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headkiss · 5 months ago

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fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

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Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you think!! it helps more than you know <3

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rafedarling · 3 months ago

Note

omg could write abt when readers pregnant with rustyn, just everyone fawning over her baby bump and drew being the sweetest 😭😭

𝐱𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐦𝐩

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: seven months pregnant with your son rustyn, you and drew spend christmas night with the starkey family. everyone is excited about your baby bump, showering you with attention and love. drew is the sweetest, constantly fawning over you and your pregnancy, proud and protective as he talks about your journey.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, pregnancy, family bonding, holiday themes, mentions of food, and a whole lot of love, drew’s parents does not divorce in this scenario.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @tracymbcm @enjoymyloves @akobx @rubixgsworld @xoxohoneymoongirl @mileyraes @maybankslover @noobmazter69 @littlelamy @wearemadeofstardust0 @xoxosblogsblog @saviorcomplexrry @bisexualcvnt @stuffyownswrld @anamiad00msday @httpsdrewstarkey

The cold December air nips at your skin as you and Drew walk up the driveway of the Starkey family home. It’s Christmas night, and the house is covered in a warm glow from the twinkling lights that outline the roof. You can’t help but smile as you take in the holiday cheer. There’s something special about Christmas this year—maybe it’s because of how close you are to meeting your baby, or maybe it’s just the warmth of family that makes everything feel a little more magical.

Your hand instinctively goes to your belly, where your son, Rustyn, is nestled safe and sound. At seven months pregnant, you’re definitely feeling the weight of the third trimester, but every little kick and flutter from Rustyn makes the heaviness worth it. Drew, ever attentive, is right by your side, one arm protectively wrapped around your waist as he guides you up the walkway.

“You doing okay?” Drew asks, his voice soft as he glances down at you with those familiar, caring eyes. He’s been extra cautious lately, always checking in, always making sure you’re comfortable.

“I’m good,” you reassure him with a smile, though you can’t help but feel your heart swell at how sweet he’s been throughout the entire pregnancy. “Excited to see your family.”

Drew grins, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before opening the front door. The warmth of the Starkey home envelops you immediately, and the sounds of laughter and conversation spill out from the living room. Inside, the house is a vision of Christmas cheer—decorated to the nines with twinkling lights, garlands, and the smell of freshly baked gingerbread cookies wafting from the kitchen.

As soon as you step inside, you’re greeted by Jodi, Drew’s mom, whose face lights up the moment she sees you.

“Oh my goodness, you’re glowing!” she exclaims, rushing over to wrap you in a gentle hug, mindful of your pregnant belly. Her hands, warm and soft, come to rest on your bump, and her smile widens even more. “Look at that belly! Rustyn’s going to be here so soon, I can’t believe it.”

You laugh softly, patting her hand affectionately. “Only two more months and few days to go.”

Jodi practically beams, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You’re carrying so beautifully. I bet you can’t wait to meet him.”

You nod, feeling the familiar flutter of Rustyn’s movements as if he knows everyone is talking about him. “We’re both really excited,” you say, glancing over at Drew, who is standing proudly beside you, his hand instinctively resting on the small of your back.

“I can’t wait either,” Drew says, his voice full of warmth as he looks at you, his eyes softening with every word. “It feels like we’ve been waiting forever.”

Jodi chuckles, giving him a knowing look. “The wait is always the hardest part. But it’s worth it, trust me.”

As if on cue, Drew’s sister appears, Brooke, her eyes going wide as she spots your belly. “Oh my God, look at you!” she gushes, hurrying over to join her mom. “Can I feel him kick?”

“Of course,” you say with a smile, gently guiding her hand to the side of your belly where Rustyn has been particularly active tonight.

She grins in awe, her face lighting up when she feels a firm little nudge. “Oh! He kicked! That’s amazing!” she squeals, clapping her hands together in delight.

“Strong little guy, huh?” Drew says, his chest puffing up with pride. You can’t help but smile at the way he’s been throughout the pregnancy, always so proud of every little movement, every milestone.

You laugh softly, resting a hand on your belly as Rustyn shifts again. “He’s definitely active.”

Drew’s dad joins the group, his usually serious face softening as he takes in the sight of you and your growing belly. “You look wonderful,” he says, giving Drew a firm pat on the back. “You’re gonna be a great dad, son. Your mom and I are so proud of you.”

Drew’s expression brightens even more, and you feel his hand squeeze your waist affectionately. “Thanks, Dad. We’re both really excited for this next step.”

The evening progresses, you’re ushered into the living room, where the Starkey family gathers around the Christmas tree. The house is filled with the sounds of holiday music, laughter, and the crackling of the fireplace. The room is warm, both in temperature and in the way the Starkey family makes you feel—completely at home.

You find yourself settled into a plush armchair, a pillow tucked behind your back for extra support. Drew, ever attentive, hovers near you, making sure you’re comfortable before he sits down beside you. His hand, as always, finds its way to your belly, resting there as if it’s second nature by now.

“You sure you don’t need anything? Water? Another blanket? Pillow?” Drew asks, his voice full of concern as he rubs gentle circles on your belly.

“I’m good,” you reassure him, leaning into his touch. “I’m just happy to be here.”

Drew smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I’m happy you’re here too. Rustyn and I are both lucky.”

The two of you sit quietly for a moment, watching as the rest of the family chatters and jokes around the room. Every now and then, someone will come by to check on you or ask how you’re feeling. It’s clear that Drew’s family is just as excited about the baby as the two of you are.

At one point, McKayla plops down on the couch next to you, her eyes bright with curiosity. “So, have you guys decided on the nursery theme yet?”

You smile, thinking about the nursery you and Drew have been working on together. “We’re thinking of a woodland theme,” you say. “Something soft and cozy, with lots of little animals.”

“That’s perfect,” she says with a grin. “I’ll have to come over and help you decorate.”

“You’re welcome anytime,” Drew says, smiling as he leans back in his chair, his hand still resting on your belly. “We’ve got most of the basics done, but we could use some help with the finishing touches.”

“Absolutely,” she says excitedly. “I’m so ready to be an aunt.”

After a while, dinner is announced, and Drew helps you up from your chair, always making sure you’re steady on your feet. You appreciate how attentive he’s been—he never lets you lift a finger if he can help it, and he’s always right there to offer you support when you need it.

The dining room is a sight to behold. The long table is set with elegant Christmas decorations with candles, holly, and sparkling ornaments lining the center—and the smell of roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, and fresh bread fills the air. Plates of food are spread out across the table, and everyone takes their seats with excited chatter.

As soon as you sit down, Drew’s mom is at your side, serving you a generous portion of all your favorite dishes. “You need to eat, sweetheart,” she says kindly, her eyes full of warmth. “You’re eating for two now.”

You chuckle softly, feeling grateful for the way she’s been so attentive all evening. “Thank you,” you say, feeling Rustyn shift again as if he knows you’re about to eat.

Drew sits down beside you, immediately reaching for your hand under the table. “Make sure you don’t overstuff yourself,” he murmurs, his voice gentle as he gives your hand a squeeze. “I don’t want you feeling sick later.”

“I’ll be fine,” you assure him with a smile, appreciating how much he cares. “I know my limits.”

The dinner conversation flows naturally, with Drew’s family sharing stories and laughter as they pass around plates of food. You find yourself at the center of much of the discussion, with everyone asking questions about the pregnancy, how you’re feeling, and what you and Drew are most excited about once Rustyn arrives.

Drew is quick to jump in anytime someone mentions the pregnancy, his face lighting up with pride as he talks about you and how incredible he thinks you’ve been. “She’s been amazing,” he says at one point, his voice full of admiration. “I don’t know how she does it, but she’s handling everything so well. I’m in awe of her every day.”

You blush at his words, feeling the love and warmth radiating from him. It’s moments like these that remind you just how lucky you are to have him by your side.

As the meal winds down, the conversation turns to the future—what next Christmas will be like with a baby in the house, how excited everyone is to meet Rustyn, and all the little things Drew and his family are looking forward to once he arrives.

“Just think,” Jodi says with a smile. “Next year, we’ll have a little one crawling around under the tree. It’s going to be magical.”

“I can’t wait,” Drew says, his hand still firmly holding yours. “It’s going to be the best Christmas ever.”

After dinner, you and Drew retreat back to the living room, where the fire is still crackling softly and the Christmas lights twinkle in the dim light. You’re settled back into your comfortable armchair, and Drew is right beside you wih his hand rests on your belly, gently rubbing soothing circles as the two of you sit in peaceful silence.

You sip on a cup of hot cocoa, savoring the warmth of it as you lean back into the chair, feeling Rustyn move inside you. It’s moments like these, surrounded by love and warmth, that make you realize just how special this Christmas is. It’s your last Christmas before Rustyn arrives, and while you’re excited for all the Christmases to come, there’s something undeniably magical about this one.

Drew looks at you, his blue eyes soft in the firelight. “You good?” he asks, his voice gentle as he watches you with concern. “You need anything?”

You smile at him, feeling your heart swell with love. “I’m perfect,” you say softly. “This has been the best night.”

Drew’s face brightens, and he shifts slightly so he’s facing you fully. “I’m glad,” he says, his hand still resting on your belly. “I just want you to be happy and comfortable. You and Rustyn.”

“We are,” you assure him, reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair. “We couldn’t be happier.”

Drew leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he takes in the moment. “I can’t believe he’s almost here,” he whispers, his voice full of awe. “Two more months, and we’ll be holding him in our arms.”

You nod, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. “I know. It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?”

Drew smiles, his eyes full of love as he looks up at you. “It’s going to be perfect. You’re going to be the best mom.”

“And you’re going to be the best dad,” you say softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Rustyn is so lucky to have you.”

Drew’s face softens even more, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your belly. “Hey, little guy,” he murmurs, his voice so full of love it makes your heart ache. “We’re all here waiting for you. But take your time, okay? We’ll be ready whenever you are.”

Rustyn gives a little kick in response, and Drew grins, his eyes lighting up. “Did you feel that?”

“I did,” you say with a laugh, resting your hand on your belly. “I think he heard you.”

Drew laughs softly, leaning his head against your belly again. “He knows his daddy’s voice.”

The rest of the evening passes in a peaceful blur of laughter, warmth, and holiday magic. As the night winds down and the rest of the family heads off to bed, you and Drew find yourselves alone in front of the Christmas tree, the house quiet and still.

Drew pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you sit in the soft glow of the Christmas lights. “Next Christmas, we’ll have a little one with us,” he says softly, his voice full of wonder. “Can you believe it?”

You smile, resting your head on his shoulder as you feel Rustyn shift inside you. “It’s kind of perfect, isn’t it?”

“More than perfect,” Drew whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “You’ve given me everything I could ever want.”

Your heart swells at his words, and as you sit there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you realize just how much love you have in your life—and how much more love is on the way with Rustyn’s arrival.

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #drew starkey imagine #rafe cameron imagines #drew starkey imagines #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #drew starkey x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey series #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fanfic #drew x reader #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut

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ceesimz · 6 days ago

Text

Lavender

A date that unfortunately doesn't go as planned. (autistic!reader - angst -> fluff)

Reverie series here as always! A verrrry real experience depicted in this one, with some amazing help from @pickledwoso that i am very grateful for, thank youuu <3

“Engel, are you ready to leave?” Alexia sang as she headed out of the bedroom towards where you were at the door rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, waiting for her.

“Yes, you fool, I've been ready for the past half hour.” You rolled your eyes at her teasingly, laughing when she lightly pawed at your side where she knew you were ticklish. “Come on! You're taking all day.”

“Ay, it is our day-off, I can take my time for once. No rushing, just calm, and me and you.” She gave an alluring smile, sliding her hand down your arm until she intertwined your fingers, then leaned forwards to kiss your forehead. “Are you excited?”

“Very. I love when we do this.” You told her with a squeeze of her hand. The girl grinned, her eyes brimming with excitement and complete happiness seeping from her pores, like the prospect of visiting a farmer's market with her girlfriend was as exciting as a third Ballon d’Or.

“Me too.” She gently knocked your chin up and pecked your lips before brushing back a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now, are we ready, mi vida?”

“For the love of god, yes!”

Any time the club issued some days-off, one of the things highest on the list for yourself and Alexia was visiting the local farmer’s market. You’d buy the best of the best fresh organic products and cook together a dish of food that, combined with the quality time you'd spend with each other, would make for a night-in together that was so much better than going out somewhere.

These days had become somewhat of a tradition, and with it being the penultimate day of the short summer break after the tournament Alexia had gone to, it was absolute perfection. The last day had no plans apart from relaxing and spending time together before the season started again. You couldn't think of a better way to spend the last bit of time off than a date to a familiar, easy place with Alexia that was sure to give way for a fun afternoon and evening.

With it being the height of summer, Barcelona was especially warm, which was perhaps the first warning sign of the day.

“Ale, you really need to get your car in the garage, your AC sucks.” You groaned, the vents on full blast yet hardly doing a thing to cool you down against the 35 degree air outside. Your window was open and your head rested against the door dramatically, Alexia couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight even if she did feel a little bad about it.

“It’s got a service next week, they will fix it then. Sorry.” She winced, hardly breaking a sweat in the weather she was more than acclimated to whilst you seemed to be struggling before the pair of you had even left the car.

You shrugged her off because it's not exactly her fault her car's AC has been faulty since the spring, and focused all your attention on the life-saving breeze hitting your face as Alexia maneuvered through some tame midday traffic. Hot weather wasn't one of your favourite things in the world, as a matter of fact much more comfortable in minus degree weather with tiny icicles on your eyelashes, but a year into living under the blaze of the Barna sun you had no choice but to put up with it.

Though, your patience with the heat wore off quick. And in its wake, a simmering feeling of restlessness, which should have been yet another warning sign. But you were too deep in your determination for this to be a good day for anything to write you off.

The market was only a short drive away, the two of you having opted out of walking because, well, duh, the weather, and just as the sweat that found its place on your nose no more than five minutes after stepping out of your ice cold shower finally began to evaporate, it came crawling right back the second you got out of the car. Alexia was starting to feel uneasy about the day's plans, and, really, so were you, but you were set on pushing through the constrictive feeling that had settled in your bones when the first bit of heat came your way after leaving your flat. There wouldn't be much time in the coming weeks for a day like this with your girlfriend, you weren't about to wreck it for the both of you.

From where the car was parked to the entrance of the market, you walked in silence, hand in hand across slightly worn stone tiles until the rusted old gates of the park stood before you. Over the threshold of the entrance, paved tiles turning to cobble, you knew the chaos the market had in store for you. You didn’t know if you could handle it. The writing on the wall was in the prickly sensation in your skin that was all too familiar, as was the way every nerve in your body screamed in discomfort, almost like your soul was desperately trying to find a way out of your body.

You ignored it, and headed towards the stalls before Alexia could ask how you were.

This place was familiar; you knew the ins and outs of each stall, you knew where to go, you knew how long it took to get around. It shouldn’t be too hard, right?

You loved this place, of course it’d be fine. It beamed with energy, with good vibes, with good people. With its colourful displays of the finest fruit and vegetables, it was more than just a market; it was the heartbeat of the surrounding neigbourhoods.

All kinds of scents and aromas swirled around each corner, weaving themselves into the fabrics of people’s clothes and lingering long after they’d left. They were intoxicatingly good, and it was evident in the looks of wonder on everybody’s face, old or young, experienced shopper or recent newcomer. Vendors positioned at every stall or tattered wagon called out their offerings in a chaotic yet melodic mix of Spanish and Catalan, grabbing the nearest fruit or veg to wave around like an auctioneer with a hammer, the only use for it being to wave off the flies dancing tauntingly around their goods.

Locals haggled over prices with the farmers they’d come to know just as well as their own family; their loud and boisterous back-and-forth banter may have sounded like arguing to unknowing tourists, but to everyone else it was understood as just some good-humoured ribbing that they all delighted in. It was more of a shuffle than a walk throughout the place thanks to the tourists that seemed to stop in the middle of the aisles every second, clearly oblivious to the well-practiced dance of the locals. Elderly ladies pulled their clueless esposos around with one arm whilst they carried their wicker basket in the other, the woven willow groaning under the weight of the countless ingredients to be used in that night’s meal.

For a moment, as you paused off to the side whilst Alexia caught up with one of the stall owners, a fisherman with his catches of the week proudly on display, which you knew your girlfriend would end the conversation by buying enough fish meat to feed the five thousand, you took a moment to breathe. Everybody seemed relieved of their life’s burdens here, gathered closely in one space that was steeped in the essence of the world’s simplest pleasures; flavour, tradition, and community. Only, the smile that was usually imprinted on your face whenever you came was no more than a distant memory.

Despite the fairly shadowed area, considering the park was fenced in by sporadic trees that skimmed the roofs of buildings that showed off the city’s beautiful architecture, it was still insufferably hot. It radiated off of the ground, rebounded off the buildings around, and the flurry of structures meant there was no wind breaking through to give a cool Mediterranean breeze like you had before.

Alexia seemed none the wiser, enraptured by the surroundings like it was her first time there, her head on a swivel and marveling at the mouth-wateringly exceptional variety of things to choose from. You hadn’t really been taking it in, your eyes stuck to the back of her head as you followed her through, waiting on shaking legs whenever she laughed and joked with each worker she bought from.

This labyrinth of every cook’s dream was well and truly alive, but you weren’t. You couldn’t absorb the intense feeling of belonging and sonder you got whenever you came here. It was too much. The thought ate away at you, as with every fly that landed on your skin or every person that brushed against you, you became more and more on edge.

All the different smells, the different sounds, the crowd of people, they didn’t spark those usual feelings of contentment and peace that transpired for you normally. Instead, they felt oppressive, like they were attacking your senses.

The concoction of aromas forced themselves inside your nose and overloaded you completely, the squeamish smell of fish and the fiery linger of hundreds of kinds of herbs and spices bringing on a pounding headache. Every squeak of a wicker basket as the willow was put under more pressure could have been a gunshot for all you knew, the way it echoed around the tunnels of your ears. Anytime someone briefly put a hand on you as they moved past had you flinching, hating the unexpected contact as it was the last thing you needed in such a situation.

You didn’t find any comfort whatsoever in how Alexia’s hand never left yours for more than a minute, when normally it was something that grounded you. Her usually funny comments and little facts and point-outs of detail about her ‘second home’ (the name she had given it as she’d been coming here since she was young) didn’t make you feel any brighter, in fact you were pretty sure you missed most of them.

And as every minute passed, it appeared to get busier and busier, until it started to feel like you were in some kind of mosh pit, people bouncing off of you with every turn only for the next one to come along no more than a second later. You couldn’t hear a word Alexia was speaking, the once calming mix of languages turned into a booming echo of voices that were so close they seemed to be knocking on the bone of your skull, yet too distant for you to make out what anyone was saying, making it all so. much. worse.

Every voice, every footstep, every hearty laughter and every scrape of wood along the floor grated against your ears, all noises around amplified to immeasurable heights. The space was far too loud and far too crowded – each sensation you felt blurred into the next until it became impossible to separate from one another. But you did feel how each individual muscle tensed, from your legs to your shoulders, as Alexia continued to pull you through the market.

You were hyperaware of everything around you and it soon became unbearable. But Alexia was happy, she chatted away like nothing was happening, comfortable and content as her canvas bag brimmed with stuff you didn’t even realise she had bought. You soldiered on, or at least tried to.

Until, your breathing began to quicken, your lungs unable to take in any of the stuffy air you walked through, your chest tightening in a way that only caused you to panic impossibly more. Each piece of fabric from your clothes grazed against your skin like a hundred scratches in a single second, your shirt and shorts beginning to feel like they were getting tighter with each step you took. And when the claustrophobia, the feeling like there was no escape at all, began to really set in, the day was over.

Your resolve had completely eroded. You tried to focus on grounding yourself — reminding yourself this was a safe space, but that was an empty claim to make to your shredded composure. You tried convincing your mind that Alexia’s hand in yours was comforting, when it only felt constrictive, her hand wholly enveloping yours like a snake, leaving no room to breathe. You clenched and unclenched your fist in time with your breaths, but you couldn't even inhale for a second before your mind went into overdrive. All the tools you relied on before were inadequate in that moment. The rational part of your brain slipped away, instead replaced by an instinctive need to escape.

Surges of anger, panic, anxiety, fear, they all rose uncontrollably at once. Your jaw clenched, your free hand curled into a tight fist, and your vision turned hazy as your world dissolved into one indistinct blur.

The snapping point came abruptly. Perhaps it was a shrill laugh nearby, the clatter of a crate being dropped, or an impatient shove from someone trying to pass by. It was the smallest thing, but it tipped the scale far out of anybody’s control. You were alone in that moment. Trapped completely in your mind.

You missed how Alexia called your name over and over, how her hand nudged yours to desperately try to grasp your attention. It was only when her hands grabbed both your forearms that you were brought back down, but only for half a millisecond, before it all went south.

“What?!” You snapped at her, jumping back out of her touch.

As a result, there were about thirty pairs of eyes on you. Everybody around paused, your sharp shout cutting through the buzz of the market, and it went so quiet that every flutter of a fly’s wing and every creek of wood could be heard.

You took another step back when Alexia came towards you, a worrisome look on her face with her hands out in front of her like she was trying to not spook an untrusting animal in front of her. She rushed out some words of reassurance that fell into the background with all the other noises around that had picked up again, the market-goers losing interest in a seemingly harmless situation. They didn’t register within you, nor did her intentions. Your mind was far too good at playing tricks on you, convincing you of things that were far from the truth but in the moment felt like gospel.

There was no way out of where you were, both in the physical and the mental sense, and that was the main factor in the eruption that had just happened. With so many emotions coursing through you, there was an intense itch to find a release from them all. So before you realised, your arms crossed over your chest, hands on your upper arms just above your elbow, and you began to roughly palm, rub, grab at the skin there, needing a distraction from the volume of your mind and the world, whilst also desperately trying to get the movement to act as a release of the crushing press of the feelings inside of you.

If you were alone at that time, god only knows what would have happened. Fortunately you weren’t.

The next time Alexia touched you was the featherlight weight of her hand on your lower back, the minor contact enough to lead you through the winding paths of the market. Your legs ran on autopilot, but you stumbled with every few steps, eyes too blurry to see the bumps and dips in the cobbles underneath your feet. There were probably tears down your face, though you’d reached such a broken point that your body was just… numb. You weren’t in control of anything anymore, hadn’t been for a while, but this was a new extremity. You weren’t even present in your own mind. Just an innocent, unknowing passenger in the car crash that had come out of nowhere.

Somehow, with her own hands trembling from concern, Alexia managed to lead you out of the chaos of the market to those same rusted, paint-chipped gates from earlier— the entrance of the park area. She was lost on what to do or say, but rationally she knew the only thing that would work for you right now was getting you home.

“I will drive us back to your flat, back home, okay?”

You gave her no indication that you heard her, which she was expecting, though you had heard the one word you were in dire need of and it was the first thing so far that managed to break through into your overwhelmed mind. Your hands were still moving roughly against the skin of your arms, sure to leave marks afterwards, but Alexia knew if she attempted to stop you, it’d only make matters worse. She had to get you home. Seeing you like this was breaking her.

It took a concerningly small amount of effort to guide you to the car; you were pliant and mindless, the exhaustion having fully taken over the minute you left the crowded space. She opened the door for you, helped you into the seat, and put the belt on. You leaned your head back against the seat rest and stared straight ahead. Whether it’d help or not, Alexia wasn’t sure. But she had to do one thing, more for the sake of her sanity than yours. With a quiet call of your name, she gently put a hand under your chin and turned you so you faced her.

“I’ll take you home and look after you. You will be okay.” She whispered, tentatively brushing away some of the tears still on your cheeks with her thumb. Her words were a sentiment for her as much as they were for you. “You’ll be okay soon.”

—

Next thing you knew, you were in your bed, lay on your side with your weighted blanket over you and Alexia nowhere to be seen.

It was definitely the calm after the storm. The room was mostly dark apart from the light that bled through the curtains which were closed, you could hear the quiet whir of the AC as well as the dull hum of traffic on the street below, but that was about it. It was a stark contrast to how things were before.

You don’t exactly remember getting home after what happened after the market, but what you did know was that though Alexia wasn’t in the room, she had been at some point, because you felt her love in the way she made sure everything was properly set up for you. The AC hadn’t been on before you left earlier and it only could have come back on by someone turning it on. The curtains were open that morning, whereas now they were drawn. And last time you checked, your blanket was still in the dryer, waiting to be taken out when you got back.

Everything you felt earlier still echoed faintly inside your head and chest, but the weighted blanket over you helped to anchor you back to your life again, rather than the chaos you were drowning in not so long ago. Your mind was convoluted, thoughts jumbled, and you flitted from one shattered fragment of insecurity to the other. You were simply too exhausted to hold onto any of them, emotionally and mentally drained. Though, you still tried to identify what you were feeling— was it anger? Shame? Embarrassment? You couldn’t put a finger on it.

Your hands still shook, your chest still shuddered with every breath. Your clothes still felt scratchy and overbearing, just less so now that you lay in the aftermath of it all. Instead of focusing on that, you drifted your attention to the feeling of the blanket on you; you focused on its texture, its softness, the heaviness of it and how it draped over you and helped to extinguish the flame that was overstimulation and overwhelm. These small but familiar details offered a tiny foothold in the mirror maze of your mind that you were still trying to escape from, only for the ruined reflection of you at the market to be shown back to you.

The longer you spent in that position, a deep, bone-level weariness quietly consumed you, like every aspect of you right down to your soul had been drained. But even still, your mind continued its hyperactive ways, replaying the day’s events over and over like a faulty film reel. The memory of it isn’t the slightest bit cohesive, it was just flashes of moments— the suffocating press of people from every direction, clamour of voices, the overloading mixture of scents. You alternated between frustration and exasperation, wanting to desperately forget what happened whilst not being able to move on from the embarrassment of it.

However, the strain of it slowly began to dissipate with each minute you spent back at home in bed, a safe space where there were no expectations, where time was temporarily unimportant, and where there were no watchful eyes or scathing glares at the disruption you’d caused. And eventually, you felt like you had gained back control of your mind again. It was quieter then; the world felt muted, less aggressive, though you could feel that you were still wary of your surroundings because of how everything ambushed you earlier.

You weren’t fully recovered, you still felt heavy and your body ached due to the tension in your muscles and joints when it all came falling down, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed but the sun sat a little lower on the horizon when you finally felt able to get out of bed. The desire for time alone had gone, you needed something else then, and at this point of the relationship you felt comfortable enough to seek exactly what you needed without giving it a second thought.

The door to your room creaked like it always did when you opened it, your apartment mostly silent save for the occasional huff from the kitchen as the person you were looking for busied herself with any chore she could think of as she waited patiently for you.

You didn’t quite know what to say, but one of the best things about your relationship was that often in times like this, words weren’t a necessity. So you bypassed her and headed straight for the sofa, sitting in the corner and curling your feet underneath you, almost like you were making yourself as small as possible. And, just as you expected, not a minute went by before the blonde headed over, trying to disguise the worry she felt by giving a tight-lipped smile that was more on the amusing side than the reassuring one.

When she sat down, however, she left a gap between you both and perched only on the edge, which wasn’t what you wanted. One shared glance later and Alexia was smiling properly this time, shuffling to sit back against the cushions and beckoning you over with a small wave of her hand. With a sheepish but slightly triumphant look on your face, you moved along the couch and chose to sit sideways on her lap, one of her arms immediately wrapping around your waist as the hand of the other landed just above your knee. She pulled you close to her, and you settled into her with a relieved sigh, indescribably glad to have the final piece of the puzzle to self-regulation in your possession.

For some time, the pair of you didn’t speak, only relishing in the comfort you both needed after the day that had been had. At some point, Alexia noticed the redness to your skin from earlier and subconsciously brought a hand up to one of your arms, her thumb gently tracing over them with a frown on her face. She felt compelled to speak then.

“Please, engel, don’t put yourself through uncomfortable situations just to make me happy. If you asked me to, I would have taken you home earlier in a heartbeat.” The midfielder said carefully, panicking a little when she heard you sigh before calming when you buried your face in her neck.

“I didn’t really know it was going to be uncomfortable until it was already happening.” You told her in a mumbled, downbeat tone that made her hug you tighter against her. She contemplated her next words, wondering whether it was wise to voice them or not, before deciding that you’d hate it if you found out she’d kept her feelings from you.

“I’ve never seen you like that before.” Her fear and sadness was evident when she spoke, matching the frown still on her face and the furrow to her brow. You pressed your lips to the skin of her jaw in a somewhat apologetic gesture, which made her feel a little bad. “We’re both okay though, mi amor. I love you and we’re okay. I’m not mad or anything, this isn’t your fault. I don’t want you to feel guilty. It’s over now, it’s in the past, and we’re here together now.”

It might have been a minor reminder, but it relieved a lot of the remaining anxieties and insecurities you had. Even though she made sure you knew she never judged you for anything, you were only human, and sometimes the devil on your shoulder got the best of you. So, to hear her say she knew it wasn’t your fault and that she wasn’t angry, it was… very needed.

The mix of physical touch and words of affirmation never failed to work wonders for you. The period of time after an event like earlier was a delicate time to say the least, where your mind and your self-esteem was easily swayed by whatever reaction waited for you afterwards. Having Alexia be so welcoming, non-judgemental, caring and adoring even after what she’d witnessed made a world of a difference.

“Better day tomorrow?” You said shyly after moving back to look at her. She shook her head at first, which greatly confused you, before she smiled brightly, softly, reassuringly, and leaned forwards to kiss your temple.

“Better evening tonight after a bad day. And then a very good day tomorrow.” Her words were a little skewed, probably lost in translation, but you understand what she was getting at and it warmed your heart all the same.

It was important to you then, that you voiced your thoughts from just a moment ago. She had to know how important she was to you.

“Thank you, Ale. For everything.” You started, laughing quietly at the puzzled expression on her face. “You always know what to do, what to say. You always make me feel better after a day like this and I don’t know how you do it but… you changed my life.”

Her reaction was the sweetest. Her cheeks blushed red and she turned away for a moment with a tiny disbelieving shake of her head.

“I don’t know about that, cariño.” She murmured, but you weren’t having it. You put a hand on her cheek and turned her face back to you, ensuring she met your gaze before you spoke again.

“You did. I really mean it. I think about it a lot, how you’ve changed me, how I see myself because of you and how you treat me.” You paused for a moment, smiling up at her as her eyes silently urged you to continue. “I… value myself more because of how you value me. I don’t tell you enough how grateful I am for you and what you really mean to me. You’re the greatest person I have ever met.”

The normally sure and confident captain was rendered speechless in that moment, completely caught off guard and lost for words. How she could ever match the gravity and beauty of your words, she didn’t know. But they meant so much more to her than she knew she could ever express.

Ale ducked her head down for a moment as she really took in your words, before she lifted it back up again a moment later, with tears in her eyes.

If only you knew how much you meant to her too.

“You’re my favourite person in the world, you know that?” She said with a pointed look and a raised eyebrow, almost accusing you of foolishly being uncertain about the fact that she stated so definitively. You knew she only did that to deflect the softness of her words a little. So, you just smiled, and tucked your head back into her neck and closed your eyes, completely at peace. “My favourite person in the whole world. You changed my life too.”

—

i really really tried my best to encapsulate the autistic experience of being overstimulated and overwhelmed in such a place here but i have no idea how well it comes across to a large audience. but for me and probably others, this is the reality, no matter how much you can plan and prepare and be excited for something, it can spiral out of your control so quickly and it's definitely a downer when it happens. hope this is somewhat understandable, im gonna go hibernate out of fear now, thank you v much for reading :)

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso community #woso fic

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loveesiren · 1 month ago

Text

Baby Daddy (Pt. 2)

Rafe Cameron x Reader

A/n: Here's part two! Let me know if you guys want more to this story :)

Warnings: Birth, emergency c-section, language, fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+

You leaned your head on Rafe's shoulder, his hand rubbing your swollen belly as you were handed yet another gift.

You were grateful for this baby shower that Rose had put together but you couldn't help the fact that you were absolutely exhausted.

You were in no way prepared for how much pregnancy took a toll on your body. Especially in the third trimester.

You held the tiny pink blanket up. The soft fabric was lined with silk and it was absolutely adorable.

"And when you finally tell us her name, we'll get it stitched on there. Along with her birthday." Sarah said with a smile as her and John B watched you examine their gift.

"It's perfect," You say. "And her name will be revealed once she's born." You chuckle.

"I can't believe you're making us wait," John B whines, rolling his eyes.

"She's gonna be here any day now," Rafe smiled, looking down at you. "And this has been great but Y/N really needs to get some rest."

"But there is still more presents!" Rose whines.

"And she will open them later," Rafe scolds. "She's exhausted."

You were practically falling asleep in Rafe's arms.

"Alright, fine," Rose says as she stands up. "For anyone who would like to continue celebrating, join me in the back yard!"

John B and Sarah stay behind, cleaning up the mess of wrapping paper that littered the living room.

"I'm going to take her up to bed," Rafe said as he stood up and pulled you off the couch.

"Rafe, no, too fat." You grumbled as you felt him try to lift you. "I can do it."

"Baby-"

"I can do it!"

John B and Sarah laugh as you fall back on the couch, obviously too tired to move.

Rafe sighs before bending over and scooping you into his arms.

"Rafe, no-"

"Shhhh," He says, picking you up effortlessly. "Uhm, do you guys need me to-"

"Go," Sarah says with a smile. "We got it."

Rafe offers a small smile before carrying you upstairs to the room the two of you shared. Rose had turned the guest room next to Rafe's room into a nursery. The two rooms sat in a part of the house that was mostly cut off from the rest. It was the perfect little corner for the two of you and your baby while you saved up for your own place.

Rafe laid you down on the bed and pulled the covers over the two of you as he crawled in next to you and cradled your belly. "Get some rest, Mama." He said, placing a kiss on your temple.

"Rafe..." You whispered.

"Yes?"

You could feel his fingers trail over your skin. The way he cared for you and was so gentle and excited for your baby, you couldn't wait anymore. You had to tell him.

"I love you." You say as you look up to meet his eyes.

His breath caught in his throat as he registered your words. "W-what?"

You giggled. "I love you, Rafe. You're amazing. And you're going to be an amazing dad. I know we've been doing this whole pregnancy thing in kind of a weird way but I'd kind of like to be a real a fami-"

Rafe pressed his lips to yours, caressing your cheek as he deepened the kiss. "I've been in love with you for so long," He admitted against your lips. "I want all of this. I want us. I want our baby. I want to be a family."

You smiled at his response. He'd changed so much since you found out you were pregnant. He quit coke. He worked hard. He was constantly at your side making sure you had everything you needed. You practically had to pull him off you so you could go check on John B.

You could see his eyes swelling with tears. "What's wrong, baby?" You asked as you cupped his cheek.

"Nothing," He shook his head as a tear fell from his eye. "I just have my dream girl and I get to meet my fucking daughter soon. My life is perfect."

You couldn't help but tear up at his words. You ran your fingers through his hair as he rested his head on your shoulder. It wasn't long before the two of you drifted off to sleep.

———-

"AHHHHH!" You screamed as you shot up in bed. "Oh my fucking God!"

"What is it baby?!" Rafe asked eagerly as he quickly flipped on the lamp.

"It fucking hurts!" You spit. "Rafe...Rafe I think I'm contracting." You're barely able to get the words out.

"Oh, fuck. Okay!" He yells as he hops out of bed. He opens the door and yells into the hallway. "Dad! Rose!"

"Fuck, FUCK!" You scream.

"Okay, hold on baby, I have your bag." Rafe runs to his closet and pulls out the bag he had packed for you for when the time finally came. "Rose!" He screams again.

"I'm coming! What is it?" She says as her and Ward enter the room. "Oh, okay!"

Rose is by your side instantly, helping you off the bed.

"Ah! I can't-" You say as you fall to the floor. "I can't walk, it hurts so much."

"I got you baby," Rafe says, once again scooping you into his arms with minimal effort.

"Ward, start the car!" Rose commands as she grabs your bag and you all head downstairs.

Rafe climbs into the back seat with you. You dig your nails into his arm as another contraction invades your body.

"It's okay, sweet girl." Rafe says as he presses his lips to your forehead. "Just breathe with me, okay?" He holds your swollen belly up, relieving some of the pressure so you're able to catch your breath.

You can feel the car speeding to the hospital. You can hear Ward and Rose arguing in the front seat. You can feel Rafe wrapped around you, whispering sweetly into your ear. But you couldn't help the black haze that was washing over your vision as you lost consciousness.

"Hey, hey!" Rafe said as he lightly tapped your cheek. "Y/N, baby, stay with me!"

"We're almost there!" Ward says.

"She's unconscious!" Rafe screams.

_____________

Your eyes fluttered open. It was almost painful to keep your eyelids up.

Large windows lined the room, letting in the sunrise. Purple skies as the sun made it's way into view.

You felt so confused. You placed a hand on your belly. No bump. You instantly shot up, panicking at your missing baby bump you had grown so used to.

"Rafe!" You screamed.

"Hey, hey!" Rafe said as he came out of the bathroom, bouncing a tiny human in his arms. "Calm down baby, I'm here. We're here." He smiles as he sits on the bed next to you.

"Is that...is that my daughter?" You ask, taking in her tiny features. She had Rafe's eyes and your lips. A perfect mix of the two of you.

Rafe smiles, moving to place her in your arms. "You did so good, mama."

You hold her gently, tears filling your eyes as she instantly looked for your nipple. You happily fed her, gushing over the fact she knew you were her mother.

"I-I don't even remember."

"It was complicated," Rafe begins, rubbing one hand over your leg and one over her tiny head. "Emergency c-section. Thought I was gonna lose you. But you were so strong."

You couldn't help but cry. A tear falling on your child's cheek but Rafe brushed it away.

"She's been so fussy until now. She doesn't like the bottle." Rafe chuckles.

"How long have a been out?"

"Two days,"

You shudder, realizing you missed the first two days of your child's life.

Rafe pulls himself up to sit behind you. You lean back against his chest as you continue to feed your child. He runs his fingers up and down your arms and places kisses on your temples.

"I love you so much," He whispers.

"I love you too," You said as you felt yourself drift back to sleep. Rafe brought his arms around you to help hold your baby as she finished nursing.

When you woke up again the sun was setting. Rafe was draped over you, snoring softly. Your daughter in a bassinet beside you, sleeping peacefully.

You heard a knock at the door. Rafe shot up, rubbing his eyes as he tried to process what was going on.

"Hmmm, okay." He said, half asleep as he stumbled towards the door.

You felt bad. You knew he'd been doing all of this on his own while you were out. He needed sleep.

"Hey," Rafe said as your family members piled in. You were grateful for the large room.

Rose and Wheezie carried flowers and gifts, placing them on the dresser by the window. Ward followed behind them.

John B and Sarah came in after them with balloons, setting them to the side as they quickly ran to see your baby.

"Jesus," Rafe grumbled as he laid back down beside you. "M' sorry baby. They wouldn't let anyone but me in until today."

You pet his hair and place a kiss on his head as he rests against your shoulder. "It's okay, babe."

You were wide awake now. Rafe tried his best to sit up and interact but you could tell he wasn't going to last long.

John B held your baby as everyone else crowded around him. She was smiling up at him and it made your heart melt.

"So," Sarah asked. "What's her name?"

You turned to Rafe and smiled. He smiled and rubbed his eyes. "Her name is Juliette Lilith Cameron." He announced.

All the girls gushed over the name. John B smiled down at his niece, bouncing her happily.

Ward came around the side of the bed and placed a hand on Rafe's shoulder. "Congratulations, son. You're going to be a great father."

Rafe smiles at his dads words. "Thanks, dad." He gushes. You can't help but tear up. You knew how much Rafe wanted his dad to be proud of him.

After everyone had a turn holding Juliette, Rafe finally ushered them all out, claiming you and baby needed your rest. But in all honesty, you and Juliette were fine. Rafe was the one that needed a break.

After you nursed Juliette and laid her down to sleep, you and Rafe snuggled in your hospital bed, eating mediocre hospital food and watching Family Feud.

"Can I get you anything, baby?" Rafe mumbled against your shoulder, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Get some sleep, my love." You whisper, placing a kiss on his head.

"Gotta take care of my girls first," He mumbles.

"We're good," You promise him. "We need you to be well rested."

Rafe hums into your skin, wrapping his arm tighter around you but not tight enough to hurt you since you were still healing.

"Love my girls," Was the last thing he said before he drifted off to sleep.

Tags: @torturedtypewritersdept @bigenergy777 @outerbankspov @purplerose291 @shayofandoms @mirellef2001

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #drew starkey #obx fandom #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx pogues

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c0s-lettuce · 24 days ago

Note

I love your Sergei story. Can you please do a Sergei x female reader story where he sees her taking a shower? He sneaks up on her in the shower and they have passionate sex? Ty

flattery - sergei kravinoff x reader

fem!reader, no movie spoilers

a/n: thanks for the request, nonnie! i'm glad you like my previous fic! this is my first time writing smut so i'm very sorry if it sucks 😭

word count: 1405

warnings: smut, 18+ only, minor dni, shower sex, breast play, oral sex (f receiving), swearing

Sergei used to ask if he could come over. Then, it turned into him stating he was coming over and no longer requesting permission. Soon enough, he started showing up unannounced. At first, it would be at your front door. But if you were ever home late, or if he was just bored, he would make his way inside. He would get comfortable on your couch or fix himself a drink in your kitchen. And he would laugh when he scared you half to death.

"You left your window unlocked," he would say.

You seethed, mainly because of the audacity of this man. But also because you live on the third floor of your apartment building. Not long after, you relented and gave Sergei a spare key.

At this point, it was almost like he lived here too. He was getting very comfortable, and you weren't sure how to feel about it. You considered charging him rent. Or, at the very least, telling him off. But before you ever got around to it, his mouth would find its way to yours, his hands to your waist, and the rest would become history.

It's another regular evening when Sergei comes over. He arrives to a quiet apartment, with only the hum of household appliances, distant traffic and, most noticeably, the sound of running water from the shower.

After locking the door behind him, he kicks off his shoes and discards his jacket on the back of the couch. He heads over to the bathroom, carefully opening the door and peeking inside. Warm steam and the fragrant scent of your shampoo waft through the air. And through the foggy glass of the shower screen, he sees you.

He smiles to himself as he enters, recognising the potential of this situation. Your back is facing him, and you're blissfully unaware of his presence. The running water helps mask his actions as he shuts the door and approaches the shower.

He pulls the shower door open and reaches to pinch you on the waist, making a sudden noise to scare you. You flinch and let out a yelp. As you turn around, your startlement turns into anger when you see the culprit.

"Sergei? What the fuck is wrong with you?" you yell at him.

Sergei chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it."

You grab the door and hold it closed, creating a sort of barrier between the two of you. "That was not fucking funny. What are you even doing here?"

"I came to see you," he answers, unbothered by your reaction.

You stare at him incredulously through the glass. "You really couldn't wait ten minutes?"

Sergei just laughs. "Of course not. Who do you think I am?"

You let out a huff, unimpressed by his antics. "Okay, well, you've seen me. You can go now."

"Aw, don't send me away," he pouts. "Can't I join you?"

You narrow your eyes at him. "Join me? Are you being serious?"

"Dead serious," he replies. "Please?"

You continue staring him down, but he disarms you with a charming smile. You groan. How could you say no when he's looking at you like that?

"Alright, fine," you say. "But this doesn't mean I forgive you."

Sergei nods, still smirking. He begins to undress, leaving his clothes piled on the floor. You turn to face the water again, ignoring the man and refocusing on washing yourself.

Meanwhile, Sergei remains fixated on you, finding your aloof demeanour amusing. Once he's unclothed, he steps into the shower behind you. Almost immediately, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against his chest.

"Don't be mad," he murmurs, as he presses his lips against your neck, "I missed you, that's all."

"That's a sorry excuse," you mutter in response.

He hums, smiling against your skin. "But it's true, baby. I've been thinking about you all day."

He continues peppering kisses on your neck. You try not to make a noise as he begins to caress your body. His large hands wander up to your breasts, and he starts kneading them while his fingers brush over your nipples. After a while, he spins you around to face him, smiling as he meets your gaze. He takes a moment to admire you.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he says.

You give him a pointed look. "Don't try to flatter me, Sergei."

"Oh, come on," he pulls you closer. "You know I wouldn't lie to you."

Before you can protest further, he leans in to kiss you. His lips are fervorous against yours. His beard tickles your skin, and his fingers squeeze your hips. Unable to stay annoyed, you loop your arms over his shoulders and kiss him back.

He holds you close, and you do the same, your bodies flush against each other. Your fingers play at the nape of his neck, and he moans into your mouth when you tug his hair. He deepens the kiss, brushing his tongue against yours.

He guides you towards the wall. The cold tiles press against your back, making you jump slightly. Sergei must have noticed because he smirks, breaking the kiss to trail his lips along your jaw.

"So beautiful," he whispers, repeating his earlier sentiment.

He starts moving lower, peppering more kisses down your neck and over your chest and stomach. You let out a sigh as you lean back, watching Sergei get on his knees.

Now situated on the shower floor, he grips your thighs and holds you steady against the wall. He kisses a trail along your hip, slowly moving towards your inner thigh. Carefully, he guides one of your legs to rest over his shoulder. He looks up at you as he places a gentle, teasing kiss over your sex. You gasp, hands finding their way back to Sergei's hair.

He grins at your reaction before moving in fully. Using his tongue, he parts your folds to reach your entrance and licks a stripe up to your clit. You moan as he lavishes attention on the bud, licking and sucking as if his life depended on it.

Sergei's euphoria matches yours. Engulfed by your sweet scent and surrounded by your soft skin, he knows this is where he belongs. On his knees, worshipping his goddess. He groans into you as you tighten your grip on his hair. Pressing one last kiss on your clit, he begins moving his mouth lower and teases your hole with his tongue.

A string of moans and curses leave your mouth, and Sergei relishes the sound of your pretty voice as he fucks you with his tongue. The bridge of his nose nestles against your clit, only adding to the overwhelming sensation of him making out with your pussy.

You squirm as the tension builds, and your legs start to tremble. Sergei holds onto you tighter, his mouth not letting up. Your breath becomes unsteady as you feel yourself become light-headed.

"Sergei, please," you whimper, barely able to form words.

"I'm here, baby," he murmurs. "I have you. Let go for me."

The last few words are all you need. You cry out as pleasure washes over you, consuming you in a moment of ecstasy. Sergei doesn't stop, letting you ride out your orgasm. He moans as you come on his tongue, eagerly tasting you.

As you start to come down from your high, Sergei slows his ministrations. He plants a few final kisses before gently placing your leg down and standing back up. His arms wrap around your waist again, and he holds you securely. You rest your weight against him as you catch your breath.

His cock, now rock-hard, nestles against your sensitive cunt, making you whimper. He's aching for you but needs to know you're feeling alright first. He brings a hand to cradle your face, coaxing you to look at him. Your unfocused gaze meets his, and he smiles as he looks over you.

You really are so very beautiful.

"You're not still mad at me, are you?" he asks, resting his forehead against yours.

His question annoys you. You want to roll your eyes or hit him or fuck him, but you're still a bit out of it.

"No, of course not, you idiot," you mutter instead.

"Good," Sergei chuckles, kissing you on the cheek. "Come on then. I think we've showered enough. Let's take this to the bedroom."

➸

#sergei kravinoff #sergei kravinoff x reader #sergei kravinoff smut #kraven the hunter #kraven the hunter x reader #kraven the hunter smut #kraven #kraven x reader #kraven movie #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel smut #aaron taylor johnson #atj

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archangeldyke-all · 5 months ago

Note

Thinking about Sevika’s very pregnant very hormonal wife crying and complaining to her about nothing and Sevika realizing het wife just needs to be fed.

And fucked

love love love love love love love

men and minors dni

never in your life have you been this hormonal.

not during your worst periods as an adult.

not during the horrific throes of puberty as a teen.

not even when you were a toddler and a tantrum was just as likely as a giggle fit.

you think you might have truly lost your mind.

you're currently sobbing on the toilet-- you have been for the past twenty minutes-- not because you're sick or anything, but because you can't stop crying for long enough to heave your round body off the toilet seat.

and why are you crying? because you got frustrated by how often you have to pause your video game to get up and pee because you're eight fucking months pregnant, and your bladder's the size of a thimble.

you know it's a ridiculous thing to cry about. you know it's just your hormones overwhelming you. none of this knowledge can stop the sobs from wracking your body, though.

there's a knock on the bathroom door. "baby? have you seen my fuzzy socks?" sevika asks.

you sniffle and try to make your voice sound steady. "ch-check the dryer!" you call.

there's a suspicious silence outside of the bathroom, and then the door flies open, your wife wearing a worried look. "are you crying in here all alone?" she asks the moment she sees your face.

you pout, and fall apart all over again.

"oh, baby." sevika's by your side in an instant, wrapping her arms around you and pulling your head toward her stomach. "what's wrong, love?" she asks. "why didn't you come get me?" she asks.

you sniffle and choke out a few words. "b-because it's stu-u-pid!" you whine. "i can't s-s-stop cryin' and i'm not even that upse-e-et." you complain to your wife. "and now i can't get off the toilet 'cause i'm too weak from crying!"

sevika's face clears with relief when she realizes nothing's really wrong with you, and she bends down to give you a kiss. "our little girl's really runnin' a number on you, huh?" she asks, reaching down to pat your swollen belly.

you nod against sevika's shirt, using it as a face-wipe for all your tears and boogers. "i pee all the time. i f-feel like i should just live on the fuckin' toilet."

"but i'd miss you if you were in here all the time." sevika pouts. you snort. "c'mon love." she grunts as she hikes her arm under your shoulder and knees, hauling you off the toilet.

you giggle a little in your wife's arms, clinging to her as she walks you to your bedroom. "what're you doing with me?" you ask.

"'m takin' care of you." she whispers as she pulls your pants off your legs. you huff, a few tears still escaping your eyes, and sevika kisses your bare thigh.

"i haven't showered in days." you warn as sevika pushes your legs further apart. she groans.

"good. i love you musty."

you giggle a little, then cry some more. "you're gross. 'n way too nice to me." you whimper. sevika chuckles.

"my poor baby. such a fuckin' mess since i knocked you up, huh?" she teases. you nod and pout, letting your emotions control you, knowing sevika wont judge you for it. "i gotcha babe. just lay there 'n let it all out for me." she whispers, before ducking down and sucking one long stripe up your cunt.

sevika groans and you whimper as she sucks your clit into her mouth. for a few minutes, she just suckles and kisses your clit, making you a shaky, whiny mess. most of your cries are being blocked out by your moans, but there are still tears running down your cheeks.

"so fuckin' pretty when you cry, baby." sevika whispers. you gulp.

"shut up."

"it's true. your eyes get all sparkly and your skin gets all shiny-- fuck, you're the most beautiful thing i've ever seen."

you huff another laugh at this-- you're covered in hormonal acne and in third day pajamas-- but sevika blinks up at you like she really means it.

"you-- would you just--" you pull sevika's mouth back to your cunt before she can make you any more flustered with her words. your emotions are swinging wildly from the sudden stubborn sad-attack you've encoutnered, and the wild, childlike excitement and bashfulness you always feel around your wife.

which means that every time she blinks up at you, her pretty silver eyes barely visible over the bump of your belly, your heart stutters and your cunt clenches and a few tears leak out of your eyes.

when she reaches up and intertwines her hands with yours, you cum. it catches you completely off guard-- but the simple, sweet, intimate gesture made you topple over into a mess of cum and tears.

they're not sad-tears anymore, though. they're tears of joy and love-- all for the woman who's crawling up from between your legs with a big smile on her lips-- your cum covering her cheeks and chin. "that was quick." she teases. (she loves how easy you are now that you're pregnant. it turns her on endlessly.)

you grunt and flip her off. "are you gonna keep teasing me or are you gonna come sit on my face?" you ask.

sevika smirks, then leans down to kiss you deeply.

you gasp against her lips, relaxing into the kiss, taking in the taste of you still on her tongue.

when sevika pulls away, your head is fuzzy and your stomach is fluttering with butterflies. you blink up at her as she grins down at you.

"you stay here and take a nap. i'm gonna draw you a bath and make you a sandwich-- then maybe i'll join you." she says with a sweet little wink.

you blink up at your wife, and then burst into a fresh round of tears. above you, sevika cackles.

"is this 'cause you can't eat me out or...?" she asks. you groan and flip her off again.

"it's 'cause you're fuckin' perfect you asshole. what the fuck?" you ask.

sevika just giggles, pulls the blankets over your body, and kisses your forehead as she hands you a few tissues.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen @micronreadzztuff22

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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stevieschrodinger · 6 months ago

Text

Part One Two Three four

Steve’s eating a bowl of cereal, squinting in the morning light. He’s barefoot, wearing nothing but sleep shorts, and is considering going back to bed. He shouldn’t though; he has to be on time today.

Since the mall burned down, Scoops Ahoy is, annoyingly, no more. Robin thinks she has something though, some guy at Family Video who probably has the hots for her or something. Doesn’t matter though, Steve doesn’t really care what this Keith guys motivation is as long as it results in gainful employment for the both of them.

He really should shower.

Steve can see the pool from here, so he’s in a prime position to watch as Eddie pulls himself out of the water and makes his way to the back door.

This is the second time Eddie has come into the house, if you don’t count the emergency temporary over nighter in the bath tub. Well, it’s the second time Eddie has brought himself into the house, at least.

He waits patiently at the back door, like a cat waiting to be let in, and Steve opens the door for him, cereal bowl still balanced in the other hand.

He holds himself in that same way, flat of his tail curled up beneath him, giving him a little height, and he sits himself uncertainly in the middle of the kitchen floor, “hi Eddie.”

“Stee. Buddidy”

Steve gets him some celery from the bottom of the fridge and gives him the whole thing. They stand, and sit, together in comfortable silence, crunching their way through their respective breakfasts.

Steve watches as Eddie cautiously makes his way to the fridge once he’s done, looking to Steve with his his hand on the door, a question on his face, Steve nods, “yeah.”

Eddie opens the door, and Steve watches as he explores, carefully moving jars and condiments and stuff around, glass clinking quietly, before he opens the drawer at the bottom and pulls out a pear, carefully closing the drawer and door again after. He eats the whole thing, stalk, core, seeds, everything.

Steve washes up his dish, checking the time, “want to watch some TV?”

Eddie cocks his head, but follows Steve into the lounge. He sits, looking around, feeling the carpet under his hands, running his nails carefully through the pile until the TV catches his attention.

He moves closer. And then closer again, making Steve laugh when he taps a nail on the curved glass of the screen.

“I’m going to go shower, you shouldn't sit so close, it’s bad for your eyes.”

Robin does her make up in the car on the way over to Family Video, “how’s Eddie?”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking, it really means a lot to me, how much you care about my well being.”

She sighs through her nose and rolls her eyes, and Steve tuts at her.

“He came in the house this morning, I left him watching TV.”

“Huh. I mean normally I would say it’ll rot his brain but, something for him to do would be good, right?”

“Yeah. And if I’m getting a job, we should try and teach him to use the walkie’s at least. In case there’s like an emergency or something.”

“A fruit and veg related emergency.”

“Yeah, kind of. We really need to figure out what to do with him, he can’t just sit in my pool forever.”

She hums in agreement.

It’s just starting to rain when Steve gets home, the first break in the nearly two weeks of sunny weather they’ve been having.

Probably won’t be sharing a beer with Eddie tonight then. Well, Steve hasn’t really been sharing, he’s been letting Eddie steal the last third of a bottle, which isn’t really the same thing.

Eddie’s actually sitting on on the couch when Steve gets in, which surprises him momentarily. There’s an empty container on the cushion next to him, Steve figures he found the grapes.

“Hey.”

Eddie turns to see him, smiling, clearly pleased to see him, which is a nice change of pace. Sure he knows Robin loves him, but she’s never actually openly really happy to see him unless she’s, like, drunk or high. And the kids. Steve knows they must at least kind of like him, but they’re all just little shits. Having someone to come home to who is genuinely pleased to see him is a really nice change of pace.

“It just started raining.”

“Raiiniing.”

“Yeah,” Steve points at the window, “uhm, wet. Uhm. Sky wet.”

“Et.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie’s eyes widen suddenly, scrabbling off the couch in clear panic, “Et! Et!”

“Yeah Buddy, what’s wrong-”

Eddie’s frantically slithering across the lounge carpet with what is a truly amazing turn of speed considering his anatomy, “et inied! Book! NO! NO!”

“Oh, shit! Your book,” Steve hops over Eddie’s tail, making it to the door and then sprinting across the grass, grabbing the book and bringing it back.

Eddie’s sitting in the door way, hands clasped together, watching anxiously, “it’s not so bad, just a little damp.” Steve holds the book out to show him where drops of rain have speckled the pages, “it’s not bad.”

“Not bad. Good,” but he’s still frowning, clearly concerned where the paper is discolored by the water.

“Wait,” Eddie does as he’s told as Steve runs upstairs for the hair dryer, plugging it in in the lounge and sitting on the floor, Eddie joining him with the book. “Here, feel,” he turns it on, pointing it Eddie’s way.

Eddie sticks his fingers towards it, and then pulls the back, startled. Then he does it again before watching Steve dry the pages of the book, “dry. Et inied.”

“That’s right buddy.”

“Stee Edidie budidy.”

“That’s right. Yeah.”

Eddie sits next to Steve watching nervously as Steve gets the final pages dried off, and Steve hands the book back.

Eddie grins, “thanks Birdidie,” and then darts forward to press his lips to Steve’s cheek. It's just a press, not a real kiss.

“Oh,” and then Steve chuckles when he realizes what’s happened, the behavior that Eddie's seen and is now mimicking, “no. Uhm. Thank you Steve.”

Eddie cocks his head.

“Wait, wait,” Steve takes the hair dryer with him, heading up the stairs again, and this time coming back with a handful of Polaroids, he shuffles them into a neat stack, sitting next to Eddie on the floor. “Right, this is Robin. Birdie.”

“Thanks Birdidie.”

“Yeah, that’s right, that’s Birdie, now,” Steve shuffles through, “Max,” he says pointing, “and El.”

“El. Max.”

It’s thirty minutes and two pears later, but Eddie seems to be able to identify everyone reliably from their photographs, “no, Dustin.”

“Dust bin,” Eddie replies, confidently.

“You know what, sure, dust bin. Let’s go with that. Kind of suits him, actually.”

Steve’s drinking his evening beer. The weather much better again today, but the evenings are drawing in, and the sun set has almost taken Steve by surprise with how early it’s painting the sky pink. Summer’s coming to a close. Which brings some urgency to the question; what are they going to do with Eddie? The pool isn’t heated, and it usually gets drained and covered for the winter months. It’ll definitely freeze over at some point if they leave it open like this, and there’s no way Eddie could survive that, could he?

Steve doesn’t know. There’s just too much they don’t know about Eddie.

Steve’s got his first shift at Family Video tomorrow, a closing shift with the manager, Keith. Apparently he wants to show Steve the ropes when it comes to shutting down the store; Steve figures just from that that he’s going to be stuck with more than his fair share of late shifts.

He wonders if Eddie’s going to miss his evening beer. He really should teach Eddie to use a walkie. Tomorrow, he decides, will be as good a time as any. Tomorrow morning, and then Steve can leave one with Eddie and take one to work with him.

At least he knows Eddie can get into the house if he really has to, if he gets hungry or whatever. He really could do with some sort of cover out here though. Some where to leave his book in case of the rain. Maybe put a couple of towels in there, some food in the cool box when Steve’s out, the walkie, that sort of stuff.

Eddie swims over, pushing his floating toy bucket along ahead of him in the water. There are things in it tonight, which is a first. Eddie puts his bucket on the side of the pool before pulling himself out to sit beside Steve.

He pulls something out of his bucket to show to Steve, “oh, it’s a pine cone. Hold on.” Steve puts his beer down to grab the encyclopedia, and Eddie duly swipes it. Steve flicks through the book wile Eddie sips the beer, “look, this is a tree.”

“Tee.”

“Tree.”

“Trrreeee.”

“Yeah, it’s a seed for a tree,” Steve shows Eddie the series of pictures, how the seed underground grows a little shoot that grows, eventually, into a tree.

Eddie fetches something else from his bucket, showing Steve, “trree?”

“Leaf,” Steve points at the leaf in Eddie’s hand, then, “tree,” as he points to the tree line at the bottom edge of the yard.

Eddie’s frowning at the page in the book, but he does nod, so Steve doesn’t push it any further.

“Steve do you know how early it is.”

“I know, but I don’t care, do you still have that tent you were playing around with last summer?”

“Camping, Steve, I went camping with-what do you want it for, anyway?”

“It’s for Eddie.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dustin’s tone changes to immediately helpful, “yeah, do you want to come and get it? I’m pretty sure I still have it-MAAAAA! MAAAAAAA DO YOU KNOW-”

Steve pulls the receiver away from his head while Dustin's hollering at his poor mother.

“Yeah, we know where it is, you coming now?”

Eddie’s holding a piece of plastic tubing, looking concerned, and watching Steve struggle with the worlds smallest two man tent, “it’s okay, I got this.”

Eddie tilts his head one way and then the other, like a curious bird, as Steve struggles. It takes a couple of failed attempts, not helped by the fact that Dustin couldn’t find the instructions, but it doesn’t take that long before the tent is ready. Steve sets it on the grass, the doorway edge butted up against the tiles that surround the pool edge. Steve fixes the guy ropes using metal tent pegs driven into the lawn. It’s not hugely spacious inside, just big enough to accommodate two medium sized dudes when lying down, just as long as those two medium sized dudes are super comfortable with each other, then it’s fine.

Steve goes backward and forward, lining the bottom with a couple of sleeping mats he also borrowed from Dustin, and then putting in a couple of towels, Eddie’s book, and rescuing the Rubik's cube and slinkie from where they've lain, ignored, on the side of the pool, “there, what do you think?”

Eddie moves closer, cautiously looking inside before looking back to Steve, “yeah, good. Go in, it's okay,” Steve nods and smiles and generally tries to be encouraging.

Eddie goes inside before turning to look out, sitting on his tail.

Steve sits in the doorway, “it’ll keep your book dry.”

Eddie ponders that a moment, touching his book, before looking up. He carefully touches the inside of the tent roof, “et inied?”

“Yeah buddy, that’s right. Good.”

Part six

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #ao3 author #pre steddie #mermeddie #mermaid eddie #upside down creature eddie #Fish Guy Eddie

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luvvixu · 7 months ago

Text

mind over matter pt. 4

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: ok, im such a bad author now huhu, i always broke my promises about updating the new chapter :((( should've just wrote in advance but i'm afraid i don't have that enough free time oqsjjanswjaj anyways, here's the anticipated chapter!! THANK YOU FOR Y'ALL PATIENCE <3 MWUHEHEHHEEHHE

previous / masterlist / next

the next day comes and you've got yourself some visitors. megumi, yuuji, nobara, maki, and inumaki was in your room and they were all seated around you as you talk.

panda and your two third years were not around at the moment because this is a non-sorcerer hospital and people would freak out to see a big ‘talking’ panda. during your two third years, they were out of town and were on a mission but they still text you to get well and even send you some fresh flowers.

“wait, i still can't believe that he's your husband.” nobara couldn't explain his shock at the revelation. out of all, she didn't think that her goofy teacher was someone's husband.

you chuckled at her reactions as you turned your gaze on megumi, who's still his mouth hanging. “megumi, i thought you're getting a hint?” you tease the boy. although it was true, you actually thought he already had an idea because you've known him for almost his entire life and even once lived with you as a kid.

“no…” was only his answer.

“so, gojo-sensei was the one you're talking about when you said that he was a busy man. most of his job requires being out of town. but he never fails to shower you with love and he is making sure that you two would still communicate despite his busy schedule?” your eyes widened when yuuji literally just said what you had said from before, word-by-word!

“i—i supposed he is.” everyone in the room sweat dropped at your answer.

what do you mean you supposed?!

“y/n-sensei, is it okay if we ask your baby?” maki chooses the gentlest approach because she heard that post-pregnancy can make the mother quite crikey, sensitive, and is prone to depression. but to her relief, you respond to her warmly.

“oh, the baby is being treated since they're premature. i really can't wait to meet them once i get better. but right now, shoko was the only one who had seen my baby.” you smiled softly at the thought of your baby.

“gojo-sensei still hadn't seen the baby?” maki’s eyes went wide.

you nodded. “yeah, he said we should go together so i must heal quickly for that to happen.”

the door suddenly opened and it revealed your husband with food in his hand. you smiled at the packages not because you're hungry, but because you had finally persuaded satoru to go out and leave you even for just a few minutes.

how did you do it? well, you just give him an earful after what he did yesterday night and he's like;

“i don't know how you did it but you should've just gone to the convenience store or the hospital canteen just for an oatmeal and eggs. and look, i'm not upset over the fact that you just had the ‘very easy to get’ food delivered on this doorstep. what concerns me is you seem not to trust me very well to handle myself— well in fact i've been doing it since i was a kid and blah, blah, blah, blah…” it was your turn to yap but a little longer than he did. you even probably bought up some of his minor mistakes like not taking out the trash on random sunday night.

and he was like, “i'm sorry. i won’t do it again ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)”

“y'all done backstabbing me?” satoru teasingly smiled at you all.

“oh, we're just getting started. so why don't you take a seat and hear us out?” you patted the empty space of your bed beside you.

satoru playfully huffed and gave the foods to his students and let them distribute it themselves. sitting beside you, he gave you the separate plastic with food and helped you feed yourself. the two of you had your moment with you telling satoru to just let you be and stop feeding you like a kid, but satoru was like nuh uh—and it goes on and on.

meanwhile, the students watch you two with surprise in their eyes. they still couldn't digest the fact that you two had managed to hide your marriage for like five years or so. and out of all spouses out there, they couldn't believe their eyes that you married a guy that is a total opposite of you.

“i still cannot really believe that you're married and have a baddie wife.” nobara almost never tears her gaze towards you two.

“yeah, much more is that they look so in love!” yuuji agrees to what nobara said as his words made you two stop bickering instantly.

like a cold water being poured, you two were suddenly experiencing a reality check that this so-called in love was very far from the two of you actually is. coughing slightly to hide his awkwardness and nervousness, he just let himself chuckle. while you? you're an expert at this, you maintain a smiley expression and wordlessly (and also forcefully) agrees to what the boy said.

“oh my, do we?” putting a hand on your cheek, you smiled with your eyes closed. your act looks so legit but satoru has seen this multiple side—he knew this facade was all fake.

maki suddenly puts herself into attention by calling your name. “anyway y/n-sensei, i've noticed you two don't have a ring—” before she could even finish her sentence, you already beat her to it.

“that's because the two of us, mostly him, are constantly fighting curses and both involve using our hands when we use our techniques. it would be risky to wear it and we're scared that we might get it lost or damaged.” you explain meticulously.

you watch the students agree to your explanation, while satoru is looking at you with meaning. you stared back at him too, hoping that he would get your telepathic message.

“alright guys, your y/n-sensei needs to rest now. we'll just see you guys soon or you can all just drop by tomorrow after your training.” satoru called everyone's attention by clapping his hands then started to playfully shoo the students.

you watch them pack their things and wave you a happy goodbye, in which you return their enthusiasm as well. when they all left, you let out a sigh and started to gently lie your body on the bed. satoru, who was done cleaning just now, sit at the end of your bed and carefully massage your legs.

“did you have fun with them?” you just lazily hum at his question and proceed to rest your eyes.

“i…i'm surprised you managed to convince them about our marriage.” satoru continued quietly.

opening one of your eyes and looking at him, you said, “of course, i've been doing it to a lot of people for the past five years.”

that alone made him shut up.

satoru looked down to his hands, which were still busy massaging your legs. you've noticed that his eyes were casted down and his behavior was somewhat familiar to you, he's feeling something that is related to guilt and regret.

clicking your tongue, you're in no mood to deal with his behavior today. so to find a solution to this problem, you just put yourself to sleep and let all of this just go on without a single care.

it has been two days and you're getting better day by day. today was probably the bestest day so far because you're about to finally see your own baby!

“calm down, mama. do you want your stitches to open again?” shoko holds your knees to stop it from shaking anxiously as you were currently sitting just right outside the neonatal intensive care unit (nicu) where your baby was.

you understand that the doctors need to prepare the room first before you all come in, but you wished that they speed it up.

“but sho, i'm finally seeing my baby!” you squeal at your friend who just ruffles your hair and tells you to be patient—in which you definitely can't.

meanwhile, satoru, who was standing beside you while you and shoko were sitting together, has been eyeing you since this whole waiting. he understands that you're excited about seeing the baby because he is too, he is excited. but he couldn't help but to feel a sensation that you would rather share your excitement with others than him.

he knows that he sounds ridiculous and undeserving to say that in the first place after what he did to put you through, but he still couldn't help it and he wouldn't even dare to say it to you.

the door of the nicu just opened and it revealed the doctor who was wearing protective gear to keep bacterias and viruses from entering the room and harm the baby. before he lets you all in, he first instructs you all to change the same gear as him and then proceeds to give you all some explanation in which you actively listen and take notes.

and after that, he finally lets you go inside.

the moment your eyes traveled on a crib, you saw your child laying down there with some breathing apparatus that is connected to their little body. you could feel your eyes swell with hot tears as you inch yourself towards the bundle of joy who's their crib was also protected with glass and only small holes on both sides were there.

satoru and shoko watched you with pure warmth at your sight—it was a nice scene of mother's love. finally, a tear escapes your eyes the moment you get a whole view of your child.

“isn't he pretty?” shoko said beside you, someone who you didn't notice had come near you.

you gasp, “he? m-my baby is a boy?” your cries go even harder, but it was just pure happiness. you couldn't bring yourself to tear your gaze away from your child even though he looks fragile for being premature but you love him dearly.

“can i touch him?” you look at the doctor who assisted you earlier without caring that you might look like a crying mess. you're far more thrilled to be with your child than to be pretty at this moment.

the doctor smiled at you and he agreed. he pointed out the small hole on the side, telling you to stick your hands out to feel your baby. you do what he said with your shaky hands, and when your fingertips touch his warm skin—you feel like you could die from the burst of euphoria.

“my b-baby, my baby is n-now here!” you really can't hold your emotions back as you keep on passing your fingers through your baby's arm until it reaches his closed hands where you slightly and gently open it for him to grab index finger. and when he does, your smile becomes even wider.

“hi baby~ this is me, your mommy. it's so nice to finally see you.” you whispered softly, hoping that despite the glass, he could hear your words.

this is the bestest day of your life. your baby was here and that's all you need.

the scene continues to unfold with you still getting emotional and shoko was just watching you with a smile on her face. while satoru, the father of the child, the husband of the mother, was a little distant but he could still see the baby. he was all quiet and couldn't bring himself to utter a word but he's not speechless.

his eyes behind those glasses were trailed on the child, but most of his gazes were on you. satoru watches you become all smiley—this is probably the happiest smile he had seen on your lips for the past years of your marriage.

and he would absolutely never forgive himself if he breaks it—but he already did.

shoko notices his odd behavior and promptly leaves your side for a while (but you're busy having a baby talk with your baby to notice her leaving) to go talk to him.

“what? you're just gonna stand there and watch y/n?” yup. still the same as before, hostile towards the man. satoru let out a sigh and didn't give her attention. instead, he walked towards y/n and just focused on his family.

“you’re so tiny!” you continue to cooed at your son who keeps on moving slightly which is a good sign that your son is responsive and fighting. you also noticed that satoru was now right beside you and is looking at your son too with adoration tinted in his eyes.

“i don't think i could let myself be away from him anymore.” you said. your cheeks were now hurting from constant smiling but you don't mind.

satoru only looks at you briefly because his attention was now on his son, fully. “hello, it was nice finally meeting you.” his eyes trailed on his own flesh and blood with the most care of all.

on the other hand, you're not dumb to not notice that satoru was acting hesitant towards this scene and you knew what his reason was. you think that satoru thinks that he was undeserving to be here, and you're correct about his assumption.

but as a woman who grew up with an experience of being inside a shattered family, you absolutely would not want that to happen to your own child. and as much as you would also like to satoru be away at least for now because you're still that sensitive about what he had said during those conversations in the clinic and hallway, you respect his role as a father.

you'd give him a chance to prove his worth as a father to your child, but he's far worse to have a chance to prove his worth as a husband to you. if he messes this up real bad and without any proper explanation, this will be all over—satoru would no longer have you and your child as his own family.

“stick your hand on his hole, that way you could feel him.” you guided his hand towards the hole that you had said before and watched his hands turn shakey as he reached for the baby.

once satoru had finally experienced a skin-to-skin touch with his baby, he wanted to cry so badly but he didn't allow himself to, at least not yet. he felt like this was one of the best moments in his existence.

satoru would like to punch himself for questioning the baby for his plans as he seemingly thinks it would affect him. but just when he look and touch his baby, all of his recollection about the mixed emotions he felt when the baby is on the board has suddenly vanished and it was replaced with gratefulness and adoration for both of you.

it was like a full 360 degrees turn was done after the early birth of his first born. plus, he had seen you be ever so happy that you are with him. and deep inside him, satoru deniably hopes that this kid, this child, can at least help him save this marriage that was destined to fail and doomed.

because he now finally realizes that you're slowly wrapping him around your tiny fingers.

your tears had made him be a better person, your recent experience had made him behave. it almost cost you and your baby's wife just for him to realize the importance of your five years of marriage, and he's planning to tell you that soon.

“have you finally decided what name we should give him?” shoko asked you and she didn't fail to see your eyes sparkle at the mention of name.

ah yes, baby names.

that was something that a mother and father should decide together because it comes very crucial because the name that your baby will get is a symbol of you two's relationship. but the thing is, you and your husband hadn't talked about a single thing or just anything related to this matter.

that's probably why you're still embarrassed whenever you think about nanami accidentally seeing you open a website into one of the school's computers about unique baby names with its meaning.

you're four months pregnant at that time and you're spending your free time in a teacher's lounge. you're very invested in your mini research to the point that you didn't notice an old friend peeking at your screen. you actually only notice his presence when you're about to stretch but accidentally bump his torso, and to your surprise, he was there.

and then the rest becomes a story and history. nanami helped you pick baby names for both genders or even unisex until you came out with…

“kazuki. let's name him that.” a soft smile was decorated on your lips as you watched satoru, who's looking at you, plays with the hands of your son.

“kazuki…that's a nice name, y/n.” satoru said happily. however, you can see his disappointment behind those words and you know why. you didn't even invite him to search for your baby's name because why would you?

“does it have any special meaning?” shoko asked you.

you nodded and said, “of course, kazuki means hope of peace—and i really need that.”

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gojoath · 9 months ago

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ಣ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ ILL GIVE YOU MY HEART, OKKOTSU YŪTA

you think it’s going well with yūta— the new guy you just started dating despite the way you’ve only seen eachother a handful of times. that’s exactly what he wants you to believe though, this is all going according to his plan.

summary. fem reader. yandere yūta. obsession. manipulation. stalking. yandere themes. aged up characters. love confessions (three dates in). promise ring mention. he’s basically love bombing you. first times together. inexperienced yuta -> virginity loss. face sitting. wc, 7.2k.

note. another repost for the series, thank you guys again for all the love you originally gave it :)

he did everything right, everything he had to to make sure you ended up like this. to make sure you fell for him the same way he did you,

yuuta knew exactly the type of guy he had to be. he knew you’d think it was cute, a funny work of fate that he was always there— seeking you out in the mundane and wiggling his way into your everyday routine. what are the chances that you both do your grocery shopping on tuesday nights? what are the chances he’s walking down the same street as you are on a thursday morning, just one over from your apartment? the only answer must be you’re soulmates, you think that too, don’t you?

it would be rude for you to refuse his invitation to take you out when the universe is trying so hard to put you two together. when he’s trying so hard to get you both together.

he’s been perfect, so polite and loving— good morning texts and constant adoration, showering you in compliments, he’s everything you’ll ever need. yuuta can still remember the way you held his hand on the first date— the way your eyes widened slightly before you sent him a cute look that made his cheeks flush, you looked a little surprised but it only made him want to hold you tighter. to never let you go.

it’s your third date now and he’s more sure now than ever that you’re both made for eachother. he’s able to recite your usual order in your favourite little cafe like it’s second nature as you sit there now, you don’t even pick up the menu before it’s rolling off his tongue and he thinks the shocked look on your face is adorable. hes sure your heart must be racing right now. knowing it was his first time here.

you don’t say anything though, you don’t mention it or tell him how much you liked that or love him, instead suddenly you can’t meet his gaze and yuuta can’t help the way that makes him feel a little disappointed, after he’d taken such time to get to know you.

is it really that surprising that he knows what you like, isn’t that what you want? you may think you’ve just met but he’s known you for months— albeit from afar, from the rooftop opposite your apartment that stares perfectly into your window while you change and sleep, and from the aisles hes followed you through in the supermarket. he’s memorised your usual grocery list and which side of the bed you prefer to sleep on at this point— like a lovershould.

but he does it because love is silly like that, don’t you feel it too?

it’s a little clumsy, with an unsettling sort of urgency that yuuta’s hand reaches across the table to wordlessly ask for yours as his palm opens up. you’re probably just shy, from what hes seen— you’ve probably never felt pure love quite like his before, hes sure true devotion is so new to you you’re not sure how to act.

your gaze lifts to meet his on the opposite side of the table and he notices the chill that seems to run through you under his gaze, it makes him swallow heavily when his vacant, haunting stare holds yours. why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost? his fingers twitch slightly as they remain empty and he’s glad you don’t pay any attention to the way his other hand is digging painfully into his thigh, won’t you put him out of his misery and take his hand?

another few seconds and he sucks his lower lip between his teeth as he continues to stare at you. until finally, your hand us warm when it finally rests in his from across the table. your touch is a stark opposite to the chill in his own fingertips but he’s sure you can see the way the simple touch makes his ears flush pink. his hand closes over yours and his unsettling, neutral expression melts into something softer, gentler with his next movement as he tilts his head at you to smile.

“um.. do you want to come back to my apartment?” or would you want to stay forever?

three dates in, is when yuuta finally has you.

you’re in front of him as he leans over you to unlock the door to his apartment, deliberately pressing his chest against your back as the lock clicks but he takes the opportunity and close proximity to reward himself with a deep inhale. you smell sweet, something citrine and silky that makes him want to wrap himself in you, in your scent.. in your skin.

it feels like it draws him in, but before yuuta can lean in a little closer, just enough to press his lips against the pulse point in your neck to suck, to mark and bite— the door to his apartment opens and you can’t seem to get in fast enough as you take your first few steps.

his apartment isn’t anything special, if anything it’s a little empty— it would barely looked lived in if it wasn’t for his spare pair of shoes by the door and the katana by his bed. he opted to leave it behind for your date, he was still more than capable of protecting you without it if need be.

but the silence feels uneasy as yuuta watches you eye-up his belongings, he was sure he put everything incriminating away— his little notes about your schedule, the folded up receipts that you’d dropped by accident or the pretty little pictures he’d taken of you, albeit the paper is a little sticky and ruined now. he doesn’t need them anymore though, he has you now.

“sorry, it’s not much hah..” the chuckle he lets out is a little awkward, followed by a loud swallow as his eyes cut through your back but you just.. stand there. but still, he can’t stay away so he approaches you with caution, you’re in his domain now afterall. under his roof, in his heart, why wouldn’t he reach out to touch you when he’s so close? why else would you come to his apartment unless you wanted that.

“it’s very you, i think. kinda how i expected it to look.” the sound of your voice is a low hum but it still makes yuuta’s heart squeeze, it’s funny how much he feels like he missed it— it’d only been a few seconds but he doesn’t think he can live without that sound anymore as it draws him closer, “it’s cute, y’know?”

“really?” your back is still to him but he’s able to get close enough to press his chest against it as his arms wrap around your waist. you’re closer now than you’ve everbeen,

he wishes he could chain you here, right by his side so you never had to leave again.

“mhm.” you smile and yuuta finds himself flushing again as he curls over you slightly, just enough for him to meet your gaze from over your shoulder before you pull him away from him entirely. he feels the brush of cold air from the space your body left as he twitches.

“yuuta?” you ask again, although the sound of his name is different now as he watches you spin on your heels to look at him.

“how did you know my order.. at the cafe i mean.” you’re looking at him so intently it’s making him nervous, you’re nervous he realises. you clasp your hands behind your back as you lean forward and yuuta wonders how long you’ve been thinking this question over in your mind.

did he slip up? did he really ruin his own perfect facade by being too perfect for you. his chest feels a little tighter now and he’s sure the expression on his face isn’t as sweet as he needs it to be, his lower lip is between his teeth and he’s pretty sure if he bites down a little more it’ll draw blood. he needs to think—

“you sent me a picture once,” he smiles gently, kindly as his eyes soften and his voice is such a shy lull as he answers you. he notices the way your shoulders seem to relax and he scratches at the back of his neck before he continues, “at lunch with maki.”

“i just thought it sounded similar to what you had that day, that’s all.” it’s not completely a lie, he did see you taking photos of your food the few times you’ve been to that cafe. but he never got them, he wonders who you sent them too.. there wouldn’t be someone else, right? you wouldn’t do that to him and his heart.

“sorry, is that weird?” yuuta feels hot under your stare but you must feel cold under his, there’s goosebumps along your skin and he finds it a little unnerving the way you draw back as he takes a step forward. maybe you’re just relieved.. is it because you love him that you asked? maybe you wanted his real answer.

“no, no! i must’ve forgot, it’s sweet you remembered.” you think he’s sweet, he smiles at that before he’s taking another careful step towards you and you let him this time. it’s like a relief when his hands are back on you, in their rightful place as he pulls you into him and he keeps you there— underneath his gaze as your face tilts to meet his.

“you’re really pretty.” yuuta whispers softly as he noses against your cheek, letting his cool fingertips tease along the hem of your shirt as they brush along your overheating skin. you shudder, pressing yourself into him and he doesn’t think you’re going to ask anymore questions when you bat your lashes up at him.

“can.. can i touch you?” the question is a drowsy murmur, smeared against the corner of your lips and you choose to answer it wordlessly as you turn to meet him, twisting into a kiss that’s deeper than the ones you’ve shared prior.

he’d kissed you before, but it was more like innocent pecks or kisses along your cheeks, he didn’t want to scare you off— to give you too much of him too soon, he had to make you fall for him first.. to want him. to love him.

but this one is different as yuuta’s nails dig into the bare skin of your waist, it’s sloppier than you’d expect from him as he nips on your lower lip— making you gasp as his tongue tentatively presses its way between them. your lashes kiss against the apples of your cheeks as your eyes close and he picks up on the way your breathing changes when his palm rests against your cheek to hold you there.

you must’ve been waiting for this aslong as he has been, it’s obvious with the way you’re pushing into him. have you been thinking about it as much as he has? he’s dreamed of the moment he’d finally have you here, pressed against him, your mouth on his as you feed into his hunger and he knows for sure now. he won’t ever be able to leave you alone.

“yuuta~” you murmur, delicate and pretty beneath the chill of yuuta’s fingertips and it makes his palms feel clammy against your skin as he moves you, pressing you back through the halls of his apartment until your back is against his bedroom door. he can barely reach for the handle, he’s too busy brushing his hands over your body now— swiping and smearing his spit messily against your lips until he’s breathless, buzzing beneath his skin before it’s you that reaches back to open it wilfully, eagerly.

“s-sorry,” he feels bad for keeping you waiting but now he’s addicted as he feels you grin against his lips, locking the apology with another sinful swipe of your tongue that has him swaying before you’re pulling away. he’s flushed to his chest, panting— but his grip on your body is still tight when you push him back until he rests on the mattress, starry-eyed and kiss drunk as you follow to climb on top.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you ask playfully as you pull off your shirt and yuuta knows he’s staring, all adoring despite the way his gaze has always been somewhat empty, dark and void of emotion, but there’s always a dull glow when he looks at you. it’s what lovedoes to a person afterall.

“because.. you’re really pretty.” his words have a trembling undercurrent to them as he exhales, reaching up to cup his cool fingertips around the back of your neck before he’s pulling you back in to kiss him again. his next murmur is barely audible, pressed between your tongue and lips, “i.. i can’t believe you’re finally mine.”

he’s not sure if you hear him, but he feels your movements slow— even if only for a second; like you’re thinking something over in your head, like you’re considering pulling away. but he won’t let you, he cant, not now that he’s finally had a taste— you wouldn’t want to leave him so empty after all this. after you made him fall for you.

but if he makes you uncomfortable, you don’t say anything else as he breathes into you— stripping you both of your layers until you’re just in your underwear and yuuta can’t bare to keep his eyes closed when you’re soul is laid bare infront of him like this.

“would you.. um, want to sit?” he asks but it’s spoken more like an insistent plea as his hips twitch into yours, the heat of your pussy so close to him making him feel so mindless beneath you. “please.”

the question urges you to pull away to sit upright on his lap despite the way yuuta finds himself chasing your mouth, blinking up at you through his lidded gaze as you bite cutely on your lower lip. it’s plump from his teeth and kisses, he already wants it back.

“i mean.. what if i’m heavy?” you say softly, uncertainty in the question but he answers almost too quickly as his hand grabs at your own, his brows furrowing slightly while he looks up at you.

“i don’t care. i want you to, i’ve thought about it a lot.” he’s talking too much, he should stop. but yuuta needs you there, he’s thought about suffocating between your thighs, between your folds so much his chest feels tight at the thought. wont you do this one thing for him after everything he’s done for you? you owe him after how much he’s loved you.

“really? you’ve thought about me. aren’t you lewd?” your reply is playful, perfectly so as your lips smile softly and he wants nothing more than to kiss the expression off of you. even if only to keep it for himself, he doesn’t want anyone else to see you like this ever again. he considers killing anyone who already has.

“heh—uh, i think about you alot. i just..” the pinpricks of arousal under yuuta’s skin are cracking away at his perfect little facade he’s created for you. but you’re urging him to keep going as your thighs squeeze around his waist from above,

“hm?”

“i wish.. i had all of you. the thought of you with someone else it… makes me,” he lets himself exhale as he looks up at you, something twisted swimming in his gaze that makes you look at him so softly. he hopes you can see the way that makes him feel, the thought of what’s his with somebody else, how cruel it would be on his heart— your smile falters, only slightly but he lets his hand trail down his face.

yuuta expects you to climb off of him, but instead— he feels your fingers push back the dark bangs that fall over his gaze, mused from your hands and the comforter beneath him. it’s such a soft little touch that feels so full of love it makes his heart squeeze.

“lie down, yuuta.” you exhale in reverence and he does so easily when you press your palm into his chest, urging him down as you slide your way up his body. his eyes are on your thighs and his hands follow quickly after as your knees press into the mattress beside his cheeks— kneeling above him as he pants at the puffy, damp press of your pussy in your panties.

he feels too hot for his skin but yuuta’s fingers are still cold when he hooks them beneath the flimsy fabric to pull it to the side— finally allowing him the first real look at your pussy that isn’t through a pane of glass as his cock throbs in his boxers. his fingers return to their place on your skin before he squeezes, urging you down to finally straddle his cheeks as he breathes across your glistening folds.

he starts off tentatively as he parts your folds with his tongue, suckling softly on your clit as he slurps and swallows at whatever you give him. you rock into his mouth with so much want it makes his fingers squeeze, but his eyes are still on you as you ride his mouth, humping into every flick of his tongue as he rolls it along the sensitive petals of your cunt.

“more, yuu~ please,” yuuta knows you’re holding back, thighs trembling as you try not to put too much of your weight on him but your plea makes the last string of his sanity snap before he’s releasing the limit on his strength to pull you completely into him.

you’re scared he can barely breathe but he’s holding you so tight you can barely move, this was what he wanted— what he’s been fantasising about. he wants to breathe your pussy for the rest of his life as he buries himself into you, whimpering as he explores the plains of your intimate skin with his tongue and mouth.

yuuta’s lips close around your clit once more before he nips playfully at the bud, pulling a sound out of you that’s so saccharine sweet that he swears he almost cums in his pants as he stares up at you. your lips are parted, nibbles perked up on your pretty tits as you roll the nub between your fingers and he swears he feels lightheaded at how perfect you look. all his.

“it tastes so good,” you hear him groan from his place below you and you look down to meet his gaze, his face between your thighs as you grind yourself down on his tongue, hips twisting into his mouth as he takes a ragged exhale against your pussy. his cheeks and the lower half of his face are slick with your juices as they drip down onto the sheets below him, his fingers flexing into your flesh every time your thighs tighten around his head.

“i-is it all for me?” you hear yuuta mumble under his breath before he buries himself back into you, the low, desperate tone of his voice sending vibrations straight to your clit as your hips twitch from the sudden jolt of pleasure. your fingers fall into his hair to pull just as he presses his tongue against the twitching entrance to your walls, the warmth eagerly luring him inside as your hole clenches around the muscle. “please, only me, okay?”

it feels so good you don’t even care what he’s mumbling against you because every word is like honey along your nerves, making you twitch and bounce your clit into his eager mouth as he devours you entirely. you’re just nodding, murmuring out his name but you’re feeding into his sick little fantasy like you wouldn’t believe.

“nobody else.” yuuta’s greedy, carnivorous, like he’d eat through to your heart if you’d let him. then you’d trulybelong to him, be with him forever.

“mhm, it feels so good, don’t stop—fuck.” oh he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to, you feel so much better than he could’ve ever imagined when he pulls away momentarily to slide his slender fingers between your folds, spreading you so lewdly before he’s diving back in.

yuuta’s slurping and smacking at your essence as he drinks in the very taste of you that has his cock twitching between his thighs, beads of precum gathering at the tip while he pays no mind to it—only focused on the feeling of you creaming on his tongue. it may be your first time together but you’d never believe it with how well he’s working your body, like he’s studied you— memorised every sweet sound he’s heard you pull from yourself as you flicked your pretty little clit every night. he hopes you were thinking about him.

“so soft,” he feels lightheaded at the arousal pooling in his stomach, at the need as his cock aches for any sort of friction, but he’s just so lost in you instead. “and warm,” he wraps his lips around your clit before sucking it into his mouth, allowing his tongue to roll the sensitive bud so he can feel you jerk in his hold, his large palms rocking you against his mouth as he groans against you once more.

“use me—k-keep going, please.” yuuta almost growls, his words breathless and needy and you feel the coil in your stomach tighten when you look behind you to watch his own hips twitch at the idea of you cumming on his face, paired with the pressure of you grinding down on tongue.

he can tell you’re close by the pace your hips have taken up, twitching and stuttering into his movements as your slick increases in volume, smearing along his cheeks and making such a lewd mess beneath you. his lungs quake with his next inhale, he can’t get enough breath in with how deep he’s pressed into you but he doesn’t care— he’d die for your orgasm, for your pleasure, for your love.

yuuta’s movements are almost desperate and your skin feels on fire when the pleasure races through you. you hear his own quiet moans against your cunt, almost lost between smacks and suckling noises and your thighs tremble either side of him as your hips stutter. “fuck—yuu!” you babble, your clit knocking against his nose with every buck of your hips as you drag yourself along his mouth, every desperate grind of your cunt squelching loudly as he goes between pressing his tongue into your hole and tracing messy circles around your clit.

“give me all of you.” another twisted little plea buried into your folds but the way his lidded gaze cuts up into you makes you shudder in the best way, “everything,”

and so you jolt when you feel yuuta suck your clit between his teeth once more, nibbling on the sensitive bud before your orgasm finally washes over you, causing your thighs to tighten around him in response.

but instead of pulling away he only wraps his arms around your hips, pulling you even closer until you’re pretty sure he can’t breathe at all—lapping as you cream into his mouth, tongue dipping into feel your walls squeezing down around him as he slurps and drinks everything you have to offer him.

you feel your body slacken as you ride out your orgasm, your fingers in yuuta’s hair tightening painfully despite the way it only makes him hotter as it sears through his skin. he continues to bathe your clit in kitten licks, shooting tiny aftershocks through your body—his face sticky with your essence when you finally decide to inch yourself off of him to catch your breath.

“it’s been a while since i’ve came that hard, jeez.” your laugh seems to pull him into you despite the way he’s breathing deep, he still moves with such an ease that is almost inhumane as he reaches out to swipe his thumb against your cheek affectionately.

“you looked beautiful.” yuuta replies, so neutral and honest that it makes you feel shy suddenly, like you didn’t just cream all over his face. you think you’d hide yourself in your palms if he wasn’t tilting you up to meet him, to let him kiss you once more as he sucks languidly on your tongue.

it’s messy, filthy the way he eagerly lets you taste yourself— moaning at the way the mix of spit and cream makes you melt into him before he’s easing himself between your thighs to press you into the mattress with each kiss.

“can i have you now?” he’s been ever so patient but he doesn’t think he can hold back any longer. yuuta’s need for you hurts, like an ache in his chest— he needs to have you so he knows you’re real as he eagerly pushes down the constraining fabric of his boxers, sighing with the first sting of sexual freedom as you spread your legs for him so eagerly. “i want to hurry and feel that you’re really mine, please.”

his lips smear along your cheeks as he pulls away, panting like he’s a dog in heat when you reach between your sweat slick bodies to wrap your fingers around the shaft of his cock. the press of your palm makes him shudder, drooling along the dip of your shoulder and he feels like he can’t get close enough to you as you let the blunt head roll through your sensitive folds.

“you can have me, i need you, yuu.. please.” you’re still so wet, needy despite the orgasm yuuta’s already taken for you and he knows it’s love with the way you’re grabbing at him— scratching at his shoulders just as his cock finally presses into the tight ring of your walls before he sinks into you.

the first squeeze of you around him is warm, so tight it feels like he can barely move as he sinks his teeth into the exposed skin of your shoulder until he draws blood. you shriek but he can feel the way the pain makes your pussy tremble around him, greedily luring more of him in as he pushes past the sweet spots that make your thighs twitch— beg for him. he knew you were perfect, your body feels moulded to his shape.

your back arches, urging your chest to press snug and tight against yuuta’s and he only pulls you closer— lapping at the teeth marks on your skin as he soothes the wound, hoping it leaves a mark so that your body will remember him. remember who it belongs to now.

“i waited for you..” the way he sinks into you is slow, agonisingly so but the sounds he’s pulling from you light a fuse that fizzles into something that feels even better as it bursts along his skin. it makes his toes and fingers curl when he feels your pussy squeeze down on him eagerly, rewarding the stretch of his cock the deeper he goes.

there’s still a chill to yuuta’s slender hands despite the way he’s sweating, groping just a little too hard into your waist, making him stutter out a low whimper as he drags you along his cock. he’s forcing your walls to spread open for him as he feels something ache deep in his stomach, desire heavy in each laboured breath as he takes everything you’ll give him, everything he can get.

he breathes, low and ragged, and you can only find it in yourself to reply with a sound that’s high pitched and needy when you finally feel the weight of his hips press tight against yours as he bottoms out.

“and it’s.. all mine now.” yuuta’s voice sounds needier than he expects and his eyes flutter closed when he finally pulls his hips back after a few moments, drawing his cock out of you as he feels the way your pussy squeezes down around him tight in response.

it’s like you’re trying to lure back in every inch you lose — begging him to stay and to never leave you, to press deeper into you before his fingers dig bruises into your hips and he’s doing just that, beginning a steady pace with another slow withdrawal and a staggered breath.

the first real, deep kiss of yuuta’s cock has your toes curling as he hugs you closer — his face rests just over the crook of your neck so you can hear the way he pants and growls softly between your moans, smearing kisses against your cheek everytime he turns to take in the sight of you beneath him.

you’re so pretty, too pretty that he can barely contain his thoughts— his love when your head turns to meet his gaze and it makes his pace stutter before he can even find his rhythm.“i.. i love you.” the confession slips, it’s hushed but it’s heavy, pressing you into the mattress as your eyes suddenly widen and you stiffen despite the way he remains lost in you with his next thrust, “it’s so good.”

“huh? uh..” your lips part to stop him but it breaks into a whine as the blunt head of his cock presses against the spots inside of you, making you twitch before you’re pushing into his chest to give him a confused look.

thankfully, yuuta picks up on the way your legs aren’t squeezing around him anymore— missing the red marks your nails were trailing against his skin in a way that makes him pull back, maybe slightly panic at the expression he’s met with that isn’t the pure adoration he expects. “are you okay? did i hurt you?” his hands are trying so hard to soothe you as they trail down your skin, but you’re not melting into him like you should. did he do something wrong?

“no it’s just..” you begin, albeit a little awkwardly considering the dude you’ve been on three dates with just told you he loves you while he was balls deep for the firsttime might you add. “um, isn’t it a bit soon for that?”

but still, because you like him— you suffer through the confrontation as you bite on your lower lip. “i’m not even your girlfriend yet.”

yuuta’s never thought about it like that. he never realised that you guys weren’t as serious as you must’ve wanted, all of this time he’d assumed you were his girlfriend but you must’ve wanted him to ask. that’s why you were so reluctant to accept his love, because you were scared it wasn’t there to begin with. but because he really does love you, he’s always going to be there to reassure you.

“i don’t think it’s too soon.. it’s how i feel.” his eyes are on you as he reaches forward, his fingers curling around yours before he pulls your hand to rest on his chest— so you can feel the way his heart is beating at his ribs, like it’s begging you to reach in and pull it out. “can you feel it. it’s my love.”

yuuta’s stare is searing as it burns through you and it makes your fingers curl against his chest slightly, like you’re ready to pull away but he’s strong— he keeps you there despite the way he feels you tense.

“yuuta..” you press your free hand between your brows, still a little confused— maybe a little aroused at what’s happening but you’d rather not sort through those feelings just yet, so you continue. “we’ve been on three dates.”

yuuta feels like he’s being scolded, was it really so bad for him to love you? why aren’t you so eager to accept him when he knows you feel it too, the way you look at him is with love, he knows you’re lying to him. “but.. but you said i could have all of you.” he tries to hush the hiss to his voice but his gaze on you doesn’t falter despite the way you wish you could look away, he holds you there.

“i’m sorry, are you going to leave?” he asks the question like you’ve got the choice but the grip on your fingers tightens like he wouldn’t let you go regardless.

“no, just.. i like you but maybe just slow down a little, okay?” it was an olive branch, a proposal that you feel like would work best for both of you. you watch the way he softens at that, like you’re watching a wild animal accept it’s first pet from a human hand.

“okay,” yuuta’s acceptance is a quiet lull but any disappointment he had is pushed back by his own desire when you lead him back between your legs. your mouth is saying one thing but your heart is calling for him, pussy luring him back in like it’ll die without him and he wonders if maybe you’re just protecting your heart. he wants to tell you there’s no need, he’ll never hurt you.. aslong as you love him that is.

but anything he wants to say is quickly overcome by the twist in his gut when he’s back in your walls, feeling them squeeze and tremble around him like it’s a skin to skin confession on its own.

another clap of yuuta’s hips with yours and your head tilts up to meet him for a kiss as your lips curl around his, tongue tracing the length of his own until you’re whining. if you didn’t love him, why is your hand so accepting to intertwine with his own, why does it feel like you’re making love rather than just fucking. your mouth slots against his perfectly and your pussy begs for every inch it loses. so why won’t you admit it’s love.

“i.. i just get scared i’ll lose you forever if i let you go.” he feels mindless when your hips grind up to meet every thrust, the pace hes set isn’t fast but it’s enough to have you both whining against each others lips as he drives into you. he’s spurred on by the sweet sounds that break from your throat, your voice taking a dreamier lull than hes used to — it’s more needy, more intoxicating. it makes his words even more true as he feels the jealousy simmer along his skin.

“if someone took you from me, i’d kill them.” yuuta doesn’t know if he’s dreaming but he swears he feels your walls squeeze around him at that, your lips breaking away from his to gasp and he still doesn’t know why you won’t accept his love when you’re accepting of this. he’ll kill everyone who’s ever touched you if it’ll prove his heart is true.

you look at him, and he thinks it’s unfair they way you gaze at him so tenderly, it’s so cruel when you won’t just tell him the truth. “you won’t lose me. i’m here.” your words make his hand squeeze around yours as your body claps against his and he kisses over your skin, lips gliding along your heightened nerves so softly it has you twitching. you’re squeezing down around him until his breathing hitches and it’s almost like he feels the tight hug of your cunt in his fucking lungs.

“then stay forever.” yuuta’s words are emphasised by a particularly slow grind, grazing his pelvis against your swollen clit until you’re jolting at the small aftershock that races through you — still sensitive from your orgasm as his cock digs out the next.

he feels your nails grab at his shoulders, no doubt leaving more pretty crimson marks along the muscle there before his pace inevitably speeds up. you’re marking him as yours so eagerly, he can already imagine how pretty they look from behind.

but yuuta’s gripping so tight into your hips he’ll surely leave bruises of his own as you bask in the pleasure only he brings you. you give up all that you can as your hormone-hazed mind has you breathing out a regrettable “okay, forever.”

he buries himself back into the crook of your neck with the next sinful squeeze of your walls around him, dizzy from your words in a way that makes his hips stutter as he buries another ragged whimper into your skin. he repositions his knees to begin a pace that’s a little faster, needier until each smack of his hips is loud and clapping and every quick thrust leaves you breathless, beginning to lose his pace as he presses deep into your body.

“c-can you give him this part of you first? i need to feel it.” your orgasm he means as he gulps, words like his own plea as he lets his fingers on your hips trace between your bodies to roll your puffy clit in sticky circles. yuuta’s pairing it with the back and forth stutter of his hips as he digs your orgasm out of you — breathing hard when he feels your pussy throb around him.

“yes! can give you it, fuck! gonna cum again, yuu..” you cry for him and he fucking moans as his hips press snug and tight against yours with the first milking compression of your walls around his cock. he’s panting against your neck, biting and suckling hungrily at the skin as he coaxes and eases you through another mind-numbing orgasm, the pleasure hitting you so hard and good it almost hurts as you cream around him.

“b-baby, please. can i cum?” wont you let him give you his pleasure and his heart, yuuta asks so needily but he doesn’t stop even when you’re panting and gasping out yesyesyes with each shockwave of bliss he fucks through you. his cock finally throbs inside of your soaked pussy as he gives into the needy coax of your body — rewarding you with the orgasm you’ve earned from him, the one you ownas he presses his load into you, burying it into you like he’s staking a claim.

he pulls away to kiss you as he does, whining long and low against the soft press of your lips as he cums thick and heavy inside of you, shuddering when he feels your tongue push against his and he almost pins you completely underneath him as he continues to fuck into your sensitive pussy.

yuuta offers you a few more shallow thrusts before he falls onto you, rolling into his side despite the way he keeps his hand intertwined with your own as he catches his breath. his gaze is still soft when he pulls away to meet your own drowsy one, squeezing affectionately at your skin when he watches the way your thighs tremble as his softening cock pulls out of you.

“are you okay?” he asks and the soft pull of his voice feels like honey when you’re in your post-orgasm state, letting him trail and massage his fingers down the length of your spine as he gazes over you affectionately. you nod softly, and he leans in to rest his lips against your forehead as your eyes flutter closed.

“do you want to stay here? i have clothes you can wear.” yuuta gives you a few seconds to respond, to think over the question and he’s pretty sure this isn’t what taking it slow meant. but you’re also his girlfriend now, right? that’s what you meant when you said that.

your relaxed expression is something soft as he looks over you, but the sudden furrow of your brows makes his soft smile falter when you open up your eyes again to send him a glare.

“no thanks, i’d rather not wear some random girls panties.” yuuta’s a little taken off guard by your response but you’re pouting; are you jealous? assuming that the clothes he’s talking about must belong to somebody else, maybe a woman before you? he can’t deny the way the thought makes something in his heart bloom, what’s jealousy if not love?

“no. you’re the only one i’ve ever had here.” he tries not to let the giddiness sound in his voice so he keeps his response neutral but honest, earning himself a look that urges him to continue.. to put you at ease as your new boyfriend.

“i bought them.. for you.” that’s half true. yuuta did leave his apartment to go get them but actually, he took them. from your apartment. he was thinking about your comfort afterall, he even picked up a few of your shirts for when you stay over, he’s sure you’ll be thanking him when you find out. although he’d much prefer you in his, that way people will know.

“oh.. you knew i was coming over?” was a question that he hadn’t exactly prepared for though as you tilt your head at him. he doesn’t want you to think he planned this. no, he only longed for it, but that doesn’t mean he had alterier motives.. he’d love you even if you hadn’t came back to his apartment today. but you would have been brought here eventually.

“it.. was maki’s idea. i think she meant it as a joke, hah— maybe i took it too seriously. sorry.” yuuta will need to make sure that alibi isn’t confirmed by you though. although he’s thankful that he’s always been able to rely on maki as a friend, maybe he should thank her for that later on.

“ofcourse it was, just wait until i get a hold of her.” it’s maybe a little too quickly, the way yuuta pulls away from you as you go off in your tangent about your friend. he’s sure if you’re phone wasn’t lying somewhere discarded amongst the clothes on the floor you’d be texting her right now.

it hurts to leave your warmth but he’s eager now, to see the pretty expression on your face when he hands over the panties he’s sure you’ve been missing. maybe you’ll finally admit your feelings for him after this. he gives you a reassuring, soft smile as he crosses his room, reaching into the drawers in the corner before he’s returning to hand you the panties as he rests them in your palm.

“oh! i have these ones already actually.” yuuta thinks it’s adorable the way you take them from him, fingers lingering on his a little longer before you’re fiddling curiously with the lace. but he doesn’t like the look that seems to cross your features a few moments later, albeit quickly before it’s gone again. “i’ve.. not been able to find them.. for a while though.”

he always thought you looked good in those ones, they’d caught his eyes on the nights you opted for only them and a shirt as your pyjamas. he thought you’d be happy to see them again, but you’re not meeting his gaze now and he doesn’t like that.

“really? do you want to try them on.. for me?” yuuta tries, attempts to lure you back to him as his arm outstretches, fingertips softly smoothing along your cheek and he hatesthe way you shiver ever so slightly at the touch this time. don’t you love him? why are you acting this way? like you’re going to leave him. you have the same expression on your face as you did back at the cafe.

do you really believe he’s going to let you out of his sight now that he finally has you?

“maybe.. after i shower.”

#cw yandere #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x you #okkotsu yuta smut #yuuta x you #okkotsu yuuta smut #okkotsu yuta x you #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuuta smut #yuuta x reader

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unknownati · 1 month ago

Note

Hello, Sunshine!

First of all, I loooove your writing. Like, *chef kiss*

Ok, so: since Arcane 2 came out i've been obssessed with Ekko, so (if u can and are okay with it) I was wondering if you could write something about him with an s/o who has very bad periods? Personally, I'm someone who has bad periods (I'm talking irritability, lower-back pain, vomiting...) and I would really appreciate it if you could write it ❤

Thank you!

viii. ekko x afab!reader w/ bad periods (hcs)

a/n: first of all, SUNSHINE 😭😭😭😭 anyone else who makes a request you MUST call me sunshine

second, thank u!! i hope u like this as well 🫶🏾

third, i'm working on the current reqs i have, so they are coming if you submitted one. i also have some other ones on the side of my own that i'll be dropping as well ^_^ i mainly do write at night, so if they take a while that is why.

warnings/tags: not fem!reader at all! literally just for anyone w/ a period lol, no use of y/n, no description of reader's physical features, nonsexual intimacy, just fluff! 🙋🏾‍♀️, writing this made me realize my periods may be worse than i thought

_______________________________________________

-carries pads and/or tampons in his OWN bag/pockets 😭 you're like, "ugh, i think i started," and he sucks his teeth, discreetly sliding you one.

-before you started living together, he kept a separate cabinet in his bathroom open just for you. same brand of pads/tampons you like, a heating pad, pain killers, and fresh towels.

-started paying attention to your cravings and keeps those stocked up, too.

-does NOT let you go on firelight patrol/missions while you're on your period. insists you rest up until it's over.

-he got a pull-out couch from scar that he didn't want anymore and made it super comfy for you— stuffed the cushions extra, got you a weighted blanket, extra pillows, everything.

-then he put it right in his work room.

-he wanted to make sure he could keep you comfortable, even while he was busy.

-he basically made it a corner for you, with a little snack bin, a huge canteen of water, and a bucket if you ever needed to throw up.

-if you have long hair, he rushes behind you to hold or tie your hair back while you vomit so nothing gets in it.

-hearing you trudge in and groan as you throw yourself onto that couch is always bittersweet—he loves your company, but hates that you're in pain.

-he cannot help dropping multiple bad jokes (that you probably won't laugh at, cuz ain't shit funny right now)

-has absolutely said "it's uter-US" before and you could not tell if he was joking or not

-i fully believe that ekko can and will THROW DOWN in the kitchen for you.

-give that boy a speaker for some music and a stove and you will somehow have a 5 star meal in a few hours.

-he is sometimes a little clumsy though and manages to burn a few things because he's too busy using a spoon as a microphone. you scolding him for it never gets old.

-will rush to finish his work, or sometimes even abandon it to come cuddle you to sleep.

-"everything hurts," you grumble, his weight making the bed dip a little when he climbs in. his arms were around you in the blink of an eye.

he's littering your cheeks and neck with kisses, the tenderness of them making your entire body relax. he leaves only when he hears your breathing slow and low snores fill the air. it takes him a moment to force himself to get up and get back to work.

-leaves little gifts and drawings lying around to make you feel better. little drawing of you here, small box of dark chocolate there, little things like that.

-sits in the shower or bath with you, his chin resting on your shoulder while you lean against his chest.

-if you're showering together, he'll gently sway back and forth with you. he's gotten used to how boiling hot you like your showers, especially during your period, so now it's nothing to him.

-if you're in the bath together, his fingers will dance along your shoulders and chest, the small laughs that you produce literally sending him to heaven and back. his voice, hushed, utters praises into your ear.

he would have been the one to run the bath as well, pouring extra soap and epsom salts in there to relax your body (and his muscles).

-simply put, ekko's love for you is LOUD. hardly stated, but always felt.

#arcane x reader #ekko x reader #ekko x you #ekko fluff #ekko x y/n #arcane ekko #ekko x reader fluff #arcane x reader fluff #arcane fluff #arcane x you

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lovingbini · 1 month ago

Text

read the patterns - s. changbin

seo changbin x female!reader | fwb, angst, fluff, suggestive, one small smut scene | wc: 3.6k | notes: he’s an oblivious idiot, she’s aware of that; dialogue heavy; i like it by skz meets read your mind by sabrina carpenter

~~~~~~

“so you’re saying we don’t have a relationship similar to valentines, did i get it right?”

“yeah, i mean– we do some stuff they do, but it’s just the difference between a dotted line and a solid line, you know?” he explained, still naked on your bed while you got ready to work. “i like what we have, no need to go that deep.”

you stared him down, trying not to laugh.

“then you won’t be upset if we can’t see each other for a while?”

“what would be the reason?”

“i don’t know, i might be too busy or overwhelmed to meet up and have sex.”

“we’ve spent time together with no sex before, so give me another reason.”

“now you see, that’s valentines behavior right there,” you pointed out. “since we’re not friends to avoid deeper intimacy, why should we spend time together doing things other than sex?”

changbin narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

“are you trying to end what we have, is that it?”

finally, you broke out laughing.

“no! i just find it funny that you give me all these goofy punch lines while doing the exact opposite,” you cleared, walking closer to the bed. “i’ll give you some time to read the patterns, but if you refuse to accept them, i’ll have to change our dynamics for the type of relationship you really want.”

when changbin tried to pull you back to bed, you were quicker to escape, going for your bag over your desk.

“can’t be late today, bin,” you warned. “you can sleep longer, but don’t forget to wash your dishes and make the bed before you leave.”

“why are you telling me what to do? did i ever forget?” he whined.

“no, you didn’t, exactly. that’s pattern number one.” you threw him a wink and left the room.

changbin whined your name again, making you hold a smile. you pressed the elevator button with thoughts wandering around your non-established relationship with the man on your bed. you were well aware of his bad experiences with dating before, that’s what gave you the patience to deal with his detachment speeches. the thing was that changbin was the clingiest friend with benefits to ever exist– the sex is amazing, of course, but what made you stay was his attentive demeanor, his dedication to make you feel the best in bed, to prioritize your pleasure, to make you want to come back.

since you lived quite far from each other, both agreed to spend the night and just leave in the morning for safety reasons. changbin was the one to pitch the idea, to be honest– on your third night together.

“i don’t believe it’s safe for you to go home right now, so just stay the night,” he said, head buried on the curve of your neck, pressing slow lazy kisses on your skin.

“oh, so you’re making up an excuse to cuddle me?” you asked, eyes closed, enjoying the aftercare way too much.

“i mean, i won’t be rude and tell you to leave. i’m thinking of your safety, if you’re safe while cuddling me, what can i do?”

you gave a light slap on his thigh resting over your waist.

“yeah, alright. is cooking included in the package? ‘cause i’m getting hungry.”

changbin raised his head, you could visualize a cartoon light bulb right in the air.

“i can cook in the morning, but my favorite diner is open until late,” he announced. “your feedback might affect your next orgarms for the night.”

you frowned at his choice of words, but couldn’t help an endearing laugh.

“is it that important to you?”

“oh, you have no idea.”

“then call them, i’m gonna shower while you’re at it.”

changbin giggled and jumped off the bed to reach for his phone.

the food was actually amazing, so he made you come at least three times before you blacked out on his arms. the breakfast didn’t happen, though, you had to leave as soon as you woke up for a work meeting. the tiredness of the night before almost made you late, but you went through it even with your focus far away from your apartment.

changbin’s excuse to stay the night at your place was that the streets weren’t safe for anyone to drive that late.

“that’s when drunk people go out there and mess up everything. do you mind me staying?”

“to cuddle as well?”

“that’s non-negotiable.”

in fact, these late night hook ups weren’t usual. the first time was after a daytime party for your friends engagement, two months ago, the first time you really met changbin in person. you knew him from pictures with your friend's fiance, but never crossed paths until that very day. lots of talking, dancing, laughing and flirting later, you ended up at his apartment with no clothes on and a pretty fun afternoon.

you decided to leave in the evening, since you also weren’t looking for attachment – even though changbin’s number was already saved with a promise of another good time soon. your hookups were planned to be whenever one of you needed a release, so the first rule was to respect each other's free periods on the day.

“i have no fixed hours, so you might not get lucky sometimes,” you warned.

“guess i’ll just have to sadly handle it myself.” he shrugged.

you took the opportunity to bring up another topic.

“do you plan on doing it with other people?” your eyes didn’t leave his.

“i don’t think so, it’s not easy to match the chemistry these days,” he answered honestly. “but i can’t give you the hopes of a deeper commitment, i’m not available for that.”

you turned your body to lay over his, pressing a peck on his lips, “don’t worry about it. this is fun as it is.”

“they say the trailer is always the most fun part, anyway.” he cocks a brow, smirking.

“oh, so you got some punch lines? nice to know what i’m getting into.”

changbin laughed, pulling you closer to kiss you properly. the rest was history.

~~~~~~

“bin,” you whispered in the darkness of your room.

he was sleeping right beside you. it took one more grind of your ass over his crotch to take a hum out of him.

“need me, baby?”

“please, put it in me, this wet dream won't let me go back to sleep.”

with one hand, you took off your panties, with the other, you played with his cock over his pajama shorts. his left arm goes under to hug you by the waist, keeping you close enough to still allow you to roll back onto him. he left kisses all over your shoulder, aware that you were in the mood to be his pillow princess. which was okay with him — changbin loved being your service top.

“oh, i’m so lucky… having the best pussy just for me,” he moaned, trusting slowly from behind. he holds your right knee up to your stomach so he could have more access to your creamy hole. “is it okay, baby? want me to go harder? talk to me.”

“i'm so tired and sensitive, just want to go back to sleep,” you whine, playing with your nipples and pressing harder against him.

he gets the message and speeds it up, pounding harder, making your whines go louder.

~~~~~~

things started to get weird when changbin got teased by your friends in common. during a dinner hang out in dan and aeri’s apartment, changbin got comfortable enough to have you sitting on his lap while everyone was around in the living room. no one was drinking, to be fair, everyone had work and classes the following day, so a hangover wasn’t an option. changbin was holding a cup of juice on the hand that wasn’t around your waist, you were holding a small plate of snacks to share with him.

later that night, the line was dropped:

“oh, but it’s so nice to see changbin being as married as aeri and dan!”, jun cheered.

“right? thought it would take longer to see our bin this happy again,” yujin agreed, the biggest smile on her face.

you could feel him tense slightly under you.

“thank you, everybody. glad to know you were paying that much attention to me, i feel very loved,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

being too busy chewing on your food, you just smiled at the interaction. everyone was aware of changbin’s issues with commitment, everyone was aware that he wouldn’t be the one to admit that the joke wasn’t that much of a joke, after all.

when they changed the target to another friend, you thought it would be fun to keep on teasing him by yourself.

“guess i gotta take our marriage off my vision board now?” you whispered, putting a snack on his mouth to shut him up and make him think first.

changbin narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. he licked his lips, then left a small kiss on your arm.

“you better hide this hypothetical vision board when i’m around, or else i’ll have to take two steps back.”

he said that with such a cute smile that your reaction must have been what he expected for his comeback teasing. your smile wavered instantly, so you averted your gaze to the conversation happening outside your bubble. your body that felt so comfortable against his, started to feel itchy to get out of there as soon as possible– but you didn’t, you didn’t want to make a scene for something you knew was bound to happen.

“hey, i didn’t mean i don’t want to know about your plans, of course i do.” he squeezed your thigh softly to get your attention back.

“no, you’re right. honestly, i think we’re doing everything wrong at this point,” you mumbled, trying to be discreet. the mood obviously changed, but you hoped that you two were invisible in the room.

“what do you mean by that?” changbin asked, confused.

“aeri, where did you find these goodies? they don’t sell this flavor in my area.”

your friend got up excited, as if willing to share her newest discovery. she took you to the kitchen the showed you the pile of snacks she stocked for a week. aeri gave you two packs – for you and changbin, but you immediately let her know that those would be just for you.

“how are things in paradise?” she asked, leaning against the counter.

“been good, but i realized changbin has a twisted idea of a friends with benefits dynamic, so i’ll have to remind him of how it’s done.”

aeri watched you carefully, letting silence take the room. she didn’t have to search for disappointment on your features, it was pretty evident.

“yeah, it’s time he gets shaken up,” she agrees. “he’ll be a real loser if he lets you go.”

you gave her a faint smile, nodding. before sad thoughts took over your brain, you decided to leave, it was getting late– of course aeri didn’t believe it one bit, but she hugged you goodbye anyways. on the other hand, changbin was alert when you returned to the living room. he got ready to leave as well, hugging everybody while pretending he wasn’t the reason for your sudden change of mood.

the silence remained in the elevator and all the way to his car. changbin’s brain was overworking to come up with a solution for his mistake. unlike him, you looked oddly calm.

“y/n,” he decided to break the wall. “i’m really sorry for what i said. i didn’t mean to be insensitive about your plans.”

you shook your head, eyes on the street. “that’s not what upset me, actually,” you admited, changbin frowned. “i just realized i already told you about all of them, and i shouldn’t have done that.”

“what? why wouldn’t you?”

“because this isn’t what a sex-based relationship is about.”

“alright, no need to be rude,” he couldn’t help but scold you. “i never said i wasn’t interested in your life, i never said it was all about sex.”

“didn’t i tell you to read the patterns? did you even try?"

changbin paused, being able to look at you properly after stopping at the red light.

“i thought you were joking. i know i have crossed some lines, but–”

“you have crossed all of them, bin, that’s what i want you to realize.” he went silent. “i’m not ending things, i’m just acting differently from now on, like it’s supposed to be.”

a few minutes later, changbin parked in front of your building. he waited for your invitation, not sure if he was still welcome.

“you can come up, if you want,” you say, grinning when his face brightened a bit. “but there won’t be cuddles nor staying the night.”

his face fell again.

“but, baby, look at the time…”

“you can risk it tonight, that’s your call. we can give up the nightly hookups too.”

“stop teasing me, i’m warning you,” he said, his voice lower.

changbin took the car to your building’s parking lot, then you waited for the elevator together. you could feel his hand restless near yours, so you intertwined your fingers with his, feeling him relax. he didn’t stop looking at you once you got inside. for the both of you, it was not a thing to make out in public, but changbin hadn’t kissed you in what seemed like hours, so it was freaking difficult to stay sane in that moment.

as soon as you locked your door, changbin grabbed your waist to pull you closer, but you turned away when he tried to kiss you.

“we won’t get freaky tonight, okay? don’t want you too tired to drive back home later.”

changbin let out a frustrated goan locked his fingers on the back of your neck, tearing a moan out of you.

“baby, please, just shut the fuck up and let me give you what you deserve.”

~~~~~~

in the following days, changbin got busy with a project and you got overworked by your boss, so you couldn’t meet even once. the pent up stress joined the sadness of not being able to talk about it with changbin. you were aware that it was probably immature to just let him out like that, but you couldn’t give him all of yourself if he wouldn’t do something about it. changbin was the proud one in the situation, you were so tired and fragile to give him an ultimatum.

“is he fucking dumb, aeri?” you cried once. “how can he act that way and not actually be with me as a boyfriend? am i the only one fucking loving? didn’t i prove enough that i’m not his ex?”

aeri hugged you while dan prepared a cup of tea in the kitchen.

“i’m being honest when i say yes, he might be fucking dumb,” dan uttered from afar. “changbin is contradicting himself with this detachment shit. he’s unable to not care about someone’s feelings.”

“darling, don’t be wordy,” aeri advised, which made you laugh a little.

“y/n, i felt really sorry for bin when his ex messed him up.” dan returned holding two cups, giving to you and aeri. he held a finger up as a sign to wait, then he came back with his own cup. “but it’s been over a year, that’s why everybody jokes about him being happier, it isn’t actually a joke.”

“yeah, it’s clear as day that you and bin make a pretty good match”, aeri added. “he might be scared, but these actions are starting to hurt you because it’s obvious you’re not just friends with benefits anymore.”

you sniffled, less tears falling. the warm cup on your palms helped grounding you, somehow.

“i’m so fucking overwhelmed, i just wanted to feel safe with him.”

~~~~~~

the next day, all of changbin’s texts to you stayed on read.

bini: good morning, baby

bini: day off today, uh? any plans?

bini: how did that project go?

bini: my friend took me to the cutest ice cream shop yesterday

bini: let me know whenever you’re craving for it

bini: they have your favorite order there

bini: hey, answer me when you wake up

bini: was thinking of taking you out to lunch

bini: you’re probably overworked as always

bini: please take care of yourself

in the afternoon, you looked over the blanket to see your phone vibrating. changbin was calling.

“hey,” you picked up, not even a bit of excitement in your tone.

“sleeping late today?”

“no, just rotting in bed, actually.”

“everything okay? do you need anything?”

“just an awful week at work. i’ll hang out with aeri later, see if i can cheer up.”

“did you check my texts? i can come over right now, if you want. i’m an amazing company, as you know.”

“not in the mood for sex today, bin.”

“what? didn’t even think of it!”

you sigh, no energy left to have that conversation.

“well, you should. that’s all we have in common. don’t try crossing the line you created yourself.”

“y/n, don’t be stubborn, i want to take care of you.”

“you don’t have to, it’s not part of your role.”

“is this some kind of sick punishment? why are you doing this? i am your friend.”

“no, you’re not. the only time i get to be vulnerable with you is when we’re horny in bed, that’s all. my struggles outside our rooms are none of your business because that would require a level of intimacy that you made sure i knew is forbidden,” you ramble without noticing. “so, no, changbin, you can’t take care of me because i’m just your fuck buddy. i’ll text you when i get better, when i feel like i can be a good partner to you again, alright?”

“yeah, sorry. i get it, i’ll wait for you.”

but you didn’t hang up, you waited for him to do it. far from that cheesy couple action of not wanting to hang up first, you heart hurt just to think of doing it– distancing yourself.

you only realized you’d started crying when you heard his voice again.

“i’ll be there in ten. can you leave the door open for me, baby?”

you sniffled, just mumbling a weak “yes”. you heard the sound of keys and changbin moving around.

“just wait for me, okay? i’ll be with you in a few.”

then he hung up, leaving you with your heart on your sleeve. you got up from the bed and went to the door, unlocking it. after drinking some water in the kitchen, you got back in your room, throwing yourself over the sheets. didn’t take long for you to fall asleep again, burnout messing up your sleep schedule for a couple days now.

changbin woke you up in the softest way possible. he patted your hair carefully to bring you out of your slumber– it was great to see his face again as you opened your eyes.

“hi, baby.”

“hi,” you said. wasting no time to cuddle him by the waist, forcing him to lay down and get comfortable with you.

changbin left a kiss on the top of your hair, feeling your heartbeat due to how close you were.

“i’m sorry for being such a stubborn dumbass,” he started. “thank you for being so patient, for waiting as long as you could. sorry i couldn’t wait for you like i said i would today– couldn’t handle the thought of having you crying by yourself.”

“so you came to cry with me?” your voice was muffled by his shirt.

“of course, that’s part of my role as your friend and your boyfriend.”

silence again.

“that’s not the best way to make it official.”

“probably, but the label’s been here for a while, we just had to voice it out.”

“yeah, that’s why we all agreed you’re fucking dumb sometimes.”

“don’t tell me ‘we all’ includes dan and aeri.”

“won’t tell you, then.”

changbin changed his position to put you on your back, facing him. he used his thumb to get rid of the tear paths on your face, then started pressing kisses all over.

“i wasn’t planning to fall in love, but loving you is the easiest thing in the world,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “the only thing making me scared was my own memory of a bad time, ‘cause you never got me triggered, ever.”

you nodded, biting your lower lip nervously.

“i’m terribly sorry for pushing you away with my words, i know i can be quite contradictory.”

“speak your truth, cuddle monster.”

changbin’s eyes widened, hands immediately going to tickle your ribs. he couldn’t even be offended, he actually felt relieved knowing that you read his patterns so well.

“you know i’m sorry for your past experiences, and i’m glad you didn’t change your ways of affection, that’s what made me fall in love,” you stated. “i didn’t believe your goofy lines once, but you had to get a reality shock for your own good.”

his smile got bigger before kissing you softly. his tongue touched yours with an electric wave that came from longing and loving each other so much.

“have you eaten? we can cry together about your work and then i can cook you something,” changbin offered, playing with your hair.

“can we cry while you cook, though? i’m feeling hungry right now.”

“however you want it, baby.”

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