Most the letters were trivial things about her day. The things she never got to say after her work days when you were still hers. Natasha still couldn't wrap her head around it. To her you were gone so suddenly. Watching your limp damp body be removed from the water. The damage to your arms and the small smile on your face broke her that day. But to you. You would've seen that day coming from a mile away. Or maybe you were just as blind.

It was three years after you left. Natasha was once again pinning yet another letter under the fourth stone. The other three piles next to it. More roses on-top the stone in a wreath. The Avengers had told Natasha to move on and sell her apartment since she hadn't touched it after you left. But Natasha refused. She couldn't have your final moments in your shared space destroyed. And sometimes whenever Natasha felt the guilt rise too much she went home. Imagined herself coming home to your welcome arms. To your smile and drink made just for her.

It was five years since you had left. Natasha was in therapy after Wanda scheduled her in. The Avengers saying it wasn't healthy for her to be so hung up. But Natasha didn't want to move on. It was her fault you were gone. Her fault you felt the need to go. But today was yet another free day. Another day she should be spending in your arms. It was winter. You hated winter. Always too cold you had said. Natasha always laughed it off saying the cold didn't bug her. It did now. The cold biting her skin away. Natasha pretending it was you telling her it really was just that cold.

It was ten years since you left. Natasha felt empty. Therapy hadn't worked. The therapist said to burn everything of you away so Natasha could forget. But how could Natasha forget when it was your light she had darkened. Natasha had killed so many and not felt a thing. But your life had mattered. Mattered to her. To the people you served in the coffeeshop. Natasha couldn't even look at that coffeeshop anymore. Not without guilting herself.

It was ten years and one day since you left. Natasha stood at that same bridge. Staring at the same still water. Razor in hand and phone in the other. A message drafted to you and the blade sharpened. Only you wouldn't read the message and hour later. You wouldn't panic and ring emergency services. You wouldn't pull her limp body from the river and arrange a funeral. You wouldn't spend ten agonizing years alone and desolate. And Natasha was honestly glad she had suffered what you did. Because now she understood. She was careless. But she would apologise. Natasha stepped off.

A hand reached out for her.

A/n: hey felt emo. Hope I wrote this ok. This is just a small vent but anyway we don't pay attention to that. This probably won't have anymore parts to it. This was meant to be posted tomorrow but I felt a surge of energy today so here ya go.

[sepherinaspoppies]

The One That Got Away

pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader

summary: After she escapes Aemond Targaryen, back home to the modern world her family decides to throw her an eventful baby shower where she is constantly being reminded of the father of her unborn child.

warnings: mentions of dark! book Aemond, mentions of forced marriage, and future spoilers to my main story.

wc: 4,864

main story masterlist

my masterlist

notes: this was supposed to be a small drabble lol but I got carried away lol. btw maybe this can be read as a stand alone but I do suggest to read the first two parts. this is a spoiler drabble so read if you must or come back to it when the story is finished!

gif by @gameofthronesdaily

As of late, she had begun to feel strange. 

It was not the same ill feeling she felt when she first found out that Aemond Targaryen had knocked her up. No, this was different. Odd. 

The closest she could describe it was multiple sets of eyes watching her every single move. From crossing the street, to walking to the mercado and perhaps even sitting on the toilet as she peed.

It was an unsettling feeling that blossomed into slight paranoia. Alys was the first to have warned her about this after she escaped. Saying she too felt something lingering by days after she fled Aemond and settled into the modern world but it was gone once Alys met her. 

However, that strange feeling was always creeping around, never disappearing. And even though Alys had promised that Aemond would never find her with the many spells and seals she encircled around to protect her, she still didn’t feel quite so easily convinced. 

Late at night, she would pray for that strange yet uncomfortable feeling to be gone and to never come back. But most importantly she prayed to the Gods for the very memory of him to vanish completely from her mind. 

The Gods, nevertheless, didn’t seem to want to grant her daily prayers as cruelly as they were. 

She was near the third trimester in her pregnancy when her primas Gabriela and Mariana decided to throw her a baby shower. While she was in no social or partying mood, considering her six month belly weighed her down every time she walked, she reluctantly gave in to their pleadings. (female cousins)

Mostly because she desperately needed the distraction. 

So she let both Gabriela and Mariana organize the shower. Her only request was to keep the party small, with only her, her abuela, them and the rest of her primas and tias. Seeing as her extended family that resided deeper inside the pueblo, did not know about her pregnancy. And she wanted to keep it that way. (aunts, town)

But did Gabriela and Mariana ever listen? No.

The pair had practically invited half the town over with people she had never met before. It came as a huge surprise after she got done from her shift at Doña Maribel’s shop, just how many people showed up. 

The whole street was filled with baby blue, pink, and white balloons with a huge banner with her name on it. Her neighbors, mostly the women, approached her with congratulations and a small gift. She, of course, thanked them for their kindness. 

Meanwhile her tios happened to be making carne asada in the middle of the street and placing bets on the gender of her baby. If she wasn’t so paranoid about Aemond searching for her, she too would’ve also joined in on their bets. (uncles, roasted meat or barbecue lol)

Her primas were the first to greet her while eagerly showing the decorations they had made, the party games they had planned, and the many gifts she had been gifted. 

“We made these little pins for the gender of the baby, and all of us are wearing what we think the little frijolito is going to be. Now it’s your turn to pick!” Gabriela says holding two pins, each adorned with a baby bottle with either pink or blue. (little bean)

She looked at both very hesitantly, unable to just pick one. She had heard stories from multiple customers that came from the shop, how they just knew the gender of their baby by the feel of their bump or mood symptoms. 

After weeks of trying to feel something or to establish some type of connection for it, she sadly could not get a good feel of what it was. 

Though, the only thing that did matter was for the little frijolito to be happy and healthy. When reading Fire and Blood, she remembered reading how Rhaenyra Targaryen had birthed a daughter with dragon-like birth defects and a scaled tail.

She prayed that she wouldn’t hatch an actual dragon as well. Birth sounded painful and unpleasant enough as it was. 

She pinned both decorative pins to her shirt earning several dissatisfied ‘aw’s’ from her surrounding family. 

“I’m pretty sure it’ll be a boy,” Her abuela added in, sitting adjacent to her on the small couch. “I carried five boys and my belly was as low as yours. When I carried your mama, my belly was higher and rounder from the sides.” 

Some of her tias nodded in agreement. But it was her tia abuela, Dora, who examined her from head to toe, doing what she did best; stirring the pot. “Yes and her belly is very big which means it’ll be a tall baby. Tell me, hija, is the father a tall man?” (great aunt, daughter)

The room went impossibly quiet so much that she could hear a hair pin drop. She saw her abuela shift uncomfortably against the couch as so did the rest of her tias and primas. Although she had not mentioned who or what exactly happened to her family, they all had an inclination of what stemmed between the father of her unborn child and her. 

“Yes. Yes he is.” She answered with a fake smile. 

Dora raised an eyebrow, more than intrigued to know more. “¿Cuánto mide?” (what’s his height?)

In the corner of her eye, she saw her abuela give her sister a harsh look, the same one she’d give her when she was little whenever she did something wrong. 

“I don’t know his exact height, tia. I just know he is a lot taller than me.” She informed, trying not to let her voice waver at the small flashback she had of Aemond, standing in front of her where he’d forced her to marry him against a Weirwood tree at Harrenhal. It was the first time she really took in his massive height. And it was also the first time she felt truly smaller and inferior than him. 

You’re safe. You escaped. He’s gone. He’ll never find us. 

Dora did not let her sister’s harsh stare get to her, and instead fixated her eyes on the way she kept rubbing her heavy bump. “Will we ever get a chance to meet him?-”

“Hermana,” Her abuela warned with a stricter and more stern tone to her voice. (sister)

“Que? I just want to know more about the father so I can figure out if the clothes I bought would be a right fit or not.” Dora shrugs, feigning an innocent look on her face. Though, it was transparent enough to know she was lying. (what?)

Truth to be told, she never really quite liked her tia abuela. No one ever did. Not even her mama or abuela or quite shockingly her own daughter. Dora was known to be a pretentious chismosa, sticking her nose into other people’s business and going as far as to twist people’s words for the sole purpose of her own enjoyment. (gossiper)

Multiple times her family called Dora out for her bad mouthing. But the older woman stuck around like a moth to a flame, awaiting for new chisme to spread. (gossip)

“Well, if the clothes don’t fit we can always buy new ones. So stop being a metida, hermana.” She watched amazed as her tia abuela only huffed, crossing her arms on her chest and for once kept quiet for the remainder of the party. (someone who is other’s business)

To dissipate away the eminent tension, Mariana had brought out custom baby shower tablas of loteria she and Gabriela had ordered from Etsy. She laughed at the ‘La Botella’ being replaced with a biberón and ‘La Sirena’ being replaced with a pair of lactating breasts that tia Diana joked it’ll soon look like hers whenever she’d give birth. (cards of the game loteria. The bottle. Baby bottle. The siren)

As per usual, they played with money involved. She had won seven rounds out of ten against her family and earned around five hundred pesos until her tios decided to join in and tried to defeat her. Keyword, tried. But they never did and pinned four hundred more pesos to her dress. All five of her tios had playfully cursed her out as they kept drinking their Coronas. 

“Alyssandra, bienvenida!” Her abuela welcomed a bashful looking Alys holding a gift. The green eyed woman wore an all black outfit, jeans that Alys had once confessed to her were her favorite stylish invention of the modern world (besides non toxic makeup). (welcome)

“I hope I’m not too late for the celebration,” Alys pointed out, taking a seat in front of her. “You kept my nieta safe those many months ago, you’re always welcomed here at any time, Alyssandra.” (granddaughter)

Safe. 

She let out a humorous laugh. Safe was the opposite of what Alys had done to her. Kidnapped and held hostage was a better fit for words. She had been magically transported to a world she only knew existed in a book, and met one of her favorite book characters, Aemond Targaryen. A man who she thought to be a kindhearted friend by promising to return her back to her universe. 

Instead Aemond Targaryen had betrayed her trust and loyalty by destroying what she needed to get back home. Thus forcing her to marry him. It was then when she realized who he truly was hidden behind empty promises; a man who was crazy and obsessed with her. 

And everything had happened for a stupid sapphire that held a high sentimental value to Alys. 

Alys narrowed her eyes from where she sat but suddenly softened when she saw the permanent bruises on her wrists where Aemond had tied her down for their intense wedding night. 

Multiple times did Alys apologize for sending her to the arms of a delusional man. From what Alys remembered, Aemond didn’t go as far as bounding her whenever they slept together. Alys had let Aemond take his pleasure with a feign smile ultimately to play her game of survival. 

She didn’t quite so easily forgive Alys and she doesn’t think she’d ever will. 

“I still am sorry for what I did.” Alys’ voice softly wandered on her head. 

“I know,” She replied back through her mind. 

As the day turned into night, it was finally time to open gifts. However, not without having cake, her abuela brought out a delicious looking chocoflan. A cake she previously loved but thanks to Aemond, she no longer was fond of it. 

Her abuela cut the biggest slide for her and the little frijolito and called out the rest of the family to come have a slice. In an instant the chocoflan was gone but her abuela secretly whispered to her that she had more in the fridge saved just only for her. 

It took her over an hour to unwrap the stack of gifts she received and she was grateful for the many boxes of diapers as they would come utterly in handy. She’d been gifted a dark green crochet hat with matching mittens from her abuela, a pair of red mal de ojo bracelets for spiritual protection from tia Imelda, a mini thick cobija Mexicana from tio Eduardo, and several gender neutral clothes. (evil eye, mexican blanket)

It was Alys’ gift that made everyone’s head turn in confusion. 

“They are scrolls. I found them as I was cleaning my bookshelf and I thought they might be useful to your babe,” Alys explained as she fully opened one of them, revealing hieroglyphics and scriptures in a language she didn’t understand. 

“What’s… High Valyrian?” Mariana asked ever so curious, over her shoulder. 

Alys interrupted her before she had a chance to speak. “It is a language originating from the land of Old Valyria.” 

Her youngest prima Sofia’s eyes lit up in interest, “Oh cool! Is it like the Sith language from Star Wars?” 

It was Alys’ turn to look at the young Star Wars fan in befuddlement. “What’s Star Wars?”

Sofia scoffed in shock and explained in full detail what the fictional universe that was Star Wars. Well at least she hoped it was fictional. At this point, if Luke Skywalker was real in another universe or in a galaxy far, far away she wouldn’t be astonished. Though, if the opportunity presented itself, she wouldn’t mind traveling to that world to meet Anakin Skywalker. If the real Anakin Skywalker looked anything like Hayden Christensen, within a heartbeat she’d run to Alys to do one of her spells. 

“Who are the Targaryens?” Gabriela questioned reading one of the scrolls that had a list of Valyrian houses. 

“Nobody.” She sharply replied, starting to feel somewhat vexed. 

“They are the people who descended from Old Valyria and speak High Valyrian. They are the only ones who can read these scrolls-”

One flesh. One heart. One soul. 

“Alys.” 

“They sound magical,” Sofia replied, full of awestruck. Only if she knew that they were more than just that. 

“Why did you say that these scrolls would be useful to the baby? Is the baby part Targaryen or something?” Mariana jokes, making her family more intrigued by the edge of their seats.  

“Can’t have my seed go to waste, my love. You shall swell with my child soon enough. A perfect babe born from our love.” 

Stop. No more. You are safe. He’ll never come. This is your baby more than it is his. 

“You are mine. You’ll never leave me…”

“Hija?” She heard her abuela call out her name as she broke out in a run. 

She wanted to get out, every second that she was there, being reminded of the man who impregnated her made her feel nauseous. Maybe it was because of the frijolito or just pure fear. She didn’t know, but either way it was a feeling she didn’t want to have. 

She did not spare anyone a glance, not wishing for anyone to see the panic and wretchedness. 

“I love you.” 

In an instant, she grabbed the nearest thing she could find and emptied out her stomach until Aemond’s voice stopped circulating in her head. 

“Are you okay?” A soft voice spoke behind her. 

She turned around seeing a man around her age, tall with black hair and dark brown eyes. His hand extended a red solo cup that he softly murmured was water.  

She nodded, easing the worry on his face. “Yea just a little sick is all.” The worrisome never faltered on his face, if anything he looked more concerned. “There’s some gelatina inside, I could grab you a plate? When my sisters were pregnant all they ate was gelatina to ease the nausea.” (gelatin aka jell-o)

“No it’s fine, I’ll-” He waved her off, sprinting inside before she could even finish. He brought a small plate of gelatina de limon to an empty table, motioning for her to sit. (lime flavored gelatin)

He watched intently as she took a few bites into the gelatina, humming when the color came back to her face. She sure did feel better, small little kicks to her belly confirmed that the frijolito felt the same. 

“Better?” The dark haired man asked. 

“Yes, thank you.” She nodded, giving him a soft smile. 

“I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Armando,” He bashfully confessed with a tint of pink on his cheeks. 

Of course she most definitely remembered him. The boy next door she had a huge crush on when she was little. Only that he was not so little now. 

“I do remember you. It still feels like just yesterday when we were sitting here on these tables eating the paletas de hielo after school.” She smiled fondly at the memory. Unbeknownst to her Armando would use the money his parents would give him for school lunch, to buy their paletas de hielo just so he could spend more time with her. It was his favorite part of the day. (popsicles)

Armando laughed as he too looked back at the memory. “I would’ve come a lot sooner to catch up. But I had some business to do in Oaxaca and Merida. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me since it's been more than thirteen years but I needed to see you just once more before I left.” 

A part of her felt touched that he had come all this way, and the drive she knew wasn’t easy. “I’m surprised you remembered me,” She quipped back. 

“Who would ever forget you?” 

It was her turn to bright pink. She couldn’t find any right words, but what could anyone say? Armando’s confession had been honest. Since she had left al otro lado, there hadn’t been a day where he wouldn’t stop thinking about her. (to the other side/ the states)

She decided to briefly change the subject instead. “I see that you didn’t change your mind about going to Oaxaca after all these years.” For as long as she could remember, Armando more than often would say that he wanted to live in Oaxaca, especially near the coast. What she also didn’t know was that it was her who he wanted to live there with.  

“No I didn’t. I’m building a house there since my papa left me some terreno there after he passed away. You should come visit after it’s finished, soon.” Armando sincerely hoped she would. (land)

Aquí vas a terminar de enamorarte conmigo. He thought to himself. (here you are going to end up falling in love with me) 

The idea of going to Oaxaca sounded not so bad. But traveling with a big and heavy belly sounded tiring and draining. Perhaps after she’d given birth when the baby was past its infancy. 

“I leave in four days and I’d like to see you again. Or perhaps you wanna come with me?” The dark haired man asked, quirking a brow. 

“So what do you think of Armando?” Her abuela slyly probed, after she’d just given her goodbye to Armando. She should have known her abuela would be closely watching their interaction. “He’s gotten taller,” She jokes with a playful look on her face. Her abuela rolled her eyes, “You know that’s not what I mean.” 

She knows what she means but the talk of men was not something she wished to continue further. If she had met Armando first rather than Aemond, she definitely wouldn’t mind the conversation. But yet, Aemond had been thrown into her path unwelcomed. 

“When you left for the states with your mama, Armando would ask everyday when you were coming back or any news of you. We thought he’d eventually get the hint that you were gone for good but that boy still asked about you. It wasn’t until your abuelo finally broke the news to him that he stopped coming here.” 

She remembered that day when she left, her mama barely gave her time to say her goodbyes. 

“He seems to be doing alright.” She pointed out, picking up dirty plates to place them inside the sink. “Oh, he’s doing better than alright. He got offered a position to work at a law firm in Oaxaca and his mama told me he’s also building a house over there. I heard it’s beautiful and spacious.” At the last sentence her abuela wiggles her brows, teasing. 

She hummed in acknowledgement, knowing where the conversation was going towards. “Good for him.” Although Armando gave her a sense of kindness and genuinity, she was in no way ready to be involved with someone romantically. Aemond, too, seemed kind at first until he had betrayed her trust and went completely haywire and delusional. He had shown her a different side to him once she figured out their well thought out plan to transport her back home, was all a lie to get her to marry him and never leave. 

Aemond and Alys both shattered that illusion of the fairytale love she wished to have.  

What’s not to say Armando had an evil and dark side to him as well? 

“El es un buen hombre con un muy buen corazón, tiene trabajo estable. Te lo digo para que lo pienses,” Her abuela advised, gently squeezing her forearm, “A house like the one he’s building, deserves a family to live in.” (he is a good man with a good heart, he has a stable job. I say this so you can think about it) 

Her abuela’s eyes then trailed to her swollen pregnant belly. “One must make sacrifices that we don’t always want or agree with for our children.” 

The party began to slowly falter close to ten, she never was one for sleeping early but after such a long day she and the frijolito needed much necessary beauty sleep. 

Although her abuela said she’d clean, she ended up doing it herself as cleaning gave her a sense of control and some therapy clear of anxiety. She went ahead and took all the gifts up to her bedroom where it was much more quiet and alone amidst others. 

She plopped herself down on the bed, opening a small bottle of lavender oil to rub to her belly that Doña Maribel suggested was good for calming stretch marks. She did not mind them, she knew it was natural for her body to expand to fit the babe, but what did bother her was the itchiness to it. 

Not only did the oil soothe itch, but the frijolito loved it when she would firmly massage the spot where it rested. She once massaged the side of her belly only to find out the dragonling was ticklish there. 

She nearly screamed when she heard two loud knocks at her door, revealing a certain black haired witch. 

“Mind if I come in?” Alys asked, her head popping inside the little crevice of the door. As much as she wanted to be alone, she muttered a simple yes. Alys made herself comfortable by plopping down to the left of her on the bed. 

“I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier, I was out of line to give you those scrolls in the presence of your family.” Alys admitted, her enchanting face etched with sincerity. 

She sighed, “You were. I have a feeling my family will ask me more questions about it.” 

Alys made a face that suggested she was thinking about something, “I could always make them forget it. Just say the words and I’ll do it.” Alys promised. 

“No, no more magic or anything of what I used to think was fictional. I mean it Alys, I don't want to ever think of Aemond Targaryen.” 

Alys understood what she meant, after her version of Aemond died at the Battle Above the Gods Eye, she too didn’t want to think of him. The only thing that mattered was her son, her beautiful little boy that was taken too soon. She regretted not saving him sooner and transporting him to this new world she found. Alys had a feeling that he’d love it here, this country full of colors and great food. 

Even if Alys could bring him back from the dead, her son’s body resided in the Riverlands. 

“What if…” Alys thought before continuing, “What if I could take the memories away? Just the ones of him and-” 

“Forgetting doesn’t change what happened,” She bickered a little too loudly causing the babe to stir and kick all around. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

Alys began to admire the many gifts she’d been given, never in her life had she seen so many boxes that read to be diapers. She had only used scraps of linen she’d find lying around and cleaned it when her son did his business. Disposable diapers sounded less work but the thought of the amount of waste in this world seemed unappealing and would much rather keep the scraps of linen. 

“This isn’t really your thing, is it?” Alys motioned her head to the side where her window was, her family still celebrating outside with the whole neighborhood. 

“Not really. This whole thing was organized by my primas and tios. But now that I look back on it I think this was an excuse for my family to throw a party and drink,” She chuckles, even more when she sees her tios, Mario and Pedro dancing together (most likely drunk) to an uncoordinated cumbia.

Alys also lets out a chuckle of agreement, “Your tio Chema kept giving me Coronas after Coronas. I’m amazed that I’m not drunk.”

She smiles, knowing damn well tio Chema loves to get anyone drunk. He’d even pour an ounce to the dog’s kibble too if he could.

“But you are quite lucky you know,” Alys turns to her with a solemn look in her forest green eyes. “To have a family who loves you so much enough to throw you a grand celebration for the babe that you carry.” All that Alys got in return was being called a whore when she was far enough to show. Of course, Aemond hadn’t been one of those people. He rejoiced when she first told him months after he took her as his bedmate. 

“I didn’t.” Alys shrugged. Even though she despised touch, she placed her hand on top of Alys’ and gave it a squeeze. Alys’ eyes began to incite with tears at the gesture, but she quickly shrugged the feeling off. 

“This isn’t about me, this is about you. I know you said no more Westeros talk but I’ve been meaning to give you this for a while now and I wish not to keep it anymore.” Alys placed a medium sized box on her lap. Whatever was inside had some weight into it. 

“You already gave me a gift, Alys-” She declines but the older witch shakes her head and gestures for her to open it. 

She unwraps the green ribbon and opens the top of the box, revealing some kind of oval shaped rock. The color was a mixture of teal and violet, its edges were rough and scaled to the touch. 

It was not just some rock. It was an egg. 

“Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is, Alys.” She murmured anxiously, distancing herself from the object. Alys proudly smiled, “If you assume this is a dragon egg, then yes you’re correct.” 

She immediately places the dragon egg back in the box, afraid of the little thing hatching in a world that it isn’t supposed to be hatched. “You can’t just give me a dragon egg! What if this thing hatches? Dragons aren’t-” She babbled before she was rudely interrupted. 

“Relax, I have enchanted it into a stone. It will not hatch here, I made sure of it.” Alys reassured, placing the egg back onto her hands. 

Still startled, she shook her head. “Nope, I can’t accept this Alys.” She gave the egg back. If anyone were to walk in it’d look like they were playing a game of hot potato. 

“Yes you can and you will. Besides, it’s not like it’s for you; it’s for the babe.” 

She narrowed her eyes, it was still a dragon egg. “How did you even get a dragon’s egg anyways?” 

Alys sighs, sitting back down on the bed taking a trip down memory lane. “My version of Aemond gave it to me. After I told him I was with child he made sure to give me one of Dreamfyre’s eggs. Though, Aemond died shortly after and it did not hatch. My son however, was sad about it but I knew if it hatched Aegon the Younger would send his men to either kill it or to take it for himself since his own dragon died. So I kept the egg for myself.” 

She still had many more questions to ask but for now it would suffice. She walked to the crib that she purchased not too long ago and placed the teal-violet egg next to some dragon plushies she knew the frijolito would like. 

“Thank you Alys,” She told Alys with a smile before releasing a long tired yawn. 

Alys nodded, grabbing her purse, another fashionable invention she loved from this world, deciding to give the young girl some rest. She suddenly came to a stop at her bedroom door.

“You know, you deserve happiness. I believe that young boy with the curls will give you and your babe just that. Give him a chance, take that risk and follow him.” 

With that Alys left. 

Four days later, she knocked at Armando’s door with her belongings in her hands and left with him to Oaxaca. A month later, they both married in a small Catholic church next to their families. True to Alys’ and her abuela’s words, she was happy with Armando. 

Unbeknownst to her, her true husband had been watching through the flames. 

“Oh, my love it seems like you have forgotten who you belong to. Fret not, you will learn soon enough.”

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[pigeonpeach]

More Arlecchino Husbandry!

Cw: implied violence or possible violence: FMAB reader! Reader is called mother! Slight yandere themes (not full on though)

summary: continuation of Arlecchino Husbandry with more of a domestic focus

To say the children were estatic to know you would be a permanent member of the house hearth and you are officially their mother is a understatement. They threw a party. Even those you haven’t raised and were already grown when you arrived can recognize your importance both to their siblings and to their father: needless to say you essentially have alot of bodyguards now. Each of those children are determined to keep you safe, both out of devotion and gratitude and because it was Arlecchino’s orders to do so. And so on.

As for Arlecchino she’s quite happy to have you. She keeps you in her office on your downtime, sat nicely on her lap as she goes through paperwork so your presence can keep her calm. Occasionally she’ll press a kiss to your neck. In moments like these you two often don’t speak, rather you may be knitting or reading s book or writting ideas down for fun activities for the kids.

Arlecchino despite her deep affections fory you however is a possessive lover at her core. You’re just so fragile in the grand scheme of things. The children are protectors but if another harbinger decided to pursue you there is little they could do besides awkwardly stand by you. She knows her colleagues too well. She knows they’ll see your big heart as a weakness of hers. She knows you’re her weakness now, and in the eyes of the other harbingers it’s something they could exploit if necessary. So she simply refuses to bring you around them. Besides very few are even good company. The only harbinger you might see is Childe when he is visiting fontaine. He’s friendly to you but respectful knowing the Knave likely wouldnt like it if he was flirty with her beloved. Even so all it took was seeing him in your general direction to make her tense. Shooting him a dirty look as she quickly pulled you to her side and cut the conversation short.

In that case Childe just got glared at and scolded because he is a harbinger, she can’t kill him for something so minor. But if it was someone else who doesn’t have that sort of protection then there’s no guarantee she won’t. I wouldn’t describe this as yandere but simply a part of her job. Again you are her weakness, she cannot risk people possibly taking you from her or using you to get to her. Because that is a legit fear for her to have. So everywhere you go a underling accompanies you. Often the twins. Lynette and Lyney because they’re quite sociable and its easy for you to forget they’re your bodyguards. The children actually are very eager to accompany you because such trips are often like a day out with their mom. Its not uncommon you’ll treat them to lunch and or go shopping with them. This actually works as well because it helps you blend in easily amongst the crowd too. Sometimes you’ll bring one of the actual children with you as a fun activity to reward them for hard work. Often times you take them to get some toys or something special.

These trips are great as well, your motherly demeanor towards Lyney and Lynette often does scare away suitors but if it doesn’t Lyney is quick to intervene. And if the suitor gets aggressive from their rejection then its nothing they can’t handle. If the guards aren’t available then they could always just… kill them you know. Granted you often discourage that with the excuse of wanting to avoid legal troubles. But its a possibility.

Arlecchino herself hardly takes you to balls, she is fiercely loyal to you still, even refusing to dance with others for respect for you. This is both because the kids don’t like when you leave, and again: she doesn’t want you to become a target or too infamous because of her. She wants to keep you safe and protected.

As for gifts you can trust she won’t let you down there. She is a incredibly observant person. She knows the exact flavors, styles, items, and colors you would like. She studies your tastes diligently. It also helps she has dozens and dozens of little informants who also know your tastes. If she notices you seem overworked she books you a luxurious spa session. If she notices you’re a bit insecure them she’ll make it a point to hold you and kiss each curve and crevice of your skin. She knows you don’t have extravagant tastes but you do like things of quality and meaning. And her gifts do have meaning. If you like knitting then she’ll purchase a set of the most soft and vibrant wool. If you like reading then she’ll keep an eye on exclusive or high demand books to get you. if you’re a artist then you can guarantee you’ll never be short on paints and ever work will be framed and displayed proudly.

Also in terms of gifts you are utterly spoiled not just by your husbandwifey but your kids. They bring you trinkets and souvenirs from across the world. Often based on things that remind them of you.

Arlecchino however is a busy woman. As a harbinger she deals with stressful situations and stressful meetings. And as her new bride you do have the expectation of tending to her. My advice is to simply let her lay her head on your shoulder or lap. Embrace her gently and don’t ask for details. More often then not she cannot tell you what exactly has happened but it’s usually frustration from dealing with the other harbingers. Usually the males. You’ve heard her grievances and slander of each male at this point. If you really want to help her relax then just smile softly and nod along. Your compliance and obedience is a well needed relief to her. Then tell her good news of the kids, how their skills have improved, etc.

When you’re upset on the other hand, maybe shaken up from a failed kidnapping/assassination attempt you can bet she’ll come to you quickly. She’s wiling to ditch a meeting if she thinks its that severe. Before she gets to you however, you can bet the kids will also comfort you. Often holding you and fiercely protecting you. When she gets there they leave to give you two privacy and to stand outside to make sure no one comes by. Upon which she will hold you tighter than you’re used to her. Her nails almost digging into your skin as she breathes heavily. She waits till you’re collected to ask for details and assures you the perpetrator will not be spared or shown a slight of mercy. All those involved will be hunted down and eliminated. Until then she will personally keep you by her side. With a voice surprisingly shakey, a sound only you will hear and ONLY you: she proclaims her utter devotion to you. She proclaims that she loves you in a soft voice. This softness and weakness is a rare sight, its only done to comfort you and when she’s quite alarmed herself.

[its-all-stardust]

Sugar || 8

Masterlist || Part Seven || Part Nine

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 4.6k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

“What’s that look for?” Steven asks when he walks into your apartment.

You greet him with a grin, almost bouncing on the balls of your feet. You couldn’t wait for him to get here.

Your hands are on his chest, his on your waist, and you’re leaning into him before the door is even closed. “How do you feel about getting dressed up and being my date in two weeks?”

Steven seems to catch on to your excitement, realizing something is up. “This isn’t a regular date, is it?”

You shake your head. “Charity auction. I just got word today that I have an opening for my plus one, and I want you to come with me.”

He frowns, his hands twitching against you. “You had another date?”

“Just Dan. He had to cancel. He’s having a surprise party for his son that day.”

Somehow, Steven’s frown manages to deepen. “Who’s Dan?”

You feel him start to pull away, but you slide your hands up and lock them behind his neck, preventing his escape. There’s an elated tingling in your chest, and you soften your expression.

“Dan is my CFO. He always goes with me to these things to handle all the schmoozing because I don’t like talking to people.” Steven’s shoulders relax under your arms, the lines easing from his face. You press a reassuring kiss on his cheek. “Is that an acceptable answer?” you tease.

Steven sputters, though his hands are pressed more firmly against your waist, pulling you closer.

“If you wanted to be with other men, who am I to stop you?” he says. Though you can hear the relief in his voice, you also detect a lingering nervousness.

Your lips move to his jaw. “Too bad I don’t want to be with other men.”

Steven’s breath hitches. “No?”

You shake your head, inadvertently yet wonderfully nuzzling into him. “I only want you.”

A bold statement to say to a baby, but that’s how you’ve been lately. It started before your vacation just two short weeks ago, but it’s grown since then, and so far, you haven’t had reason to stop.

You only want Steven, which may be more than a little dangerous for you. You have sugar babies because they’re not like traditional relationships. They’re easier for a number of reasons, and generally, you don’t develop…certain feelings for your babies. They dutifully fulfill their role as companions, and you’ve always been fine with that.

But Steven has become more than just another baby to you. If you’re not careful, you could end up hurt.

“Oh,” Steven breathes, apparently all he can say. He’s practically vibrating against you, though, telling you all you need to know about how your words affected him.

Then, he says, “Good,” and kisses you. Steven is holding onto you like he can’t bear to let you go, and you return the intensity in kind. Your hands are in his hair, nails scraping along his skin.

He nips at your lips, drawing a gasp from you.

He’s been getting bolder, too.

When you finally part, Steven’s pupils are blown wide, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so… possessive.

“I should make you jealous more often,” you tease, trying to hide your elation that Steven seems to only want you, too. You’re not the best at reading people, but unlike some, Steven has never tried to hide how he’s feeling.

“No,” Steven says softly before burying his face in your neck, his hands roaming along your back. “I don’t want to hear about you with other people.”

Your heart is beating so fast; it’s a wonder it’s still in your chest.

Maybe, with Steven...

You didn’t pick this dress for Steven. That’s what you tell yourself anyway. You liked it because the fabric isn’t itchy, and the fit isn’t too tight. Nor did you pick it because you know it gets you lingering stares.

No, you chose it because you thought it was pretty. That was all.

The lie only worked until Steven saw you coming down the stairs.

His eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open. You saw him nervously playing with the cuffs of his jacket, endlessly twitching, until he spotted you.

The dress isn’t flashy—this is a classy fundraising event, after all, not a film premiere—but it exudes a quiet power.

It’s floor-length and midnight blue, with a shallow v-cut neckline that provides only a hint of cleavage. The sleeves are long, trailing a mere inch above the hem of the skirt, your heels saving them from touching the floor, and split just above the elbow for ease of use of your arms.

The finishing touches are the silver jeweled appliques on your shoulders in the shape of starbursts. They square out your shoulders, giving the illusion of perfect posture and fierce demeanor.

Not wanting to do the work yourself, you visited a salon earlier in the day to get your hair and makeup done. Steven saw that before the completed look, and even then, he was stunned by you. Your hair is pulled into an elegant bun to show off your neck, not a single strand out of place. Even the pins are carefully hidden, making your hair appear magically held in place. Your makeup isn’t heavy except for your eyes. Dark lashes and liner pulled into sharp angles, softened only by silver shadow across the lid. A deep wine-red lipstick completes the look.

Your only accessories are silver earrings to match the appliques and a clutch made to perfectly match the fabric of your dress. That way, you can carry it as your side without drawing the eye too low.

The only flaw with the whole ensemble is that you can’t wear the bracelet Steven gifted you. The gold makes it clash with the silver on the dress. You probably wear the bracelet too much, anyway; pearls are too soft to be worn every day, but you can’t bear to part with it. It was a struggle not to pick another dress entirely to match the bracelet or even take the dress in to have the appliques replaced with gold versions.

You’re afraid that would have been too much, though, and decided against it.

Even without the bracelet, Steven is still in awe of you, and that’s all that matters.

“I think I forgot how to breathe,” he says when you reach him.

Heat builds in your face as you say, “I could say the same about you.” You can’t help but reach out and smooth a hand across his right shoulder and down his chest.

Steven’s suit is black with the bowtie, of course, custom-made to match your dress. It is, admittedly, a little uninspired in terms of men’s fashion, but the norm for events like this. But even still, the suit is cut to Steven’s body perfectly, showing off his figure in the way only fine tailoring can do. His look is complete with artfully slicked-back hair, a style typically reserved for special occasions, leaving him looking a little less like your Steven. The Steven you’re used to.

After your many dates, you already know he cleans up nicely, but it’s still a sight to see every time.

“Only the best for you, love,” Steven says with a simple, offering his arm.

Though any event attended by the wealthy is used as an informal business opportunity, they are also for showing off. The nouveau riche tends to do so by wearing fancy clothes and jewelry. They make a show of how much money they have, bragging about mansions and vacation homes in foreign countries.

Old money falls into quieter luxury. The things they show off aren’t objects but rather something intangible. They talk of things such as new business dealings or proudly state that a spouse or child has a new position within a corporation or even the government, displaying not just their wealth but their power.

You, though, do neither of those things, not now that you have others to do the talking for you. Now that Dan isn’t here, you don’t have to listen to yet another round of your accomplishments being listed to potentially interested parties who could be convinced to invest or point your company toward more lucrative dealings.

You already did your time playing the rich man’s game at previous functions over the years, learning and avoiding all the faux pas typically done by those who haven’t learned to act like they were born to this. Some of the others forget your money is just as new as the overly flashy crowd. You know how to blend in; you’ve had to do it all your life. Things aren’t much different now, even though the crowd has changed.

And even though you tend to dislike these functions for the most part, you still have your own showing off that you want to do. There’s a reason you can fit in around here, after all.

You want everyone to see Steven on your arm.

Some, if not all, of your peers may suspect what he is to you. You don’t care, and chances are they won’t either. Some of them will likely have their own sugar babies in attendance with them. But you want to show them that none compare to your Steven.

None of them are as free or as open as he is. He doesn’t have to pretend to be air-headed to keep your interest, and as handsome as you think he is, he’s more than just a pretty face who fawns all over you.

You don’t plan on staying for long. A brief appearance usually appeases the more judgmental crowd. You’re not so renowned that you can decline all invitations with a small six-figure apology for your absence. It isn’t so bad, though. You do like dressing up on occasion, and it’s the perfect excuse to get Steve dressed up, too. You’re always looking for an excuse to make him into a model for your personal photoshoots, pictures tucked away in a folder on your phone.

After a flute or two of champagne, a respectable bid on something that isn’t terribly ugly, and enough people seeing—and admiring—Steven at your side, you’ll head home. The night will end at your apartment with your baby wrapped around you and a healthy transfer into Steven’s account for the pleasure of his company.

Ever since you and Steven returned from Germany, he’s been sleeping in your room with you whenever he stays the night. His bed has practically been untouched for the last couple of weeks; his own apartment even less so. These days, his room is just extra storage space for Steven to toss his clothes onto, and you couldn’t be happier. You’ve come to look forward to your new nighttime routine.

“So, do you get a paddle? Will there be a man talking so fast you can barely understand him?” Steven asks as the two of you enter the venue—a gorgeous art gallery, the host of the event.

“As fun as that would be, I’m afraid this is a silent auction,” you sigh. “You’ll only see this crowd at an auction like that if the lots are full of less-than-legal items.”

“What, really?” Steven asks in disbelief. “Aren’t those for, I dunno, shady people?”

“Oh, Steven,” you say indulgently. “These will be some of the shadiest people you’ll ever meet.”

Glass in one hand, Steven’s arm in the other—with him dutifully holding your clutch—you make your way through the gallery. Many of the pieces up for auction are paintings. They’re usually donated by some of the night’s guests looking to redecorate their homes. This way, they can get rid of the old paintings and find something unique for their newly refreshed foyer, all the while pretending they did it in the name of a good cause.

A few sculptures are scattered about, but those are usually never quite as popular. You also spot different memorabilia, either for some sport or another, or even items from a particularly beloved movie or actor.

Tonight’s selection also contains vintage handbags and jewelry. You’re sure there are other items about, but you’ve always had particular tastes and have rarely found items at an auction that you’re genuinely interested in. You only look because it’s expected of you.

A call of your name makes you pause, searching for the source.

Coming toward you is Daphne, a wealthy widow in her fifties. Like you, she doesn’t have the pedigree of some of the others, having “married up” after meeting her husband. Because of that, she’s never been as uptight as some of the other people you’ve interacted with, and as a result, you’ve always liked her.

“It’s good to see you,” you say, giving her a quick hug, mindful of your glass and hers. “It’s been ages.”

“You’ll need to squeeze me into your busy schedule for dinner some evening,” she teases. When she pulls away from you, she turns to Steven and says, “This isn’t Dan.” She looks him up and down, a knowing smile on her face.

“I’m Steven,” he quickly says, tensing beside you, apparently still a little jealous about your coworker.

“My date,” you provide without needing to as Daphne and Steven shake hands. 

“Is he good?” Daphne asks you after introducing herself. She can guess that Steven is your sugar baby. She knows that’s your usual relationship, and she often has one of her own. She’s one of the few people you’re comfortable talking about babies with.

You glance over at Steven as if evaluating him. His nervous twitching has returned, and you’re unsure of the exact cause. A frown threatens to pull down the corners of your mouth, but you don’t let it succeed.

“He’s good,” you tell Daphne, giving Steven’s arm a reassuring squeeze. His cheeks darken.

He’s still responsive and isn’t blocking things out, a good sign that he’s not about to shut down.

“Where did she find you? I’ve been looking for a new man,” Daphne says, turning back to Steven. She always treats babies like people, unlike some who treat them like shadows, inconsequential, and best left seen and not heard.

“At the National Art Gallery,” Steven replies, a little strained, unsure what he’s allowed to say. “I work there and she was enjoying the exhibits.”

Daphne’s eyebrows raise slightly. She was likely expecting him to give a website. You usually prefer your babies to go through a screening process, so she knows picking up one at random—in person, off the street—is unusual for you.

“How serendipitous!” she exclaims with a genuine smile. Daphne then leans in toward Steven. “Now, tell me, Steven, how do you like your job?” she asks quietly with a pointed glance toward you.

Before you can say anything to try to reign Daphne in, Steven looks at you, his expression softening, the nerves falling away.

“It’s not really a job, though. Not to me. I just…like being around her.”

Your face starts to heat up as Daphne’s eyes flit back and forth between you, a knowing smile on her face.

“Good! Well, I won’t keep you,” she says, stepping back. “You two enjoy your evening. And I’ll be calling your assistant next week about dinner.”

After your goodbyes to Daphne, you and Steven continue walking around the gallery hall. You point out some rather dreadful pieces and make some talk with some of the other guests. As time goes on, you notice Steven steadily getting more quiet. You don’t think much of it. Putting on a show, even a minimal one, can be draining. His uneasiness has been following him all night, so you remind yourself not to stay longer than needed and keep moving.

“What do you think of this one?” you ask Steven, looking at the least ugly of the handbags. You’re still trying to find something to bid on that you could stomach the thought of taking home.

Before he can answer, the sound of shattering glass and a startled yelp fills the hall. Suddenly, Steven steps closer to you, his arm thrown protectively across your body as he searches for the source of the disturbance, his body tense.

“It’s alright,” you reassure, gently placing a hand on Steven’s arm. “Someone knocked into one of the servers.”

The tension leaves Steven, and his arm falls. You’re a little shocked. You’ve never seen him react like that before, though you haven’t exactly been in any situations where he would need to try to protect you.

“Sorry, I just….” He trails off, his voice sounding lower than usual. He shakes his head, confused. “I don’t know why I did that.”

You squeeze his arm. “Steven, are you alright?” you ask softly. “You’ve been a little off tonight.”

A slight frown forms on his face as he looks at you. “I’m fine. I promise,” he says, his voice mostly returning to normal. Then he gestures to the handbag you were evaluating. “You were thinking of this one, yeah?”

“I was,” you agree, looking Steven over. You don’t think you need to pull the plug on the evening quite yet, but something is going on with your baby. You chat about the bag for a moment, both of you pretending everything is fine.

As the night goes on, Steven starts becoming more and more withdrawn. You could have sworn you heard him mumbling to himself at one point, but when you asked him what he said, he claimed it was nothing. Though he was hesitant at the beginning of the night, he at least still made polite, though limited, conversation with the other guests you stopped and spoke with. Now, even you can barely get a word out of him.

“I think this will look lovely in your room,” you say to him as you come to a stop in front of an abstract painting that’s nothing more than splashes of various shades of a questionable yellow. You’re trying to get some reaction out of him, trying to gauge his feelings.

Steven doesn’t look as nervous as he did earlier in the night, but his brow still holds a slight furrow, and his posture, though perfect, is rigid. When you lean into him, he’s not as soft as he usually is. He doesn’t return the favor, leaning into you as he always does.

Steven doesn’t react at all to your suggestion of the hideous painting. It’s like he didn’t even hear you.

“Steven, look at me.”

He inhales as if preparing for something and finally turns to face you, though he doesn’t quite meet your eye. You take his chin and gently tilt his face toward you, making him look at you.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Though you keep your voice soft, gentle, there’s no mistaking the order in the words. He stares at you, mesmerized or lost in thought—you have no idea.

“I don’t…feel like myself,” Steven finally says, his voice sounding…wrong. “Can we go?”

Your hand falls from his chin down to his chest. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me something was wrong?” Usually, if Steven wasn’t up for something, he would tell you immediately. This isn’t like him at all.

Steven takes a second to answer. “I didn’t want to ruin your night.”

Your gaze softens, and any irritation, however mild, leaves you. “You could never ruin my night,” you tell him, filling your words with admiration.

You quickly turn around, typing in a random amount on the tablet for the ugly yellow painting, placing your bid, and making your mark for the evening. Then, taking Steven’s hand, you start heading for the exit. “Let’s go.”

As you wait outside, you start mentally running through everything you have at home that might help Steven. If tonight just made him anxious, maybe even overstimulated, then you can have him change into something comfortable, dim the lights, and make everything nice and quiet. You can even brush out his slicked-back hair if he’ll let you touch him. Whatever he needs to makes him feel more like himself.

If he’s feeling sick, you’re sure you have something in the cupboards to help. If you don’t, you’ll just have someone deliver it.

“Can we go to my place?” Steven asks suddenly as your driver pulls the car up to the curb.

“What?” you say automatically, pulling from your thoughts and leaving you momentarily confused. “Are you sure?” To say that you aren’t a little hurt that he doesn’t want to be at your apartment would be a lie.

“Yes, please. I…need to be there,” Steven says, again, not looking at you.

You ignore the slight wound and focus on your baby’s needs instead. If he wants to be at his place, then that’s what you’ll do for him. After instructing your driver to go to Steven’s apartment, you take his hand again. It’s limp in yours, but he doesn’t pull away.

When the car stops in front of his building, Steven practically leaps out, pulling his hand from yours and leaving you behind.

You sit there, absolutely stunned and left unsure of what to do. Steven didn’t technically invite you up to his apartment, but neither did he bother to say goodbye.

Confused and more than a little hurt, you gather your clutch and sleeves and follow Steven out of the car, telling your driver to wait for you. You don’t exactly have a plan as you follow Steven into the building, narrowly catching the door before it closed and locked you out, but you hope to get some sort of answer from him.

Steven does a double-take when you slip into the elevator right behind him. Apparently, he wasn’t expecting you to follow. As the lift slowly grinds its way upwards, you and Steven are again silent, with him steadfastly avoiding eye contact.

Too stressed, too focused on Steven, you don’t process anything about the building itself. Any other day, you’d be thrilled to finally be allowed into Steven’s private space, but right now, you can’t think of anything other than what’s going on with your baby.

A dark part of you starts to whisper that it’s you. You did this to Steven and he wants out. But then a more rational part of your brain argues that he never would have looked at you the way he did just a few short hours ago if that were true. You’ve known Steven long enough to realize what a terrible liar he is. He couldn’t have faked his awe.

Whatever is happening, it’s something else. Something happened to him after you arrived at the gallery that caused him to act like this. You just need to know what so you can fix it.

The doors to the elevator open, on which floor, you have no clue, and Steven leads you off toward his apartment, no longer rushing to get away from you but notably keeping his distance.

Pulling his key from his pocket, Steven unlocks his door, allowing you into this part of his life for the first time. You had always wanted it to be under better circumstances.

The first thing you notice is the books. It’s not that you didn’t believe Steven when he told you how many he has, but hearing about it and seeing it are two very different things.

They are stacked everywhere. Shelves are overflowing, and neat piles are littering the entire apartment. There are even some spilling into the kitchen, gathered around the shelves that serve not only to separate the space from the rest of the flat but also host the tank for Steven’s pet goldfish, Gus. Before you can take in much else, Steven is moving away from you, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the back of one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

Then he grips the back of the chair, the jacket bunching under his fingers. When he still doesn’t say anything, you do what you always do: take care of him.

Spotting a kettle on the stove, you make your way toward it, glazing at the wall immediately to the right of the door, taking note of the map and various postcards.

From his mom.

You suppose it’s something since, as far as you’re aware, she’s yet to return any of Steven’s various calls. Steven even told you this apartment is technically hers, but you’ve wondered more than once if she’s ever returning to London.

Grabbing the kettle, you take it to the sink, fill it, and put it back on the stove before opening the cupboards and hunting for a mug. Thankfully, the teabags are on the counter, left in their original tin. Steven’s eyes follow your every move. Only once you set down a mug and patiently start waiting for the water to boil does he finally speak.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you tea. Sit.”

Steven takes a step toward you. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” you say sternly, turning to face him. Steven pauses, a little taken aback. “Sit,” you repeat more gently and return to your task. He pulls out a chair, the legs scraping along the floor, and obediently sits.

As the kettle whistles, you take it off the heat and pour the water into the mug. The silence is overwhelming as the tea steeps.

“Is it me?” you ask after a couple of minutes. You keep your back to Steven as you move around the kitchen again, hunting for sugar. Even though you don’t believe it is you—not entirely, anyway—you need to know what it is. You need to be delicate and the best way is to ease into it.

Steven doesn’t answer you until you stand across the table from him and set the tea by his hands.

“No. It’s not… it’s not you.” He shakes his head. “You’re… you’re good.” He goes silent again. He doesn’t touch the tea.

You wait for a moment before moving around the table to stand at his side. Sucking in a breath, you’re about to speak but hesitate. Maybe you should let it go and let Steven work out whatever’s wrong in his own time. Ultimately, though, you continue.

“Is it something you don’t want to talk about, or is it something you don’t want to talk to me about?”

Steven’s posture stiffens even more as he keeps his gaze on his hands. After showing no signs of responding, you reach out, taking his chin and turning his face toward you for the second time tonight.

“Steven.” Nothing else. Just his name and the unspoken plea for him to give you some sort of answer.

His eyes search yours for a moment before he takes a steadying breath. “I can’t tell anyone,” he quietly admits. “I’m sorry.”

You nod. Some things are too hard to share. You won’t begrudge Steven that. “But you’ll be okay?” Steven nods, your hand still on his chin. Leaning down, you kiss his cheek. “I’ll be here to listen if you can tell someone someday.”

When you pull away, Steven’s face is redder than you’ve seen in months.

“O-okay,” he breathes, his voice a touch shaky.

You hate to do it, but you know you should leave. Whatever Steven’s going through, he’d rather do it alone. You have no right to intrude upon his personal life as much as you have tonight. You’ve done all you could and can’t blame him for not wanting to open up to you.

You’re just his sugar mommy, after all.

You step away from Steven without another word and take the agonizingly short yet still too-long walk to the door. Swinging it open, hand on the knob, you glance back, catching Steven’s eye before he quickly looks away. For a moment, he looked like a complete stranger staring back at you.

Shaking the thought from your head, you pull the door shut softly behind you.

[kinardsevan]

Evan grumbled underneath his breath as they walked down the frozen vegetables aisle, grabbing supplies as he did.

“Babe, it’s gonna be okay,” Tommy chuckled, rubbing a hand over his eyes. The last thing either of them wanted to be doing right now after coming off shift was shopping, but the fridge was completely empty, and the cupboards were sorely lacking too after their schedules not lining up for the past two weeks. Still, they were on a long turnaround now and had a few days together.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Evan replied, a bit snarky. He turned on his heel to look at Tommy. “This is three now. Three weddings cancelled where I lose out on the reception.”

Tommy smiled at him. He knew Evan was being ridiculous. Evan knew Evan was being ridiculous. Still, there was an unspoken knowledge between them that sometimes Evan really relished in the open PDA with Tommy around their friends. It made him feel seen, and loved.

And for the third time, it wasn’t going to happen.

Granted, Maddie and Chim couldn’t help that their reception ended up being in the hospital. And then one of Evans friends from the training academy had invited him to their wedding, only to decide to postpone their wedding and then elope. And now Eddie and his fiancé had just decided to do something small in their back yard, no major celebration. He wanted something calm with just him, his fiancé, and their kids.

And Evan understood that. Eddie, Chris, even the fiancé and her daughter, had all done a big to-do before in their previous marriages. When he’d finally found someone who understood all his quirks and the way Shannon would always be a part of things, even though she’s gone, Eddie and his fiancé just wanted to settle in. And Evan, nor Tommy, could blame them for that.

But it was still the third time Evan was losing out on dancing at a reception with the love of his life.

Tommy grabbed a bag of frozen broccoli out of Evan’s hands—they had more halloumi and broccolini on this weeks menu—and settled it in the basket before grabbing Evans hand and turning the younger man towards him.

“You know we have our own reception in just a few months,” Tommy reminded him before pecking him quickly on the lips.

Evan couldn’t help smiling into it, even if he was a little annoyed.

“Months away,” Evan retorts a bit cheekily. “And I’ve gotta throw the party in order to do it.”

Tommy just laughs at him before grabbing his hand and placing it up on the cart, pushing them forward.

“Come on, Ev. I’m hungry, and you promised me dinner,” he teases.

They finish shopping fairly quickly—Tommy has a system to keep him on track after their first half-dozen trips took more than three hours—and then head out of the store, into the darkness of the parking lot. It’s almost 9 PM on a Wednesday night, so there aren’t many cars in the parking lot as they fill the bed of Tommy’s truck with their food. Evan returns the cart, and when he walks back over to Tommy and the truck, he’s setting his phone on the ledge of the truck bed, extending a hand to Evan.

“Come on.”

Evan furrows a brow at him as he takes Tommy’s hand, but Tommy reaches out and taps on his phone screen, and music starts to play. Tommy slides his hands down to Evan’s hips, fingertips slipping just inside the pockets on the back of his jeans.

“What are we doing,” Evan says with a giggle—a giggle—as he slides his arms up around Tommy’s neck. Tommy leans forward and nuzzles his face. He waits a lull, until the lyric comes up on the song, and then sings it softly at Evan.

“Making the most of whatever we got Even if it’s just slow dancing in the parking lot…”

[ishomieokay]

Idolatry (Chapter 3)

18+ 5.3k homelander x hispanic oc, age difference, manipulation, breaking and entering, stalking, obsessive behaviour. part 3/?. AO3 link. part 1, part 2

Homelander's fooling around with a perky Latina almost twenty years his junior. She's looking for a daddy. He just wants a good fuck, and maybe to mess with Maeve's head. It's not going to end well.

The day after, it was as if nothing had happened. They were cordial but not overly friendly, maintaining a professional distance while shooting, careful in case they were overheard. From time to time, Aura María caught a glimpse of Homelander staring in her direction, but she couldn’t be sure if it was real or just a trick of her mind. She returned home late with a pounding headache, the lack of sleep and the long hours on set taking their toll.

It was Friday night, and she had no plans, which wasn’t unusual. Her party girl days were firmly behind her. Aura María felt a mixture of thankfulness and regret that things had never spiraled out of control even back then. Now, her routine was only occasionally interrupted by meetings with friends at overpriced coffee shops or the occasional night gala. Despite being relatively young, she sometimes felt inexplicably old.

She retrieved a pair of pajamas from her closet, laying them neatly on the bed next to her folded underwear, then made her way to the bathroom. She contemplated sending a text to Homelander as she sat in the tub, softly lip-syncing to a Ricardo Montaner song. Surely, permission had been granted when he provided her with his number. While his infatuation lingered, she reasoned, she could have some fun, even if that was all he wanted from her. She had no other prospects, after all.

Three years after arriving in the United States to work for Vought, Aura María still lacked a social life outside of her workplace. This was partly due to her commitment to warding off her many admirers. Cultural differences made it much more challenging to establish friendships, something she’d never excelled at even back home. She had been alone for a while and wasn’t particularly interested in changing that, especially when it came to romantic relationships.

Aura María had begun to question her sexual orientation when her 21st birthday came and went without a lover or even a fleeting interest in physical intimacy. It had occurred to her that she might be a lesbian or asexual. Homelander had proved her wrong in that regard. She did have needs, and now that they'd been satisfied, however briefly, she was aware of them in a way she'd never been before.

She took hold of her breast, retracing the path Homelander had drawn with his tongue the night before. It felt like a dream now. She decided that the barely concealed erotism of the lyrics was probably just getting to her and turned the music off. When she went back to her room, everything seemed the same at first glance. It was unusually cold, though. She turned around and realized that the window was open, but she couldn't remember whether she had closed it or not. The clothes she had neatly folded before getting into the tub were now in disarray.

She had trouble falling asleep and felt uneasy throughout the rest of the night. The cold seemed to seep into her bones. She tossed and turned, her mind replaying the events of the previous night and the strange occurrences in her room. The sense of someone having been there, the disordered clothes, and the open window gnawed at her. As she finally drifted into a restless sleep, Aura María couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

She dreamed of Homelander's intense gaze, the sensation of his touch lingering on her skin. The night seemed to stretch on endlessly, filled with half-formed images and unsettling whispers that left her feeling more exhausted when she finally awoke.

Aura María texted Homelander in the end. They had agreed to meet at one o'clock for lunch, but it was well past two when he finally arrived. He descended from the sky like a rocket, landing thunderously on the pavement. The impact shook the ground, sending a ripple of excitement through the crowd that quickly gathered around him. He handled the attention as gracefully as always, giving fist bumps, patting shoulders, and signing autographs. Over twenty minutes passed before he made his way to the restaurant door. The crowd didn't follow, thanks to the timely security’s timely intervention.

When he reached her table, he was smiling broadly and unapologetic. Although she couldn’t bring herself to be mad, Aura María put on a show of irritation anyway.

"So, you're the fashionably late type, huh?" she said, crossing her arms.

"Ah, not all the time. Only when the world needs saving," Homelander replied nonchalantly, taking a seat beside her.

"How convenient for you."

Aura María had more than a few sassy remarks at the tip of her tongue, but something at the corner of her eye caught her attention. The crowd had not dispersed yet. They were standing on the other side of the window facing their table, and there were news reporters and paparazzi among them. Word always traveled fast when it concerned Homelander.

Aura María felt her lips turn downward. This would probably reach Stan Edgar and the other executives at Vought. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. She had always valued her privacy and hadn't had much of an issue protecting it even after becoming a renowned filmmaker. No matter how good her work was, almost no one seemed to be interested in the personal life of a documentalist.

"Just so you know, if you were planning to keep this, whatever it is, a secret—that's not gonna work out. Not anymore."

"Who said I wanted to keep it a secret?" Homelander replied, smiling slyly at her. He took her hand then, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. Aura María felt a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth but was quick to suppress it.

"Explain it to me, won't you? Why in the world wouldn't I want everyone to know I'm dating such a dang brilliant, talented, and beautiful woman?"

'Dating,' Aura María thought, a bit bewildered. 'Am I dating Homelander?'

Assuming one was generous enough to consider meeting for drinks after work a date, this hardly counted as their third time going out. However, Aura María guessed that was the right word to describe their situation—dating. Even in the privacy of her thoughts, it sounded wrong. Never in her wildest dreams would she have dared call it anything other than a hookup or situationship at best.

"I mean, you do have a mirror at home, right? This is the kind of thing most guys would be shouting from the rooftops."

"Mmm, you're coming off strong today, aren't you?" Aura María replied, pleased but unwilling to let him have it so easy. "Sorry to say, but I think bootlicking looks awful on a man, especially if he's just doing it to get laid."

Homelander blinked at her, then laughed, seeming oddly delighted by her rudeness. He had one thing in common with all the men who've tried to woo her in the past. The banter was half the fun for him.

"O-okay, the lady's not into sweet-talking, then," Homelander leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "That's fine. I think I could change your mind about the bootlicking part, though. Maybe, mmn, broaden your horizons?"

Aura María blinked, then arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "You're not serious."

Homelander looked her up and down, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "If I was, would that freak you out?"

Aura was already aware of the fact that Homelander was not exactly the pedantic goody-two-shoes he pretended to be for the sake of his image. Apparently, he was into having sex while having verses of the Book of Revelation read to him. As if that weren't blasphemous enough, Aura María also had the feeling that she'd awoken in him a virginity kink. Still, this thinly veiled insinuation came as a surprise. Not for the first time, she felt oddly flattered that he would share this part of himself with her—one that he usually kept hidden under wraps.

Smiling and unwilling to back down, Aura María met him with the same energy. "I'd say I'm open to new experiences."

Homelander whistled. Then he lifted the tablecloth and made a show of leaning down to take a look at her shoes.

"Oh, shucks," he said in a disappointed, cartoonish voice. "Nah, it wouldn't work. You're wearing high heels."

"What a pity," Aura María deadpanned.

"I wear boots all the time, though. Leather," Homelander replied, dragging the 'L' obnoxiously and then winking at her. "I'd let you borrow 'em, just this once."

"I feel tricked. You're not the serious man I was led to believe."

"Chica, I walk around all day long wearing a skin-tight spandex suit and a cape. I am the very definition of an unserious man."

"Well, I can't argue with that," Aura María said, then gestured at the window with her head. The crowd was still there, although there were fewer of them now. "I think you should be more careful with what you say when out in public, though. You know what would happen if any of those news reporters found out that the Homelander is into dominatrixes? The internet would explode."

"I think you're exaggerating."

"Maybe. Parents wouldn't buy their kids those cute Homelander dolls Vought just released, though. That's for sure."

Homelander tilted his head to the side, then said very slowly, "action figures."

"What?"

"They're not dolls," Homelander corrected her with a serious face. His every word was emphasized by the tapping of his index finger against the table. "They're action figures."

After a beat, Aura María burst out laughing.

"Coño, este pana es un caso," she said, covering her face with one hand.

Homelander blinked at her, then parroted back her words but in an awful American accent, mispronouncing every syllable and clearly unaware of what he was saying. Rather than offend her, the sound of the leader of the Seven mercilessly butchering her mother language only made her laugh harder.

Once they left the restaurant, Homelander gently scooped Aura María into his arms. He sensed her hesitation, her body tensing slightly as they rose. To keep her at ease, he flew slowly and close to the ground, weaving through the cityscape with the grace of a shadow. Aura María clung to him, her arms around his shoulders, holding tight enough to dislocate a lesser man's neck. Homelander, with his superhuman strength, barely seemed to notice.

The cacophony of the city was soon replaced by the serene whisper of leaves as they reached a secluded clearing in Central Park. The moonlight cast a silver sheen over the grass, the stars twinkling faintly above. The distant hum of traffic was a mere murmur here, overshadowed by the rustling trees and the occasional chirp of crickets. They decided to take a stroll, savoring the rare peace away from prying eyes and the relentless noise of the city.

"It's unfair, to be honest," Homelander began, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Sorry?” Aura María replied.

"You know almost everything there is to know about me. I mean, it'd be strange if you didn't, I guess, after directing a 40-minute-long documentary on me. I don't know the first thing about you, though. It's unfair, it's all I'm saying."

"What do you wanna know?"

"Where are you from? Originally, I mean."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aura María's tone sharpened, her hackles rising defensively. Homelander, rather than offended, seemed amused by her reaction.

"Don't get me wrong, missy, you speak English better than many people who were actually born here. The accent gives it away, though. So, Venezuela, am I right? What city, though? What's it like there?"

"Oh." Aura María relaxed, her tension dissipating.

She had thought he was questioning her heritage, a common and hurtful experience. "I'm from Caracas, born and raised. It's loud and dirty and full of weirdos, like any capital. It's in the middle of a valley, though, so there's also nature and trees, lots of macaws. I grew up in the East, which most would say is the fancy part of town. Like, uh, American suburbs, I guess."

"I don't find that surprising at all."

"Please, like you don't have Old Money written all over your face."

"I should hope so. You've no idea how much Vought spend just to make it this pretty," Homelander replied, smiling teasingly down at her. His smile faltered slightly, as if he just realized he'd said something he shouldn't have. Aura María laughed it off, unsure what he meant. Had Homelander just confessed to her he'd had plastic surgery?

"My dad's a native, from a small town called Alto Orinoco. That's in the Amazonas. We look nothing alike. His maternal grandparents were from a tribe called Wayú, and apparently their Spanish was very bad," Aura María said. Although she most definitely took after her mother, someone educated in the matter could glimpse a few ethnic features in her. She had eyes dark as night, larger than average and almond-shaped, a round face with plump lips and thick hair of an intense black shade.

"My mom's from a town not far from the capital called Valencia. Her parents were Italian immigrants and racist as fuck. They disowned her when they found out she wanted to marry a Wayú. When I was little, they often came by the house, though. Once I was old enough to understand that they wanted me around because I only looked 'a little Indian,' I told them not to come back," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Uh," Homelander said, ever so eloquent. He was staring at her strangely. "That's a... very colorful background."

"You think? Not very different from my friends' back home, though. We are all a weird mixture of something over there."

“So, interracial marriage is normal in your country?”

“I guess? I mean, we don’t really have a concept of it. To us, it’s just marriage. Obviously, there are racists, like, well…”

“Like your grandparents?”

“Yeah, like them. People from different races marrying each other is usually not a big deal for us, though. Not nowadays. I was surprised to see how much of a taboo it still is here, to be honest. You would think citizens of the so-called first world would be more open-minded.”

Homelander actually sniggered. “There’s people in this country who think the Earth is flat, María. Give us a break.”

“I guess you would know a lot about that,” Aura María replied, a glint in her eyes. “I’m pretty sure flat-earthers make up most of your fanbase.”

Homelander stared at her gravely. “There are flat-earthers among my fans. They are not the majority of them.”

“Oh. So, you would say it’s an insignificant amount, then?”

“Definitely.”

“So, if tomorrow you were at a rally and openly said that the Earth is in fact round, everything would be fine? Is that what you’re saying?”

“…no,” Homelander said, reluctantly. “It would affect my ratings. Like, a lot. Stan would have my head on a plate.”

“I thought so.”

“If I tell you something, you promise not to laugh?”

“What?”

“For the longest time, I thought Venezuela was a country in Europe.”

Aura María halted to a stop. “Please, tell me you’re joking.”

Homelander shook his head, pursing his lower lip.

“I mean, I can’t say I’ve met a lot of Venezuelans. The ones I have only dressed in designer clothes and threw 100$ bills around like they were pennies. That did not scream Third World country to me.”

Aura María frowned. “When was this?”

“Uh, 2008, I think? I was hosting a beauty pageant with Melanie Brown. You know, one of the Spice Girls? Your candidate won; I forgot her name.”

“Ah, Dayana Mendoza. Yeah, people who work at those pageants have lots of money. I should have known you only ever heard of my homeland because of Miss Universe.”

“Well, look at the bright side, chica. I may think Venezuela is a Third World communist hellhole, but at least I know that you’ve got A-tier women and not everyone’s brown. Better than a flat-earther by a long shot.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Aura María’s voice carried a mix of frustration and amusement. Homelander chuckled, a low, amused sound that rumbled in his chest. “Anyway, I guess that means we’re even,” he said, his tone casual but his expression unreadable.

“Mmn, I don’t think we are,” Aura María replied, her brows knitting together as she looked away, gathering her thoughts.

“What’s that?” Homelander asked.

“You said you wanted to know more about me because I already knew everything about you. That’s not true, though. I think most of what we filmed for that documentary was bullshit.”

Homelander’s expression shifted abruptly. The playful glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by a serious, almost steely gaze. His jaw tightened, and Aura María could feel the tension radiating from him. She realized, belatedly, that this might be one in the long list of questions she wasn’t supposed to ask.

“What makes you say that?” Homelander asked, his voice low and measured.

Aura María hesitated, feeling the weight of his stare. She forced herself to keep going, her heart pounding. “I could see it that day when we were filming the childhood segment. You know, back at Maryland?”

“Okay?” he responded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to read her.

Aura María smiled awkwardly, her cheeks flushing. She could feel the heat rising to her face. “You’re gonna think it’s weird that I noticed. But, uh, during a recess, I heard you asking Madelyn where the restroom was. You also got lost a couple of times when we were filming the house tour.”

“Oh,” Homelander said, his face going blank for a moment. He looked away, his gaze focusing on the horizon as if searching for an escape from the conversation.

The trees rustled softly in the breeze. The sky was painted with hues of blue and black as the moon rose higher, casting long shadows across the grass. Aura María felt a knot in her stomach, regretting her boldness. She had hoped to pierce through his facade, to understand the man behind the mask, but now she feared she had pushed too far. The vulnerability she had glimpsed in him earlier seemed to retreat, replaced by a cold, impenetrable wall.

Homelander’s face softened slightly, though, as he met her eyes again. There was a flicker of something—maybe understanding, maybe resignation. “Aren’t you a clever one?” he said quietly. “Not many people notice those things.”

Aura María relaxed a little, relieved that he hadn’t shut her out completely. She offered a small, tentative smile. “I guess it’s my job to notice things.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.” He nodded, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re right, of course. A lot of what’s out there about me is…curated. For the public.”

Aura María nodded slowly, feeling a pang of empathy despite her wariness. “I understand. Image is everything, especially for someone like you.”

“It’s more than that,” Homelander replied, his voice unreadable. “It’s about control. About making sure people see what Vought wants them to see.”

“And what about what you want?” Aura María asked, genuinely curious.

Homelander looked at her, his eyes searching her face as if weighing how much to reveal. “What I want doesn’t matter as much as what they need me to be.”

They continued walking in silence for a few moments, the sounds of the park around them feeling comforting despite the tension. Aura María could see revelation before her eyes, a glimpse of truth in a world of illusions. Although all of her instincts were telling her to change the subject, she would herself digging for more. “You know,” she said softly, “I was thinking about what happened that day. With the blanket.”

Homelander's face tightened, a shadow passing over his usually composed features. "Right. You were there."

"When you got Randy fired? Yeah, I was there." Aura María's tone was gentle, trying to tread carefully on what was clearly a sensitive subject.

Homelander didn’t look sheepish at all. He raised one eyebrow, his gaze unwavering and intense, as if waiting for a reaction.

"Relax," Aura María was quick to say, sensing his defensive stance. "He was a shitty producer. I was glad to see him gone."

"Ah, see? I was looking out for you, even then," Homelander said with a smile, pointing at the tip of her nose with his index finger in a playful gesture.

"Sure you were," Aura María replied, flashing him a teasing smile. She knew what he was doing—trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. She decided to press on, determined to get to the truth. "What was it?"

"Uh?" Homelander feigned ignorance, though his eyes betrayed a hint of unease.

"What got you so upset that day? I mean, if it was just about Randy getting his crusty ass hands on your blanky, I understand. I don't like it when people touch my stuff either. But I got the feeling that there was something else going on."

Homelander stayed quiet, his jaw clenched.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," Aura María said softly, trying to give him an out.

"It was nothing, really. It just... brought back bad memories," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm gonna ask you a question. Can you promise to answer it truthfully?" Aura María's voice was steady, but her heart pounded in her chest.

"It depends on the question," Homelander replied, his tone guarded.

"Did you really grow up in that house?"

"No," he said simply, the word hanging heavily in the air.

Aura María remembered Homelander talking about his mother's perfect cake, eyes full of love and reverence, only for him to go completely blank-faced the minute the cameras stopped rolling. A void formed in the pit of her stomach, though she wasn't sure why. "Was anything of what we filmed that day real? Anything at all?"

Homelander just shook his head, his lips pulling downward. He looked like a child being scolded, vulnerable and exposed.

"And the blanket?" she asked gently.

Homelander hesitated, then. Aura María put her hand over his, waiting patiently. He stared at their joined hands for a strangely long time.

"Only real thing on that set," he said finally. "It pissed me off that they would put it there without even asking."

Aura María understood then. It had angered him to see something real among all the fakery. She tilted her head to the side, considering him. There were only a few reasons she could think of to completely fabricate the background of a world-renowned celebrity, and none of them were very nice. What was Vought trying to hide?

"You come from a bad place, don't you, John?" she asked softly, using his real name for the first time.

He raised sharp eyes to look at her, the vulnerability in his gaze taking her by surprise. She had never seen him like this—so hesitant and out of his depth. "I don't want to talk about it."

"That's okay. You don't have to," she replied, her voice soothing.

Homelander stayed quiet, something about his expression making her heart ache. The tough facade he usually wore seemed to crack, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath the superhero persona.

"Aw, I'm sorry, papi," she murmured, kissing his cheek gently and laying her head on his shoulder. "I wasn't trying to make you sad."

"It's fine," Homelander said, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

The embrace was tentative at first. Aura María could feel the tension in his muscles, the residual wariness that made him hold back. But as the seconds ticked by, he seemed to relax into her, his grip tightening. She pressed her cheek against his chest, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric of his suit. She could hear the steady, powerful beat of his heart.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the park and turning the sky into a canvas of deep blues and purples. Homelander and Aura María walked side by side, the cool evening air brushing gently against their skin. The city’s distant hum was a comforting background noise, reminding them that despite the surreal peace of the park, the world outside continued to churn.

"You followed me that day," Homelander said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Uh?" Aura María glanced at him.

"When I walked out, you went looking for me. No one else did. I mean, there was Madelyn, but she... she only wanted me to keep filming, yaknow? She didn't really care about me."

Aura María had heard the rumors about Madelyn Stillwell's involvement with Homelander. Although it didn't seem like the right time to ask, she couldn't help but wonder. It had always seemed odd to her that America's most-sought-after-bachelor would set his eyes on a woman known around the whole metropolitan area to be a moody two-faced narcissist. Aura María was certainly not glad to learn about her sudden passing, but in all honesty, she much preferred to deal with Ashley Barrett. Despite her often-neurotic behavior, at least there was something human about her.

"You, though? You walked up to me when I was going back to the set, and you said... you said that you were sorry if your crew did something to upset me. That I didn't have to keep going if I didn't want to."

"Oh, yeah. I remember." Aura Maria’s expression softened, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"It's not common, you know? For people in this industry to be kind. Genuinely kind, no ulterior motives."

"No, I guess it's not," she replied, her tone thoughtful.

Aura María understood what he meant at once. Entertainment was not for everybody. She'd learned that the hard way and she'd already been a full-grown adult when she started working for Vought. Homelander had made his debut when he was only eighteen years old. She couldn't even imagine what growing up in that environment would do to a teen. Aura María wondered if that was the reason he asked her out—a small act of kindness she barely even remembered.

She could still recall that day vividly. They had been filming at a grand estate in Maryland, a faux representation of Homelander's childhood home. The house was opulent, with perfectly manicured lawns and an aura of artificial nostalgia. The set was bustling with activity, lights and cameras everywhere, creating an atmosphere that was both chaotic and meticulously controlled.

He had felt overwhelmed at some point, though at the time she had not been ablet o certain why. After what had been labeled by the crew as The Blanket Incident, he’d walked out into the expansive backyard, seeking a moment of solitude. Aura María remembered the feeling of the cool grass beneath her feet as she followed after him, the way the breeze had whispered through the trees, offering a fleeting sense of peace.

Then, out of nowhere, she spotted Homelander coming back from the barn. His presence, normally so commanding, had been almost sullen that day. A look she hadn’t expected from someone so larger-than-life. She had approached him with a concerned look in his eyes, and although her words had been simple, apparently, they had stayed with him. She had offered him an out, a rare moment of empathy in an industry that often lacked it.

Aura María had wondered awhile back if it was a good idea to go out with such a high-profile celebrity, even if only for one night. With a man so different from her, both in social and economic standing. It had been so very intimidating and still was. She was happy she said yes, though.

It felt strange to let him into her bedroom. She'd had people over before, but it was not quite the same. As Homelander stepped inside, Aura María suddenly became acutely aware of every little detail she'd never given a second thought to before. The stuffed animals she brought from Caracas because she couldn't bear parting with them, the Studio Ghibli posters that lined the walls, the TikTok LED lights she bought during an online shopping frenzy and never took down.

She cringed inwardly, realizing for the first time that her room could easily belong to a middle schooler. Homelander didn’t comment on it, though. He just stared down at her, eyes intent and gleaming in the low light of the room.

"I think we are overdressed, aren't we?" he said with a half-smile, a playful glint in his eye. "Take it off, come on."

Aura María bit into her lower lip, then proceeded to remove her dress. She crumpled it into a ball and threw it on the bed. Homelander was having none of that, though. He tsked at her, shaking his head slightly.

"Ah-ah, pick it up," he said, wiggling his finger. Aura María frowned, feeling a mixture of annoyance and curiosity, but still did as she was told. "Fold it, then put it in the drawer."

"You're into very weird stuff, you know?" she muttered, her voice tinged with a mix of amusement and nervousness.

"'Course not. I just don't like making a mess."

"Sure, that's all this is," she said, rolling her eyes as she took off her underwear and folded it along with the dress, placing them neatly on the bed.

"That's better."

Homelander approached her slowly, his gaze roaming over her body, making her skin prickle with anticipation. He put both hands over her breasts and squeezed them lightly. Aura María took a deep breath, already feeling the first stirrings of pleasure run through her. His touch was firm yet gentle, sending waves of warmth through her body.

His hands traveled down, caressing her sides, then her hips, and finally stopping at her ass. He squeezed her buttocks, then pulled her closer so that they were chest to chest. Aura María put her arms around him and leaned forward to kiss him. The apartment was deadly quiet, only the soft noises of their kissing and the erratic beating of her heart could be heard. It was embarrassing, really, how worked up she'd gotten after he'd barely touched her.

It made sense in a way, though. He was, after all, her sexual awakening. Aura María found it weird and sort of embarrassing that it would finally happen in her mid-twenties. Talk about a late bloomer, she thought wryly. But there was no denying the chemistry between them, the way his mere presence seemed to ignite something deep within her.

As their kiss deepened, Homelander's hands continued their exploration, making her skin tingle with every touch. The LED lights cast a soft, colorful glow around them. Homelander pulled back slightly, his breath warm against her lips. "You’re beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

A shiver ran down Aura María's spine. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly alive. She looked into his eyes, seeing a mixture of lust and something deeper, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

"Thank you," she whispered back, her voice barely audible.

They moved to the bed, Homelander guiding her gently. As they lay down, he continued to explore her body with his hands and mouth, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through her. Aura María's mind was spinning. She felt a connection with him that went beyond the physical, a sense of understanding and mutual need. In the quiet of her bedroom, surrounded by the remnants of her past and the promise of something new, Aura María let herself be swept away by the moment. She surrendered to the sensations, the intimacy, and the overwhelming feeling of being seen and desired.

[cupids-chamber]

VOICE MESSAGES FROM THEM your granted a rare opportunity but it's away from your partner, they send you a voice message to you while your away...

GENDER NEUTRAL READER A/N: Originally, these were supposed to be added into my private notebook, so I can look through them on bad days, but some of you may need it more than me!

— RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS "You're doing great, amazing actually" Riddle's face was tainted slightly red, as he fiddled around with his hands, trying to pick out his next few words of comfort for you to hear. "And you don't know how proud I'm for you.. I love you.. When you come back we can go to that coffee shop that opened nearby!" ... he pauses, and takes a deep breath.. "And hopefully you'll return to me in good health."

— AZUL ASHENGROTTO "Ah I hope this is recording—" Azul shifted in his seat, he let out a small hum before he continued talking "How have you been dear, have you eaten? I know airport meals aren't the best form of cuisine there is— !, I hope you noticed the snacks I packed for you... I made them myself!— I'm quite proud of them.." he took a deep breath in "If you like them.. I'll make you some more..!

— MALLEUS DRACONIA "Child of a man, hopefully you can hear me right now.. I hope this audio message finds you well, I've been faring quite well though your lack of presence does upset me a tad bit, it's quite unsettling.. it pains me to know how far you'll be for the next 2 weeks.. regardless, I love you endlessly, and I hope for your good health, and that you'll return in my arms again soon."

— IDIA SHROUD "Um.. so.. I know your busy but orthotoldmetocallyou but I didn't want to bother— hopefully you know.. that my heart belongs to you!... and uh— .. have you been faring well?... not-that I don't trust that you can't take care of yourself or anything.. but.. just let me know ok?" Idia shut off the voice recorder, feeling his face burn red.. 'God I'm not used to caring about someone this this much' he thought.. at least you couldn't see his face.. he was such a mess..

— LEONA KINGSCHOLAR "Hey.." Leona's had just woken up, and something went through his head and he decided to leave you a message of sorts, but a typical message couldn't express his feelings as well as a audio one "I miss you. How have you been? Have you ate.. I trust you have.. wouldn't want my precious mate' to be dyin' on me, know would I', ah— anyways, please call me back when ya' can.. and! I love you—"

— KALIM AL-ASIM "Good morning! How are you— Oh wait.. you can't reply to this! ... regardless I felt like reaching out first.. I'm guessing you're still on your fight.. you should have let me book an express flight for you!" Kalim let out a exasperated sigh, "Are you doing well? Are you comfortable!... I forgot to tell you this before.. but I'm so proud of you! You've met your goals my jewel, and that makes me so happy... And hey— once you come home.. I'll throw you the BIGGEST Party ever!" The voice message cut off with Kalim's laughter.

— VIL SCHOENHEIT "How are you, have you been well!" Vil didn't quite know how to start off his message, or how to convey his feelings and worries through a feeble audio message.. "Hey.. I hope you ate.. and— call me when the flights over kay? I'm so proud of you.. but not having you near worries me.. I don't enjoy overthinking.. So, be a dear and call me soon okay?.. Hope you sleep well love."

©cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[beautyconsumer]

(I see you've redone your blog again) but anyway JayGrant is sooooo the friends that make a marriage pact as kids. And Jason thinks it's a joke but Grant is SO serious. 20 years later Grant breaks into Jason's apartment and is like "so I've noticed you're not yet wed-" and Jason is like "I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING DEAD WHAT THE FUCK!" And Grant is like "Irrelevant. I need you to update your hand measurements to get the ring resized."

I did! I want it to represent what's going on on this little corner of Tumblr of mine hehe thanks for noticing!

Also!!! ASASGDJFG "I need you to update your hand measurements to get the ring resized." Meaning he already has a ring and has been constantly measuring Jason's hand throughout their childhood/teenage years, lmaoo I imagine Jason sitting there while Grant measures his hand going "lol you still on that?" While Grant very much is.

Jason being pulled the uno reverse card for once and being in the other end of "I THOUGHT YOU WERE FUCKING DEAD WHAT THE FUCK!" is so freaking funny.

Jason is still reeling on the fact that Grant came back at all, cause he had given hope he would. Jason sees his own resurrection as a curse so seeing Grant reviving gives him a new perspective and of course Grant goes, "We're soulmates, actually."

And Jason kind of believes him. Wants to believe him too.

Jason is —other than surprised Grant came back at all— is like "You meant it???"

Because he's on board, HEAVILY so, because he gets to marry the first crush he ever had, the very hetero guy who would mess around for shits and giggles, and make him flustered and red faced every time he'd throw hypotheticals at him: "I would treat you better than anyone else", "If you married me we'd never spend our nights sleeping"

All of this is especially funny immediately after Grant's resurrection, because Grant is fully convinced he came back for that one reason (it's actually way deeper than that but his obsessive streak is not gonna wind down for a while.)

Grant goes over the top with everything, the ring, the weeding, the preparations, his rich kid upbringing along his entitlement and hedonistic nature (that only amplified when he came back from dead) makes him a nightmare for anyone who gets on his way of making the Wedding anything less than perfect. This also goes along with me headcanoning him as a perfectionist (having your parents criticizing your shit since ever will do that to ya) bridezilla Grant says who lmao

And if we're going with the family dynamics...

Adeline Kane clutches her chest and almost has a heart attack because she finds out her son is alive Through a freaking Weeding Invitation.

Joey as well and his brain is balancing from wanting to beat the shit out his brother for making them go through this to go hug him and demand to be his best man.

Respawn, Alex, Rose and Wintergreen are invited as well, if only to cement the fact that Slade is very much not invited. He still shows up, though.

Jade is the bridesmaid, or best woman, or however it is. Grant shows up one day and is like "Bitch I'm getting married, you're the bridesmaid," she sighs, looks at his choice of a husband, sighs even more heavily and then they go shopping for the wedding.

The batfam on the other hand, Bruce and Dick are the ones who are having the hardest time.

Bruce is happy at first that Jason is settling and getting married, but then—

"Married to who?!"

Dick is sweating bullets, "Jason, you're still young, you don't have to settle for this one just yet!"

"No, I gotta."

Babs walks him through acceptance. When he recovers he drops Jason hints (as in, big passive aggressive hints) of him being the best man.

Jason lets him in tension for a while, at least until he decides who's gonna be the best man because he's not the first one to not-ask.

Meanwhile Steph and Tim pipe in, "can we plan your bachelor party?"

Damian is happy he gets to spend time and meet his half brother's family, (Respawn) and Jason will be there too I guess.

Jason is very much shoving in their faces, "I'm getting married before any of you losers."

Talia and Harvey are invited as well much to Bruce's dismay.

Bruce gets surprisingly along and is very supportive with Grant while he's in one of his bridezilla episodes because yes, Grant is right: Jason’s wedding deserves the best of the best.

Grant gets very intense about it too, hence, mark Jason down as scared and horny.

Slade, on the other hand, gets whiplash because Addie was just like that on their wedding.

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k words

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol/drinking (reader and steve get drunk lolz), random guy at a bar being an asshole

summary: in which it's a halloween night full of partying, fun, and maybe one too many drinks

author's note: ohohoh this was so fun to write !! happy (almost) halloween<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have laughed.

Because doing so did not help in convincing Steve that the costume he was wearing did not look ridiculous, and instead your laugh only made him frown at you.

“I’m not wearing this.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was just a bit surprised to see how you looked.”

You didn’t expect the Robin costume you got for Steve to shock you as much as it did, and it was mainly because of the green pants he had on; because perhaps they were a bit too green. It confused you a bit because the pants hadn’t looked that overbearing and bright when you bought them from the costume shop— but, granted, it had still been in the bag with the rest of the clothing items for the costume, so you didn’t get to see too much of the pants. And with the red shirt he had on that had the signature “R” logo in the corner of it, for a split second, Steve looked more like Christmas personified than Robin, and that was what made you laugh. It wasn’t even a full laugh, it was more like a breath of a laugh. 

“Why can’t I be Batman and you be Robin?”

“Because that’s not an accurate representation of us,” You answered him immediately. “I’m clearly the Batman in this friendship. And I’m older.”

He rolled his eyes at you and you knew exactly what that eye roll said— “You’re only two fucking months older than me.”

“Why can’t Robin be Robin?” He asked. 

“You already know the answer to that. She and Vickie are doing some vampire couples costume thing.”

Robin being a part of the costume had been the initial plan— Steve would’ve been Batman, Robin would’ve been Robin, and you would’ve been Catwoman. But, when Robin bailed so that she could do the couple’s costume with Vickie, you refused to be Catwoman anymore because you didn’t want to spend the night constantly telling people that you and Steve weren’t dating and just decided to do a duo costume that looked way too obviously as a couple’s costume for “fun.”

“And we can’t even change the costumes now because we have to be at The Hideout in an hour,” You reminded him. They were having a Halloween party there and Eddie’s band would be playing at some point during the night, they were all going dressed as zombies, and a handful of other bands were going to be playing too. “You should’ve tried this on yesterday when I bought it.”

Steve only rolled his eyes at you again even though he knew you were right. You hopped off the kitchen counter and followed him as he walked back into his room. You sat down on the side of his bed and he went into his bathroom, looking in the mirror and running a hand through his hair. 

“Robin’s the cuter one of the duo, anyway,” You told him. “Girls will love it.” 

Steve still didn’t say anything yet, so you took that as your cue to keep going. “You should change the pants. These ones are way too bright and they kinda hurt my eyes. Maybe put on those darker green ones you have. People will still easily understand the costume, so it’ll be okay. And the rest of the costume is perfectly fine. Also, when you put the yellow cape on it’ll tie everything together.”

He still stayed quiet so you got up and walked over to where he stood still looking at himself in the mirror, and you poked his arm. “Can you please say something so I can stop giving you an ego boost by rambling about how good you’ll look tonight?”

Steve laughed a bit. “No, you should keep going.”

That time you rolled your eyes at him. “Ha ha. Fuck you.” You walked out of the bathroom and started heading to the bedroom door. “Anyway, I’m gonna put my costume on and then we should take a few shots before Vickie and Robin come get us.” 

“I thought we were gonna keep things mostly PG tonight?” Steve asked as he began rummaging through his closet for the pants you mentioned. “Because of what happened two nights ago.” 

Somehow you simultaneously winced and laughed at the mention of that Wednesday night. Where you and Steve sat in the living room drinking and watching random bad movies he brought home from Family Video; the alcohol actually managed to make the movies somewhat bearable to watch. It was an impulsive decision that left you both with horrific hangovers in the morning as you forced yourself to go to class and Steve begrudgingly went to his twelve o’clock shift.  

“Okay, I know that we’ve still only barely recovered from that night, but you don’t have to work tomorrow, and I’m not gonna have any school shit to worry about, so tonight we can just have fun without any of the consequences of what happened last time.” You turned around and smiled at him. “The type of fun that involves a lot of alcohol. And it’s Halloween so I feel like it’s bad luck if we don’t partake in underage drinking.”

“Very solid points.” 

“I’m gonna pretend that you weren’t being sarcastic right then and instead just believe that you actually do agree with me,” You said before finally leaving his room and walking toward yours. 

Your costume was already lying on your bed— a black cropped shirt with the signature Batman emblem on it, a black cape, and black jeans that were probably the tightest pair of pants you now owned but they made your butt look great so you overall counted them as a win. Getting dressed took no longer than five minutes, but then you spent an extra five minutes rummaging through your closet to find your black hightop Converses until you remembered that they were probably buried in the heap of shoes that always sat by the front door. You knew that wearing anything other than sneakers would’ve probably been better for the look of the costume, but last year you made the mistake of wearing heeled boots with your pirate costume, and although they did make the outfit look great, your feet were absolutely dead in the morning and you never wanted to experience that pain again. Therefore, tonight, sneakers would be the way to go.

You noticed Steve in the kitchen— with his pants changed and the rest of the costume on— when you left your bedroom and started heading toward the shoe pile by the front door. You reached into the pile, pushing aside a pair of his Nikes and then grabbing your Converses. 

Steve opened up one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out the bottle of tequila. You stopped tying your shoes for a second and looked up at him, immediately noticing how the bottle was close to empty. 

“Jesus, I didn’t think that we devoured so much of it the other night,” You said as Steve opened up a different cabinet to grab two mugs to use as makeshift shot glasses. 

“I vaguely remember us saying that if we drank more, the bad movies we were watching would start to actually make sense,” He said with a laugh as he started pouring. You couldn’t help but laugh with him because that sounded exactly like the type of drunken logic the two of you would have. “Also, I really wish Robin hadn’t bailed on the group costume because you look much cooler than me right now.” 

You only laughed more at his words as you went to grab two sodas from the fridge. “Next year, you can take full reign over our costume decision and I’ll go along with whatever you want.”

He smiled at you. “I will fully hold you to that.” 

“I’m already scared for whatever you end up deciding,” You said as you picked up one of the mugs and then Steve grabbed the other. “But, anyway, cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn’t remember exactly where Steve or Robin or Vickie were, but with your slight inebriation that realization didn’t worry you that much.

You had tasked yourself with grabbing more drinks for yourself and Steve from the crowded bar, but before you could even walk up to the counter, a guy dressed as a cowboy stopped you and decided to start a conversation. 

It was pretty dark and the music was loud, so you could barely make out what he was saying after he said his initial “hello,” but with the way he was smiling at you it was fairly easy to tell that he was flirting. And even though you were tipsy and he was a little bit cute, you weren’t in the mood to reciprocate. 

“I should go,” You interrupted him for the first time in the past five minutes. You attempted to make your voice sound as nice as possible because it was easier to say that excuse instead of the entire truth, which was that you simply didn’t want to talk to him. “I gotta get back to my friends.” 

Either the guy didn’t hear what you said or he decided to completely disregard it all because he said, “I’ll buy you a drink.” 

“No, thanks,” You told him, making sure your voice was loud enough so that he could clearly hear your answer.   

“Come on, let me be the Robin to your Batman, or better yet you be the Robin to my Batman,” He said and before you could scoff and roll your eyes and simply walk away, he reached out to firmly grab your waist. 

You immediately pulled away from him and were about to say something along the lines of “Fuck you,” but you were interrupted by arms circling around you from behind; it was a touch that felt so familiar that you instinctually leaned into it. 

“She already has a Robin to her Batman so fuck off,” Steve said and you had to try your hardest not to laugh at his words. It was always in moments like these, where guys were being dicks and didn’t take no for an answer, that you’d happily play the fake dating card with Steve. 

When the guy walked away, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t make out, you turned to face your friend and leaned in close to him so that he could hear you over the music. “Thank God for you, Steve Harrington.”

His mouth was close to your ear. “I knew that I shouldn’t have let you go alone to get the drinks.” 

“You were chatting up that girl dressed as Tinker Bell, so I thought I’d be a good wingwoman and walk away.”  

“She left with her friends.”

From the sound of his voice, it was hard to tell if he was sad about it or didn’t really care. “As your wingwoman, should I help you go after her?”  

He shook his head. “No, it’s okay, she was a little boring.” 

“Got it,” You responded with a quick nod. “Can we get a drink now? Talking to that asshole sobered me up too much.”

Steve glanced at the bar. “Eddie’s supposed to be on in five minutes and the bar looks even more crowded than it was ten minutes ago.”

It was your turn to look in that direction and you immediately knew that with the amount of people surrounding the counter, you and Steve would be waiting there for much longer than just a few minutes. 

“Fuck,” You mumbled and then looked back at Steve. “Okay, let’s go back to Robin and Vickie. Aside from helping to get that random guy away from me, I’m even more glad you’re here right now because I fully don’t remember where we were standing.”

“I had a feeling that would happen too,” He said with a small laugh before slipping his hand into yours and leading you toward your other two friends. 

There was no way you would’ve been able to find the semi-secluded corner near the stage that Robin and Vickie were standing by if it weren’t for Steve, and you made a mental note to not leave his side for the rest of the time all of you were at The Hideout. 

“Woah, no drinks?” Robin said when she noticed you two. She and Vickie were holding hands and once again seeing them in their matching vampire costumes made your heart squeeze at how adorable they were. “Are you two actually gonna be sober like us for the night?”

“I’m sorry, but that won’t be happening. But, I do promise that I’ll be the best and most functional drunk person ever so you don’t get super annoyed with me,” You said, smiling at her, and when Steve laughed at your words, you playfully elbowed him. 

“I love you, truly, but I kinda doubt that will happen,” Robin responded but still smiled back at you. “Oh, also, like five minutes ago, Vickie ran into this girl she knows and she told us about this party happening two towns over. We should go to it after Eddie’s set.”

“I don’t know the guy throwing it, but apparently, his house is huge,” Vickie chimed in and you nodded.

That was probably one of your favorite parts about this stupid little holiday; how quickly plans could change or be adjusted, and most of the time it would lead to you having more fun than you had initially anticipated. And plus you’d rather have free drinks at the house of this random guy than buy more at this bar or any other one.  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The time was inching closer and closer to midnight and the party seemed as if it was at its absolute peak. So much so that Vickie had to park on a completely different block because of how crowded with cars the actual street was. 

Steve was carrying you on his back as you all walked to the house; he had been reluctant at first but ultimately couldn’t say no to your persistent “pleases.”

“This reminds me of last Halloween when your feet were hurting because of your shoes, so I also gave you a piggyback ride then,” He said and then glanced down. “This time you’re wearing sneakers, though, so this feels a little unnecessary.”

You smiled even though he couldn’t see you. “This is always necessary, Steven.” 

Robin and Vickie were a few feet behind you two, hands intertwined as they went into a conversation that went unheard by you and Seve because you were laughing at him saying that him carrying you right then proved why he should’ve been Batman tonight.  

“And they’ve never dated before?” Vickie asked and Robin immediately shook her head. 

“No, it’s never happened. It’s weird. They’re weird,” She answered as she continued looking at you and Steve. Sometimes she felt as if the idea of you two dating was something that she could see as clear as day— it did seem like it would just make so much sense. But nothing ever happened, and at this point of knowing the two of you, she honestly didn’t think it ever would. “They seem like they’d be perfect together, but I also think the world would implode if they ever tried something.”

Vickie laughed a bit at her girlfriend’s words. “Aw, well, I think they’d be cute.”

It was only thirty minutes into the four of you being at the party and you could finally say that you were no longer just tipsy. You’d probably end up regretting this in the morning because of the hangover that was imminent, but right then, you were glad you were drunk because it finally made your pants feel completely bearable. And Steve was as intoxicated as you were, maybe even more so because it somehow took little to no convincing to get him to play dumb games with you. 

It started out as truth or dare, but then one of the dares was to do a round of hide and seek, and then you decided to do more rounds of it because since both of you were drunk, it made the childish game even more fun to play. And since you were in a place that you two were completely unfamiliar with, it also made it funnier to play.

You weren’t sure whose turn it had been— who was the hider and who was the seeker— but you and Steve somehow ended up outside in the backyard, lying side by side on the grass and staring up at the sky. And you were laughing at a joke that you now couldn’t remember if it had been you or Steve who told it— you honestly couldn’t even recall the joke itself, but you just knew it had been funny. 

You shifted and turned on your side to face Steve and after a moment he did the same. 

“Thank you. For always being there for me,” You told him and then lifted your head so that you could kiss him on the cheek. “You’re quite literally the best person in my life.”

He shook his head at you, a small smile gracing his lips. “You always get so sentimental when you’re drunk.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “It’s the only time I let myself get super cheesy with you, Stevie.” Your drunkest of moments were also usually the only times when that nickname would come out. “But, I do hope you know that even though I don’t say it all the time, I always do feel this way. I always think about how insanely fucking glad I am to have you in my life.” 

“Don’t worry, I know.” He nodded at you and then smiled wider. “And I’m insanely fucking glad to have you in my life too.” 

He was Steve. Your Steve. Your best friend Steve. The Robin to your Batman. That couldn’t change. Ever.

So, why the fuck did you get the sudden urge to kiss him on the mouth instead of that all-too-familiar spot on his cheek again? 

Of course, you didn’t do it, and, of course, neither did Steve. Instead, a silence settled over the two of you for a bit.

“Come on, let’s head back in,” Steve said after a few moments. Somehow he was always the logical one in moments like these. 

Still, though, you felt the tiniest bit disappointed. But, you’d completely forget about that feeling, that fleeting thought, by the morning. 

Steve stood first and then reached out to pull you up. One of your hands was still intertwined with his when you walked back into the house. 

The party was still in full swing, and when the front door opened and a handful of new people walked in, that didn’t necessarily shock you. But it did make you smile widely at the people coming in because you recognized a familiar face. 

“Eddie!” You immediately went over to him, practically falling into his arms as you hugged him.

Since, due to your drunkenness, you’d actually forgotten that you all told him about the party after his band finished their set and he said he’d meet you there later, it felt like so much more of a coincidental, happy accident that he was there right then. You weren’t even fazed by his zombie costume, which had freaked you a little earlier because of how good and realistic it looked. 

“Hi!” He exclaimed, matching your enthusiasm while also smiling and laughing at your current antics. “You’re drunk.” He then looked at Steve who was behind you. “Wow, and you are too.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”

Eddie laughed a bit. “I can just see it all over you, Harrington.”

You stopped paying attention to their conversation and let your mind wander as you looked around at all of the random people in the house that were dancing and laughing with their friends.  

I should get another drink.

“That’s a bad idea,” Eddie said to you. 

You laughed as you looked at him. “I didn’t even realize I said that out loud.”

“Another reason why both of you need to be cut off for the rest of the night.” 

You knew that he was right, but that didn’t mean that you had to outwardly agree with him. Instead, you smiled at him and said, “I never thought I’d see the day where Edward Munson became the mom of the group.”

“Sometimes I like to turn over a new leaf,” He gave you a wry smile back and then poked your side which only made you laugh. “Where are Robin and Vickie?”

“That’s a good question,” Steve said and looked around for a quick second before meeting your eyes. “Do you remember the last time we saw them?” 

“I’m pretty sure it was right before we started playing truth or dare,” You answered and tried to think about exactly how long ago that was, but failed to do so because your memory felt too fuzzy right then. “I have no perception of time right now, so that could’ve been hours ago, honestly.” 

“It’s actually kind of funny how you two always somehow end up playing that game whenever we go to parties,” Eddie said. 

Steve shrugged. “It’s a stupidly fun game to play when drunk.”

“We also played a lot of hide and seek tonight,” You added and smiled.

Eddie only shook his head and laughed a bit. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Eddie, if you’re feeling left out, we can play another round of hide and seek with you.”

He playfully rolled his eyes at you. “Don’t worry, I’ll live.”

“Oh, there they are,” Steve said, and when you looked in the direction of where he was pointing, you saw Robin and Vickie sitting on the couch in the living room and watching the movie that was playing on the huge television. The most random scene was on right then, and the sound coming from the TV could not be heard over the loud music that was playing throughout the house, but you immediately recognized the movie as Friday the 13th; which was actually pretty fitting because even though it wasn’t literally Friday the 13th, it was at least a Friday.

You then realized that the time was probably so far past midnight, so maybe it actually wasn’t fitting anymore. But, it was still a Halloween party, so technically any scary movie could work. 

Your mind then started listing off other scary movies you didn’t mind watching— Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Shining—  and you suddently couldn’t remember why you were even thinking about scary movies in the first place.

Eddie was definitely right; you really didn’t need another drink. 

“Hey,” Steve said, pulling you out of your thoughts. Eddie was now sitting with Robin and Vickie and watching the silently playing movie with them, and you and Steve were turned around leaning back against the couch. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Batman?” 

You laughed for no particular reason aside from how nice it felt to do so right then. 

“I think I’m starting to hit my peak. So, I need to capitalize off of this feeling before things start going downhill and I start begging Vickie to take us home so that I can pass out in bed.” You looked up at Steve and met his eyes. “Are you down for a few more rounds of hide and seek?”

His mouth quirked upward in a small smile. “Always.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You felt like you were choking, and that feeling was what pulled you out of your sleep. Your eyes were still closed as you reached up to touch your throat and immediately felt that your cape was still buttoned around your neck, but it felt so much tighter than how it did last night.

Your eyes opened just a bit and you saw Steve sleeping next to you, and you also noticed that you were in his room. He was on top of the blanket, still fully in his Robin costume, and you were under the covers. Somehow your cape had gotten tangled up underneath the pillow Steve was laying on. You groaned as you unbuttoned it, finally breathing normally. 

You shut your eyes again, trying to will yourself back to sleep because you felt like you could use a thousand more hours. But, for some reason, you couldn’t fall asleep, and instead all your mind could focus on was Steve’s soft snoring. 

Anytime you two ended up sleeping in the same bed or same room, his snoring rarely ever annoyed you, but this time it managed to do the opposite. And now you also needed to pee. 

With a sigh, you got out of the bed and padded over to Steve’s bathroom. You kept the light off because you refused to see how you looked right then, and also because the abrupt brightness would’ve only contributed to your growing headache. 

Steve was awake when you exited the bathroom. He was on his back, eyes open as he looked up at the ceiling. 

“You almost woke up next to a corpse,” You told him, your voice actually sounding much more hoarse than you expected it to be. 

He turned to look at you. “I feel like a corpse.”

“You were sleeping on my cape. I was almost strangled to death.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“I don’t really understand why we didn’t change out of our costumes when we got home. I also don’t remember why I decided to sleep in your bed,” You said as you got back in bed and pulled the blanket over you again. You tried to think back to last night, when you and Steve got back to the apartment, but right then it felt too hard to put the pieces of what happened together and you felt too hungover to do so. “Where are my pants?”

“I slightly remember you saying something about how much you “fucking hated them,” so you took them off before you got in my bed,” Steve answered.

You laughed. “Okay, yeah, that sounds familiar.”

He sat up, letting out a tired groan in the process, and started getting out of bed. “I need a shower.” 

“Me too,” You agreed with a nod but still leaned back and let your head fall against the pillow. “But, I also really wanna go back to sleep.” 

“We can be lazy on the couch all day,” Steve suggested. “Watch random sitcoms and order takeout for lunch and dinner.” 

His words were enough to get you of the bed and you smiled at him. “I love that idea.”

It wasn’t until you were in your room that you finally noticed that the time was somehow only nine in the morning. A part of you felt like it should be illegal for you to be up this early after the night you’d had, but your shower was helpful at washing away most of your tiredness and dull headache. 

When you emerged from your bathroom thirty minutes later wearing your favorite hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, you smelled coffee in the kitchen. 

“You’re awesome. You’re amazing. I love you. Thank you so much,” You said to Steve when you walked into the kitchen and he handed you a warm mug.  

“No problem,” He told you before taking a long sip from his own mug. “Also, while I was in the shower I had a thought; no more drinking for us. Not until Thanksgiving when we have to deal with our families, and alcohol is the only thing that will make getting through that holiday bearable.”

You nodded at that. “I completely agree.”

You were about to open the fridge to grab the carton of milk so that you could add some to your coffee, when you noticed the new polaroid picture that was hanging on it, pinned up by the Statue of Liberty magnet you and Steve got in New York when you took a trip there back in June.  

“When did we take this picture?”

Steve looked at the polaroid and his eyebrows furrowed. “I honestly can’t remember.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “We look so drunk, holy shit.”

So drunk but also so happy. Your cheeks were squished together so that you both could fit in the frame and happy drunk smiles took over your faces. You could tell by how much of a close up the picture was that you were the one that took it. 

It was a little funny, but also sort of fitting, seeing that picture among the other ones already on the fridge— including a group photo of the kids when they spent the night over at the apartment just a week ago, and one of Eddie smiling and holding your and Steve’s shared pet hamster, Harold. 

You grabbed the black Sharpie that was someohw always sitting on the kitchen counter— perhaps it was for this exact reason— and you wrote on the empty white space at the bottom of the new polaroid. 

Halloween ‘85. Batman & Robin.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[ja3yun]

The Sun That Always Burns | S.JY pt.3

sim jaeyun x afab!reader

warnings: suggestive (smut-ish flashback), angst, lost love, pet names, not many warnings tbf, and not proofread. anything I missed please lmk!

wc: 10.3k+ (honestly, i need to make these shorter)

synopsis: you and jake's high school relationship blossomed into a romance filled with hope and promise. however, as time went on, jake's long-term expectations began to weigh heavily on you, who struggled to meet them. your paths eventually lead you in separate directions, each experiencing different aspects of life and ultimately moving on from your past love. unexpectedly, fate intervened and you both reunite after years apart. the reunion allows you to rediscover your feelings for each other but also forces you to navigate the complexities of your past and present.

part 1 | part 2 | part 4

a/n: hi! I'm giving you this chapter kinda quickly. heavy appearances from my wjsn ults because they are now integral to the story &lt;3 will update the next part during the week

4 years have passed since you left. No contact with your family, sometimes opting to send them a Christmas card with no return address just to let them know you’re alive. You missed them like crazy, more than any words could explain. It had been so long sometimes you wonder if you should go back, even for your mum’s birthday but it would be too awkward. The dramatic teen you left behind is who they knew you as, not the woman you’ve grown up to be. 

College changed you dramatically, for the better you like to hope. Your roommate Eunseo quickly became your other half, showing you the ropes of Avanti, Being a year older than you she was accustomed to the college, she picked you up when you needed it the most and she didn’t even have to. You thought she took pity on you at first, just taking you under her wing because you were a crying dismantled mess. But she was simply just the loveliest person in the whole world. You wouldn’t have made it to today without her. She left college last year and got a job close by so you saw her often and you were thankful for her every day. 

Throughout your college experience you did the typical; study, party, make questionable life choices at said parties. But one thing you couldn’t do was get into a relationship. 

You started hooking up with guys in your second year, just flings and one-night stands. Eunseo supported your habits, “I will always support women's rights and also their wrongs” she used to say every time you pre-gamed and she never asked why you didn’t get into a relationship. 

Jaeyun’s name hadn’t left your lips in 1460 days. A choice that you made as soon as you stepped off the bus in Pyeongchang. Jaeyun’s name also hadn't left your mind in 1460 days. Every touch from another felt wrong, every chat up line, every unwarranted dick pic. It wasn’t him so it didn’t matter to you. 

You started to enjoy yourself more as time went on, creating a new friend group and new memories. By the final year of college, you were content with your life, finding a degree in film was a fluke but you ended up loving every bit of it, an internship was on the horizon at HYBE Media to shadow a music video producer, your hair routine finally working out. Everything was coming up Y/N. This was the right choice. 

Yet you still thought about Jaeyun every day. What was he up to? Did he like living in Busan? Was he with someone else? Granted you don’t like to think about that last one too often or else you get a tightness in your chest. You wanted him to be happy but selfishly you didn’t want to know if that happiness was because of someone else. 

“Helloooo, Y/N, are you even listening?” Eunseo’s hand waves across your face as you come back from your zoned-out state, “Tell me what I just said.” She huffs and crosses her legs and arms, sitting back knowingly. Eunseo had invited you to a coffee date in a quaint little shop outside of your university. She originally introduced it to you on your second day here and it became your favourite spot. Laughing, crying, and hungover, you both occupied this little shop as if it were your second home.

You smile guilty and laugh, “You were talking about how much you love me and that we should get married,” you shrug and tilt your head jokingly.

“Weirdly you are close!” Her pointer finger is now in front of your face as she leans forward quickly in a flash. 

“I was?” You gave an incredulous look with one eyebrow raised.

“Yes! It has to do with marriage.” Her hands gesture an arch that can only remind you of the one SpongeBob imagination meme and you giggle. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re marrying Serim after like 2 dates.” You half joke and half panic, it wouldn’t be unlike her to do something like that and you both know it. Eunseo takes in your expression and slaps the table loudly and laughs. If there was one thing your best friend wasn’t good at it’s being quiet, and you love her so much for it.

“I like him a lot, but no. Actually, it's about my sister. You know she’s getting married?” You nod, sipping your coffee, “Well of course I’m the maid of honor,” she lifts the back of her hands and twinkles them under her chin and you chuckle, “Someone dropped out and there is a spare seat. Yeoreum is a freak and needs it filled for everything ‘to go as planned’”

You had never met any of Eunseo’s family, they lived a few hours away and despite the effort Eunseo made to invite you to every family gathering, even Christmas, you declined not wishing to be a burden. “I want you to come. I checked your schedule and you’re free, I have a dress, I’m driving us up,” she keeps rhyming off every reason you have ever given her to bail on traveling with her, “and you owe me one.”

Furrowing your eyebrows and tilting your head you encourage her to continue, owe her for what? “Well you don’t owe me yet but I heard the best man is single, older than you, and has these gorgeous big eyes. I’ll set you both up.”

“So I owe you for something that hasn’t even happened yet? And you don’t even know if he is interested? Or single?”

“Details, details.” Eunseo’s hand waves dismissively, “Please just come. I want you to meet my family since you don’t have any of your own. Think of my family as yours.” 

Eunseo doesn’t know what happened back home. You never told her you didn’t have a family but that you were just estranged from them, never disclosing details, particularly that the reason you don’t go home is your own fault, she didn’t have to know. Eunseo didn’t know anything, not about Jaeyun, nothing at all and yet she didn’t pry into your past. You were so thankful for her.

“Eunseo,” rejection is on the tip of your lips but she’s pouting, her eyes big as she does her best to look cute, and to your dismay it works, “I’d love to come.” The sun suddenly started to shine and burn your skin as its light lay on you through the window.

“Amazing!” clapping her hands rapidly she giggles, “We’re leaving tomorrow.” 

Your eyes expand and she stands up not letting you protest at how soon the wedding is. “I thought she wasn’t getting married until Saturday?” You query and check your phone which reads Monday. 

Walking out she explains, “Yeah but I need to be there early for final fittings, yadda yadda, boring wedding stuff. So I’m taking you with me. Either that or you drive up yourself.” The glint in her eyes as she turns to you makes your face deadpan.

“Fuck you, you know I can’t drive.” She laughs and grabs your hand. 

“And I still don’t understand how you’re 23 and can’t even ride a go-kart without crashing.” Playfully you hit her arm and laughed, a memory of you and her go-karting painted your brain. After that, you never got behind another wheel. 

___________

You arrive at Eunseo’s parents' house and your jaw slacks open. It’s bigger than any house you’ve ever seen. Your best friend joked a lot about being rich but you didn’t know she was rich rich. There are stairs leading to a giant white door that compliments the ash-coloured stones that surround it. Moss is growing up on each side of the home with intentionally placed pink flowers decorating throughout. Those rich bitch houses are so ugly, I want as small a house as possible so I’m always close to you no matter what room I’m in. His voice plays in your head but you shake him out.

Her parents are graciously letting you and her stay in the spare bedrooms, you don’t dare ask how many rooms are actually in this castle. Something about the air feels strangely familiar. You shrug it off and head inside with your blue suitcase and steamed dress. You curse rich people for having so many stairs.

“My baby!” Eunseo’s dad shouts from the door, “How is my sweet angel?” He greets her at the top of the stairs and hugs her tightly. You miss your dad a lot. His comforting words, his piggyback rides, his weird cinnamon body wash that made you despise the spice, you missed it all. “This must be Y/N! It only took 4 years to meet you.” His chest lets out a deep laugh as he hugs you just as tightly as his own daughter. A smile plasters on your face as you hug him with one arm, the other outstretched to protect the dress. 

“Thank you for having me. It’s an honour to be part of your daughter’s big day.” Eunseo’s dad’s eyes turn to crescent moons as he smiles and steps aside to usher you into the big house. 

“The party is in a few hours. The happy couple aren’t here, running last-minute chores but you’ll meet them tonight.” He turns to you and points up the stairs, “Eunseo will show you where to get changed. If you need anything, me and the wife will be hovering around.” You side-eye Eunseo quickly and she smiles widely. She didn’t tell you about a party. 

Bowing slightly you thank him and follow Eunseo who is squealing, shouting about how excited she is for you to meet everyone. Sometimes you wonder if she is the relationship you’ve been seeking after Jaeyun, platonic or not, you love her all the same. 

A few hours later you hear bustling from the crowd gathered down the stairs, the party in full swing as Eunseo finishes curling a wispy strand of your hair. Glancing up at her you notice how beautiful she truly is; her bangs falling effortlessly to frame her face, her lips plump and naturally pouty, she was flawless. 

“If you keep staring I’ll literally take you on the bed.” She smiles and you laugh. Pouting her lips near your face she pretends to kiss you and you play into it. Life is so easy with her. “Go get changed, I need to see my masterpiece completed.” Walking away she picks up the dress and thrusts it into your chest, “You’re gonna look amazing. That babe of a best man is gonna fall at your feet.  Now go.” she shoos you into the ensuite bathroom.

Staring in the mirror you analyse her work on your face and hair. Never in your life have you ever looked so beautiful and you can’t help but stare. You shed your old life behind you yet this is the first time you really felt like you were reborn. The immature you left behind, the 23-year-old staring in the mirror coming up from the ashes.

Unzipping the garment bag you see the dress Eunseo picked for you and you gasp. Its a silky deep red dress. Far too sexy for something like this.

“Um, Eunseo? This dress is…” You hold it against you and observe what it would look like on you. Hot. That’s exactly how it would look and considering this was the first time meeting a whole family of someone dear to you, you’d rather be more covered up than this.

“Shut up it’s hot. My cousins will be wearing something way sluttier so it’s all good.” Her nonchalant tone doesn’t ease you but it’s either this or the dress she got you for the actual wedding. 

As you adorn the dress you notice how it fits you perfectly and hugs you in at the waist flatteringly. It’s been months since you’ve put something on this beautiful. Your cleavage is out just enough, the material stops at your mid-thighs, and you feel like a beauty queen. As you take yourself in your hand goes up to your necklace. That necklace. The gold of the sun complimented the dress perfectly. You never did bring yourself to take it off.

Opening the door you see Eunseo changed into a pastel blue dress, covering her arms and neck but cut out to leave her chest exposed just enough, a slit runs up her thigh. Your jaw is on the floor as she walks over and eyes you up and down. “Look at you! A literal goddess.” she smiles as she takes your hands. “You ready to upstage my sister at her own engagement party?”

“Eunseo…you did not pick these outfits to stand out on purpose did you?” Suddenly your heart is beating quickly and the urge to change is more than ever. 

“Of course not! We’re just hotter than anyone here, including her.” She laughs and hands you the pair of gold heels you eyed up as she unpacked her bags earlier. They were exactly your style. “Take these and put them on. Literally take them off whenever but for the grand entrance you need to be complete” She used her right hand to motion over your body. 

Putting the shoes on you grew about 4 inches taller and were on Eunseo’s eye level now. “Ready to rock this bitch?” You nod and she grabs your arm, dragging you down the stairs.

There are eyes on you everywhere and you can’t lie, it is a little uncomfortable considering the age range of the men staring are in their late 50s. It's a party like you’ve only seen in movies; waiters walk around with Hors D’oeurves and flutes of expensive champagne. You start to wonder how much all this cost and if you could convince someone at this party to pay off your student loan. 

“Hey Eunseo?” You grab her attention as she hands you a glass of bubbly happily, “I just realised I don’t know Yeoreum’s fiance’s name.” 

“Oh,” She laughs loudly and slaps your arm, “It’s Jaeyun.” Your heart stops for a moment, there are lots of Jaeyun’s in Korea. Jaeyun from TO1 could walk through that door for all you knew. “Jake is what he goes by though.” Your heart drops rapidly. There might be a lot of Jaeyuns but none that also go by Jake. Part of you wishes it was the biggest coincidence in the world but as voices fill the archway into the living room where you and your best friend reside you see Yeoreum, more beautiful than any picture Eunseo showed you could capture, and Jaeyun. Your Jaeyun.

Static is all you hear as you watch him greet guests and thank them for coming, and each footstep closer to you has your mouth going moist, ready to vomit. He hasn’t noticed you and if you had control of your body you would be bolting out the door instantly, but your mind has glued your feet to the floor. You take him, his face more defined than his previous squishy state, he’s wearing a fitted black suit blazer with no shirt underneath and matching wide-leg black trousers, and his hair is slicked back with stray pieces falling around his face. He looks expensive. He looks like the home you once knew.

You see Eunseo talking to you but as your eyes meet his, that static you once heard turns into rapid heartbeats. Your body is flushing with heat as you notice how his eyes widen for a second, his body turns to you instinctively.

“Eunseo!” Yeoreum squeals and shuffles quickly to give her sister an all-consuming hug, just like you want to do to Jaeyun right now. “Jakey come here” she beacons her fiance towards the both of you and without blinking or taking his eyes off you he walks cautiously forward. “You must be Y/N? Eunseo talks about you all the time.” 

She’s lovely. Gorgeous, clearly kind, she’s perfect just like her sister and it makes you want to cry. She’s perfect for him.

Plastering a smile on your face you fake glee as you hug her lightly, stealing another glance at Jaeyun while she can’t see you. He might have gotten older but those eyes still looked the same. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you pull away and step back, sole focus on his bride, “Congratulations.” It's bitter and you say it quickly.

“Aw thank you!” She beams and you feel like being sick again. 

“Excuse me, I’m going to go to the restroom, I’ll be right back.” You excuse yourself and rush past the couple and Eunseo leaving a gust of air behind you. Clutching your chest you run upstairs for an escape. Out of all the best friend’s sister’s fiances, how was he the one you were faced with? Pushing the guest room door open you scuttle in and take a few deep breaths reliving the moments just before.

“Y/N?” The Australian accent hits you hard as you turn around and meet his eyes. It takes only seconds before his hands have cupped your face and his body dangerously presses against yours, so close you can feel his heart, a heart that used to beat only for you.

“Baby,” he pauses as his eyes search your face trying to convince himself that you aren’t a dream, “where did you go?” Jaeyun desperately whines, his voice cracking in sadness as his forehead touches yours. There is love laced within the melancholic question. Instinctively your hands grab his wrists as you close your eyes. “Princess, please talk to me. '' He's pleading, begging for any explanation. Jaeyun’s hands go from your cheeks and trace down your shoulders, his eyes scanning every inch of your face in desperation. He doesn’t believe you’re real and in front of him, your face is more mature yet still the same girl he loves even after all these years. 4 years he’s waited for you to come back to him.

Your silence and shallow breathing urge him to ask more questions, his thumbs stroking the area between the base of your neck and collarbone. “What happened?”

“You’re engaged.”  The first words out of your mouth take him aback. His mouth stays open, his hands leaving your body leaving you cold, and shivering. “She seems nice-”

“Don’t do that,” His bottom jaw slowly clenching as he speaks, “Please don’t act fine like this. Don’t make it seem like I’m the only one that’s hurting for us right now.” You sob without tears as you see him vulnerable and eyes beseeching. Jaeyun’s hands point to you before coming together in a praying motion, “I looked for you everywhere. I spent months trying to find you.” Deep down you knew he would have looked for you, but not for months, maybe for a couple of weeks before he left for Busan, but never months, “What did I do?”

Without a beat, you respond, “Nothing. You could never do anything.” 

“You don’t just abandon people you love, Y/N. Not us. There had to be something I did to make you fall out of lov-”

“Jake!” You hear a familiar voice shout and your head falls down to stare at your shoes. 

“Baby please,” Jaeyun wants to hold you, kiss you, understand what happened but he can’t. Not right now. 

“You should go, I’ll leave in the morning-”

“Don’t leave me again, baby, please.” His voice is quiet, despair etched within his tone. His eyes fall on your necklace, the necklace that he gifted you. His eyes trail down to properly take you in and if he wasn’t astounded before by your mere presence he was now, “You look so beautiful, just like always.”

“Jake your dad is gonna make a speech-” Heeseung's voice bellows throughout the room and yet you and Jaeyun don’t take your eyes off each other. As Heeseung walks in he freezes at the sight of you. Over the years Heeseung silently forgave you, seeing his best friend move on with Yeoreum brought him some solace when he thought about what you did to Jaeyun, but now the anger that was dissipated through time is bubbling up again, “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing here?” His tone is surprised more than angry, but you can tell he’s fuming.

You don’t dare look at him. 

“You should get back to your engagement party." Nothing but a whisper as it comes out. You’ve lost him as quickly as you got him back. You did this, and now you need to deal with the consequences. Brushing past him and Heeseung you make your way back to Eunseo ignoring his hand that grazed your wrist in an attempt to stop you.

His family was here, his friends, people from your past that you wanted to forget. The pressure was starting to become too much as you rushed down the stairs before colliding with someone, “I’m sorry.” You bow quickly.

“Y/N?” Mr. Sim’s voice quips in astonishment, “What are you doing here?” His head comes down so his eyes are level with yours, “What-” He has no words, looking at the girl he thought was going to marry his son. 

“Mr. Sim, It’s nice to see you again” You bow but still avoid eye contact. “I’m sure you’re proud of Jaeyun.” 

“Darling, we thought something awful happened to you.” The sincerity in his voice made you look up at him, heartache carved in your features “Your mum and dad haven’t stopped worrying about you.” A hand is placed on your shoulder and as you look down you see Eunseo.

“Girl there you are! You took one long bathroom break.” She laughs and bows to Mr. Sim, “Ready for your speech, Sir?” Mr. Sim looks at you inquisitively before returning Eunseo’s bow.

“I’ve been preparing this speech for years, only some minor tweaks.” His eyes find yours and you start to think maybe he’s hinting towards the speech he would have given at Jaeyun and your engagement party. “Better head.” Lips forming a tight smile he descends the stairs. 

His words circle your brain. You understood your parents would worry but all of these years you never had to face it, not until your past was being pushed onto you. Eunseo takes your hand and pulls you to the dining area where people are gathered to make speeches and say their congratulations. 

Jaeyun strolls in behind Heeseung, his hands in his pockets before he notices his soon-to-be wife and wraps one arm around her. Tears threaten to spill as you watch the loving action. That should have been you. You should be marrying him, taking his second name, being his everything.

A fork clinks with a wine glass as Mr. Sim starts his speech. “Thank you everyone for coming. I will make this short considering I’m sure you’re all sick of us talking, especially when there is a free bar.” the people occupying the room laugh loudly and you see Yeoreum smile up at Jaeyun. It killed you but like always you put a smile on your face, “My son, he’s always been someone to wear his heart on his sleeve, always giving one hundred percent of himself to the person he loves,” Mr. Sims eyes fall on you and you feel like the speech is somehow directed to you, “Jaeyun deserves to have someone who loves him unconditionally, without prejudice, without pride, and always with his best interest in mind. I believe he’s found that.” 

Crushed. Your heart can’t take the rest of the speech as you walk out of the room and bolt for the entrance of the house. Heaving your chest to gasp for air you feel yourself clutching at your chest, if you hadn’t had a panic attack before in your life you would have thought you were having a heart attack. You breathe out harshly, gasping for air as you lean on the banister. Someone comes up behind you and places a hand on your shoulder gently. 

You hear muffled words but don’t take anything in as the figure guides you to sit on the steps, their hands rubbing your arms to keep you warm.

“Breathe for me, Y/N. He He Hoo or whatever.” You follow the words and inhale two breaths sharply and exhale extendedly. “That’s it.”

Your vision starts to come into focus as you see Heeseung in front of you, his Bambi eyes soft as his thumbs rub circles into your upper arms, “Keep doing that for me, okay?” He’s always been so kind to you, that you want to cry and he notices, “Hey, look at me, Y/N. Tell me about that band you used to like way back when.” Heeseung is trying to distract you but your brain is fuzzy and tears are rolling down your face, “The one with that rapper Jaeyun was always jealous of because you had him as your lock screen?"

“Monsta X?” you breathe out and he smiles lightly.

“Yeah, tell me about them. Are they still together?” His hands leave your arms as he discards his jacket from his body and wraps it around you.

Nodding you start to answer his question, “Yeah, they’re still together.” You sniffle and feel your heart start to slow down and breathe at ease, “Most of them are in the military now.” Your lips naturally form into a pout as you think about your favourite band being separated, not being whole until 2027.

“Sucks doesn’t it? I felt the same about ONF.” He laughs and so do you, letting out a singular sob as you do so.

“I didn’t mean to come here, Hee. Her sister is my best friend.” His eyes go wide and then looks down, his hands finding their way to your knees. 

“Y/N, you can’t be here. He finally moved on.” There is a pleading intertwined with sorrow in his voice and you slowly nod. “He’s happy.”

“Heeseung?” Jaeyun’s voice pierces through you, the warmth from Heeseung’s jacket becoming null as goosebumps prickle your skin. “Can I talk with her?” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, man.” They’re talking like you aren’t even there and a part of this too yet your voice is too weak to speak up and share your thoughts. Tension is looming in the air as Heeseung gives the man you love a stern stare, but Jaeyun has always been stubborn when it comes to you. If he can’t talk to you now he will find a way. However, for now, at least, Jaeyun listens to his best man, and with one more glace to your fragile body he heads back to his party. It hurts him to see you like this, he wants nothing more than to swoop you up and take you in his arms like he used to all those years ago.

The party continues as you head back in making your way to the guest bedroom, giving excuses to those asking simply saying you’re tired from travelling. You miss him being yours. That was the real exhaustion.

________

The party ended a couple of hours ago, the once loud and busy foyer now dark as you tip-toe down the stairs, heedful to not wake anyone up. It’s 5 am when you awake dying of thirst and decide to leave the comfy double bed of the guest bedroom and get a glass of water. Looking around you see empty wine glasses, a few smashed ones lined up on the long table just beside the stair banister. It truly was a magnificent party and in any other circumstance, you would have had a great time. Yeoreum’s family is lovely and welcoming it’s no wonder they have so many friends, and no wonder Jaeyun fell in love with her and fit so perfectly as her soon-to-be husband. 

A leak of light bleeds from the kitchen and you presume an under-unit lamp is still on but as your feet scuffle into the kitchen you see a broad back staring at you. Taking in the figure you notice their blue and yellow checked pajama bottoms and casual black t shirt evidently not intended to be worn together but clearly the first thing they could find. 

A creak sounds from under you alerting them of your presence causing them to whip around. Jaeyun. One of his eyes was shut indicating he was not long up himself, his dark hair fluffy and tussled but still slightly in place due to the remnants of styling wax. He takes your breath away every time.

“Hi.” You whisper and make your way to the fridge. Heeseung was right, it wasn’t a good idea to speak to each other. When you saw Jaeyun again after all these years you thought he would be mad, scream at you to get out, seething in hate, but that was never who Jaeyun was. Instead, you felt his love shooting through you and that was the dangerous part.

“It’s late.” His eyes never leave you as he watches you pour a glass of filtered water. 

“Or early.” You shrug and lean against the unit not daring to look at him. “I guess it depends on whether you went to sleep or not.” you mumble, small talk never being your thing. 

Jaeyun still feels like he’s in a dream. Your presence is haunting yet he hasn’t felt more at home. Just the simplicity of you being in this kitchen is enough for him to experience contentment he hasn’t felt in years. Not since then. 

“When did you get engaged?” The question punches him slap-bang in the middle of his chest, the wind escaping his body. 

With his head hanging low and his middle finger tracing his coffee mug he muttered, “ A few months ago.” to which you nodded and pursed your lips. “What about you?” he questions back, “you seeing anyone?”

“No.” It’s sharp and direct but you don’t want to touch on the subject any further, you didn’t want to accidentally divulge that you couldn’t get over him, not when he was sitting afore you an engaged man. It’s embarrassing.

Jaeyun sucks in a breath and holds it as if he was going to say something but in his hesitance, you speak up again. “Eunseo, she’s my best friend.” giving the information as a way to explain why you’re here. “I didn’t know it was you getting married to Yeoreum, I promise.” Your eyes are begging for him to look at you so he can see the sincerity in your words but he never does, opting to just nod slowly. “I’ll make up an excuse to get out of here before the wedding.”

“Why did you leave, Y/N?” Jaeyun’s voice is soft but laced with hurt, “Tell me why because for 4 fucking years I still haven’t been able to figure it out.” 

No words come out of your mouth, instead, you bite your lip trying to pluck up courage, suddenly the idea of him looking at you made you uncomfortable but of course, now his eyes are on you. “You owe me that much.”

“I-,” You place the glass of water down and grip the counter behind you tightly, “I…I didn’t get into any colleges that I applied for, none near Busan. Only one accepted me but it was a few hours away.” His eyebrows are crossed in confusion as he asks, “What do you mean? I thought you only applied for ones near Apollo. We had planned-”

“My grades weren’t good enough to get into any colleges in Busan.” There is a slight venom in your tone but it’s not directed at him but rather yourself. “If I had told you I wasn’t going with you, I was scared you would give up your dream school and just fuck it all off to be with me.” You finally look at him and the confusion is dispelling from his face as you continue, “You said it yourself, you would have gone anywhere if it meant being with me. I couldn’t ask you to do that. I would live with the guilt every day, watching you attend a subpar college all because of me. I loved you Jaeyun I couldn’t do that to you.” 

Jaeyun doesn’t miss the past tense usage of ‘love’ but he rewinds, “So you left our relationship because…it would be long distance?” 

“Jaeyun it wasn’t just that, I did think about long distance but I knew you would grow at college without me, i kept thinking about what you said. The whole slowly breaking away from each other because we become different people stuff got in my head and I couldn’t bear to slowly lose you, so I-”

“So you thought leaving me without a word was the right way to go? Y/N we could have worked it out, we would have figured out a solution.” Jaeyun stands up and walks over to you, “I didn’t mean to pressure you into moving, or applying for the same college, or fuck even making you doubt our chances at long distance.” His hand naturally caresses your cheek as you let a tear slip.

Shaking your head you look up at him, “I was stupid and I didn’t want you to worry about me, you already had so much going on between work and school. But look, you went to college and you grew up, look at what you have.” Your hands gesture upstairs to where Yeoreum sleeps peacefully unaware of what is transpiring in her parent’s kitchen.

“We could have had this Y/N. You could be the one I’m marrying if you just let me look after you like a boyfriend is supposed to if you trusted me enough.”

“I did trust you.”

“Not enough to tell me what was going on when I gave you that ring. Y/N-” He huffs out loudly and drags a hand through his hair. “That should have been your opening to talk to me about all this. I love you so much I would have made long-distance work.” His deep eyes are searching into yours. All these questions he has and you can’t answer or retaliate to any of them. “When I gave you that ring and made that promise to be yours forever I wasn’t fucking around okay? I meant it.” He lets out a dry laugh and takes your hands in his. “Baby, I love you.”

You stand too stunned to speak. Here Jaeyun was after all these years still hopelessly yours. An engaged Jaeyun was still in love with you. You want to let out a laugh of disbelief but you’re frozen. The room is silent except for the annoyingly loud hum of the refrigerator. 

Jaeyun notices how your eyes fall to his lips as he licks them wet, taking the opportunity to lean forward just enough that his breath hits yours. If your lips touch you no doubt know you won’t ever let him go. 

“Jaeyun…”

Footsteps are heard behind you both and you push Jaeyun away forcefully but despite the other presence making themselves known, his eyes never leave your tear-glassed ones. “Baby,” he whispers just loud enough for you to hear but you shake your head and barge past him, head down so the other person doesn’t see you. “Y/N?” Jaeyun calls out, reckless abandonment is telling him to chase after you but as he feels an arm stopping him to a halt he looks up and sees Heeseung. 

“Jake, don’t.”

________

Stirring in your sleep you groan as you hear a plethora of laughing coming from downstairs causing you to take the pillow from under you and suffocate your ears with it. After last night’s tragic events you just wanted to go home. Nothing would make you happier than to catch the first bus back to your flat and rewatch every episode of Fleabag to take your mind off of everything. Jaeyun was still in love with you and selfishly you hoped he hated you after what you did, that way your heart wouldn’t leap at every word he said. 

Baby, I love you

You shake the thought away and give in, sitting up and looking around the room. Eunseo is gone, probably downstairs being the reason for everyone’s laughter you think to yourself. With a huff, you pull the covers off your body and immediately feel the cold breeze causing you to shiver. You don’t know if it's a coincidence or not but as goosebumps rise on your legs and arms, Jaeyun’s laugh is heard over everyone else. You missed his laugh so much, your heart had a shot of pain pierce come on so suddenly. There was a glimmer of sun outside that made your necklace sparkle as you proceeded for the door.

It was as if your ears could only hear Jaeyun as you walked quietly down the stairs. “If it’s Yeoreum making him laugh I might kill myself.” you mutter, pulling your hair up in a pony. It’s dramatic but right now you can’t face to see them in love, it hurts. You’re hurting.

“Y/N! You’re awake!” Euneo stands up and scurries to the kitchen, grabbing a plate for you, “Mum just made breakfast.” 

“Hey! I helped.” Yeoreum faked offence which Eunseo simply rolled her eyes in response. She handed you the plate before you could tell her you weren’t hungry. “Sit down, Y/N, please.” Eunseo’s mum points to the empty chair at the comically large table, you suppose she does have a large family. 

Luckily for you, the seat was situated far enough away from Jaeyun that you could avoid him, unfortunately, you couldn’t avoid his eyes burning holes into the side of your face. You ignore him and scan the feast of food before you and you wonder if this is what it was like for Annie in Parent Trap when Chessy made a buffet of all her favourites. “Eat up, Y/N, there is plenty here.” Yeoreum and Eunseo’s mum says.

“Thanks, Mrs. Son.”  You pick up a few hash browns and start to eat one. That’s when you become aware of the enemy of all condiments, black pepper. It was a great tool in the kitchen, adding a little flavour and spice. Not for you though, the black powdered devil always makes your tongue itch. Who the fuck puts black pepper on hash browns? You think to yourself, face scrunching and teeth running along your tongue as you pour yourself a glass of water and take a huge swig. It does nothing at all so you go to excuse yourself to get a glass of juice or anything with taste but before you can there is a glass of apple juice placed beside you. Glancing up you see Jaeyun placing the cup with a knowing look on his face.

Of course, he knew. He knew everything about you and with the face you were pulling it was one he had seen too many times at restaurants.

“Why the fuck would they season their food with this, like, isn’t that what these are for?” You grabbed a pepper shaker and started waving it in his face. You had both gotten back from a day-turned-overnight trip to the beach and stopped off at a service station in the middle of nowhere, the diner was quaint with an American feel to it, undoubtedly your favourite kind.

“Princess I think your weird tongue is the only one that would complain.” Jaeyun laughed and swapped your eggs for his bacon. “There, now there is no pepper in sight.” He also passed over his apple juice with a bright smile.

“Take this.” His deep voice pulled you back to reality. Thanking him you take the cup and chug it quietly, but everyone's eyes are on you.

“You don’t like the food, Y/N?” Mrs. Son says not offended but certainly not pleased. Waving your hand quickly you swallow the liquid and explain, “No, it's lovely Mrs Son, me and pepper just don’t go well together.” 

Yeoreum looks at Jaeyun with furrowed brows but doesn’t question it. There is a massive part of him that knows he should have left you to deal with it yourself so as to not raise suspicion but his instincts kicked in. He takes Yeoreum’s hand and kisses the back of it tenderly. It stings your heart.

“So,” Mr Son claps his hands diverting the attention to him, “I thought since the whole wedding party is here we should get to know each other. We will be family once Saturday passes after all.” A groan comes softly from your right and you turn to see Heeseung with his eyes shut. 

“If he makes us play charades I’m passing my best man duties to literally anyone else.” He whispers to you which causes you to snort laugh and bite your mouth shut. You miss Heeseung’s smile as he watches you. He always did love you like a sister despite everything. He knew this situation wasn’t just hurting Jaeyun and after last night he was sure you were just as heartbroken as he was.

“We’re going to have a friendly game of football!”

“Dad, I can’t get bruised before my big day!” Yeoreum exclaims, her arms wrapped around her body to protect her from an imaginary ball flying at her. Jaeyun laughs and rubs her arms, “Reumie I don’t think your dad means you guys.” 

Heeseung’s hand lands on your shoulder as you watch the loving act. They did look good together you couldn’t lie about that. Their energy matched, they would make the most beautiful children to ever walk this earth, and even their sense of style was similar - casual but fashionable. 

“I was going to say 5 v 5, there are enough men here right?” Mr Son starts counting around the table as Heeseung slowly slides down the chair, his eyes hidden behind this hand as he pretends to rub his forehead. 

“I thought you liked football, Hee?” You whisper but he shakes his head violently. 

“Used to. I have since grown a great distaste for it, especially with Yeoreum’s cousins. They’re brutal and leave me bruised.” he mutters the last few words and you laugh leaning close.

“Aw is Hee scared of a little bruise.” He doesn’t appreciate your taunting yet he smiles and rolls his eyes. “You’re almost as good as Jaeyun, you can handle yourself I mean look.” You sneakily point to one of the cousins who is on his 3rd plate of food, “He’s going to be so full he can’t move, stick by him and you’ll look like Messi or something.”

Heeseung laughs out loud, “Oh! Heeseung I almost didn’t count you.” Mr Son claps, “That makes 10!”

Heeseung’s tongue pokes the side of his face as his rage-filled eyes look right into yours. You mouth a half-hearted ‘sorry’ and hold in a giggle. “I’ll kick the ball in your face.” He warns but you’re too busy chuckling to notice. 

Eunseo’s eyes meet yours with her eyebrows raised. Giving her a confused look you knit your eyebrows together to ask her what that look on her face is for but she simply smirks and looks at Heeseung. Fuck. You forgot that was her favour to you, to set you up with the dishy best man. Oh if only she knew. You and Heeseung were so out of this world impossible that you had to fight to hold in your laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” Heeseung whispers and his lips graze the shell of your ear. You quickly turn around and his face is incredibly close to yours. Eunseo must be loving this.

“Eunseo promised to set me up with the hot best man. That was my bribe to get me here.” A shallow laugh leaves his throat and he sits up, hands pointed to his chest.

“I am hot to be fair.” He jokingly smirks causing you to hit his chest playfully. “What? Do you not think so?” 

“I know so. It’s just how cocky you are about it all,” Heeseung’s lips part to say something but you stop him, “If you’re going to make a joke about your dick I don’t want to hear it, Hee.” he shuts his mouth instantly. You missed this just as much as you missed Jaeyun. The banter between you and your friends is what kept you from losing your mind most of your high school days, and right now it’s taking your mind off this ridiculous situation. 

“Eunseo tried it on with me once,” Heeseung says while eyeing her up and giving her a wave. 

“But she acted like she didn’t know you? When she brought you up it was as if she had never met you.” He scoffs as you recall the conversation in the cafe.

“I rejected her, she’s not my type. Plus, she wanted double dates all the time, and don’t get me wrong I love Jake and Yeoreum but they’re insufferable. Kinda like you and hi-” He halts himself mid-sentence and looks at you apologetically. “Sorry.” You wave it off and pretend it doesn’t hurt you to hear before he continues, “I probably shouldn’t say this but if it’s any consolation, he isn’t half as infatuated with her as he was you.” It does bring some solace but you try not to let it sit in your mind too long. 

“I’m not having a great time with it but at least he’s happy.” You mumble playing with your fingers and picking at the skin. Heeseung’s big hands encase your smaller ones as he squeezes them discreetly.

“You’ll always be his first love, just remember that. And who knows,” He leans back in his chair with that smug look on his face once again, “Your next love might be the hot best man.” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose you can’t help but laugh again. “Heeseung please shut up.”

While you and Heeseung were talking, none of you noticed Jaeyun staring purposefully as if his eyes could pry you two apart. He wasn’t jealous, no, he was just wishing he was with you both like old times, laughing with you as if no time had passed. Yeoreum strokes his arm lightly and looks up at him. “Jakey, you okay?” to which Jaeyun hums and turns to her, kissing her forehead lightly. “Never better, Reumie.” Lies but as his lips touch her head he remembers last night and how his lips felt like they had found their way home.

“Okay! Let’s go and get ready for a full day ahead. The game starts in an hour.” Mr Son’s voice bellowed throughout the dining area.

“Come on,” Heeseung takes your hand and leads you to the kitchen, “You’re eating something before you’re tormented by the whole aunt brigade.” Heeseung’s always been so sweet. Whoever ties him down is going to be the luckiest girl in the world.

__

The game had been on for 20 minutes and you can’t escape the daggers coming from Mrs. Sim across the table. Of course she’s mad, you hurt her precious baby boy, you completely understand but that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable. She liked you a lot before everything went down, always treating you like her own but now it’s like her heart turned cold towards you, a contrast to her husband who seems to actually tolerate you enough to be civil. Meeting the Sim family again was beyond awkward but you were thankful none of them let on to the others about you and Jaeyun’s history. 

“My Jakey is so good at football. He said he used to play in high school.” Yeoreum gushes, her hands clasped beside her cheeks as she watches her fiance on the garden lawn.

“Yeah, he was the captain in high school. Almost got a scholarship but he didn't want to do that professionally.” You say and sip at your white wine and lemonade top. 

“How do you know he was captain?” The question comes from Eunseo and you nearly choke on the sweet wine. Shit 

“Yes Y/N, how do you know?” Mrs. Sim quips and you want to die. You look over at the men on the field and panic trying to find any rhyme or reason you would know that information. Maybe I should put on a strip and join them, a ball to the face would be less painful. 

“Oh, um, me and Jae- Jake spoke about it at the party. Getting to know him and all that.” your words are rushed and your hand reaches for the bottle to pour more wine. Admittedly, this is probably the last thing you should be doing, getting drunk and not running your mouth was never something that came easily. The party of girls nod and accept your answer. You need to be more careful. You don’t dare look at Mrs Sim with the fear of being obliterated on the spot. 

“You got this, baby!” Yeoreum shouts loudly and gains the attention of Jaeyun, his smile bright as he waves, his eyes never leaving yours. You smile back and give him two thumbs up. He starts to wipe his face with the bottom of his t-shirt to gather the sweat. It gives you a peak of his lower abdomen and you feel like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. 

The mind is a powerful tool and also your greatest enemy at the moment as you recollect every time you kissed down his stomach, sometimes leaving hickeys to mark him as yours. You remember how his jaw would slack open the lower you got, the moans that would fall from his lips as your tongue trailed from his belly button to the top of his boxer waistband. When his dick was pressed against that very stomach you would trace your fingers touching everything but his cock. You swallow hard, thighs clenching together, you can’t think these thoughts but fuck it was so easy.

Jaeyun notices your face change and smirks, biting his lip and ogling at your thighs rubbing against each other just like you used to when you were turned on by him. His eyes dart to his fiances but she seems unbothered by his act. Heeseung comes up behind him and wraps an arm over his shoulder. “Dude this is rough-” he pauses and follows Jaeyun’s eyes, “What you looking at? Yeoreum? Y/N?” he whispers only your name and it makes Jaeyun sigh.

“Let’s just get back to the game yeah? Sooner we beat these old men the sooner I can have a beer.” Heeseung laughs and claps his best friend’s back.

While you're zoning out, your best friend speaks up. “Heeseung looks good, huh Y/N?” Eunseo giggles and nudges your shoulder with hers. “I thought I saw him flirting with you earlier.” You laugh and shake your head dismissively. 

“Nah he was just engaging in conversation.” Everyone is looking at you waiting for you to elaborate, “Oh, it was just usual chit-chat. Weather, work, small talk stuff.” 

Eunseo doesn’t buy your chatter, she’s convinced after seeing you both this morning that you two will be the next wedding she attends. “Y/N, he was all over you at the table!” Eunseo chimes and tries to recreate the scene for the other girls at the table, “He was all like touchy, and your faces were like here!” Her nose brushes yours to which you laugh it off and push her lightly, shaking your head.

“Well I think you should try to speak to him more, he seems interested.” Yeoreum says and you try not to laugh in her face.

Mrs Sim snorts and sets her wine glass down. “Yeoreum, honey, Y/N isn’t his type. He likes classy girls, loyal girls with a good sense of worth.” Ouch. It was probably deserved but shit did that prick your heart. Eunseo looks at you confused but you shrug and don’t pay attention to it.

“Heeseung isn’t my type either.” you mutter. Yeoreum leans her elbow on the table and places her face in her palm as she asks, “What is your type then, Y/N?”

Jaeyun.

“Eh, I like guys who are sweet, um, they laugh at stupid jokes,” You start to look at Jaeyun as you continue, “I like when guys are attentive and know things about you that you don’t even really know yourself because they listen to every little thing you say.”

The girls around the table are gawking at you, “Y/N? Have you ever been in love? You must have been!” One of the bridesmaids asks excitedly. You shrug your head to the side and laugh.

“Once upon a time but that was forever ago.” You slyly look at Mrs. Sim and it was astronomically the worst decision. Her face was overcome with disgust.

Ironically, it’s Yeoreum asking the question now, “Tell us about it. Wasn’t he the ‘one’”. How do you say to her that your love, the one you want to spend forever with, is hers? 

“I think he was but I was an idiot, too young to understand that we should have fought through our challenges rather than me running away from them.” The honesty in your voice is raw and you’re holding down the tears. One of the bridesmaids asks, “How do you know someone is the one?” 

“J-” You almost say his name but smoothly continue without anyone noticing, “You know because there is an easiness in loving someone you know you're going to spend your life with. It comes naturally like breathing. There’s no trying to impress, no hiding parts of you. You both love each other like it’s the only thing you know how to do right. Even if you're apart, when you eventually come back together you slide right back into where you left off. Your love is infinite." 

Yeoreum starts to cry "That’s like me and Jake." The crowd of girls hurry to her side and hug her as she sobs, encouragements from her party saying how they are ‘meant to be’ flood your ears. While they are distracted you wipe a tear, that’s when you feel a hand hold yours. Mrs Sim has a mournful look on her face, her thumb swiping over the back of your hand now seated next to you. Its unexpected but this is a step up from the hateful glares and you’re more than thankful.

Her eyes hold a love for you just like those years ago, maybe it took you explaining your feelings for her to truly understand how sorry you were about the whole situation, opening her up to forgive you even a little bit.

Yeoreum composes herself, fanning her face with her hands as everyone proceeds back to their seats, everyone except Mrs Sim who stays by your side, forcing Eunseo to move to the opposite end. “Thanks, girls. Ugh I just love him so much.” 

Don’t ask it. Don’t ask it. Your brain is screaming to ask her the question that you know would set you off, “How did you two meet?” The words fall from your lips before you can catch them with your teeth.

A smile spreads widely across her face as her whole body turns to you. This is the first time you have properly examined her features and you wish you didn’t. Easily she is one of the most beautiful girls to ever exist, her small face but big features making her look otherworldly, her body is naturally slender, her black hair is long and sleek straight, her bangs fit around her face perfectly, her eyes gleamed with life and love. She was truly perfection. “We met at Apollo! You know the college in Busan?” Her eyes twinkle and you become jealous because in the past 4 years, your eyes have become dull and empty, “He was walking to class in the East block and I just thought he was the hottest guy I had ever seen.” 

Mrs. Sim delicately squeezes your hand but doesn’t spare a glance. Despite her feelings for you, she knows this isn’t easy for you and she doesn’t envy you in this situation at all. “I just walked up to him and asked him out. He was so reluctant at first, saying he was still getting over his ex,” she smiles at the memory, “and let me tell you, after that night he probably didn’t think about her again.” Yeoreum smirked as the girls squealed.

“Yeoreum, as his mother I don’t need to hear this.” Mrs. Sim scoffs, her face slightly disgusted. The bride-to-be mouthed a quick sorry and continued, “We went totally casual for a while, but you know how things escalate, he was in love with me by like the third time I met him.”

You nodded at her as she continued to tell you about her romance with the love of your life and you feel your heart slide its way into the pit of your stomach. It's nauseating how he found a love and you couldn’t even face dating anyone. But you couldn’t be mad, of course not, because you did this.

“Y/N?” You look up to see Heeseung and Jaeyun, both of them with their eyes on you purposefully. Yeoreum grabs Jaeyun’s hands yet his eyes don’t leave your face. Heeseung’s voice continues, “Can I grab you for a minute? I got a-” he pauses to think of an excuse, “I need a second pair of hands to bring out more drinks, yeah?” His eyebrow raises at you to follow along to which you nod and stand up. Noticing Eunseo’s stares you shake your head and give her a small smile. 

Heeseung’s fingers interlock with yours as he leads you away into the house and suddenly you feel like you can breathe again. “Y/N you okay? You looked like you were gonna throw up.” You look up at him, his 6”0 frame towering over you. 

“I’m fine, just asking questions I know I shouldn’t.” You let out a half-hearted laugh and smile sheepishly at him, “It’s okay. How was the game?” Proceeding to the kitchen you open the fridge to pick up the jug of margarita Yeoreum and Eunseo had lovingly made with way too much spirit and minimal mixers. 

“I still hate you for getting me caught, but we beat them so,” He shrugs and reaches from behind you to grab a six-pack of Peroni, “Wasn’t as eventful as your time at the interrogation table. I saw them all grilling you.” You snicker and disagree.

“Nah, they were just asking about my life, the usual.” It wasn’t the full truth but it wasn’t a lie either. 

Heeseung moves from behind you and leans against the kitchen island, one foot propped up on the base of the counter, swinging the beers between his legs. “How was Mrs. Sim? That must have been hard, I could feel her ice-cold stare from the other end of the garden.” He opens up the packet of 6 and hands you one, “Open this for me?” You nod and take it from him, setting the jug down to pop open the lid with the edge of the unit before giving it back to him. 

“I thought I was going to die I can’t lie, but then she was okay, I think?” You question the interaction in your head, “She was nicer to me as the afternoon went on, but I think it was pity.” Heeseung brings the bottle to his lips and sips the cold beer and his eyebrows lifted.

“I don’t think It would be pity, you know she loved you more than Jake, at least that’s what he always thought." He pauses and takes a sip from his bottle before dramatically pulling it from his lips and pointing towards you, "Fuck, didn’t she have your wedding dress practically paid for?” 

This was news to you and Heeseung guessed as much by the look on your face, “You didn’t know? She always went about how she had a separate savings account for you and Jake’s wedding. I think she still has it.”

You look at him quizically, “Wait, why would she still have it? Surely she would have put it to this wedding.” You search for a glass to pour the margarita into and wait for Heeseung to respond.

“Nah, they didn’t pay a penny for this. They don’t want him to marry her.”

“WHAT?!” You exclaim and turn around bug-eyed and mouth open, “What do you mean? His dad was saying all that nice stuff at the toast, and his mum looked like she was bursting with pride when Yeoreum was talking about Jake.” 

There was a silence in the air as Heeseung stepped forward and grabbed your shoulders, “They like her, but babe she isn’t you. Mr. and Mrs. Sim know Jake doesn-, you know what I shouldn’t be saying anything.” You plead with him to continue, gripping his hands that are placed on you, “Hee, please, Jake doesn’t what?”  

Just as Heeseung is about to divulge very useful information, Eunseo walks in with her hands up, “Ignore me, love birds, just came to get the jug of fun,” she spots it behind you and points, “Can you grab me that please?” 

Stepping back, Heeseung grabs the jug and hands it to Eunseo, “We were just coming out anyway, right angel.” 

Oh, you were going to murder him. His face smug and Eunseo’s mouth breaking into a large smile, you grab your glass and head out with them, Heeseung’s hands on your hips and lips to your ear, “Let me give her what she wants.” You turn around, eyes scolding him.

“Don’t even think about it, and don’t think I’ll let our little conversation go either.” As you walk and warn Heeseung, you’re already outside, a pair of usually wide, bright eyes, now thin as they watch you and his best friend joke around.

Jaeyun is seething.