#why he feels like a bit of an outsider in his own friend group even though everyone is just as nice and kind and pleasant to him as ever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stevesherdaddynowlover · 4 months ago

Text

mint chocolate rewards [s.h.] 18+

an: hiii i kept getting stuck with this one but am pretty happy with how it turned out!! as much as i love pathetic steve i also looooove cocky steve. hope you enjoy!! feel free to send requests/suggestions or just chat with me :) -m

summary: you’re tutoring steve (there’s not a lot of learning going on) and he’s a smug asshole sometimes. (ft. ice cream, trains, and karaoke)

modern!steve x fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n, cursing, angst (steve is a little bit of a an asshole), kissing, a tiny bit of phone teasing, dirty talk, fingering, edging, p in v, smidge of daddy kink (used like once or twice and it’s steve referring to himself) 18+ MDNI!!!!!!

wc: 19.3k (oh im a yapper)

masterlist here!!

College has been a fresh start for you, moving away from your small, stuffy town and basking in the change of scenery and people that a new city brought you.

Boston was busy most of the time, a Friday or Saturday night in downtown made the city feel alive, electrified—but unlike New York, this city did sleep. Once the hustle and bustle of cars and trains stopped, the city shutdown for the night and the streets were quiet and still. Well in some places.

It was your third year at Boston University and you’d developed a fondness for the city around you. It was a city of passion and that extended to food, history, and especially sports. A passionate place with the people to match it.

With this new school and new city, you’d also found some new friends. Robin and Eddie, the three of you had found each other during the first week of freshman year and it had kind of just been that way ever since. You’d like to say you were Robin's best friend, but you knew that title was reserved for someone else.

You didn’t know Steve Harrington, but you certainly knew of him. Hushed whispers and tired rumors always swirled through the air when Steve was around—and even when he wasn’t.

Despite the reputation he seemed to have, you wondered if there was really any truth to it. Sure, he seemed charismatic and a little full of himself. Yes, he wore a smug smirk that you thought could bewitch just about anyone. But, when you sat on the sidelines and observed him, you noticed the way he tried to make everyone laugh. You’d seen firsthand how he took the time to talk to everyone around him and make sure they felt included in whatever the group was up to. You saw how he treated Robin, and cared for her. And plus, he couldn’t be that bad if she thought so highly of him, if she loved him so much.

So maybe you did know him, at least a little bit.

But in reality you were a fairly optimistic person, so you kept your theories about Steve to yourself. You tended to look for the good in people, even when there wasn’t much to look at. A glass half full kind of gal. Which is why when you hear about the ladies man, the stereotypical asshole that is Steve Harrington, you keep your mouth shut and don’t add to the conversation at all.

Even with Steve being Robin’s best friend, the two of you hardly ever overlapped. You’d see him in passing or he’d be coming to see Robin while you were leaving, but that was it. You weren’t sure why this was how it was, especially with how much she yapped about him. But really you think that Steve has his group of people and Robin has hers. The time they spent together was their own and you didn’t have any issues with that.

And so when your professor pulls you aside after algebra ll, you realize your overlap with Steve Harrington just increased tenfold.

“Steve is asking for some outside help and we talked about it and decided the group sessions that I do probably aren’t going to be a good fit. I know you’ve picked up some one on one sessions in the past and made you my first stop.”

Although you don’t want to admit it, your heart beats a little faster at the thought of spending one on one time with Steve. You’re not sure if it’s excitement or dread—maybe a mix of both.

“I, uh, I can do that. He’s serious about this right? I don’t want to waste my time if he’s not really wanting to learn something.” Okay, so maybe you’d let some of the rumors about him wiggle their way into your brain, but you couldn’t help it!

“He is. From what I’ve seen he takes his classes seriously, despite what others say about him. I don’t think he’d ask for help just to make a joke out of it.”

She had a point, why would he go out of his way to seek tutoring if he wasn’t serious about it? And if someone needed some help and you could do it, you were going to.

“Alright, I’m in. You can give him my number and I’ll see about setting something up.”

———-

Your phone buzzing beside you while you laid in bed that night wasn’t out of the ordinary but it was strange when you looked and didn’t recognize the number on your screen. Until you remembered the conversation you’d had with Professor Benson that morning. And until you scrolled through the messages and saw his name.

Unknown: Hi! I heard you agreed to be my tutor! Professor B didn’t tell me your name but thank you!

Unknown: You are a lifesaver.

Unknown: Oh shit this is Steve Harrington by the way. I forgot to mention that.

Phone still clutched tightly in your hand, you cursed yourself for feeling nervous. He was being perfectly polite, cute even, and here you were with sweaty palms at the thought of texting him back. But you had to. You agreed to this and you wouldn’t go back on your word over some jitters.

It only took you writing and rewriting the message about twenty times before you came up with something simple that didn’t make you cringe.

Y/n: Hi, Steve! You’re welcome, I hope I can be of some help to you. I’m y/n, by the way. Did you have a certain time or place you wanted to meet up for your first session? I’m free most days after 6.

Steve: Y/n? As in the person Robin has replaced me with? What a small world.

Y/n: Funny. I don’t think anyone could replace your spot in Robin’s life, but yes that’s me.

A small smile worked its way on your lips as you went back and forth with him, some of the nerves slipping away.

Steve: Well lucky me, I’ll finally get to spend some time with the girl I’ve heard so much about. But as for the first session, what about the library at 7 tomorrow? The tables in the back?

You tried not to let the first part of his text affect you so much, but it did. If you were being honest, you didn’t think he even knew about you at all, so the thought that he had was making your pulse speed up.

Y/n: Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then!

Y/n: Oh and I’ve heard plenty about you too, all good things.

Steve: Let’s hope I live up to my name then. See you tomorrow.

———

Steve was living up to his name, but not the one Robin had given him.

The day had passed quickly and before you knew it you were here about twenty minutes early with math textbooks and notes surrounding you. Now you wouldn’t fault Steve for not being early, that wouldn’t be fair, but you would fault him for being an hour late.

Well technically he still hadn’t shown up.

Ten or fifteen minutes, even half an hour you could brush off. Things happen, you get that. But you had no text, no call, no anything and you felt a steady stream of irritation flowing through you. Your texts had gone unanswered and while the rational part of you was concerned that something had happened, more than anything you were frustrated.

You texted Robin to see if she knew anything about what was going on and she didn’t. If he wasn’t here by 8:45 you were leaving. That was more than fair and you cursed yourself for even giving him that much leeway. But really you hoped he didn’t show at all because now you were tired and pissed and certainly not in the mood to hear his excuses let alone tutor him. The thought of even speaking about math right now made you want to cry!

It was a surprise your pencil didn't snap from how tight you were gripping it in your hand, your jaw clenched and the beginning of a headache pulsing behind your eyes. You’d try one more time, send one more text before you were done.

Y/n: Can you at least let me know you’re alive?

That was fifteen minutes ago and still nothing. Looking down at your phone you see it’s now 8:50 and you push your chair back with a huff, standing up to stuff everything back into your bag, shoulders aching before you even add on the extra weight.

It’s when you’re sliding in your laptop that you hear it. Panicked footsteps are hurrying toward you and you don’t even have to look up to know who it is. Any exhaustion you had is wiped away and replaced with red hot anger, the tips of your ears burning as you try to remind yourself to breathe.

“Fuck, I’m here! Shit, I’m sorry but I’m here.”

You ignore him, it’s all you can do right now and honestly you think it’s best for both of you that you don’t speak. You’d been up since 5 am and that wasn’t his fault, but it definitely was his fault that he was showing up 2 hours late and keeping you up when you didn’t have to be.

Zipping up your bag and grabbing your keys off the table you turn, brushing past him without so much as a glance before you’re heading to the doors of the library. Maybe you’re being a little dramatic but you don’t care. You hear him behind you, cursing under his breath and trying to quietly call your name but you keep going. Past the doors and down the sidewalk and straight ahead with a frown on your face.

A hand on your arm stops you and you realize you manage to keep a few feet ahead of him for about four blocks. You don’t turn to him, don’t give any acknowledgment of his presence besides the pause of your feet.

“I’m sorry I was a little late—”

That gets your attention and it’s enough to break the little silent treatment you’ve had going. It’s enough to have you pulling your arm away from his hand despite the warmth it provided as you turn to finally face him.

“A little? Try two hours, Steve.”

His nose scrunches and he looks away. You can see the embarrassment in his pinched brows and pouty lips but it does little to dull the frustration that’s been building inside of you since the half hour mark.

But he’s standing in front of you for the first time and while he’s spewing sorry’s you’re taking him in. His hair is disheveled and his lips are a little swollen, like he or someone else has been biting on them. He’s wearing a lilac t-shirt that looks a little too good on him and jeans that hug him in all the right places.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Time got away from me and I didn’t realize until I was leaving her house that it was so late! I thought I’d given us plenty of time but I guess I…I fucked up.”

You don’t hear much after “leaving her house”, a new wave of anger washing over you and you have to fist your hands at your side to keep from knocking in his pretty white teeth.

“Was everyone okay?” Your voice is calm and quiet, a little sprig of hope inside that maybe someone needed his help, something had happened and it was an emergency. You hated yourself a little bit for hoping for something like when in reality you knew the truth. He’d been too busy with a girl to remember you.

And yes you realize it wasn’t so much you specifically as it was your tutoring session, but that didn’t make it sting any less. You were a girl, a girl who blushed around cute guys and who wanted to hold hands and kiss and go on dates. And so what if it hurt your feelings a little bit that Steve had forgotten you? You could get over that. But what you wouldn’t get over, at least tonight, was that he’d taken advantage of someone wanting to help him and wasted your time.

“Oh, yeah, everyone’s okay. It was more like a…a date, I guess.”

“Right. And your phone stopped working?”

He scratched at the back of his neck with a sheepish look on his face, “I didn’t hear it go off and when I saw all your texts I was already almost here so I just didn’t respond.” Well at least he’s honest.

“Okay. Maybe you should try out a group session with Professor B before you rule it out completely, you might do well with it.”

He pulled back, eyes wide and a look of surprise written across features. You get the feeling he’s not used to being told no, even indirectly. “What does that mean?”

“It means that it’s not fair to me to waste my time. I agreed to this because I wanted to help you but if you couldn’t be bothered to show up on time or even call me to let me know you couldn’t make it, it doesn’t really give me hope that this will be beneficial for either of us.”

His face hardens the slightest bit and despite the pull you have to be a people pleaser, to say sorry and that it’s okay, you hold strong and straighten your shoulders as he stares down at you.

“So that’s it? One strike and I’m out?” There’s almost a scoff when he says it, like he can’t believe you and it only adds fuel to the fire burning in your chest.

“Well you haven’t exactly made a great first impression. If a date is more important than math, that’s fine. I really don’t care. But I won’t clear my nights and sit in libraries alone for someone that doesn’t take this seriously.” You watch him take in your words, furrow between his brows getting deeper the more you talk and you just keep going. “And for the record, I don’t owe you more than one shot. What’s the point of this if you’ll just strike out?”

“I don’t strike out.”

A laugh of disbelief flies out of you, hands going up like your surrendering, “Really? That’s all you got out of what I just said?” He shrugged at you and despite his pretty face you felt nothing but contempt for him right now.

“It was a mistake. I lost track of time. If you think you’re too good to give me a shot to prove that I care, then whatever.”

“You’re an asshole! Don’t try to-to manipulate me into feeling bad about you doing something shitty. Me setting a boundary with you does not mean I think I’m too good, it means I know my time is worth something and I don’t have to put up with bullshit from people, especially someone I don’t even know!” You can see the regret on his face, the way his features soften and his shoulders slump. “Maybe next time set an alarm or don’t schedule a date on the same day as tutoring. Or maybe let someone know you won’t make it before they sit there waiting for 2 hours to help you out. And maybe if you don’t do any of that, show up and don’t be an asshole when they’re upset about it. Maybe learn that you’re not entitled to people’s time and effort just because you think you deserve it.”

Finished with your little rant you take a breath, hoping he doesn’t lash out at you because you feel your courage waning and you just want to go home and sleep.

But all he does is nod at you with dim eyes before he’s turning on his heel and walking in the other direction before you can say anything else. Not that you would, you think you’d gotten it all out when you were standing in the middle of an almost empty street scolding him like a toddler.

Maybe you’d been wrong in your theories about Steve Harrington. Or maybe you just didn’t fall into the group of people that got to see a different side of him.

————-

Steve felt like shit.

He’d lost the nerve to say anything when you tore into him like you did, and he deserved it. It was an asshole move to be 2 fucking hours late and then get upset at you being upset with him. And all for what? A girl he barely knew, who didn’t even like him and called him once every few weeks when she was bored? To be fair he didn’t really like her either, so that made him only feel more shitty.

You’d told him off, which didn’t happen often and regardless of how pissed off or embarrassed he’d been, it was hard to stay upset when he noticed the cute little twitch your nose would do when you yelled at him.

And he felt bad because you were Robin’s friend, one of her best friends! He’d been hearing about you for what seemed like forever and now that he was actually going to spend some time with you, he’d blown it. He knew you were a sweetheart, quiet most of the time and always willing to do anything for others. It had been a low blow trying to make you feel bad, he knew that. But he really needed your help here and was willing to do anything to get it. Even if it meant guilting you into it, I guess.

He was well aware of his reputation around campus, grade A asshole with girls hanging off his arms every weekend. Hell, he played into it most of the time. It was easier to just play into what people expected sometimes, even if that meant being a dick.

And okay, maybe he was guilty of being kind of cocky sometimes. He could be a little smug but he never meant to come off like too much of a prick. He liked to think it was charming sometimes.

But right now he was worried about passing algebra and making things right with you. Robin would kill him if he didn’t, and he owed it to you to at least try to be decent.

That’s how he finds himself here, standing in front of you and Eddie where you’re perched in the shade under a big tree in the center of campus. Before last night he’s never said more than a hello to you and he doesn’t think he’s ever even been this close to Eddie.

He watches the two of you, the way you lean into Eddie as he walks closer and the way Eddie narrows his eyes like a guard dog who’ll bite if he gets too close. He feels a twinge of something deep in his stomach watching you cling to Eddie and maybe it’s because you’re so pretty or maybe it’s because Robin has built you up in his head to be this angel that he’s kind of enamored with.

“Can I talk to you?” He’s wearing sunglasses so you can’t see the way his eyes dart around your face and settle on the small pout you're wearing on your glossy, peach colored lips.

“You didn’t have much to say last night, nothing good at least.” You had one hell of a backbone, he’d give you that. From what he’d heard from Robin you tended to try your best to appease the people around you so a little spark shot up his spine at the thought of you not backing down to him.

He didn’t miss the way Eddie smirked, looking between your stern eyes and the pleading puppy dog look Steve was wearing. He nudged your shoulder to grab your attention, “Oh hear him out, yeah? It won’t hurt anything.” Steve gave Eddie a quick, grateful nod and turned back just in time to see you rolling your eyes at the both of them.

“5 minutes, Harrington.”

Eddie got up, gesturing for Steve to take his place as he grabbed his stuff and sent a reassuring wink your way. Steve thinks with all the friends he has, he doesn’t have any besides Robin that really count. Maybe if he quit being an ass, you and Eddie would be his friends too.

“First I wanna apologize for being late, and for not calling or texting to let you know. I do care about school and I appreciate you taking the time to try and help me. I’m sorry I took that for granted.” He watches your lips part in what could either be shock or surprise and the small nod you give makes him keep going. “And I’m really sorry for the shitty stuff I said. It was a dick move trying to make you feel guilty when you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m lucky you even agreed to help me in the first place, s’not your job. I guess I’m just…used to getting my way. It sounds shitty to say it out loud but I guess we both know it’s true. I realize you don’t owe me anything and I haven’t done anything to earn a second chance, so I’m sorry. I’m gonna try out a group session and see how that goes, I think. But uh, yeah, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not going to apologize for anything.” Well, he has to admit that is not what he expected to come out of your mouth. Your shoulders had softened the slightest bit but your eyes were still weary of him.

“I don’t expect you to, you did nothing wrong. I deserved you telling me off. Hell, I probably needed it. I just wanted you to know I was sorry, you deserved to hear it.”

When you don’t say anything for a few minutes he takes that as his sign to leave, pushing himself off the ground beside you and dusting off his pants before you stop him with a sigh of his name.

“Thank you—for the apology. I can tell you mean it and that’s all I wanted. It sounds like you actually heard what I was saying and…and if you want a second shot, you’ve earned one.”

“Really?” He smiled wide at you, hand grabbing yours that you’d held out and he lifted you up with ease. You nodded at him and he felt relief all over. He didn’t realize he still had your hand in his until you gave him a squeeze and he dropped it, shrugging shyly.

“Two strikes and you are out, Steve. Don’t make me regret this.”

He couldn’t help the cocky smirk he flashed, hands going to his hips, staring down and not missing the way your throat bobbed at how close he was.

“I told you I don't strike out, didn’t I?”

—————

You were very pleasantly surprised by Steve’s apology, kind of shocked by it too. You hadn’t expected much to come out of your little rant, let alone him seeming so genuinely sorry about what had happened. And he seemed to understand what you said, he let it soak in and took accountability for it.

When he was standing there so sincere and upset, you couldn’t help but to offer him another chance. This was the Steve you thought you’d seen, kind and attentive. You were happy you weren’t totally wrong about him.

But one thing you did realize was that Steve Harrington was a pest. He got under your skin in the best way possible and lit you on fire in a way that nobody ever had. It’s like he lit a spark in you and you loved every second, even if you pretended like he got on your nerves.

In the last two weeks you and Steve had gotten together about 4 times, and it was going well! You’d realized within one session with him that he just needed some one on one time with the material. He grasps the concepts much easier when he has someone to walk him through a few problems at his own pace.

And he’d been on time to every single one, even early to a couple. Today he even showed up before you, the little eager student that he was.

You noticed the more time you spent together over the last two weeks and the more comfortable Steve became, the more he liked to tease you and watch you flush red under his stare.

Like now you’re sitting beside him—you had sat down across from him but he pouted like a child and said it would be easier if you were closer—and he’s complaining about the quadratic formula for the millionth time.

“We’re almost done, Steve. Two more problems and you’re free to go.”

“I think I should get a reward for all this.” He would probably stomp his foot at you if he was standing up and you can’t help but huff a small laugh at the little frown he’s wearing, chin in his hand and shoulders slumped in annoyance.

“You do. You’ll pass the class.”

He’s not amused by this, rolling his eyes and pinching the bare skin of your thigh where your shorts have moved from you shifting in your chair. You watch the spot turn pink and his touch, even something so quick and simple, has you buzzing.

“Lame. I was thinking more of a kiss, let me have a quick taste of those pretty lips.” No matter how many times he mentions your mouth or how’d you taste it never fails to thrill you, your face heating and your eyes darting everywhere but his.

It’s even worse when you watch the way he watches you, leaned back in his chair with his thighs spread and a smug look on his face. He’ll flash his teeth at you in a smile and send a quick wink that has you having to stop yourself from sinking between his open legs. He knows what he does to you and he loves it, soaks it up and never gets tired of it.

You’ve turned back to your own notes, leaving Steve to work on the last few problems and of course he does anything but. It’s only been a few minutes when you feel something brush across your hair, you ignore it. A few seconds later something soft hits your cheek, and you ignore it. But when it hits your forehead you turn to him with a scowl, a little ball of paper between his fingers.

“You are a child.” You swat at his chest and regret it when he catches your wrist in his hand, skin turning hot under his touch. You can’t look away from where his fingers wrap around you and it makes you dizzy to feel his rough hands against your skin.

“Hit me again, baby.”

That was another thing that had started, the pet names. He used your name sometimes, but called you baby, sweetheart, or doll when he wanted to make you stutter your words and stumble through your sentences.

He’s smirking at you, eyes light and filled with amusement at the way your neck is turning a bright pink, reaching and reaching until your ears are burning. “C’mon, please?”

“No reward for you if you don’t finish those problems.” Despite the turmoil going on inside your voice sounds cool, unaffected, and you thank god for that.

“Fine. I can be a good boy when I want to be.”

Ignoring him, you turn back to your notes, far too distracted to actually pay attention to them anymore but you still stare at the paper in front of you. You’re pleasantly surprised when he actually goes back to his work, finishing the problems quickly and you beam at him when they’re all right.

“See! I told you, just need to take your time with this stuff. I’m proud of you, Steve.” For once he’s the one blushing, brushing it off like it’s nothing and asking for his reward. You should have known, a child never forgets a promise you make them.

Leaning forward his eyes widen, darting over your face to check if this is really happening. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, not used to playing his games with him and it takes all the courage you have to let your lips brush over the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, before they find the shell of his ear. He’s still beside you, anticipating your next move and if you weren’t so hell bent on teasing him back, you’d kiss him right now.

Your lips graze him and it’s your turn to smirk when his grip on the table in front of you tightens. His knuckles are white and his jaw is set with you so close to him.

“Ice cream. That’s your reward.”

Pulling back quickly so you can see his reaction, you beam at the way his lips are parted and his chest is heaving a little harder than it should be. He just watches you with wide eyes before something settles over him. Something that makes your stomach flutter and tells you you’ve started something that you won’t win.

When he speaks you can’t help but watch the way his mouth wraps around the words so sensually you feel it all over, like he’s touching every inch of your skin and it’s addicting.

“Perfect. M’dying for something sweet.”

———-

He can’t stop thinking about the feeling of your lips on his skin, even if it lasted all of three seconds it’s running through his mind on a loop and making his head a mess.

God he wishes you would have just bit down on him, sunk your teeth into his skin and let him feel your tongue soothe the burn.

You’re walking side by side to your favorite ice cream place now, the sun is out and bright but despite that there’s a nice breeze that cools his skin. You would have already been there but he had to spend fifteen minutes distracting you from leaving just so he could stand up without getting arrested for indecent exposure.

Remembering the small smile of victory you had makes him smile, but not as big as he’ll be smiling when he gets you back. He loves watching you preen under his touch, loves the way your chest rises and falls a little faster when he leans in towards you and loves even more the way your eyes go all big and round and your cheeks turn bright red when he says something cheeky.

Spending some time with you over the last two weeks, it’s obvious to him why Robin is so obsessed with you. You’re hilarious, sometimes you make him laugh so hard his stomach hurts and he has tears in his eyes. He’d known you were a sweetheart but getting to see it firsthand gave him a goddamn toothache. Watching the way you smile at him so proudly when something finally clicks, how you listen to someone with such intent, no matter what they’re talking about. You’re just so kind and good that he wants to be as close to you as possible at all times.

But this is the first time you two are venturing outside of the library together and he thinks he’ll spend much more time convincing you to do things with him besides math. Now that he’s got a taste he needs more, craves it.

He doesn’t even notice you’ve arrived until you’re tugging on the sleeve of his shirt and giving him a smile as sweet as honey as you wordlessly point at the ice cream shop he’d just walked past.

Pulling open the door he lets you go first and looks around to see only a few people besides them in the shop. Perfect.

Since there’s no line, you both go quickly. You opt for chocolate chip cookie dough in a cup and he decides on mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone. He notices the way your nose scrunches all cute at his choice and he rolls his eyes as he pulls out his card to pay before you can.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who’s gonna say it tastes like toothpaste or something.” Your jaw drops in offense and he has to roll his lips into his mouth to keep from laughing at how cute you are.

“I wasn’t! I only made that face because I almost got it myself.”

“And the thought of having a similar taste to me is making you feel sick?”

“No, just didn’t peg you as a mint chocolate chip guy.”

“So you’ve been thinking about pegging me.” He knows you’ve realized what you’ve done before the words even leave his mouth and he smirks at you anyways. He’ll take any chance to get you all flustered and riled up.

“Pay for my damn ice cream, Harrington.”

He doesn’t say anything, just quietly snickers to himself while you go and find a place to sit. He notices the way you choose a seat in the corner, far away from anyone else in the shop and he smiles. You probably know what’s coming, waiting for the other shoe to drop after your little stunt at the library and he loves seeing you all worked up and on edge.

He likes it a little too much.

Instead of sitting in the seat across from you he slips in the booth beside you instead, watching your eyes dart to the side to watch him carefully. He’s not sure why you’re surprised, he always takes any opportunity to be close to you.

Slinging an arm around your shoulder he lets his fingertips toy with your hair, smiling when he feels you relax into him. “Can I have a bite?” You seem to not think anything of his request, lifting your spoon up to his mouth and he lets you slip it between his lips, your eyes trained on his mouth and his on you.

He hums around the spoon and lets his teeth catch when you drag it from his mouth. You shake your head at him, leaning slightly against his chest and enjoying the quiet between you too.

It’s go time.

“Wanna bite?” He’s looking down at you and you nod sheepishly, leaning forward to meet him halfway when he moves his cone towards your mouth. Right when he reaches your lips he moves the cone an inch over and touches the ice cream against the corner of your mouth.

Before you can reach for a napkin he grabs your wrist, smiling all innocent when you look at him with confusion in your eyes. “I got it, don’t worry.”

And when he leans forward and moves his head down to be eye level with you, he smirks at the hitch in your breath when he leans forward and lets his tongue swipe over the sweetness there, his tongue catching the corner of your mouth.

The spoon clatters on the table between you and he hasn’t moved, face just inches away from yours and his hand isn’t playing with your hair anymore, it’s gripping the back of the booth so tight it hurts.

“Steve..” A breathless little plea leaves your now clean mouth and it takes everything in him not to go in for another taste. He pulls back just enough to watch your eyes flutter close and your head fall back to lay against his arm that’s still behind you. There’s a shine on your cheek from his spit and he’s so hard he can feel his heartbeat all through his body.

Despite the cockiness running through him at the way you’ve melted, his voice is quiet and breathless just like yours when he speaks where only you can hear him. “What? Just cleaning you up, messy girl.”

He feels something cold on his hand and looks down to see his ice cream melting, spilling over the cone and running down his fingers. When he looks back he sees you staring at them too, a look in your eyes that has him reeling.

If there wasn’t anyone else here he’d have you lick his fingers clean, he can see the way you’re itching to do it.

But there’s more people coming into the shop and he’s seconds away from dragging you into the bathroom so he needs to get you out of here, get into the fresh air and out of the little bubble you’ve created.

“You ready, Stevie?” He loves when you call him that, it makes his chest feel all warm and he just wants to nuzzle into you when you say it. He must have been staring at you, too busy thinking about how bad he wanted you to do anything else.

He nods, sliding out of the booth and holding out his now clean hand to you, body buzzing when you take it and he feels your skin against his. You walk out and into the street and the breeze on his skin is a life saver.

Your apartment is just two blocks away from the ice cream shop and the walk there is quiet, both of you thinking about his tongue so close to your mouth. His hand brushes yours as you walk and he feels his fingers twitch with the need to slip your hands together.

“Good reward then?” It’s you that breaks the silence and he’s grateful, his heart racing in his chest despite the smug smirk he’s wearing looking down at you.

“Oh baby, the best.”

—————

You and Steve spend about four days a week together at this point and you’re not convinced he even needs that much tutoring but you don’t complain. You’ll take any chance to spend some time with him.

The two of you have also decided to forgo the library, taking turns having it at his place or yours and most times you work on actual school stuff for about half an hour before he’s distracting you with a movie or a game or a promise of food.

It’s been a few weeks since that day at the ice cream shop, where he licked the corner of your mouth and sent you spiraling. Having him that close was overwhelming enough, let alone feeling him on your skin.

Since then things haven’t changed much, he teases you and sometimes you retaliate but oftentimes you just sit there red faced and let him enjoy how flustered he makes you. He’s still touchy and smug all the time, but hasn’t put his tongue anywhere near you since. Unfortunately.

Tonight you’re both at your place, you lying out across your couch in a t-shirt and pajama shorts that really don’t fit you anymore but you refuse to get rid of. Steve is on the floor in front of you stretched out and scrolling through his phone while you switch between watching the tv and watching him.

He’s been less like himself tonight, quiet and there's a little furrow between his brows that has you worried. By this point he’d usually be wrapped around you, playing with your hair or rubbing at your neck. But he’d barely touched you today, barely teased you and you wondered what had happened between yesterday and today that had him so out of sorts.

Regardless of his mood, he takes time to admire the way your ass peaks out of the bottom of those shorts, his jaw clenching when he gets a peak at the smooth skin there. He can spot where your ass meets your thigh and he wants to bury his face there.

You're pulled from your thoughts when he sits up, sitting his phone on the edge of the couch beside you and using your thigh to hoist himself off the ground. “Be right back, honey.”

You just nod, stretching out your legs and trying to memorize how the heat of his palm felt gripping your skin. He goes to the bathroom, the click of the lock sounding out at the same time his phone lights up beside you.

You don’t mean to look. Really, you planned to call out to him and go back to the shitty reality tv show that was playing in front of you but when you see a name you recognize you can’t help but to look.

And you immediately regret it.

Brooke: Are you still coming over tonight? It’s been over a month, I miss you.

The blood drains from your body and you feel a pit so deep in your stomach you think you might be sick. You know Brooke, everyone knows Brooke. And you don’t keep up with that Steve does but he’s spent most of his time with you for the last month, so you can’t help but wonder if the last time he saw her was the day of his first tutoring session.

And that should make you feel a little better, should dull the raging jealousy coursing through you but it doesn’t. It doesn’t because from her text, he’s already made plans to go over. Maybe this is why he’s being so weird tonight, he’s ready to go see…her. And then you’re even more upset because it was your idea to hang out tonight and you wish he would have just said no because then you wouldn’t have seen this text and you wouldn’t feel like you’re about to cry.

You and Steve weren’t together, hadn’t even gone on a date or kissed or been anything more than friends. But that doesn’t mean you haven’t developed this huge crush on him that’s taken over every part of your brain. And the teasing, the touches, they meant something to you.

Maybe that was your mistake.

Maybe he’s that way with everyone and you read too much into it. Maybe you’ve spent so much time together because he actually did need that much help with fucking algebra and stuck around because he felt like he owed you or something.

In a matter of seconds your whole friendship was Steve was up in the air in front of you and you found yourself dissecting every interaction and graze of skin and now you just wanted to curl up into your bed and forget all of it.

You liked him, a lot more than you would care to admit and for the first time since that first night, you felt uncomfortable being in the same place as him.

The click of the bathroom lock snaps you from your spiral and you pull yourself off the couch, gathering up trash from the snacks you’d eaten so you don’t have to look him in the eye. And you shouldn’t say anything, should pretend it didn’t happen and figure this out later but you can’t help but let the words slip out when he walks back into your living room.

“Got a text while you were in the bathroom.” He doesn’t say anything but doesn’t really have the chance because you’re rushing into the kitchen and deciding that now is the best time to do those dishes you meant to do before he came over.

Hopefully he’ll just…go. You know he won’t but maybe that would be easier if you didn’t have to see him again tonight or smell him or touch him. The water is hot, too hot to be sticking your hands under but scrubbing at this plate is all that’s keeping the tears that are building from falling down your cheeks.

“Y/n…” He’s behind you now, close enough that you can feel his presence and you know if you just took one step back you’d be pressed up against his chest, you’d feel the warmth that always comes from him. So you stay where you are, the edge of the sink digging into your stomach but you try and scoot closer to it anyways.

A noncommittal hum is all he gets from you. You don’t move your head to look at him, you can’t because if you do you’re not sure you won’t cry. And you can’t let him see you cry over something that was never there.

“Can you look at me? Please?” His voice is low and sweet, a hint of a plea in his tone that makes your insides twist painfully. You just shake your head, scrubbing at this plate so hard you’re worried it might snap in your grip.

His hand is on your shoulder now and a shaky breath escapes your lips, the tears building behind your eyes and you will them away. There's nothing to cry over. He’s your friend. That’s all. “If you need to leave, that’s fine. Seriously it’s—you can go if you want.” Your voice cracks the slightest bit, but he notices. Of course he does.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

Your chest hurts at the endearment and you squeeze your eyes shut tight because you know he’s wearing that puppy dog look he does so well. You know his eyes are round and full of concern, or even worse, pity. You know his bottom lip is jutting out in a pout and it makes you want to take the plate you’ve scrubbed clean and smash it into a million pieces.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Steve, it’s that he won’t give in. He’ll stand behind you all night, miss his date with Brooke if that’s what it takes. He won’t give up until you’re looking at him, but you don’t know why. Don’t know why he wants to see you upset. But you turn around anyways, cheeks blotchy and a sheen of tears ready to fall at any given moment.

His lips part softly and his hands are hovering between you, not sure if he should reach over and touch you. “It’s not—she’s not…I don’t want to leave.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t know why I even made the plans in the first place! I’d rather be here with you anyways.”

“Okay.”

He’s pacing in front of you now, hands fisted in his hair and he looks like he’s freaking out, chewing on his bottom lip and mumbling under his breath while you just stand there and stare at your feet on the floor.

“I’ve just been…my mind has been fucked lately and I don’t know what I even think anymore and I do stupid shit when I don’t know what do to.”

“Okay, Steve.”

“Are you just gonna keep saying okay?” He’s stopped pacing, the stare he’s wearing keeps you still in place against the sink and you feel like shrinking under his gaze.

“What do you want me to say? If you want to go hang out with her, you can! You’re an adult, Steve. You don’t have to spend all your time with me.”

“But I want to.” Heart thudding hard in your chest you try to make sense of what he’s saying, what he’s not saying. He’s giving you something, dancing around what he wants to say and you won’t give yourself false hope, won’t read too far into this. You’ve become friends, best friends even and you don’t want to fuck that up.

“Then stay.”

You should talk about this, you know it and he knows it. You should get everything out in the open so there’s no more secret plans and unshed tears but you don’t. Instead he nods at you, coming closer and wrapping his arms around you so you’re nuzzled against his chest. Neither of you say anything, just sit there wrapped up in each other for who knows how long before he pulls back and tugs you to the living room, sitting down and pulling you into his side with no words spoken between you.

The show drones on around you, but you’re not paying attention. Your mind is too busy, too many thoughts swirling around to even try and focus on anything but him. He sinks down further into the couch and you move with him, your head resting against his chest and his hand lying still on your hip.

“M’sorry I made you sad. Never want to do that, you’re too pretty to cry over me, too sweet.”

You just nod against him, closing your eyes and feeling the thump of his chest on your cheek. He doesn’t say anything else and you’re grateful.

————-

It’s been almost a week since that night in your apartment. A week since Steve got that text and you almost lost your shit. A week since you realized how deep your feelings for him actually ran.

When you had woken up that next day Steve was still there, hand still on your hip with his head thrown back in what couldn’t be comfortable as he slept beside you. He woke up soon after and both of you just…pretended it hadn’t happened. The last week had been normal, so normal you’d convinced yourself that night was some sort of glitch.

Steve continued to spend most of his days with you, continued to flash those smug grins your way when he sees something inappropriate and you continue to flush under his stare, preen under his praise and stick to his side like glue.

That’s how you are now, sprawled under that same big tree Steve had come to apologize to you under all those weeks ago. He’s sitting up with his legs stretched out in front of him and your head is on his lap, Eddie beside you hunched over and working on something you can’t see, Robin beside Steve with a book she’s not reading in her hand.

He’d also been spending more time with the three of you and it made your heart warm. All your favorite people getting along and hanging out.

“We should all go to Lansdowne this weekend.” That suggestion couldn’t have come from anyone but Steve. Eddie scrunches his nose at the thought immediately, tongue sticking out like it left a bad taste in his mouth. Robin groans like she’s physically pained by the thought.

“Now don’t sound too excited.” Lansdowne was a little pub near Fenway Park that Steve was obsessed with. They usually had live music and were packed to the brim with bodies every weekend. Robin and Eddie despised it, always too crowded for their liking.

“I’ll go, Steve. But you’re buying my first drink.”

“That’s my girl!” He patted your head like you were a puppy, grin wide as he turned to stick out his tongue at Eddie and Robin who just rolled their eyes dramatically and went back to ignoring whatever Steve would ramble on about next.

Neither of you noticed the way Eddie and Robin watched you, knowing smiles on both their faces as they took the sight of you two in. They watched Steve brush your hair out of your face, a look of fondness on his face that Robin hasn’t seen him show anyone before. They watch you snuggle into him, content and comfort written all over your features.

————-

There was a small bit of regret about quickly agreeing to go out with Steve. Friday came before you knew it and you were tired, so tired from a long week of school and work. It seemed like everything that could have gone wrong this week, did and it had you mentally and physically drained.

The temptation to text Steve and bail was clawing at you, but you couldn’t. Usually spending time with him was something that made you feel better, so you hoped that was the case tonight.

It was nice out, not too hot but just warm enough to indulge in summer clothes. Dressing up for tonight was out of the question, you needed to be comfy if you were going to be squished against sweaty bodies and pulled through big crowds.

That was how you found yourself now, tucked into Steve’s side at the bar at 11pm with a short denim skirt snug around your hips that you’d found in the back of your drawer and a cropped pink t-shirt that molded to your chest. A few inches of skin showed above your skirt and the feel of Steve’s palm resting there had you blushing already.

You were both three drinks in, a nice buzz in your veins that had you giggling into his chest without embarrassment. When you’d seen him tonight, you knew you were going to need some liquid reinforcements to survive. He’d been wearing a dark green button up that he left undone, tight white tank top underneath that showed the outline of his chest. A pair of light wash denim jeans cinched around his waist with a belt.

There might have been an audible gulp at the sight of him, but with three dirty shirley’s pumping through you, you eyed him up without care, taking in every inch of him with a palpable hunger.

His breath is hot against your skin when he leans down to try and whisper in your ear, but ends up talking much louder than he meant to. “Forgot to mention it’s karaoke night.”

“I am not participating in that.”

That little frown he does when he doesn’t get his way pops up, lips pouted at you like you’d stolen his candy. “Why not?”

“Between the two of us you’re the rockstar, Harrington, not me.”

Before he could open his mouth to argue, someone called his name from across the bar, a man holding a clipboard that looked less than impressed with his job. Somehow in the short time you’d been here Steve had gotten his name down on the list for karaoke without you knowing, and it was his turn now.

He gave you a quick wink that had you almost melting before him, a small smirk as he squeezed your shoulder and started to push his way through the crowds of people. “Eyes on me, baby.”

Liked you’d be able to look anywhere else.

You watch him hop up on the small stage that’s only a few feet tall, no hint of nervousness on his face as he smiles at the small crowd that’s paying attention to him. There’s lights focused on him and you think he was made to be in the spotlight with how good he looks up there. You’re somewhere in the middle of the crowd but he spots you easily, winking before he strips off his button down, tossing it to the side of him.

The sight of him up there with his tank top tucked nicely into his jeans does little to help with the fuzziness you were already feeling from the drinks. You’re careful not to drool at his arms on display, bulging slightly when he lifts them to grip his hands around the mic.

“Hello, Boston!”

You’d think this was his personal show the way the crowd cheered back at him, encouraging what you know was nothing but mischievous behavior. He’s getting the attention of more of the bar the longer he stands up there and you can’t blame them, he’s a sight to see.

“You all look beautiful tonight!”

A laugh bubbles out of you when the beginning notes of Mr. Brightside by the Killers boom from the speakers behind him, not sure why you expected anything else from him.

He’s practically bouncing on his heels as he sings the first few notes—and so is his hair. But your laughter and amusement is quickly replaced by something fiery and strong that builds in your stomach as you watch him.

His hands are wrapped around the microphone in front of him, eyes screwed shut when he gets to the chorus and you feel like you’re on fire. During a pause his head is thrown back, throat bobbing for everyone to see and you try to trace the beads of sweat running down his throat from your spot in the middle of the bar.

When he starts singing again—and fuck he’s good—his eyes are open and on yours, coming so close to the microphone you can see the way his lips pucker against it on certain notes and you’re thankful it’s so packed in here, the people around you keeping you from falling to the ground.

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay, destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes, 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside

About seven feet are between you but with the bright lights shining on him you watch in awe as his raspberry lips wrap around the words and his tongue swipes out and darts across them every few seconds. He looks ethereal on that stage, hair slicked back from running his fingers through it and hips rocking side to side in time with the beat.

His voice is pure silk and honey, like he was born to sing this song and it has your heart racing so fast in your chest it’s hard to catch your breath. He’s jumping around, putting on a noteworthy performance while the patrons around you yell and dance with him.

Every once in a while his nose bumps against the mic and you can’t get over how alluring he looks with his lips grazing the mic. He’s captivating, stealing the attention of almost everyone in the room now and your heart swells in your chest.

It takes you a second longer to realize the song has ended, cheers and hollering making your ears ring as he basks in the attention on stage. You can see that cocky smirk from here, his eyes dark and cheeks red as he blows you a kiss when he catches your eyes again.

Maybe you could use another drink after all.

—————

Steve was sweaty from karaoke, his hair sticking to his forehead and neck, button up he’d been wearing thrown somewhere and he was sure he’d never see it again. The tank top he wore was clinging to his skin and he wished he could peel it off, the stickiness in the air of the bar doing nothing to cool him down.

But he saw the way you watched him up there, your eyes trained on his mouth or his hands the whole time and it made him feel electric. The way you licked your lips like he was your next meal could have him on his knees for you in an instant.

He’d lost you when he got off the small stage, eyes searching through the crowd and sighing in relief when he finds you standing by the bar, chin in your palm as you swirl your drink around.

That relief is short-lived when he sees some douche come up beside you, a charming grin plastered on his face and his eyes dark as he takes you in. Steve sees red when he places one of his hands on your waist, his palm touching your bare skin since you’d chosen a crop top for tonight.

Possessiveness stirs in his belly, hands fisted at his side at the laugh you give him. It’s fake, he can tell, but it still makes his jaw clench uncomfortably.

You’re not interested in this guy, he can see that. You’ve leaned back enough to create some space between the two of you and your eyes dart around the bar quickly and he knows you’re looking for him.

Little did you know that even if you weren’t looking for him, he’d still be there. He’d always be there. Couldn’t keep himself away from you even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. He’d become addicted to your strawberry scent and your sweet little giggles. He’d become addicted to you.

It’s when this asshole lifts his hand to brush a piece of your hair away from your face that Steve starts to move, shoulders shoving through the crowd with ease and he sees the way your body relaxes when you catch sight of him heading towards you.

The thought of someone else touching your skin, feeling how smooth it is and how it warms up under their touch has him gritting his teeth. His jaw twitches thinking about you looking up at someone besides him with stars in your eyes.

When he’s within reach he lays his hand on your exposed thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh there and placing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Told ya I’d be right back, doll.” He doesn’t acknowledge the man beside him, eyes focused on yours.

Your thighs clamp shut around his hand and a devious smirk plays on his lips at the feeling. “Who’s this?” He cocks his head towards the man that had been trying to talk to you, not looking his way but finally acknowledging his presence. Douchebag is still there, watching the scene unfold in front of him with little amusement.

“I-I don’t know. We were just talking.” Steve hums at you, eyes drinking in the little drops of sweat rolling down your neck and down your shirt. He’s itching to lean forward and collect them on his tongue, to taste any part of you he can get his hands on.

You yelp when his fingers pinch at your inner thigh, hands coming up to grip his forearm in surprise. He doesn’t miss the way your hips shifted forward though, searching for his touch instinctively.

“Don’t want these boys talking to you, do you?” He��s leaning closer to you but still talking loud enough that the prick who can’t take a hint can hear him. You shake your head quickly and he smiles. “It’s because you’re my girl, isn't it baby? Want them to know you’re mine to take home, mine to play with, mine to keep.”

At this point he’s not even talking for the benefit of saving you from some creep in a bar, you both know that. He’s not just staking his claim so they’ll leave you alone, he’s telling you the truth, what you both already know but refuse to talk about. He’s yours as much as you are his. It’s been that way for weeks.

For him it’s been that way since you ripped him a new one, tore into him for being an asshole with your big round eyes that twitched in anger at his attitude.

You’re nodding at him with blown out eyes, thighs still keeping his hand trapped between them. The guy you’d been talking to is long gone but neither of you seem to notice or care.

“So say it.” His lips are tilted in a smirk, knowing eyes watching you shift and squirm under his stare. He feels himself thickening in his pants, head of his cock pressed up against the zipper painfully but he doesn’t care. He’d stand here in pain all night if you kept looking at him like that.

“I’m your girl.”

His chest swells with pride, grinning down at you and watching you just eat up the unsaid praise. You’re blooming under his gaze, chest puffing out the slightest bit and his mouth waters.

It’s hard to breathe when you’re looking at him like that. His stomach feels tight and a feeling he can’t quite describe takes over. He wants to feel your skin on his, to taste you, smell you, anything you’ll give him. But he also feels like he could be sick, just looking at you being too much for him right now.

He uses his thumb to tap on your thigh so you’ll open them for him, pulling his hand out and tugging on your wrist to pull you back to the middle of the dance floor. Your obedience thrills him, makes his spine tingle and heart race. He should’ve known you were a good girl, the best one really. You don’t even question him as he grips your hips in his hand, pulling you flush against him while the music booms around you.

Neither of you are really moving, just standing there pressed together while bodies push and move around you. One hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer so that he can lean down and talk in your ear where you’ll hear him.

“Saw the way you were watching me up on the stage earlier.”

Your hands are clinging to his shirt and he feels your grip tighten, smiling knowingly against your ear. He loved the way you watched him, the way your eyes never left him like you were mesmerized.

“You looked good up there, like a natural.”

“Yeah?”

“Hmm, my rockstar.”

The praise shoots down his spine and makes his body buzz. He’s watching the way your hair flows over your shoulder and he wants to tug on it, make your head fall back and expose your throat to him.

You pressed against him mixed with the sticky air surrounding you is too much, his head feels fuzzy and he’s seconds away from biting on your lips and licking into your mouth.

“Let’s get out of here.”

———————

In hindsight, deciding to take the train at 1 am on a Friday night was a stupid idea. Anyone and everyone in the city chose that time to pile on. For a second you’re worried you’ll lose Steve in the crowd of people but a few seconds later you feel his fingers slip through yours and tug you to his side.

“Can’t risk losing my precious cargo.”

The ringing in your ears is either from the feel of his skin touching yours or the tell tale screech of the train approaching. When it pulls up in front of you, your cringe at how crowded it already is, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat before you even step on. The doors open and Steve is pulling you through the bunches of people, tugging you through and moving you to stand in front him when he sees an opening.

Your back is pressed against the opposing doors and you sigh in relief at the coolness it provides. That relief is short lived when you peek over Steve’s shoulder to see more people piling on. He presses closer to you to make room and your heart thuds harshly against your chest.

His feet are spread slightly to be on either side of yours, arms over your head to hold on to the railing and it feels like he’s caging you in. He’s pressed up against you completely, your chin touching his chest and lips hover near your forehead.

It doesn’t help that his arms are on full display, button up he was wearing long gone since before karaoke and instead adorned in a white tank top that’s like a second skin. It’s hugging his chest and waist and it’s taking everything in you not to lean forward and nip at his arm.

And then you’re thinking about how he looked on stage. Pure sex as he captivated the crowd with his effortless charm and talent. You think you could watch him like that forever.

Fuck. All you could feel was him, his breath on your skin and his body keeping yours snug against the doors. You’re not sure you could even move, not that you wanted to. Tilting your head back an inch you look up at him, eyes glancing over his strawberry mouth that’s tilted into a smirk, looking up further to see how he’s watching you closely.

Honey eyes staring into yours scream mischief and when you breathe in you feel your knees falter, a sweetness washing over your senses. Just the smell of him was enough to have your skin tingling, hints of cherry and vanilla from where you were practically nuzzled against his throat.

Your hand was wrapped tightly against the pole in front of you and the feel of the cool metal against your palm did little to help with the heat you felt burning through your chest. The train lurched forward and the hand that was dangling by your side shot out to fist at the fabric of Steve’s shirt. The fucking white tank top he was wearing.

“Eager, are we?” His tone was teasing and when you took a quick glance down to see a sliver of his stomach showing where you had his shirt tight in your grasp, your thighs squeezed together involuntarily.

“Oh please.You just happened to be the closest thing to me, Harrington.”

He feigned offense, knowing smirk never leaving his face and you stifled a groan when you felt his stomach twitch against your hand. You thought that if you had to be pressed against him for much longer you might just pass out.

When you look up to see you still have a few stops before yours, you release your grip on his shirt and try not to notice the disappointment that floods through you when your hold on him is gone. He seems to notice too, eyebrows furrowing for a split second before his expression goes back and he’s smiling down at you again.

“Ya know,” He tilts his head to the side like he’s wondering about something important but his expression holds nothing good. “You look good like this, pressed up against me all flushed and pretty.”

Arousal seeps down your spine and curls around your belly like a boa constrictor, your throat all of a sudden dry and you can’t seem to do anything but blink up at him.

“Going dumb already? You really are precious cargo.”

You have about an ounce of self control left and that’s what keeps you from letting a whimper slip into the sticky air between you. You know he can read your emotions on your face but you try and school your features anyways, lifting your leg that’s trapped between his and pressing your weight down on his foot.

It just makes his sickly sweet smile even bigger and your breath hitches when he leans down to press his lips against the shell of your ear. You dig your fingertips into your palm when he lets his tongue swipe against his bottom lip and it catches your skin as it does.

“Trying to hurt me, baby? Why don’t you bite me next? Pretty please?” He brings his hand up between you as he talks, uses his thumb to swipe at your bottom lip and if you weren’t on the fucking train you’d part your lips for him and take his thumb into your mouth. You think you want that a little too much to be so close to him right now.

For the first time since you’ve moved here, the train is your saving grace. The doors pull open and the cool air of the night hits you, breaking you from whatever little trance Steve had put you under. It clears out enough that he can step to your side now, giving you some much needed space to try and get yourself together.

The chatter around you has died down and while you feel marginally more in control of yourself, the smell of Steve and the feel of his arm brushing against yours beside you is enough to keep you on your toes.

“Cooling down over there?”

“Yes actually, no thanks to you.”

He shrugs his shoulders innocently and if he hadn’t just been whispering in your ear about liking the pain then you might actually believe the sweet look he was wearing on his face. “Oops.”

The next stop is yours and while you’re trying to figure out if Steve is coming with you or if you’re gonna have to figure out some weird goodbye, he’s already five steps ahead. When the train comes to a stop and the doors open he’s grabbing your hand again and pulling you out of the train and into the breeze that cools the sweat on your neck.

“M’gonna walk you home, okay?” You nod wordlessly, letting your hands swing gently between you as you make your way through the now quiet streets. Everyone is either deep into the city until the bars close or already tucked away in their beds after a long work week. Few people litter the streets but you don’t hear much besides the buzz of the train pulling away and the soft hum coming from the person beside you.

It doesn’t take long before you reach your building nestled in between two others that look just like it and while you fumble through your bag for your keys you feel his gaze burning into the side of your face.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the bar.”

A noncommittal hum is all you give him and he’s not a fan of that, reaching forward and plucking your apartment key from between your fingers before you even register what’s happening. You reach out automatically but he’s pulling back and out of your reach.

“Why?”

“Why what?” You know what he’s asking and you’re just making this harder for the both of you but he’s had you so on edge since he got on stage and was all…rockstar and sex that you’re scared about what might come out of your mouth if you’re not careful.

“Why have you been so quiet since we left the bar?”

“Not much to say I guess…”

“Bullshit.”

You blink at him owlishly, lips parted in surprise but you can’t deny the little tingle that starts at your toes and makes its way up your body at him calling you out. “Excuse me?” Your voice sounds pathetic and breathless to your own ears at this point so you can only imagine how you look to Steve right now.

“I call bullshit. Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you blush every time you make eye contact or you look at my arms,” Fuck he caught you. “Or the way you clench those pretty thighs everytime I whisper in your ear or get a little too close to you.”

Your chest is rising and falling harshly and if he wasn’t taking up every inch of your brain right now you’d be embarrassed by how he had you panting at him. Any confusion he had vanishes and you curse yourself for being so easy for him to read. Like a fucking open book.

“Oh that’s it. Scared of what might come out of that pouty little mouth, aren’t you? You listen to me talk to you all sweet and dirty and it just makes you all dumb, doesn’t it? S’cute. You’re cute.”

“Shut up! You…you idiot.” It was a weak attempt at a comeback and you felt yourself scrunch your nose at yourself while Steve chuckled. He stepped closer, his hands on his hips as he looked down at you.

“That’s the best you got?” You were toe to toe now—literally—and you felt yourself shrinking under his gaze. You hated how good he was at making you squirm, how you felt his words on your skin like standing under the sun in the summer heat. But most of all you despised that you didn’t hate it at all.

“You’re an asshole, you know that? A big one.”

He flashed his teeth at you, hand going up to his chest like your words hurt him. “Oooh there ya go, that’s a little better. But if you’re gonna call me names, I’ve got some you can try. How about dadd—”

“Steve!” You practically hissed at him, smacking his shoulder and huffing like a child at the way he laughed loudly at your expense. He laughed so hard there were little crinkles in the corner of his eyes, grin so big his dimples popped out and you had to stop yourself from poking at it.

“Alright, alright. No need to get violent, baby. At least take me to dinner first.” Rolling your eyes you snatched your key from him while he was occupied, turning to your door and muttering under your breath. Asshole. Jerk. Moron. Hot. Hot. Hot.

He laid his hand on your shoulder softly to get your attention and when you turned back he was rolling his lips together, trying to keep his amusement at bay for your sake. He had a way of doing that you’d noticed, looking like a little puppy dog when he wanted to. You hated how much it worked.

“M’done, I swear. For tonight at least. Thanks for coming out with me, I had a lot of fun.”

“I did too, even if you’re a pest.”

“Oh c’mon, you love it.” I do. God I love it so much it’s kind of sick.

“In your dreams, Harrington,” You knew you set yourself up when he opened his mouth, that gleam in his eye that meant nothing but trouble. You beat him to it though, and the little pout he wore made you melt. “Text me when you get home safe, okay? And thanks for walking me home.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

Reaching up like he was going to sweep you hair out of your eyes, he must’ve changed his mind because he pinched your cheek instead, laughing to himself when you grumbled at him and smacked his hand away.

You’d watched as he walked away, watched until you couldn’t see him anymore before you finally went inside, trudging up the stairs to your apartment and feeling your nerves settle once you were finally alone.

It was like you could breathe again, that ache you’d felt all night still thumping but more dull now than it had been in his presence. You finally felt cool and relaxed. Until your phone buzzed about twenty minutes later.

Steve: Made it home safe and sound. Not a scratch on me.

Steve: Well besides the ones you left on me when you were pawing at me on the train!

Y/n: Idiot!

Steve: We really need to work on expanding your vocabulary. Maybe I could tutor you. :)

Steve: Whoops I meant ;), it’s hard to type one handed.

You gasped and you swear you’d just burst into flames from how hot your face felt staring down at your phone. Was he…he wouldn’t. But did you mind if he did? No. Fuck, no. But you couldn’t just let him know that.

Y/n: Steve Harrington you are sick!

Steve: What?? I’m eating cereal and texting you! Trying to multitask here.

Steve: Get your mind out of the gutter you filthy girl.

He’d played you and you took the bait so easily! At this point you should know he’d take any opportunity to embarrass you, you both knew you loved it. He loved getting you all flushed and squirmy and you loved pretending like it didn’t light you up inside.

Now you were thinking about him touching himself, your thighs sore from squeezing together and your heart racing. You wanted to know how he looked doing it, what he sounded like…Jesus Christ you needed to get a grip. It wasn’t until your phone buzzed in your hand that you realized you hadn’t texted him back.

Steve: Your cheeks are all hot, aren’t they?

Oh fuck off.

Y/n: No! They have no reason to be!

Steve: Oh they definitely are. You’re all hot and bothered thinking about me only using one hand to text you. You’ve got a dirty mind!

He was taunting you, you knew that. Baiting you and wrapping it up with a nice shiny bow. And you’d take it every time.

Y/n: You knew what you were doing! You set me up.

Steve: Little ol’ me? As if I’d ever do such a thing! I’m offended you’d even suggest that.

Just imagining the shit eating grin he was wearing riled you up even more, your blood pumping and your fingers twitching as you typed furiously back to him.

Y/n: Playing innocent won’t work with me, Harrington. I know your tricks and they only make my cheeks red because they piss me off! Go fuck yourself, idiot!

Steve: You wanna watch? ;)

You thought about throwing your phone at the wall, watching it smash into a thousand tiny pieces and letting every trace of that arrogant, smug, hot asshole wash away. But you were not so secretly relishing in the back and forth, your tummy a ball of excitement.

Y/n: In your dreams.

His reply was instant and it made you fist your bed sheets tight, toes curling in your socks and if you were standing you’d be sure to fall to your knees.

Steve: Oh you know it, baby.

Steve: Maybe next time. You’ve been a dirty girl calling me all those mean names. Come kiss it better?

When a picture came in seconds after his last reply you dropped your phone to your bed, eyes wide and pulse thumping in your ears as you took in the image before you.

Steve lying on his bed, shirtless. He was lying against his navy blue pillowcase, one arm thrown behind his head and he showed just enough of his torso for you to see a patch of chest hair that made your fingernails dig so deep into your palm you were surprised you didn’t draw blood. His hair was tousled like he’d tugged at it and his mouth held the most perfect little pout. You assumed that’s what you were supposed to be kissing better.

It had been several minutes since you’d moved so it didn’t make sense why your breathing was so heavy and why there was sweat gathering at the base of your neck. All you could think of was leaving your mark over his chest and shoulders, deep purple spots that you know he’d wear with a proud smile on his face.

If he could see you now…you’d never hear the end of it.

Y/n: Meh.

He must have been sitting there waiting for your reply, the three little dots popping up almost instantly after you hit send.

Steve: Meh????

Steve: It took you 10 minutes to reply with meh??

Steve: Liar.

A sick satisfaction coursed through you and you felt a small sense of victory reading his replies. If you didn’t know any better you’d say Steve was a little upset at your lack of reaction.

Y/n: It took me 10 minutes because I wasn’t waiting by my phone for your reply. And I’m not a liar, just not overly impressed.

You were a liar. A huge lying liar who was only able to do this over text because if he was in front of you’d have been stumbling over your words and blushing like an idiot.

And that little victory you had lasted all of 2 minutes because when your phone started ringing, that ball of dread from forever ago came barreling back into you harder and faster than before.

Pressing accept you held the phone up to your ear and tried to get your breathing under control. You were gonna blow your cover quickly if you didn’t.

“H-hello?”

“Not impressed, hm?” There was an edge to his voice, one you didn’t recognize but it had a sense of sternness, of authority that had your hands twitching in your lap.

“Nope. Sorry.” The words practically squeaked out of you, the less you said the better when it came to Steve. If you spoke too much he’d be able to know what you were thinking, he probably already did. You swore he had some magical powers or something.

“Really? And you’re sure? I only ask because earlier just looking at my arms had you panting like a dog at my feet.”

Your face burned with humiliation and you cursed yourself for the way it turned you on. Fuck. Any control you had was quickly unraveling and falling apart in front of you.

“Steve, I—”

“Because when it took you so long to reply, you know what I thought? I thought you’d slipped your hand into your panties like some perv. That was my theory, but I can admit it when I’m wrong.”

“I-I wasn’t! I’m not I just—”

“But you thought about it, didn’t you?”

And well of course you had. How could you not when he looked like he did and when you could practically hear him in your ear whispering filthy, teasing things.

You pictured him now, standing at the foot of your bed with his shirt off and his hands on his hips. How he’d shake his head at you, scolding you like a teacher scolding their student for not doing their homework. You can hear the smirk in his voice as he riles you up and it leaves you reeling.

“I, well I—”

“Just a yes or no, doll. Did you think about it?”

“Yes.” It comes out in a whisper, hanging in the air and you should want to take it back, to tell him no and hang up but you don’t. You sit there and bask in it, the embarrassment, the arousal. You sit and wait for him to give you something—like a dog waiting for a treat.

“That’s what I thought. Now that we’ve got that settled, I’m beat! You’ve kept me up far past my bedtime. Goodnight, perv. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Before you can get a word out, a plea or a curse or anything he’s hanging up the phone and leaving you with your mouth hanging open and an ache so intense it makes your head spin.

Idiot. Asshole. Jerk. Hot. Hot. Hot.

He’s left you speechless, sitting there still on your bed with your phone in your hand and your mind running a thousand miles a minute. You’re aching and wet, embarrassingly wet, and you feel a need for him so deep in your bones it’s making you feel insane.

A knock on your front door startles you, it’s harsh and quick and your pulse spikes immediately. Holding your phone in your hand you make your way through the living room, a seed of worry nestled in your stomach because who would be here knocking on your door at almost 3 am.

Who besides Steve, of course.

Just as you’re moving close to look through the peephole, he calls your name from the other side of the door. Excitement pools low in your belly, hairs on your arm standing tall at the promise of him just inches away. Pulling open the door you’re met with the same Steve you’d left just a short time ago, but now he’s wearing a pair of basketball shorts that hang low on his hips and his hair is still damp from the shower you’re sure he’s taken. A pink t-shirt is stretched over his broad shoulders and there’s a simple silver chain hanging around his neck.

How does he always look this good? You don’t say anything, opting to step to the side and allow him through and he steps in wordlessly, giving your arm a squeeze when he passes by.

Closing the door behind him, you watch as he makes his way to your room and you stand there dumbfounded, wondering what the fuck is going on and why he hasn’t said a word to you after showing up at your door at 3 am.

Following him is a simple choice, one that leads you to your room to see Steve sitting on the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide, hands behind him flat on the comforter while he leans back the slightest bit. He’s stunning and it has you fighting the urge to sing to your knees on the carpet in front of him.

It feels like a staring contest between the two of you. But instead of looking in your eyes, Steve is letting his gaze run over your body. You’re in an oversize shirt that reaches about mid thigh, nothing underneath but a pair of panties that Steve ruined hours ago.

He finally meets your eyes, a small smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth that makes you feel jittery. “W-what are you doing here?” You can’t help but to stumble over your words when he’s looking at you like that. Like he could take a bite out of you.

“What do you think?”

“Missed me already, Harrington?”

“Always.” Some of the smugness he carries with him has melted away with the admission and it makes your heart swell in your chest. The thought of him missing you provides a surge of warmth through your body.

“I missed you too,” Your voice is timid, his stare making you feel exposed to him, “but I thought you were going to bed.”

“Well that was my plan, but I couldn’t fall asleep knowing you were over here making a mess because of me and not come help clean it up.”

Your toes curl into the carpet below you and you hope it will be able to ground you a little when you feel so…you don’t even know what you feel. Your stomach is twisting and your palms are sweaty and you can feel your heartbeat in your ears.

One of his hands lifts to motion you forward and you do so without hesitation, your feet carrying you to him instantly. When you get close enough you go to get on your knees instinctively and he stops you with a small, proud smile. “No, no, I’m here to take care of you, baby.” And while the notion fills you with excitement, you can’t help but feel a little upset that you won’t get to put your mouth on him.

And of course this just makes him smile even bigger, eyes bright as he takes in your frown and can’t help but shake his head at you.

“Before we do anything I just…I want you to know I care about you, yeah? This isn’t some one night thing for me. I want everyday with you, everyday that you’ll give me.”

“I care about you too, Steve. I think that was obvious when I scrubbed all the paint off that plate after I saw that text on your phone,” He huffs a small laugh at you, hands settled on your hips, “You’ve become such an important part of my life and I—I like you a lot, even when you’re mean to me.”

He scoffs like the idea is foreign, playful glint in his eye the whole time and it drives you crazy. He has that look, the one that tells you he’s about to say something that will either make you hit him or drop back down to your knees.

“Come give daddy a kiss then.”

It’s the former, hand coming up to smack at his chest hard despite the way the name makes your stomach clench and your spine tingle. He just laughs, loud and steady, pulling you down onto his lap and smashing his lips against yours.

His lips are just as soft as you’d dreamed about, full and slick with spit and you feel yourself pulse when he smiles into the kiss. His nose bumps with yours, his hands sliding from your waist to your hair and letting his fingers tug and pull while you push closer to him.

“Fuck—you taste so good.” You don’t even realize the words come from you until you feel Steve groan against you, tongue sweeping across your bottom lip as if to taste you too.

When you finally have to pull back for air, your forehead is pressed against his and you both try and catch your breath. He looks like a dream, mouth shiny and swollen, eyes glazed over as he takes you in. He tastes sweet, the kind of taste you crave at the end of the day or when you need a pick me up. Or just because.

He’s shifted back a little so you’re not hanging off him and the edge of the bed, your thighs wrapped around his hips and your chests almost touching from how close you are. He’s tugging at the ends of your shirt, trying to pull it off but it’s trapped between your thighs and his. You lean up just enough for him to pull it free, tugging it over your head with ease.

What you’ve managed to forget in the heat of the moment, what Steve doesn’t know but is quick to find out is the little secret no one but Robin knows about—and she only knows because you needed moral support.

“Oh holy fuck,” You’ve never seen his eyes so wide and his mouth is dropped open so big it’s almost kind of scary. Somehow you’d forgotten your nipples were pierced, maybe it was from Steve kissing you stupid, you’re not sure. But he’s looking at your tits now like he’s got gold in front of him.

Your mouth opens to tease him but before you can speak he’s moving his hand to cover your mouth, eyes never leaving your boobs and you have to laugh against him.

“Don’t—you can’t say a thing right now or I’ll cum in my pants.” He sounds so serious, so pained that you whine against his hand all greedy and impatient. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, doll. Think I could cum from just lookin’ at em for too long.”

You nod eagerly against his hand, the idea of that turning you on even more than you thought possible. He finally removes his hand but only because he can’t hold out on touching you any longer. His palms come up to cup your breasts, thumbs running over your nipples and you sigh in relief at the feeling of his touch. He uses two fingers to tug gently at the little silver barbell that runs through them, watching your face for your reaction and you don’t disappoint. Your mouth falls open, a small moan slipping out and your hands grip his shoulders tight.

“Fuck me. God you’re perfect, so pretty and sweet for me. Shit, m’losing my goddamn mind here, baby.” Half his words are almost slurred, attention moving between your tits and your face as he tugs and thumbs at your nipples. The furrow in his brow makes him look genuinely concerned and you throb at the thought of him being so mesmerized by you.

He’s so occupied with your pretty tits in his face he doesn’t notice when you slide back a little, a few inches of space between you now. You’ve been soaked and aching for far too long and you think if he doesn’t touch you in the next few seconds you might cry.

You move one of your hands to grab his, tugging it from your nipple and sliding it down between you to press against the front of your panties. They’re messy, your thighs sticky and you hope he understands your not so subtle hint.

He does, cursing at the feel of how wet and hot you are even through the thin layer separating him from you. “Poor thing, didn’t even know someone could be this messy.” Your hips shift, desperately trying to get his fingers to catch on your clit. “Who made you this desperate, huh? Was it that prick from the bar?”

You’re shaking your head but it’s not enough for him, hand moving away and you gasp, pulling it back and giving him what he wants. “You. It’s you—you did this to me.”

Instead of saying anything he dips his fingers past the band of your panties, both of you groaning at the contact. He circles your clit twice, thighs twitching around him before he’s dipping down to your sopping hole, teasing his finger there before swiping through your slit to collect some of the slick that’s there.

You want to whine when he pulls his hand out but it fades away at the sight of his glistening fingers, how he studies them for a minute before slipping them into his mouth and humming in content.

“Way better than mint chocolate chip.”

Next thing you know he’s slipping his hand back between you, the imprint of his knuckles against your panties hot enough to make you drool down his chest.

Thumb pressed to your clit he moves in slow circles, just enough pressure to make you need more, pressing down onto his hand and trying to swivel your hips. “Want you, Steve. Need you.”

“I know baby, gotta stretch you out first.” At the same time he’s speaking he’s slipping his middle finger inside of you with no resistance and it’s not enough. It’s like he has a connection to your mind, slipping another finger in immediately and you feel that ache start to untangle itself the slightest bit.

With two of his much larger fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit, you already feel the signs of an orgasm building deep in your belly. You feel that burn all over, grinding down onto him in search of that pressure that’ll make your eyes roll back. It’s when he curls his fingers that you lurch forward, face nuzzling his neck as he hits that spot inside of you that makes your vision blur.

“S-steve..” You’re almost there already, walls clamping down on his fingers and holding them inside while he speeds up on your clit. There’s a twitch in your thighs that he noticed, hushed praises in your ear when that string begins to fray, threatening to snap in seconds.

And then it stops.

There’s no more curling his fingers and his thumb is still on your clit. You pull back just enough to curse at him, his hand wet and sticky with evidence of just how much you were enjoying that. But when you see his face you know you’re fucked. He’s got that shine in his eyes that screams trouble, a devious little smirk on his lips as he watches the frustration build behind your eyes.

“Something to say, sweetheart?” He’s taunting you, daring you to curse at him—but you don’t. You can’t fathom the idea of him taking this all away so you remain quiet, shaking your head at him and hoping your obedience will pay off soon. He nods at you as if to say “that’s what I thought”, hand coming up to tuck your face back into the crook of his neck as he starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you again.

You’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks turn bright red because you can hear how wet you are, the small little noise it makes every time he drives his fingers back into has you pressing further into him. He has goosebumps on skin from the feel of your hot breath against his throat from where you’re practically panting, little open mouthed kisses left for as far as you can reach.

It doesn’t take long before that feeling is building back up, stronger than before and you curse against his skin. “Snug little cunt, greedy for it, isn’t she?” You think you chant a whispered “yes” into him but you can’t be sure, overwhelmed by the tight, quick circles he’s rubbing on your swollen clit and the wave of pleasure you feel beginning to wash over you.

And then it stops again.

This time you can’t help the whine that slips out, hands fisting his t-shirt as you writhe in his lap. He chuckles in your ear, smooth and teasing and it makes you mortified when you feel yourself drip down his hand at his meanness.

“You can handle one more time, yeah? Then I’ll give you my cock.” The promise of finally being full of him is enough to push down your frustrations, eagerness and excitement taking over. He lets you get away with a nod, picking up a faster pace than before and you think it’s not for you, but that his patience is wearing thin.

He’s rubbing harshly against that sponges spot inside of you with every pass of his fingers, your mouth dropped open with no sound coming out as you try and hold off. It’s too much, too intense and you feel lightheaded at how every nerve in your body is lit up and buzzing.

But apparently he knows your body better than you do, stopping just seconds before you begin to tip over and your shoulders sag in relief and annoyance at the same time.

“Please, please.” They’re quiet little pleas that he can't even hear but can feel against his skin and he coos at you. It’s condescending and should piss you off but instead has you nudging your nose against his for comfort.

“Told ya I’d give you my cock, honey. Lay down and let me see you.” You move to lay back, watching him stand over you and strip his shirt and shorts off. He’d forgone underwear and you thank god for that. The sight of his cock, hard and shiny with precum as your thighs falling open for him automatically. He notices this, of course he does. He’s thick and you’re suddenly very grateful for the prep he just did, you don’t think he’d fit otherwise.

When he leans down to pull a condom from the back pocket of his shorts—presumptuous cocky bastard—you feel the urge to stop him but refrain. You’re already crossing all these invisible lines, you need to have at least some self control. Even though you’re desperate to feel him bare. You’re captivated by him, watching him roll the condom on and clenching around nothing as he hisses through his teeth at the contact.

Seeing him for the first time, how hard and flushed he is makes you regret even more not getting your mouth on him. Next time, you promise yourself. You’d thought you’d be nervous for this, but you think you’re too overwhelmed with a need for him that there’s no room left to be nervous or anxious.

Climbing on the bed he moves between your open legs, hands on either side of your head as he holds himself up over you. His cock is lying against you, head touching your clit and it’s making it impossible to lie still. “You still want this?” His face is serious, and you want to squish his cheeks at his consideration for you despite his hard cock pressing against you.

“Please, Steve. I want this—I need you.” It’s all the confirmation he needs, reaching one hand between you to take his cock, running it through your slit and groaning at the way you twitch below him. After bumping it against your clit he moves down to your entrance, pushing in the slightest bit and squeezing his eyes shut at the feel of you clenching down on him.

The burn of him pushing forward stings, but it’s a welcome pain that has you gripping the sheets below you, looking for something to steady you when you feel like you’ll float away. “Keep going, please keep going.” You’re pleading below him, mouth dropping open when he pushes in. He has to pause when he’s in all the way, his patch of public hair at the base of his cock catching at your clit and you gasp.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” His forehead is pressed against your cheek, his teeth scraping against the edge of your jaw as he tried to collect himself. “I don’t—shit I don’t know how—goddamn baby, never felt anything this good before in my life.”

He throbs inside of you when you whine, craning your neck up just an inch to take the silver chain dangling above you between your teeth. “Fuckin’ hell, gonna kill me.” You lift your hips off the bed, urging him to move and moan around the chain when he slips deeper inside of you. He pulls himself up to look at you, hair falling around your head like an angel with blotchy cheeks and fucked out eyes.

Thrusting forward, the tip of his cock nudges against that spot inside of you and you clench around him so hard his arms almost give out above you. This has been building up for weeks and with the way he edged you earlier, you won’t last long. He knows as much, thrusting into you and using one hand to rub sloppy circles on your clit.

“Feel like I’m having deja vu, having you pressed against me like this, yeah?” It was just hours ago you were on the train, a few more layers between you but pressed up against him all the same.

The chain pops from your mouth when he moves your hands to lay beside your head, lacing your fingers together as he stretches over you. Your piercings press against his chest just right and it has your tummy tightening, the added friction enough to have your head spinning.

He looks mouthwatering above you, hair out of place and falling over his forehead. His cheeks are flushed and he’s holding his bottom lip between his teeth as he moves between watching your face and the way your tits bounce with every thrust of his cock. There’s little drops of sweat running down his sculpted nose and slipping onto your chest, your cute little gasps hitting his ears.

You know you’re done for when he leans down, lips pressed to your ear and his harsh breath tickling your skin.

“Takin’ your daddy’s cock so well, aren’t you, doll?”

Eyes screwed shut you claw at his shoulders, his name leaving your lips in a curse and you both can see the way the nickname makes your face flush a shade darker of red, eyes turning dark and fingers digging into him. “Dirty girl, acting like you don’t like it when I can feel you making a mess of me, this pretty little pussy hugging me tight when I call myself daddy.”

“Fu-fuck, Steve. Gonna cum—m’gonna cum.” Your words are hushed and quick in his air, rope beginning to snap and if he stops right now you might actually kill him.

“Go ahead, soak my cock, pretty girl. Show me who I belong to, yeah?” It’s all it takes, rope snapping and sparks shooting down to your toes as you tug at his hair, your thighs tight as your orgasm crashes through you. It feels like it goes on forever, your body taught and ears buzzing and you can barely make out the faint curses coming from above you.

He belongs to you, and he will as long as he’ll have you.

You feel yourself start to come back down, your chin pinched in between Steve’s fingers and he’s looking at you like he’s seeing the first snowfall of the year. His thrusts are getting sloppy, hips grinding into yours and his breaths uneven and sharp. “Where…where do you want it baby?”

Not sure that you can make coherent sentences right now, you reach up to cup your breasts, Steve’s eyes widening before the most pitiful cry leaves his lips. He thrusts into you one, two, three more times and each one has you gasping below him as aftershocks of your orgasm zing through you.

He pulls out quickly, pulling off the condom with a sharp inhale and you think he looks good like this, all desperate and pathetic for you like you always are for him. You urge him forward, fingers digging into his hips and trying to pull him up your body. He moves easily, coming up so he’s barely resting any weight on your belly, knees on either side of your chest.

You cup your breasts, thumbs running over your nipples and pushing them together below him. He’s looking at you from under his lashes, eyes hooded and lips parted in a silent gasp. It only takes two quick strokes before what’s been building at the base of his spine snaps and he’s cursing above you, ropes of white covering your chest and neck and catching the piercings too.

“Perfect, you’re so perfect—shit.” He works himself through it slowly, his cock twitching and his fingers covered in cum from where it’s dribbled over his fist. He’s staring down at you with an intensity that makes you blush, eyes taking in every inch of you that’s marked with him.

“Look like a fuckin’ dream with these pretty tits covered in my cum. Fuck, doll, I’m gonna think about this for the rest of my life.”

All you can do is smile stupidly below him, your heart bursting and your body thoroughly exhausted. He leans down and presses a quick peck to your cheek before he’s shifting off the bed, running to the bathroom and washing off his hand before he comes back with a warm rag, sitting beside you so he can clean you up. His hand hovers over you and you roll your eyes at the little pout he’s wearing as he looks at your boobs.

“Are you seriously pouting over cleaning off my boobs right now?”

“Who wouldn’t be? They look so pretty like this.”

You reach for the rag with a giggle to do it yourself but he pulls his hand back, shaking his head at you and begrudgingly wiping his cum off your chest with a little sigh that’s a little endearing.

Once you're cleaned up and the condom is in the trash he helps you up so he can pull back the comforter, both of you snuggling in under the covers—naked at his request. His chest is pressed to your back, his heartbeat felt against your skin and it makes you smile into your pillow.

His skin is warm against yours, fingers laced beside your head and you lift your chin to place quick kisses against his knuckles.

“Now that’s the kind of reward I could get used to.”

“Steve!”

————-

It’s the next day and there’s a soreness between your thighs that has you smiling to yourself while you get ready. You remember this morning, how you woke up to the sight of honey brown hair nestled between your thighs, coaxing you out of your sleep with his tongue on your clit.

The best kind of pain, where you’ll feel him for days when you walk or when you sit down. It brings a blush to your skin and memories you’ll think about forever to your mind.

He left shortly after, both of you needing to be away from each other so you could actually get ready for the lunch you had planned with Robin and Eddie this afternoon.

A feeling of nervousness settles within you as you get ready for this lunch. It’s not that you want to keep this from Rob and Eddie, but you’re not what you’d even tell them! These nerves were much more about you and Steve then they were your friends.

Would you tell them you’re dating? That you like each other? That you’re just fucking around? This is what made you anxious, what had your hands twisting in your lap on the train and had you so distracted you stumbled right into Eddie outside of the restaurant.

“Woah! Caught ya.” He steadies you, smiling down into your worried eyes and a little bit of that anxiety seeps out of you. This is your friend, one of your best friends! Who cares what’s going on, maybe he’ll have some insight that you can’t see for yourself.

Eddie leads you into the place, a booth in the back already holding Robin and Steve. They’re both on one side of it and you can see from here that Steve’s unhappy about not getting to sit by you.

You slide in so you’re closest to the wall, legs knocking with Steve’s under the table and the small amount of contact soothes some of the turmoil happening inside of you.

Everything is going good, things feel normal—besides the subtle winks Steve sends your way to get you blushing—and you’re not even worried anymore. The table in front of you is filled with food, everyone reaching over and grabbing whatever sounds good. Arms are crossed over each other and hands get tangled when you reach for fries or mozzarella sticks or an onion ring.

Robin is going on about something, you’re not sure what you’ve kind of zoned out a little if you’re being honest, when you feel Steve staring at you. You look up to his brows furrowed, confusion laced in his features and you quirk your brow at him, wondering what has him looking at you like that.

It’s when Eddie speaks up beside you, cutting Robin off and bringing everyone’s attention to him that it makes sense, “Harrington, I appreciate the love but can you stop trying to play footsies with me under the table?”

Steve’s face flames and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up and out of your mouth, hands coming up to try and smother how loud it is. But Steve doesn’t recover fast enough, eyes darting to yours sheepishly and that’s when it clicks for Eddie.

“Oh. My. God.”

Three sets of eyes fly to Eddie. Robin is confused. You and Steve are looking at Eddie as he looks between the two of you, mouth dropped open in shock and you curse yourself for the storm that’s coming.

“What?” It’s Robin that speaks first, eyes darting between the three of you quickly. You and Steve keep quiet, trying not to give yourselves away but it’s no use. “Oh my god.” There’s Eddie again, sinister smirk on his lips as he takes his time taking in your pink cheeks and the way Steve won’t make eye contact with him.

“Oh for the love of god! Someone tell me what’s going on. I am not a mind reader.”

“Robin, you won’t believe it. These two finally fucked.” A chorus of noises fill your small corner of the restaurant, booth creaking underneath you from where Eddie is practically bouncing in his seat. Robin squeals, hands going to grip Steve’s arms. Steve sighs, letting Robin tug him around like a rag doll in a fit of her excitement. And you gasp, smacking Eddie in the chest the way you do to Steve all the time.

But neither of you deny it and that alone sends waves of relief through you. Not that you think Steve would, especially with the way he’s gotten over his bit of embarrassment, adorning his signature smirk and a look of pride as the people around him freak out.

You don’t know how bad Steve wants to show you off, tell the world and scream it from the rooftops how lucky he is to even get to be around you. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, sweet and kind but not afraid to challenge him and call him out for his bullshit. God, he’s obsessed with you.

Eddie’s rubbing at his chest where you hit him, pouting like a child as if it actually hurt. You hope it did. “Damn, she’s got some force behind those hits,” He looks from you to Steve, eyes lighting up and you know what’s coming before he even opens his mouth, “but you love it, don’t ya big boy?”

Your head falls forward to rest in your palm, eyes closed as you try and pretend you're anywhere but here. You think you hear Robin gag from across the table and it forces a laugh out of you. Eyes lifting to meet Steve’s, his teeth are showing and he’s shaking his head like he knows a secret no one else does. His words fill the space around you and make your skin heat under his stare.

“Oh you have no idea.” ————————————————————————

(save me steve harrington in a tank top)

@aheadfullofsteverogers i remembered and hope you enjoy 💌

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #modern!steve harrington #stranger things smut #eddie munson #steve harrington oneshot #fem reader

1K notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 4 months ago

Text

jinx

18+ mdni. no smut but eddie is a grade a asshole to poor reader. mentions of weed and alcohol throughout. eddie munson x fem reader.

a/n: first off, anon i am sooo sooooo sorry it has taken me this long to fulfill your request!! i absolutely loved this request and am absolutely honoured that you came to me for it<33 i hope i've done it justice and that you still care to read this:') side note, i've updated my masterlist as i have slacked a bit but everything should be on there now ^.^

love me some chelseeebe angst—imagine fuckboy!eddie plays at the hideout right like regularly. reader starts frequenting his show days bc she likes him obviously but he starts noticing something. every time she comes in, something goes wrong. either he messes up a chord or cant see to flirt properly therefore no one ends up warming his bed as of late or something of the sort

his immediate first thought is ‘she’s a jinx!!!’ bc what other explanation could there be in his boy brain??? so he asks her to stop coming in. she does and yet he continues to mess up bc all he can think abt is her.

itd be so sexy if u added a moment of realization/angry love confession where in the middle of him being like you’ve bewitched me or something!!! he realizes hes the one obsessed with her.

.・。.・゜✭・.��✫・゜・。.

the party hums on in the background, a small group gathered outside to rob eddie blind, smoking away his entire supply.

robin giggles nonsensically into steve’s shoulder, too high for her own good.

“if you’re gonna smoke all my shit, the least you can do is come watch us tomorrow,” eddie had been nagging his friends to come down the hideout for months. they’d gathered a solid crowd now, not much but it was a start.

robin groans, nancy and jonathan shift in their seats, steve can barely muster enough energy to reply and argyle snores. hardly enthusiastic about his dreams.

“i’ll come,” you offer, bright-eyed as you smile politely at him from the floor.

a friend of a friend, someone robin met in class and had dutifully introduced to the group. he didn’t know you well, nor had he ever really cared to.

“i don’t think you’d like it, sweetheart” eddie retorts, flattered that you’d try and spare his feelings but he didn’t need your pity.

“why? you can’t be that bad,” chuckling quietly to yourself.

his eyes narrow, scoffing, “we’re not,” misunderstanding, or maybe just not caring to humour you back, “come if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not as if any of his friends had offered to attend.

“okay,” nodding along, “i will.”

“alright,” turning his attention back to the embering joint glued to argyles fingers.

who cares if you come? eddie certainly doesn’t.

sure enough, the same couple dozen old drunks fill the bar, their glossy, zombie-like eyes stare back at him from the floor. he’d complain but beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

they’re partway through the second song when something reflects in his eye, a low-cut sequinned top that would definitely look better on the floor of his van.

it’s only when his eyes travel up that he realises it’s you who’s wearing that shirt, already looking straight back at him. a newfound look about you, thick lines of black line your eyes, worlds apart from the mousy girl who’d invited herself last night.

“and we’re-,” he sings, an abrupt case of dry mouth as the next line struggles to come out, “we’re.. uh,” the entire song erased from his memory within seconds.

he steps back from the mic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to trigger his voice though all he can see is you and that ridiculous top.

gareth’s head whips round, still strumming along before picking up eddie’s slack, continuing the lyrics on his own, not without a damning glare in eddie’s direction.

holy fuck.

he’s just, taken aback, that’s all. shocked that you’d even bother to come, less so put the effort in to actually look the part too.

his eyes don’t leave the back wall for the rest of the gig, practically stumbling through all of the songs as his head threatens to wander. trailing back to you only as they finish, walking off stage to down the harshest whisky the bar would allow.

you saunter over a couple minutes later, while eddie tries his hardest not to stare right down your shirt. he’s not certain that he won’t choke on his words if you speak to him.

“you were really good tonight,” you assure, smiling softly as his band mate turns to gawp.

“uh, yeah.. thanks,” eddie fumbles, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “thanks for coming.”

there’s an aura surrounding you, like a wretched spell you’d evoked in him, turning him to a bumbling fool.

“i’m gonna head out..” gesturing to the door, “see you around,” waving your fingers coyly at him before disappearing.

his eyes linger at the door, wondering if maybe you’ll turn around and come back. not that he wants that. just curious as to why you’d come out just to see him play.

“now who the hell was that?” jeff ogles, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs from eddie and a loud oof as he clutches his side.

“a friend of a friend,” brushing him off, “don’t be weird about it,” jumping the gun to squash any sorts of ideas festering in his mind.

“you’re the only one being weird about it,” jeff retorts, grabbing his beer and shuffling off.

“i’m not being weird,” eddie calls from behind, “i’m not!”

okay maybe he was being a little weird.

who cares?

definitely not eddie.

this week, he feels more prepared to see you nodding along in the crowd, robin had joined you albeit looking less than impressed.

eddie’s killing it, at least he thinks. avoiding looking anywhere in your direction, keeping his gaze on the stumbling drunk at the back instead.

but the thoughts of you can’t help but creep into his mind, were you enjoying it? do you think he’s bad? why does he even care so much?

his hand slides down the neck of the guitar, playing the wrong chord entirely, his fingers curating a mind of their own.

fuck fuck fuck.

why does this keep happening?

gareth glares at him again, he had never been so frustrated with his idiot bandmate in his life. sure eddie liked to dick around in rehearsal but never on stage.

if eddie ever wanted a career in music, he needed to get a monumental grip on himself. weird girls he barely knew should not have the capacity to ruin his career.

after they clamber off stage, eddie makes a point of not going over to the two of you. no, you can come to him.

though he wishes you’d just be a little faster at it if he’s honest. too busy squished into a booth with one of the younger regulars to care about him.

heat rises in his chest, searing his cheeks a bright rouge, “-who is that?” gareth interrupts, bumping into his arm.

“who’s who?” eddie coughs, clearing his throat as his eyes snap back.

“that girl you’ve been staring at,” peering across the room to get a glimpse.

“i’m not staring at anyone,” abruptly turning his head in the opposite direction, proving to himself that he wasn’t staring, not really.

“you’re a liar,” gareth calls him on his bullshit immediately, “go talk to her! she’s hot,” scooting his friend along.

“no she’s not,” you looked good tonight, he’d give you that, “can everyone please just stop being weird about this? first jeff- now you? honestly, i don’t get it,” working himself into a frenzy over what really was nothing.

gareth’s eyes widen, scoffing at his melodramatic performance, “alright man.. calm down,” shaking his head in mild disgust.

eddie was totally calm, you know, apart from his heart pounding in his chest.

nothing major.

filthy, downright pornographic sounds fill his cramped van, certain that it was rocking side to side with the utter obscenity happening in the back.

chloe sits atop of his lap, tongues dancing around one another as she glides her hips back and forth. she was a regular, slightly older than eddie, at least he thinks, they’d made eyes a few times but only tonight had he gathered the courage to go and speak to her.

any other time, eddie would be rock solid, pinning her down and fucking her into the dusty floor. today, it’s just not happening.

his mind elsewhere, too preoccupied with nonsense to appreciate the opportunity at hand.

he's thinking about you and the fact you’d left the bar without ever coming over to him tonight. what the fuck was that about?

had he done something wrong?

he breaks apart from her mouth, heaving into the tiny gap between them, “i don’t know what’s going on..” he chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his useless dick, “normally something happens by now..”

she frowns, deep-set, showing her age more than before, “oh.”

he reaches down, furiously palming his cock through his jeans.

nothing. not even a twitch.

he wants to curl up and die. never in his three years of actually getting laid has this ever happened. eddie got hard at the drop of a pin, he’d only have to think about boobs and his jeans would shift.

so why the fuck wasn’t it working tonight?

“i’m gonna go,” chloe scowls, clambering over his legs, gathering her bag while not even attempting to hide her disappointment.

eddie shoots up, pathetically crawling after her, desperate not to let her go.

“it’s not me!” he screams out, watching helplessly as she crawls out of the van, “it’s you!”

no.

“wait no! shit, that’s not what i meant,” peeking out of the van to find the empty parking lot, zero women to be found, “fuck sake.”

left to wallow in his self-pity, alone, in the back of his dirty van.

just as he deserved.

if this was some karmic intervention, telling him to be a better person, he certainly wasn’t paying it any attention.

another party meant another night of eddie trying to understand why the hell you had such an effect on him.

it’s not even like you’re doing anything particularly riveting, sat with your drink in hand, nodding along to robin’s story.

he can’t stand it.

you have to go.

maybe not like that, but he had to put some distance between you. there’s no way he could keep his sanity while you were still a constant in his life.

eddie sidles over, feeling like the smartest guy in the room. he could do this, separate himself from you and your clutches and go back to playing as he once did.

you smile upon him appearing, sickly and sweet. it makes his heart thump in the weirdest way.

“oh.. hey,” playing this entirely nonchalantly, “i just thought i’d let you know that we’re not playing next week,” lying through his teeth, guilt ridden but really, it was necessary if he wanted to play a gig without fucking up the entire time.

“oh,” sounding somewhat disappointed, “okay.. how come?”

shit.

he can’t think of a single valid reason as to why they wouldn’t be playing.

“jeff’s sick.. real bad,” feeling even more guilty for lying about his friends health, wondering if he’s cursing jeff as you did him, “might even be a couple weeks off at this point.”

eddie was a terrible person.

but so were you.

bewitching him under some spell, forcing him to play terribly and embarrass himself in front of women

you’ve jinxed him. a bad omen cursing him to play like a fucking amateur. that’s the only logical explanation his pea brain can conjure up anyway.

that meant you had to stay away from the shows, from him preferably.

he couldn’t understand why you have this effect on him, why your mere presence has him becoming a floundering fool. you don’t intimidate him, not even close.

it’s almost as if he cares too much about what you think, to the extent that he overthinks it so hard that he fucks up.

a curse that could only be broken with some distance between you. that way he could focus on the show instead of you and your doe eyes reflecting off of the stage lights.

that’s what he’s praying for anyway.

eddie despises wednesday’s. itching to get his classes over and done with so he can get his small taste of stardom on that tiny hideout stage.

at some point over the last few weeks of you being an omnipotent presence in his life, he’d grown accustomed to crossing paths with you before the gig.

crossing campus with your chin tucked down, arms wrapped tight around your books. typically only sharing a smile or a short nod.

but this week you saunter over, resembling a frightened deer even more than usual.

he pulls his headphone from his ear, anticipating whatever nonsensical, vaguely cute thing you were going to say.

“hey,” he nods, a coy smile.

even now you have his palms sweating, overthinking whether he should’ve said hi or hello instead.

“you didn’t have to lie to me,” you start, brows furrowed, “it’s fine if you don’t want me to go to your gigs anymore, i don’t care,” a disappointed frown plaguing your normally cheerful face. “i thought i liked you eddie, really- but i don’t know anymore.. you’re not a good person.”

you turn to walk off before he can even compute your words.

oh shit.

“wait!” he calls but it’s useless, “i didn’t- i wasn’t- fuck.”

it was unthinkably cruel, he didn’t think you’d ever find out. and maybe that was his problem, assuming you didn’t care enough to find out.

guilt addles his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. for good reason too.

eddie was an asshole. a true, grade-a asshole that wayne would positively despise him for.

wait wait wait.

you liked him?

absolutely not. no way. that wasn’t what this was about.

or it’s not supposed to be.

no, this was some adolescent feud, a confusing, one-sided, friendship that he couldn’t get a grip on.

you didn’t like him. girls like you weren’t supposed to.

it’s not at all surprising that he plays like absolute shit tonight too.

guilt ridden for forcing your hand, for making you look at him like that. as if he were the worst person to walk the earth.

shit, maybe he was.

kind hearted people didn’t lie and deceive. no, kind hearted people came to gigs they obviously didn’t give a shit about. kind hearted people feigned interest in boring spiel about weed strains and whatever the fuck else eddie jabbered on about at parties.

you, you were kind. kinder than he deserved.

gareth slaps him harshly on the back the second they’re back behind the curtain, a scornful yet pitying scowl on his face, “look man,” he begins, “i dunno what’s going on with you but i don’t know how much longer they’re gonna let us play here if you keep playing like that.”

eddie sighs, because he knows this. he’s well aware that his performances have been lacklustre for weeks now. he just doesn’t really understand why.

at first he thought it was just because you were there, a distance friend who would feed back to his friends about how good, or bad, he was.

but that wasn’t it.

you were there, and then you weren’t. and he still played like shit.

somewhere entangled deep within his wretched heart, he thinks that maybe he just wanted to impress you.

a nice girl, cares about her studies way more than he does, pretty too and you didn’t look at him like he was just some out of touch stoner with crazy dreams of his band getting big.

you were polite, listening to his wacky stories and dreams of playing for thousands, in fact, you encouraged them, more than his friends ever had for sure.

eddie’s not sure if, or how, he’ll ever be able to make amends for how he’s treated you.

he’s making himself sick with worry. guilt wracking his brain.

you don’t turn up that night, obviously.

eddie’s eyes mindlessly search the crowd for any hint of you. his fingers failing to correspond with the rest of band, always playing a beat behind.

you had infected him, ruined his once masterful skill to just a shell of what it once was.

he doesn’t lay opportunity for the boys to speak to him again, rushing out of the bar as soon as his guitar is back in her case.

there’s only one place he can think about going.

a few months back, you’d hosted robin’s birthday party there and eddie had disgraced your bathroom with a girl he can’t even remember now.

his fist bangs on the door, hoping the light in the upstairs window was you and not one of your roommates he’d have to shamefully apologise to.

the orange light cascades over your face, peeking out from the barely cracked door with a frown that would scare any man off.

“what’re you doing?” you spit, looking backwards in hopes he hadn’t woken the entire house up.

“listen,” he sighs, “i’m real sorry about.. you know, lying to you,” his shoulders slumped over themselves, “but i just- i can’t fucking play when you’re there, can’t play when you’re not,” sounding utterly pathetic, begging for you to cure him from this sudden sickness. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” dragging his hand over his face.

rightfully earning his spot as the worlds biggest fucking loser, stood on your doorstep begging for an answer.

when he opens his eyes enough to look at you, you’re scowling back at him. nothing like how he had planned this situation in his head.

he’d hoped that miraculously you’d understand, accept his apology and somehow still feel the same as you had.

because that was it, really.

too terrified to face the fact that he liked you too.

somewhere in his heart of hearts he’d known it from the start. that’s why his heart fluttered when you’d volunteered to come or why he’d struggled to even touch anyone else.

“what do you want me to say?” shrugging, “i won’t come back, that’s fine,” he wishes you’d just follow the script he’d curated for you.

eddie doesn’t want you to stop coming, he never had. it’s killing him that you even believed that, twisting the knife in his chest further and further the more your bottom lip juts out and your eyes water.

“actually, maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” you suggest, throwing him completely off kilter.

woah.

that wasn’t at all what he wanted nor was he trying to say. he just couldn’t gather the actual words he needed to express that to you.

petrified that he’d admit to his feelings and you’d just turn around and laugh, how could someone like you ever like such a cruel man?

“wait no, that’s not what i meant-,” bargaining with you for a little time to explain himself, though you definitely didn’t owe him any.

“-thanks for coming eddie, i’ll see you around,” flashing him a crestfallen smile before abruptly closing the door in his face.

public humiliation was truly the only way eddie could think to make it up to you.

well that and maybe a little big nudge from robin.

he’d rather stupidly asked about you on saturday night, confused why you weren’t there alongside robin, who had very quickly got him in check.

“why do you think dumbass?” she snapped, snarling her teeth at him, “you were an asshole and now she’s doesn’t want to come anymore,” her glare powerful and harsh, "i'd say you were lucky she didn't punch you in the face."

he’d deserve it.

it had taken weeks of convincing to get you anywhere near the hideout again. not to mention the hundreds in free weed he’d had to bribe robin with to get her to help.

you stand in a dark corner, hands folded against your chest, puzzled and irritated by robin’s incessant begging to get you here.

“there’s someone here that i wanna apologise to,” his eyes don’t find you as easy this time, after weeks of missing your presence, he’s not used to you actually being in the crowd again, “if you know us, you know i can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, uh..” they find you, the lump only growing in his throat, “i’m sorry,” tunnel vision blocking out every other body in the room, “i’m really, really sorry.”

you blink, staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. it makes him a little bit nauseous to recall how dreadfully he’d treated you, how you deserved absolutely none of it.

your gaze lowers, and eddie can’t decide how to take it. he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never forgive him, but he also couldn’t take it if you didn’t.

his voice cracks a little as he speaks, “this is.. uh, we’re corroded coffin,” stepping back from the mic to gather his thoughts before the drum comes crashing in.

eddie plays the best he’s potentially ever played.

a force overcoming him to prove that he truly wasn’t as much as a loser as he’s shown himself to be.

usually, he couldn’t wait to be off that stage and to the bar but today he’s dreading it.

knowing that you’re somewhere out there waiting for an explanation.

or maybe you weren’t. he wouldn’t blame you if you’d decided to leave soon after he’d embarrassed himself with that shitty apology.

gareth runs up behind him, using his shoulders to launch himself into the air, “holy shit! that was amazing!” the boy presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek before continuing, “whatever the hell you did, keep doing it because that was insane!” running off past eddie to grab his weekly complimentary beer.

a sudden sickness fills his stomach, slyly hoping that he could slip out of here before anyone else noticed him.

you stand across the bar, waiting to catch his eye with your lips curled only ever-so-slightly.

eddie’s limbs go stiff, still entranced by your jinx. by you.

your eyes trail away to the door as his follow, shuffling your way through the bustling crowd.

his legs carry him without a second thought, out into the cool night as his eyes frantically search for you.

he finds you perched against the crumbling stone wall a few feet from the entrance, just far enough away from the prying eyes of the smoking patrons.

“i didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” is all he can say, feet trailing along the gravel.

the streetlight glistens orange from your eyes, staring up at him from your perch, “i didn’t want to,” your smile only growing as he nears, “robin made me.”

“oh,” it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that or that he didn’t orchestrated the entire thing, it just felt odd to hear it from your mouth.

“i’m glad i came,” you clarify, allowing him to finally release the breath held tight in his chest.

eddie dares to move closer, sitting back on the brick just inches away, “yeah?”

you nod, the great big smile he’d forced away making a return at last, “yeah.”

suddenly the air feels thick, it was easier apologising on stage, those people didn’t know him, they didn’t care. but now, sat here in front of you, it feels like he’s swallowing knives.

“i’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” though it sounds meaningless now the damage was done, “i don’t know if you still care about me at all, but i- um,” his throat runs dry, clamping his eyes shut. it felt easier that way, somehow, “i think the reason why i was such.. an asshole,” the light flickers through his eyelids again, deciding that you at least deserved to see him, “fuck,” he exclaims, staring back at your confused expression.

“it’s okay,” soothing even now, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” a twinge of sadness running through your tone.

“no, no i do,” eddie persists. he’d fumbled once, he couldn’t do it again. “shit man,” he sighs, “i’m trying to tell you that i like you too, or maybe not too, i know i was an ass and i don’t deserve your forgiveness-,” your lips cuts him off mid-mumble, surging forward to press them against his blathering ones.

he has to blink a couple times, taking in whatever the fuck was happening to him.

you pull back, disappointed that his brain had been to fuzzy to focus on kissing you back. too preoccupied with trying not to explode and paint you in red.

“really eddie.. it’s okay,” returning to your usual reserved self while his brain still struggles to compute.

“can we do that again?” he asks politely, keeping the bubbling excitement to a minimum.

you laugh, a real, throaty laugh, something he hadn’t heard in weeks, “only if you promise to stop talking,” leaning in once more, the rigid wall suddenly feeling like it was about to collapse from underneath him.

your soft, cherry-tinted lips press against his forehead a second time, allowing him to gather his brain from a pile of mush on the floor just enough to actually kiss you back. a tender hand reaching out to caress his stubbly cheek, sending shockwaves through his limbs.

you’re interrupted again by a loud whoop from behind, robin clapping wildly as she emerges from the bar, “now you two have kissed and made up, can we go home now?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #request #eddie munson x female reader

663 notes · View notes

fuctacles · 4 months ago

Text

you guys are feral for silly wereshifter Steve AU and I love that

Some meatheads are calling Eddie names again. The dog that's been tailing him appears out of nowhere and makes eye contact with him as it struts over to the group and lifts his leg, pissing all over the fresh wax on their BMW with the determination and focus of a dog that hasn't been outside for the whole day.

"Hey, get your fucking dog off my car!" One of the guys jumps up, but the warning show of canines stops him from shooing the dog away himself.

Eddie shrugs, though he's restraining a smile.

"It's not mine."

Later the dog finds him again as it always does, and he makes amends.

"You are my dog though, right? My good doggie. Who's my good boy?" he asks, scratching the overjoyed dog all over its furry body.

At home, Steve asks Robin to call him a good boy when he shifts, to see if it feels as good. It doesn't. Well, it does, but not in the same way.

It comes to the point when dog Steve spends more time with Eddie than human Steve. To soak in the happiness and love Eddie shows him.

"Is Steve okay?" Eddie asks one day, petting the dog beside him while they take a break from band practice. The rest of Hellfire is hanging out in the garage, with Mike jumping on every opportunity to learn guitar from Jeff and the rest usually following.

"Yeah?" Dustin cocks his head. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"I don't know." Eddie shrugs. "Haven't seen him in a while and you're never mentioning him anymore."

Dustin looks at the dog.

"He's fine. You're overthinking it."

Eddie thinks that might be it, but...

"I know we're not friends-friends but I don't even see him in passing! Hell, Buckley is there to hang out, and he's not!"

Dustin throws his hands up in the air, annoyed with the questions.

"Don't ask me, man! Ask him yourself! And, to be honest," he crosses his arms, glaring at the dog, for some reason. "I don't understand what's going on with him either."

Eddie frowns, looks at the dog that huffs loudly, and looks away with a grunt. He pats its fluffy fur.

"How am I supposed to ask him if he's never here?" he sighs. "I don't want to just corner him at his place."

Dusting looks at him like he failed elementary two times, not high school.

"There's this thing called phones?"

"Oh. Right."

"Jesus it's like you'd die without me."

"Well..."

"Not what I meant!" Dustin goes pale instantly, mortified by his own words.

"I know, kid." Eddie pulls his head down in reassurance and leans into a side hug. "Don't worry."

-----

"He's not picking up," he tells the dog while biting at a hangnail. "Maybe he's at work?" He wonders out loud and goes to the magazine pile on the coffee table. The dog struts behind him. He rummages through the papers under its watchful eye until he finds the Family Video pamphlet. He runs back to the phone with it and dials the number on the back.

"Hi, I'm looking for Steve? Oh, hi Buckley. Do you know if he's home? Okay. Can you tell him to call me when he's free? No, I just wanted to ask him something. Thanks. Bye."

When he hangs up, he's alone in the room.

"Buddy?"

There's a bark from the front of the trailer.

"Sure, sorry!"

He runs up to open the door for the dog already waiting there. But before it leaves, it nuzzles up into his hand, the wet nose and hesitance to leave reassuring Eddie that he'll be back sooner or later. He smiles at the dog, giving him one last scratch between the ears.

"Such a good boy. See you later, buddy."

----

Steve calls him not even an hour later.

"Eddie?" He sounds out of breath.

"Steve, hi!" He's relieved to hear him and suddenly realizes he doesn't remember the last time they actually talked. "Has Buckley talked to you already?"

"No?"

"Dustin then?"

"No- ah, yeah! He's mentioned you wanted to talk."

He's a bit disappointed Steve hasn't thought to reach out himself but it's better than nothing.

"Yeah, I Haven't seen you in a while, man. What have you been up to?"

"Uh, you know, just... This and that. Doing a lot of... Running. Exercises. You know."

Eddie doesn't know, but he's willing to nod along to keep the conversation going.

"Yeah, totally, you've been busy. Do you want to hang out maybe? Movie night, or, or..." He tries to come up with anything they could do together. "I got a new strain of weed we could test?" He offers.

Steve laughs at that, genuine and relaxed and Eddie relaxes at the sound himself.

"Sure, why not? Is tonight alright? I have a day off anyway."

Eddie's not prepared mentally and neither is his room but he agrees immediately.

"Sure, come over anytime."

"Okay I'll take a shower and I'm off."

When they meet up, everything seems normal. For about fifteen minutes.

Steve jumps whenever Eddie touches him, and his face is red, making Eddie look at him worriedly and ask if he's alright.

But all Steve can think about is “good boy” and belly scratches. When his leg twitches when Eddie touches his shoulder, he jumps off the couch, mortified by his body's reactions.

"Do you have a dog?!" he almost yells, looking around in panic.

Eddie blinks at him.

"Uh, no?" But then he frowns. "I mean, there is a dog," he corrects, and his brows crease in worry. "Wait, are you allergic?"

"Yes!" Steve points his finger at him. "I gotta go, man, sorry, I'm itching all over," he spits out fast, walking backward toward the exit and almost running into a wall. "But it was great seeing you, uh, bye!"

The doors slam shut and Eddie's left alone and confused, the reality show host still yelling from the screen.

#steddie #werewolf steve harrington #shapeshifter steve harrington #wereshifter au #mine #steddie fluff #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #its a little all over the place but i wanted to share since ive seen yall reblogging this au again

809 notes · View notes

the-flaneur · 28 days ago

Note

hi flan! Could i pleas have charles leclerc and a boiling flask labelled with a sticker (i dont mind a marker if you would prefer) to mix together phosphorous, cobalt and tin with a blue pill and bath water?

double trouble (cl16)

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

phosphorus "you know, i could always get you off here right now" + cobalt "please..." "you need to learn to be better with your words, don't you think? tell me what you really want" + tin "i know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that” & blue pill sub!reader + bath water size kink

warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW -> smut ft. rough sex, public sex (or sex in a public location aka the bathroom), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), size kink, bratty!reader, very little plot

wc: 1865

a/n: first request ever! hope you guys enjoy, and feel free to send me more requests :)

[masterlist] [requests]

the quiet jazz in the restaurant was of little comfort to charles tonight.

usually, he was excited at the prospect of a double date with you, max and max’s girlfriend, eager to be able to catch up properly with his friend and their lives outside of racing (albeit max’s still very racing dominated off time)

however tonight you were being a fucking brat.

you had been teasing him all day, from your grocery shop this morning where you “accidentally” backed into him, rubbing your ass against his bulge, or when you went to take leo on for a walk, and you accidentally bent down too far while scoping up leo’s poop, showing charles your gorgeous lace panties under your skirt, or even just before the date, when you walked into the bedroom, stark naked except your heels, and then cheekily asked if you looked good and then shutting the door so you could change in “peace”

charles was hard, horny and desperate to get his hands on your hips.

so when you started your teasing again, charles knew he had to do something about it.

it being the fact that your hand was trailing up his thigh, your manicure tickling the skin near his bulge, before you pressed a firm two fingers into his bulge and rubbed it.

“merde,” charles groaned quietly, leaning back into the plush booth couch and very grateful that the jazz trio had started their music once again, so that his exclamation remained unknown to max and his girlfriend.

“mmm cherie, please move your fingers away,” charles muttered, trying to grab your wrist, but you giggled, before moving you fingers instead towards his belt, and toying with the buckle.

"you know, i could always get you off here right now,” he bit his lip, watching as you slowly pulling his dress shirt out, revealing his gorgeous waist and lightly defined abs which you loved.

“you say otherwise but you love this, don’t you…imagine me giving you a handjob while our friends are just sitting across from us,” you teased, and charles almost growled aloud at your teasing words, and now he was done with you.

snatching your wrist away from his bulge, pinning them to his lap, before working his own hands beneath your dress

“yeah you would like that you slut, wouldn’t you? me at your mercy for once in your life. well too bad, cause you’re my slut, and my brat to play with tonight,” he whispered, pressing his mouth against your earlobe, before tapping his fingers against your soiled panties

you whimpered softly as charles' words sent shivers down your spine, the touch of his fingers against your damp panties making you clench around nothing, "y-yes... i'm yours," you breathe out, a softness creeping into your voice against your brattiness tonight.

as charles continues to whisper dirty promises, you suddenly feel an urgent need to escape, "wait, i really have to use the restroom," you address the group, trying to sound casual while squirming slightly in your seat and pulling charles’ fingers away.

charles raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "oh? and why's that, little girl?" he leans back, folding his arms across his chest as he watches you intently. "trying to get away from me already?"

you bite your lip, avoiding eye contact as you fidget with the hem of your skirt. max and his girlfriend exchange knowing looks, aware of the brattiness you bring to the relationship and charles’ rough hand to bring you back down to earth.

feeling flustered under their amused gazes, you quickly stand up and make your way towards the restrooms, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. once inside the stall, you take a deep breath, letting the cool air hit your flushed face. leaning against the wall, you run a shaky hand through your hair, attempting to calm your racing heart.

after a few moments, you hear the door creak open behind you. glancing over your shoulder, you spot none other than charles entering the stall, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"well, well, well... looks like my little fucktoy needs some privacy," he says, closing the door behind him and locking it. his voice is low and husky, sending a thrill straight to your core. without warning, he steps closer, his large frame crowding you against the wall.

your breath hitches as charles looms over you, his presence both intimidating and exhilarating. the smell of his cologne mixed with the musk of his skin fills your nostrils, making your head spin.

"what do you think you're doing, coming in here with me?" you manage to stammer, even as your body betrays you, pressing back against the cold tile in a futile attempt to create distance from his overwhelming nature.

charles chuckles darkly, his hands finding your hips and gripping them tightly. "i could ask you the same thing, sweetheart. you're the one who insistently teased me on this little alone time."

he leans in, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, "but since we're here together, let's put that pretty pussy of yours to good use, hmm?"

“please…” you whimpered pathetically, watching in a haze of arousal as charles rips your delicate panties to shreds, the torn fabric fluttering to the floor. your cheeks burn with shame and desire as he teases your sensitive clit with a single finger, circling the swollen bud with maddening slowness.

"you need to learn to be better with your words, don't you think? tell me what you really want," he growls, tracing his fingers maddeningly close and smirks when you attempt to push yourself down onto him.

"i-i want... i want you to fuck me," you admit, the words tumbling out in a rush, "please, charles... use me. make me yours..."

his dark chuckle vibrates against your skin as he presses harder against your clit, coaxing out more of your needy whimpers, "that's more like it, baby girl. now, let's see if you can handle something a bit bigger than just my fingers, shall we?"

"i-i want... i want you to fuck me," you admit, the words tumbling out in a rush, "please, charles... use me. make me yours..."

gasping sharply, you nod eagerly, craving the sensation of being stretched wide by charles's girthy cock. the thought sends a jolt of liquid heat pooling between your thighs. "yes, please... i need it," you plead, spreading your legs further apart in invitation. "fill me up, charles,"

with a wicked grin, he frees his impressive erection from his pants, the thick shaft bobbing menacingly as he lines it up with your entrance. "brace yourself, darling," he warns, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure.

then, with a powerful thrust, he sheathes himself fully inside you, the sheer size of him forcing a strangled cry from your throat. you cling to him desperately, nails digging into his back as he begins to move, each deep stroke dragging you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

you cry out loudly as charles plunges deeper, the stretch of his massive cock tearing a raw moan from your throat. each brutal thrust hits a spot within you that sets off sparks of electric pleasure, making your toes curl and your back arch involuntarily. you attempt to clasp a hand over your mouth, trying to curb the wanton noises escaping between your lips, but charles has none off that.

"i know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that," charles purrs, his lips brushing against your ear as he pounds into you relentlessly. "let me hear how much you love taking my big dick,"

despite your best efforts to keep quiet, your quickly body betrays you, moans spilling past your lips with every merciless stroke. the shame only adds to your arousal, your inner walls clenching tighter around charles's throbbing length as he fucks you with wild abandon.

"you're so fucking tight, baby,"

wailing shamelessly as charles ravages your aching cunt, you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensations coursing through your veins. the obscene slap of flesh against flesh echoes through the small stall, mingling with your desperate cries and charles's guttural grunts.

"so full... oh god, charles!" you keen, fingernails raking down his muscular back hard enough to leave marks. "fuck me harder!" he obliges with a feral growl, pistoning his hips faster, driving his huge cock impossibly deeper. your vision starts to blur at the edges as the coil of tension in your belly winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

"gonna cum soon, aren't you?" charles rasps, nipping at your neck roughly. "go ahead, slut. cum all over my fat cock."

with a final keening wail, your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, every muscle seizing up as pure ecstasy consumes you whole. your pussy spasms violently around charles's enormous shaft, milking him as you convulse helplessly in his arms.

"f-fuuuuck!" you sob brokenly, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as the intense pleasure borders on pain. it feels like charles is splitting you open, reshaping your insides to fit him perfectly.

in response, he snarls savagely, burying himself to the hilt one last time before erupting deep within you. thick ropes of molten seed paint your quivering walls, marking you as his property in the most primal way possible.

shuddering through the aftershocks of your climax, you feel charles' hot release flooding your already oversensitive pussy. the sensation of his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he pumps you full of cum only heightens your bliss, leaving you limp and boneless in his grasp.

as charles slowly softens inside you, he pulls out with a wet pop, his spent cock glistening with your combined fluids. you can't help but gaze up at him

"look at you," charles murmurs, tucking his softening member back into his pants. "such a good little cumslut, taking everything i give you without complaint." he smirks, adjusting his clothing with a satisfied air.

still reeling from the intense fucking with charles, you stumble out of the bathrom, blinking in the bright lights of the restaurant. to your surprise, max and his girlfriend are nowhere to be seen, the table where you ate is cleared of their presence.

a folded piece of paper catches your eye, sitting atop the now-clean tablecloth. curious, you pick it up and read the brief message scrawled across the page:

we know how much fun you guys like to have so here's dinner on us, but you owe us for next time ;)

a flush rises to your cheeks at the implication, and you quickly crumple the note, tossing it aside. just then, charles appears beside your shoulder, looking every inch the self-assured boyfriend once more.

"well, looks like our friends made themselves scarce," he remarks, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

“wanna go back home for round 2?”

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma

#⭑ : my work.ᐟ #the-flaneur #chemical attraction ♥︎#smut #x reader #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you

313 notes · View notes

flwrstqr · 6 months ago

Text

enhypen hyung line when you guys are enemies but they see you with another boy

pairings: enemy!enhypen x fem!reader | genre: fluff, ot7 work, imagines, jealousy, enemies to lovers | wc: 900+ | warnings: not proofread, party, jealousy, pet name, kissing | an: idk if this is exactly what u asked for anon cus i was a bit confused but sorry if it isnt.. TT, wrote too much so ill be posting a maknae line for this too | LIBRARY FOR MORE...

이희승 (lhs)

you were there with your group of friends, enjoying the night, but your eyes kept drifting to heeseung, who was surrounded by his own circle of admirers. heeseung was your biggest rival in school. You both competed for the top spot in academics, sports, and even in popularity. despite being enemies, you felt some kind of attraction between the two of you. as you start partying, you start dancing with your boy best friend, having fun and the time of your life you glanced over at heeseung, who was watching you with an unreadable expression. you moved closer to your best friend, he played along, his hands hovering over your hips, but not quite touching. heeseung's eyes widened, his jaw clenching. after the song ended, you excused yourself and headed outside for some fresh air. to your surprise, heeseung followed you.

"what was that?" he demanded, his voice a mix of irritation and something deeper.

"just having fun," you replied nonchalantly, leaning against the railing.

"with him?" heeseung stepped closer, his eyes darkening. "you know he's into you, right?"

you raised an eyebrow. "and why do you care?"

heeseung hesitated, his eyes searching yours. "because I..." he took a deep breath, his voice softer. "i don't like seeing you with him."

you felt a thrill run through you. "oh? and who would you rather see me with?"

heeseung closed the distance between you, his hand brushing against your cheek. "me," he whispered, his lips inches from yours.

your breath hitched, the world around you fading away. "then maybe you should have asked me to dance," you murmured.

heeseung's lips curved into a smile, his hand moving to the back of your neck. "maybe I will," he said, before closing the gap and kissing you softly. (i cried while writing this.)

(rest of the members below..)

박종성 (pjy)

you were talking with your friends, but your eyes kept wandering to jay, who was chatting with another girl across the room. A pang of jealousy shot through you, surprising even yourself.

you tried to push the feeling aside, focusing on enjoying the moment with your friend group. but as you glance one more time, you see him again. he was smiling at the girl he was talking to, completely oblivious to your gaze.

suddenly, a voice breaks through your thoughts, causing you to startle. You turn around to find Jay standing beside you, a casual smirk playing on his lips.

"need anything, pretty girl?" he asks, his tone light but with a hint of curiosity.

you jump, taken aback by his sudden appearance. It takes a moment for you to register that he wasn't in front of you before, but now stands beside you, having moved swiftly while you were lost in your thoughts about him.

"nothing," you mumble, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realize you've been caught staring.

"i know you were staring earlier," jay teases.

"shut up, it's not like you don't like me back either." you blurt, your eyes widening realizing what you said.

"who said i didn't like you?"

심재윤 (sjy)

in the dimly lit prom hall, you and jake exchange glances from opposite ends of the room.

jake walks over with a cocky grin. "well," he teases, extending his hand. "care to grace me with a dance?"

you arch an eyebrow, matching his playful demeanor. "i don't know. can you keep up with me?"

he chuckles, the challenge evident in his eyes. "try me." with a smirk, you take his hand, allowing him to lead you onto the dance floor.

midway through the song, you pull him closer, your heart racing. the proximity. but jake doesn't resist. instead, he meets your gaze with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. "you know," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, "you're not at all what I expected."

"same with you,"

박성훈(psh)

you couldn't help but laugh as your friend pulled you onto the dance floor. that was until you felt a pair of eyes burning into you from across the room. you knew who it was even before you looked up—sunghoon. he had been your rival for as long as you could remember. but there was something else there. maybe it was in the way his eyes lingered on you a bit too long, or how your heart raced whenever he was near.

as you continue to laugh and talk with your friends. you spun and moved closer to your friends. you saw the surprise flicker across sunghoon's face, followed by something darker, more intense. he set his drink down and made his way towards you, his expression unreadable.

"having fun?" he asked, his voice low and edged with something you couldn't quite place.

"just talking and laughing" you replied innocently.

he stepped closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. "looks like you're trying to start something."

"maybe I am," you said, meeting his gaze head-on.

before you knew it, the music slowed, and he held out his hand. "then dance with me."

it wasn't a request. you hesitated for a second, then took his hand, letting him pull you into his arms.

"you know," he murmured in your ear, "I never really hated you."

"then why do act like you hate me?," you replied, your heart pounding.

"maybe I was just trying to get your attention," he admitted, his voice softening.

you looked up at him, "well, you have it now."

882 notes · View notes

maple-the-awesome · 8 months ago

Text

The Chain Meets Your Baby || 1/2

Part 2 ||

Pairing: Hyrule, Time, Wild, Four x Reader

Requested by @kieradumpzz081927: I hope your request are open(or if ur free for requests), so i saw ur LU oneshots about the one that is called ' He becames a dad ' or smth. So, why not that he would introduce his kid(s) to the chain? That ones going to be interesting Interesting indeed 😈Now, I have my own set of headcannons for what order the Chain becomes dads in, but regardless of their own experience, I'm sure the Links would all subject the new dad to lots of support and teasing. Here you go 💜 Warning: Some mature jokes here and there. Nothing major, but gotta give the new dad a little hell, right? ¯_(ツ)_/¯

Zelda Masterlist 🤍Fandom Masterlist

The last thing Hyrule was expecting to encounter during his village visit was his old traveling companions, the other heroes of courage. Then again, life has been full of surprises lately and it wasn't like he didn't already know that the portals between their worlds are still active. It was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again and honestly, it couldn't have aligned more perfectly.

Happy to see the rest of the Chain again, Hyrule takes the liberty of inviting them back to his home so that they can properly catch up and not be the subject of so many judgment stares from villagers. Throughout the short trip there, the group’s laughter is vibrant as they detail accounts from their recent adventures, soon turning it into a friendly competition of who has the craziest stories.

This conversation stays well alive all the way from their first steps outside of the village gates to the second Hyrule opens the door to his house, at which point the spirited teasing immediately dies off into a stunned silence.

“Oh! Hello again!” You’re just as pleasantly surprised to see the boys as your boyfriend had been, your smile more than welcoming as you turn around to greet them, yet they’re less focused on you and more so on the small infant you cradle in your arms.

“...I think the Traveler wins,” Wild mumbles, his disbelief shared amongst the rest of the group who merely nod distractedly.

“Right! I forgot to mention -” Hyrule excitedly hurries to your side before turning to his friends with a thrilled smile, “- This is our daughter, Hope.”

“You just casually forgot to mention you have a kid now…?” Legend narrows his eyes while pointing to the kid in question. He should probably be more annoyed with Hyrule’s tendency of always skipping over important details, but honestly he’s just too shocked to process it right this second.

“Well, she’s only about a month old. Being a dad now takes some getting used to,” Hyrule defends, rubbing the back of his neck timidly, but when you pass your daughter over to him, he shows practice in the way he gently holds her securely to himself before approaching the boys to properly show her off.

Despite their surprise, they’re eager to crowd around him, each wanting to get a good look to ensure this isn’t some clever joke you’re both pulling on them. Fluffy head of dark wavy hair…A little button nose…Sharp pointed ears…Yep, this baby must be yours. She looks exactly as one would imagine the product of Hyrule’s sex life to look like…

“...Geeze. She’s adorable,” Warrior awes, practically leaning over Legend who elbows him back with a glare.

“Isn’t she?” You preen.

“She’s strong, too,” The Vet acknowledges with an unamused pout. He had made the mistake of holding a finger out to the baby only for her to grasp it in an unwavering grip. His attempts at pulling away are fruitless, not that he’s actually trying that hard. Maybe he even likes the feeling of his heart melting just a bit.

“Congratulations. You two must be very proud,” Time praises kindly, having already felt the joy that comes with being a parent himself. He can recognize it in the way Hyrule and you affectionately watch your giggling baby with a pleasant glow surrounding you both.

“We very much are…”

Muffled commotion outside alerts you to the fact that you have visitors long before they stumble into your home, not even bothering to knock as their excitement gets the better of them. Now, any other day, your husband would be quick to scold such ill-mannered behavior, but fortunately for your guests, he's in far too good of a mood to let it be soured.

So, instead of acknowledging the Chain’s less than graceful entrance, Time immediately rises to his feet with a proud hand left upon your shoulder, "Everyone, we'd like you to meet Saria and Mallory."

The young heroes are in awe as they crowd around the bed just to get a look at the small bundles held within your arms. Sure, they've seen babies before, but these are Time's babies. For many of them, the complicated concept of love alone had once seemed out of reach for any hero of courage, yet here the Old Man is, hitched to a lovely wife and now the lucky father of two adorable daughters. It's an amazing accomplishment, really; one that has the entire Chain feeling happy for him.

"They're so little," Hyrule whispers, scared to speak any louder out of fear he'll accidently wake them.

"They inherited their dad's nose, poor things," Warrior jests, throwing a smirk Time's way.

"They'll grow into them," Rather than take it personally, he chuckles while carefully taking one of the girls from you. Despite having only become a father a few hours ago, he's already a natural at handling them. Ever so gently - as if handling the thinnest of glass - he cradles his daughter to his chest and fixes the tiny hand-sewn blanket around her; a gift from her godmother, Malon, of course.

"You'll have your hands full with twins," Four remarks prudently.

You sigh at the thought, your head thrown back against your pillow, "Ugh, we know…”

Although you’re visibly tired after having undergone hours of stressful labor, you still look upon the baby in your arms with nothing short of pure admiration, clearly having no actual regrets towards having either of them. In your eyes, twins just mean all the more love to give.

"Nothing we can't handle," Time promises before getting a mischievous glimmer in his eye while casually extending his sleeping baby out to Twilight, "This one is Mallory, by the way -"

"- W-Wait -!" The Rancher is immediately caught off guard by it, yet his objections are ignored. Time drops the baby into his arms anyway, practically forcing Twilight to take her, not that he truly minds. A natural around children himself, it takes him only a few seconds to adjust the baby comfortably in his hold.

Blind to the other boys who hover around his shoulders, Twilight's eyes are locked in amazement upon the tiny bean who scrunches her nose and whimpers quietly before soon settling down…To think, this small infant no more than a few hours old is a relative of his. He can't help but wonder how closely related they are. How many generations between them? Three? Two? Maybe even just one? It's a strange thought to consider...but also a very comforting one, too.

"...She's a real beauty, isn't she?" Time asks softly with a strong pat to Twilight's back. The only reply he gets is a wordless nod and whimper as the teary eyed Rancher sniffles.

What kind of horrors do they need to prepare themselves for? That's the question that rings through every hero's head as they approach Wild's home. They're concern only grows when - as if sensing them - the Champion suddenly appears in his open doorway with an ear-to-ear grin greeting them...Not the most comforting sight seeing as they've come all this way under his vague request.

A letter had been sent to each of them only giving the minor hint that there’s a certain 'surprise' he can't wait to show them, and with someone as chaotic as their accident prone centenarian, the Chain has every right to be anxious about it.

Even as they all crowd outside of his home, Wild refuses to add any context, instead maintaining his mysteriously upbeat aura before finally stepping aside to allow them in. It's only then that the heroes realize what his 'surprise' is, welcomed by the sight of you as you stand there matching Wild's grin while holding an unfamiliar baby in your arms. She can't be much older than a few weeks, judging on both her tiny features and the obvious bags under both of her parents’ eyes...

"You have a baby?!" Wind screeches with delight, not wasting a second to race to your side.

"Her name is Mikan," Chuckling, you kneel down to let him better see your pride and joy. It isn't long before you're surrounded by most of the heroes who are immediately taken by your daughter's cuteness.

"When did this happen?" Time inquires through a raised eyebrow, one of the few Links who had remained by the door with Wild.

"Uh, she'll be three weeks old tomorrow," Wild answers, his hand darting up to rub the side of his neck. He knows that isn’t exactly what Time meant, but it’s the easiest answer.

"I didn't think you -..." Begins Twilight quietly. Although he ultimately cuts himself short, the curious look he gives his successor wordless finishes what he might've said.

Nodding slowly with some hesitation, Wild bows his head while looking back over to you. There's a fondness in his eyes as he watches you carefully pass your daughter over for Wind to hold, "I know what I said before. I...I didn't think this was something I could have - something I could want this badly, but...Well…I probably don’t need to tell you how it is…”

Twilight pats Wild’s back with a knowing smirk, indeed understanding. He’s happy to see his friend finally accept the peaceful life he deserves instead of continuing to run away from it, after all, Twilight has never been blind to the curiosity and faint jealousy that would shine in Wild’s eyes whenever listening to the other heroes talk about their families. He’s been long overdue to have one of his own.

"Hey, just one question," While Wind is busy cooing and rocking your daughter, Four turns around to address Wild once they finally join everyone else, "Did you really name your daughter after a fruit?"

Wild's cheeks flare in embarrassment, "I - It can be a pretty name, too!"

"I'm actually the one who chose it," You confess sheepishly, taking the attention away from your partner, "I was really craving tangerines throughout the whole pregnancy."

"At least it's a somewhat normal name. I was half expecting you to name your future kids something like 'Biscuit' or 'Curry'," Legend snorts.

"...We did consider picking 'Sage'.”

Warrior laughs heartily before throwing a hand over Wild shoulder with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, "Can we expect that to be the second child's name then?"

"Woah, woah, woah - Let's settle down now, gentleman,” You immediately scold while also taking the chance to save your poor partner by pulling him away from the onslaught of teasing he was about to endure, “One baby at a time. It’s not easy carrying those things, just ask your wives!”

Four has been off into his own little world - That is to say, he’s been both distracted and extremely tired; a terrible mix, but hey, it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. Despite his eyelids feeling like bricks, he remains awake and alert, arms folded across his chest as he sits in the bedside chair keeping watch over your sleeping form.

You need the rest more than him anyway. Your husband has been through some pretty fearsome and ravenous beasts in his time, yet your work last night easily trumpeted every hell he’s undergone himself. Best to let you sleep unless he wants to change that statement.

A series of echoed knocks send Four bolting through the house, hissing a curse under his breath before tossing the front door open with plans to scold whoever’s on the other side, yet he’s stunned into silence when he realizes it’s no poorly timed mailman, rather the very friends he had invited over…although, they did come a lot sooner than he thought they would…

“WE’VE COME TO SEE -!”

“- SHHH!!!” Four nearly smacks a hand over Wild’s face.

“- …The baby…” Wild finishes with a whisper and a grimace.

Four quickly ushers the Chain inside, allowing them to make themselves comfortable with STRICT orders to keep the noise level down. Yes, their early visit may not have been exactly anticipated, but Four holds no ill feelings towards it, in fact, he’s rather smiley while leading them to the nursery.

“Here they are,” He practically sings, eagerly looking inside the large crib as if he, himself, still can’t get enough of its contents. He has every right to be infatuated, “These are my girls~”

Although Four is bubbling with joy as he admires his little creations, the rest of the Chain stands by with wide eyes. Some even take the time to count each baby just to confirm that they are, indeed, seeing triple. Inside lies three little newborns, each fast asleep after having about as stressful of a day as their parents.

“We’re thinking of naming them Marigold, Amber, and Camelia. You know, keep to the color theme and all…”

“Damn, three of them, huh? You didn’t hold back at all, did you, Smithy?” Warrior observes aloud, much to Four’s instant lack of amusement.

“They’re so cute~” Wind coos, Twilight having to pull him back before he accidentally falls into a crib again.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I brought some of the twins’ old stuff then,” Time hums, his smirk holding a hint of sympathy. Needless to say, he doesn’t miss those early days of juggling babies himself, as much as he loves them dearly.

Four preens at the attention his daughters get, however his smile falters when he notices Sky sticking to the very back of the group, awkwardly rubbing his arm and chewing down on his lip. Four frowns.

“...I’m sorry. We should’ve waited until we told -” He keeps his voice down as he joins the older hero who is quick to shake his head and muster his best smile.

“- No, no. We’re happy for you both. Really…” Despite the sorrow stuck in his voice, Four can tell Sky means every word of it, even the sighed: “...You’re a very lucky guy.”

“...I am,” While there could be more said, he realizes now might not be the time to discuss it. Not with so many new babies in the room.

“No wonder you wanted us to be quiet. I can barely handle one newborn at a time, let alone three at once?” Legend mumbles half to himself, his finger gently cresting one of the baby’s chubby cheeks.

“You know, if you ever find your house getting a little too quiet, you can always babysit -”

“- No way in hell. We already have our hands full as it is.”

#lu time x reader #lu hyrule x reader #lu wild x reader #linked universe x reader #link x reader #linked universe #x reader #reader insert #legend of zelda #lu four x reader

531 notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 1 year ago

Text

Where We Left Off

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You're in love with your best friend who is determined to make the most of your vacation together. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Light angst, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), future fun, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: New AU called Reconnect because why not? Meet Dreamboat and Butterfly. For @the-slumberparty 's June's Monthly Challenge : Bikini and Beach, and Smut Hub Summer Camp Bingo @sagechanoafterdark: Choose Your Vibes: Summer. Thank you @flordeamatista for the inspiration and pre-reading! ❤️ Any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a couple of summers ago when you realized you were in love with Bucky Barnes. When you looked back on your friendship, you wondered how it took you so long to realize it. Like how his smile made your heart race whenever he looked your way. Or how you found a solid ground and safe space together, each of you able to confide in the other.

He made you feel safe.

"You're my best friend."

Nothing more.

You stared out the living room window with a sigh, the beach house blanketed by the heavy sound of rain. While it had been bright and sunny just minutes ago, the sky was now dark and misty. You shivered as you wrapped your towel tighter around your wet body, enchanted by the summer storm instead of going to your room to change. It figured you'd buy a new swimsuit for the trip and only get to wear it outside for a minute.

"So much for lounging on the beach."

You smiled softly as you glanced at Bucky beside you, who ran a hand through his long, soaked hair. He hadn't bothered to keep his towel after the two of you rushed back inside, clad in just his blue trunks that matched the shade of his eyes. You scolded yourself for letting your gaze roam along his sun kissed, muscular body.

You didn't have the right to look at him that way.

"Yeah. So much for that," you said, the towel doing little to keep you warm as the air conditioner kicked on. "Maybe our punishment for getting started without everyone?"

Steve, another one of Bucky's best friends, put together a weeklong trip for the gang. So far, you and Bucky were the only two at the beach house. Everyone else wasn't going to be there until the evening. That was why you went for an immediate swim once you picked your room. The storm would likely put the group behind even more and now you were stuck inside with Bucky.

Why had you agreed to show up early?

Why did you have to be alone with him?

Why do I have to love him?

"Maybe," he said with a stretch, drawing attention to his wide chest. "Since it doesn't look like it's slowing down at all, why don't we cuddle on the couch? Catch up a bit?"

"Cuddle?" you scoffed, the sound more bitter than you intended as you turned to face him. "Why would we do that?"

A flicker of hurt passed over his eyes before he blinked it away. "Well, for one, you're cold. I can practically hear your teeth chattering," he replied. He wasn't a fan of being cold either, but he always ran warm. "And two, cuddling never bothered you before."

Your stomach flip-flopped. Bucky was right. He was the only male friend you ever snuggled with. Whenever you had a bad day, he didn't hesitate to throw a heavy arm around you and pull you against his chest. On good days, he found an excuse to keep you plastered by his side. He used to do it so often that most people assumed you were dating.

Wishful thinking.

"I'm sorry," you said, giving him the nicest smile you could manage even though it hurt to do so. "Been awhile since it was just the two of us and even longer than that since we cuddled."

The day it clicked that you saw Bucky as more than a friend was the day he introduced you to Dolores. Everyone called her Dot. The beautiful redhead looked good on his arm and you wondered why it wasn't you in her place. But you put on a brave face and smiled, even as your heart shattered. Because Bucky's happiness meant more than your feelings.

It didn't stop you from crying alone in the darkness where no one else could see.

"That's my fault," he whispered, sliding his fingers into his hair again and tugging harshly on the strands. You noticed he did that when he was upset. "And I'm sorry."

"Friendship goes both ways," you pointed out.

"You never faded out of my life when you dated anyone."

They weren't you, Bucky.

"I guess she was different," you smiled sadly.

The two of you still hung out and messaged each other while he dated Dot, but it was always as a group and the daily messages dwindled to chats here and there. You had the feeling that Dot didn't like you very much. In a way, you didn't fault her for that. Maybe she saw through you and knew you wanted Bucky.

Yet he was the one who broke up with her.

"You're allowed to be mad at me," he said as he took your hand and crossed the room to the couch. "I'd be mad at me."

"Right now, I'm just cold," you said, not wanting to dwell on the past. What good would it do?

He nodded slowly, almost like he was disappointed in your response. "Okay."

You shrieked when he pulled the towel away. It wasn't like he hadn't seen you minutes before in your bikini and you swore his gaze lingered on you long enough to consider it staring, but what was he doing? "What the hell?" you asked, but made no move to cover yourself.

Maybe I want him to see that I'm desirable.

Bucky let out a breath as he looked at you, your shivering having nothing to do with the cold. "You said you were cold, so let me warm you up," he urged, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch before he took a seat. "Please?"

Silence fell over you as you sat down beside him. He wasted no time putting the blanket over you and wrapping his arms around your shaking frame. You breathed in his familiar scent and found yourself fighting off tears, a bittersweet swirl of longing and comfort settling in your chest.

Because he embraced you as if you meant something to him.

"I missed you," he whispered, running a hand along your back.

Your heart clenched, focusing on the rain falling outside in a melancholy rhythm. "I missed you, too."

"But we have each other again."

"I wish that were true," you whispered.

Why did I say that?

His hand stilled, but you were too afraid to look at him. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Panic bubbled in your chest. You couldn't just blurt out your feelings like this. "I just mean you went from a constant to a fleeting moment in my life," you said, which was the truth. "I don't want things to fizzle after we leave."

Bucky used to be the brightest star in your sky. Then he became the shooting star you missed making a wish upon. But you would forever watch the sky if only to get a glimpse of his bright light.

"I'll make it up to you. I have this whole week to start," he promised, rubbing his chin along the top of your head. "I don't care what Steve has planned. I'm all yours."

You squeezed your eyes shut because you knew you'd cry if you didn't. He wasn't yours. Not really.

"I'm yours, too, Bucky."

I always will be.

Surely Bucky will sweep us off our feet, right? Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

2K notes · View notes

kombuuuu · 1 year ago

Note

Miles (42) pouting when he can’t get his kisses because how dare they go home to their own family and their own things and act like they have a life outside of him? (He’s not actually like that he just wants his kisses!)

“Miles Gonzalo Morales, I’m gonna beat your ass.”

“Looks good don’t it?”

The thick, visible, obvious bite mark laid stagnant on the junction between your shoulder and neck. Bruising over from the day before, when he’d stolen you away from your shared friend group — and dragged you to the nearest balcony.

Not without your friends ‘ooh’—ing at the sight.

He’d then spent the next 15 minutes holding you, and letting you watch the skyline, whilst he watched you.

At some point, he’d watched your attention, something you were deriving him of — just to rile him up, mess with him with a smile on your face.

So he’d resorted to placing quick kisses all over your neck and shoulder, mumbling words of love to you to try and gain your regard.

— And when that didn’t work? He bit you.

Not enough to hurt, but enough for you to abruptly laugh out at the ticklish feeling — and definitely enough to get your notice. To which you’d playfully told him off for.

“Mm, but you’re looking now, aren’t you, Ma?”

“God, you’re insufferable.”

—

Now there was a very fucking obvious bite mark, to which you would have to go home bearing.

“No! Miles — Oh my god, my Ma’s gonna kill me!”

“She loves me, she’ll understand.”

“Get me my make-up bag.”

“Wha— Don’t cover it!”

“Why the fuck not?”

“It’s pretty, c’mere.”

He slid a hand over your waist, pressing up behind you and you watched him admire the bite through his reflection.

He leant down to kiss at it again and you quickly squirmed out of his grip, giggling and smacking at his grabbing hands.

“Nuh uh, asshole, you’ve done enough!”

“Wh— Come on, baby, it’s just a bite!”

“Just a bite—?”

“It’s not even that bad!”

He huffed, going to sit back on the bed and watch you, not without pinching your waist along the way.

“And if i showed your Momma?”

“Oh, shit—“

#໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა #spiderverse x reader #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles morales #miles x reader #miles my beloved #miles morales #across the spiderverse

1K notes · View notes

charmedbystars · 1 year ago

Note

Hey darling! Do you think you could write about e-42 miles realising his girlfriend needs glasses and having to force her to the opticians,please?

pairing: e-42 miles x stubborn reader

summary: miles realizes you need glasses, but you're adamant of not needing them.

content: no warnings!

a/n: i absolutely loved this request and i FEEL this because i hate glasses and live off of contacts only. i hope this is close to what you wanted:))))

miles and y/n had been dating for a couple of months now. it wasn’t a recent relationship where they both needed to be hesitant around each other, you guys were wayyy past that stage as shown by each other’s constant teasing and messing around. of course, miles was a bit closed off and reserved, but you were breaking down his walls surely and you were positive you guys had no boundaries at this point.

everyone at brooklyn visions academy was shocked when they found out you two were dating. you were pretty known around school and were nice to everyone, being the opposite of miles, who had a small group of guys that he didn’t even hang with outside of school.

now, you guys didn’t announce it and it was more of a “private but not secret” relationship, so you nor miles paid attention to the chatter.

which brings everything to you sitting in math class, the only class you have with your boyfriend. thankfully there was no assigned seating in that class so you sat next to miles. as much fun as it was sitting with miles, there was a problem… being that all you wanted to do was talk to him all class period.

“i was thinking we go to that new bakery that opened and drop some off at your mom’s wor-”

“y/n l/n, would you please tell me what’s the answer to the equation on the board?” the teacher cut you off, obviously annoyed by your chatter.

standing up, you walked to the board and looked at the equation before telling her the answer, there was no way you got into visions and didn’t know how to answer this question. “mmm teacher think she slick trying to embarrass me,” you thought. the teacher raised an eyebrow, confused as to why you stood up and walked all the way to the board when you could’ve told her the answer from your desk. honestly, you didn’t even notice what you did. you just walked back to your desk peacefully and sat down again.

“ma, you know you could’ve just told her, no need for all that walking up and down like this is a fashion show.” rolling your eyes at miles, “the school is my runway,” you responded.

the rest of that class zoomed by and it was time for lunch. you and miles had your own little schedule for lunch, some days you guys would sit together and other days you would sit with your respective friends. today was one of those days that you guys would sit together though. walking together to the lunch line, there was a menu posted up on a board. usually, you just look at the board and go tell the lunch ladies what you wanted. looking at the menu, you squinted and looked at the menu for a couple of seconds before rubbing your eyes and going to the lunch ladies. normally, anyone would’ve ignored that small gesture, but miles being very observant of everything, noticed your action.

getting your lunches and walking over to a bench to eat lunch outside, miles gave you a nudge, “you good, ma? no headache or somethin’?”

“huh? no, i’ve been good all day, how come?” you asked.

“nuthin’ just askin’ amor.”

and that was the end of that. the rest of the school day went by pretty quick too, which then came up your idea of going to the bakery that you were talking about in math class. walking to the bakery was pretty peaceful and it wasn’t far from the school, only a couple blocks down. the bakery was cute and it’s design being very minimalistic, other than the glass case full of different pastries.

immediately walking up to the glass case to take in all of its beauty, miles walked up behind you, “get whatever you want, mama. let’s pick up something for my mom too, just like you said,” you looked over your shoulder and grinned. there was so much to choose from that you didn’t even know what you wanted. deciding to get something to eat there and getting a box to go, you ordered a strawberry cupcake, miles just went with a classic cheesecake.

“they have milkshakes and smoothies. do you want something to drink with your cupcake?”

glancing over at the overhead menu, you squinted and squinted, but nothing helped. “uhm, do you mind reading out the flavors for me please?” you asked miles politely.

“can you not see the board?”

“i can, i just want to hear your voice,” you tried defending yourself, but miles already seemed suspicious of you. deciding not to point it out in that moment, miles read out the menu and you made your choice.

wrapping everything up and going back to miles’ place, walking in you both greeted rio. miles let her know about the pastries you guys brought back before heading to his room (door has to be cracked open, according to rio). in miles’ slightly tidy room, you sat yourself on the ground and proceeded to pull out all notebooks to work on all the homework you were assigned. while looking over your notes to get started on your homework, miles suddenly interrupted your train of thoughts.

“hey ma, i was thinking you should get your eyes checked,” he said.

“miles what did you just say?”

“not in that way, but like go to those doctors and get glasses. i’ve been noticing you squinting or not being able to read boards and stuff.”

you glanced over at him and shook your head, “i think i’m fine, i don’t need no doctors or anything.”

miles just shrugged, deciding not to argue with you at that moment. it definitely wasn’t the end there especially when miles cares about your well-being dearly, but he just put it on the back of his head for now.

skipping to the next day, you were in class with miles when the teacher decided to do powerpoint notes. you groaned in your mind at the fact. you didn’t want to admit you needed glasses, plus it’s completely normal for people not being able to see far away. there’s literally nothing wrong, is what you continued to tell yourself. trying to jot down the notes as best as you can, you snuck a look over at miles’ paper, deciding to copy his notes since you couldn’t really see the board. suddenly, miles shifted his position causing you to not be able to see his paper.

“psst, miles can you please let me copy your notes?” you whispered. he shifted his paper back to you so you can copy his notes, before saying, “what did i tell you yesterday, y/n?” you chose not to reply, pretending that you didn’t hear him, continuing to copy his notes. “i know you hear me, babe,” he kept on trying to tell you until you asked the teacher if you could use the bathroom. your thought process being that leaving might get him to drop it. miles just huffed knowing that you wouldn’t listen to him, when an idea popped in his head.

you returned from the bathroom around seven minutes later. knowing that you had even more notes to catch up on, you picked up your pencil and quickly dropped it when you looked down at your notebook.

your notebook was flipped to random page and the words, “GET UR EYES CHECKED” was written across the page. you sent a glare over at the only person that could be the culprit.

“if i make an appointment, will you get off my back?” you asked.

“of course, baby,” miles gave you the purest smile as if he has done no wrong. you rolled your eyes at him before bringing at hand to sit over your mouth, trying to hide the smile growing on your face. you knew your boyfriend meant well, so there was no way that you were actually mad or annoyed at him.

the rest of the class went by fast now that you had miles cooperating with you and willing to share notes quickly. by the end of class, miles pulled you out of class quickly with a tug of your wrist to the cafeteria. getting your lunch and going to your bench, miles pulled out his phone, shuffling through apps and the internet looking for the nearest optometrist. finding one and pulling up their phone number, before he called them to book you an appointment, he told you, “sabes que lo hago porque te quiero mucho? i love you.” you simply looked away, hiding your face and mumbling the three precious words back.

miles booked you an appointment about three days later from when he called. there was no doubt that miles was going to the appointment with you. you would've asked to come with you if he hadn't anyways.

you've never been to an optometrist before so naturally you were nervous. you thought you would be able to have miles with you the whole time, but your lifeline was broken when you were pulled into a room in the back and miles couldn't go with you. frowning when you had to let go of your boyfriend’s hand, miles gave you a reassuring squeeze.

the whole process was weird for you, the drying eye drops, looking into a little hole and seeing a hot air balloon, and the constant asking of "which is better? one to two?" but finally everything was over. you went back to sit in the waiting room with miles, telling him about the weird experience. a couple minutes of waiting around when the optometrist called you back and miles was allowed with you this time.

"well, you do need glasses and here's the prescription. we have a couple options of glasses out on display that you can try on or order some elsewhere simply with proof of your prescription."

you took the paper and thanked the doctor. leaving hand in hand in miles, you didn't even wanna look at his face knowing that he would have a smug "i told you so" look on his face. you walked in the direction of the display glasses, looking at each one by one. grabbing a simple one with your favorite color as the frames, you tried them on and looked in the mirror before looking over at miles.

"sooo, what do you think?"

"i think you look like a cute nerd."

"shut up because both of us know who the actual nerd is here," you crossed your arms.

"i'm just joking, mami. i like those on you."

you hummed before going to the front desk and asked for those frames. the lady at the counter put in an order for you and told you that it would take about a week and a half for them to be ready. you nodded and proceeded to pay when miles grabbed your hand and moved it so he could pay.

"i'm paying babe. you look cute in them so it's on me," he said and tapped his phone on the card reader before you could protest. you were thankful that the optometrist here didn't charge you a whole kidney for them because you knew glasses could be expensive.

walking out the optometrist, you wanted to hold your tongue but you knew miles had a point in it all, "thank you for taking care of me, amor," you mumbled. miles stopped on the sidewalk and pulled you into a hug.

"i would say i told you so after everything, but i'm always here to you, mama." giving you a peck, you both continued to stroll down the sidewalk, holding each other's hands on the way to the dorms.

"miles?" he gave a hum in response. "can we get ice cream before we go back to the dorms?" you asked.

1K notes · View notes

gretavangroupie · 4 months ago

Text

Saudade

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 16.6k

Warnings: Cursing, Drinking, Heartbreak, Angst, Sexual Themes, Mentions of Disbandment, Mentions of Estrangement. Smut: Dirty Talk, Touching, Kissing, Oral F!Receiving, Fingering, Oral M!Receiving, Edging, Protected and Unprotected Sex, Fluff.

A/N: I know this is not your typical story, being set twenty-five years in the future, but I hope you will stick with it until the end. Though this was only planned to be one part, I could definitely see this having a part two in the future. As always, thank you so much for reading, liking, reblogging, etc. It means more to me than you know!

OCTOBER 2049

NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE

It was almost the same. Twenty five years later and not much had changed. Maybe the owners, the patrons, the furniture and the drink specials, but wholly and truly it was almost exactly the same as it was back then. It’s dark, and poorly lit by a string of multicolored Christmas lights around the perimeter. Dusty college pennants line the walls, and the sound of billiards balls smacking together still ring through the air.

The clientele has changed a bit since the last time you were here. Instead of a younger, edgier crowd, the bar is filled with people your own age. Quite possibly reliving their own glory days. Your mind flashes back to a night full of blurry memories and cheap beers, this very bar packed to the brim with friends and familiar faces. It was a night of celebration amongst your peers, the pre-party before the main event, so to speak. It was all a blur now, but it was a memory you’d held on to for all these years, and in a way you all did.

You bring your glass to your lips, sipping at the now watered down Gin and Tonic. Your phone buzzes on the bartop in front of you, your screen showing a message in your recently resurrected group chat. All it took was a single photo of the bar and they knew. A memory unlocked over twenty years later. You’d all talked about meeting up again. Coming back to the city where you all met each other, but years passed and life got in the way. It never happened, and that was okay. The friendships never faltered. Those remained a constant, even after all this time.

They couldn’t believe you were here. You told them you were going to come, and why wouldn’t you? When you found out the conference was taking place in Nashville it was nearly the first thing that came to mind. You knew you had to stop in to take this picture just for them. It felt sad almost, being here without them. You knew it wouldn’t be the same, but just being here in this place you have such fond memories of felt good.

A large group descended upon the bar as you arrived, huddling around the bartop ordering drinks and shots. They were loud and rowdy, but you didn’t care much. You know that was you once, and you hope they will look back on this night much the same way you look back on the night you spent here in the company of your friends. They hung out there for most of the night, a few people from their group leaving to hit the pool tables, or step outside to smoke. You kept to yourself, enjoying your drink in such a nostalgic place as you made conversation over texts.

Now though, as your drink was melted and your skin was feeling warm they decided to leave. They cleared out of the bar quickly, taking the noise and the vibrant energy with them. Now that your view is unobstructed you turn your head to look down the bar. It’s mostly empty, only a few people left sipping their own drinks. You bring your glass to your lips as you observe the people around you. It’s quiet and dark and your eyesight really isn’t what it used to be. The man about ten chairs down from you seems to do the same, finally able to see more than the horde of people that made the bar their home all evening. He looks to his left and right, taking in his surroundings the same way you did. He turns his attention back to the television hanging behind the bar, watching whatever football game is happening in the stadium down the street. He’s leaning back in his chair, his right hand fixed on his glass as his left scrolls on his cellphone with a few flicks of his thumb.

The bartender steps up to you, delivering your fresh drink and snapping your attention back ahead of you.

“Thank you,” you offer, sending him a soft appreciative smile.

“My pleasure, let me know if you need anything,” he answers with a nod of his head.

You grab the new drink and bring the small black straw to your lips, letting the lime flavored bubbles flow over your tongue. The bartender stepping away has grabbed the attention of the man to your right, watching as he turns his head to meet your line of sight. You feel a rush of nerves flood through you, but as the man's eyes meet yours you feel something else. Something familiar and strange. It’s something you know, deep inside of you that's been buried away for years and years. Something you can’t quite put your finger on.

He nods his head and gives you a small, pleasant grin and that’s really all it took to put it together. It hit you like a tidal wave. Connections in your brain that had been long severed, were finally finding their way back together. The tip of his chin, the familiarity of his smile, the dark twinkle of his eyes. This wasn’t just a handsome long haired man alone at a bar. No, it was Jake Kiszka.

You quickly turn away, your eyes zeroing in on the labels on the liquor bottles across from you. You felt stiff as a board as you sat there, your heart pounding in your chest as your mind started to flash through hundreds of memories. Twenty years worth of music, and laughter and memories playing on fast forward. Your mind settles on one though. One in particular that sticks out the most, and probably the most painful one of them all.

You can remember it clear as day. It was an overcast day in March, your phone buzzing incessantly on your desk. Over and over it rang and rang until you picked it up and answered the call. It was bad news, some of the worst you’d heard. “What do you mean a mutual separation?”

How naive of you to believe something so good could last forever. Your small community of friends were devastated, unable to cope with the fact that the very thing that brought you all together was seemingly gone without warning. What you had is all you would ever have. It didn’t feel real. No more concerts to attend, no more music to look forward to. Nothing. It was just over. In the blink of an eye.

Some fans took it hard, lashing out and picking fights. Some were okay, happy and eager to see what would happen with the four members in the future. Whether it be families or solo projects, you knew you would support them either way. What none of you expected though, was for all four of them to disappear.

It was years before anyone saw or heard anything about them, collectively or singularly. They had gone into hiding, something they were good at. No marriage announcements, no birth announcements. Nothing. Even their social media accounts died that day in March. Everything was silent. It hurt, but it was almost better that way.

Around the ten year mark there were whispers, rumors of a reunion. Small gigs here or there, but nothing ever really came of it. They were just that, rumors. There was no show, and there most definitely was no reunion.

A few years later came an album celebration. The fifteen year anniversary of ‘Anthem of The Peaceful Army’. It was slated to be a large event, even a few people you knew planned on attending. Only two of the four showed up to the event that day and the online murmurings of sibling animosity were running rampant. You never heard anything else about the event, there was barely even a photo posted to prove it happened, but it did. Something changed that day in the park, and that was the last anyone had heard or seen anything from Greta Van Fleet.

Now, fifteen years later you find yourself here, looking at Jake Kiszka, in the flesh. He’s older now, in his fifties with a few wrinkles adorning his face and his hair a bit lighter and streaking silver in a few places. He looks different, but in a way, almost exactly the same. He seems to carry himself much in the same way he always did, keeping to himself but exuding a powerful presence.

You toss back a gulp of your drink and make your way into the bathroom. You wonder if you’re making the wrong choice, leaving without saying hello, but you tell yourself that he will be here when you get back. You just have a feeling.

You take a look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, swiping on a new layer of lipstick and tucking away a few errant strands of hair as you give yourself a pep talk. You take a deep breath and fix your top before making your way back out to your barstool, happy to find him still sitting in his seat. As you sit down you see him turn towards you, almost looking at you as if he wants to say something, but doesn't.

You remember back then you always told yourself that if you ever saw him you would say hello. You’d walk right up to him and say hi with no fear at all. But you knew that wasn’t true, one look from him had you running the opposite direction. A single glance in your direction mid show nearly had you in cardiac arrest. However, you’d grown up significantly since then, and never before had you had an opportunity like this one.

He bites his lips together and turns away, minding his own business as he sips away at his drink. You smile, noticing that his style really hadn’t changed much. Newer versions of his same tried and true staples hanging from his body. A pair of dirty old boots and a corduroy jacket, of course it’s Jake.

You aren’t sure what has come over you, this sudden bravery taking you by surprise. You turn your barstool just a touch, now facing him just a few seats away.

“Jake?” you say, swallowing down your nerves.

His head snaps to the side, his eyes growing in size as his face softens, “Yes?”

You’re shocked to say the very least, you hadn’t really planned anything past that.

“Hi, um, I’m sorry, I just– I thought it was you but, I wasn’t completely sure. I don’t mean to bother you.”

He shakes his head quickly, “No, no. No bother at all. Have to be honest, it's been a long time since someone recognized me,” he laughs. “Several years at least.”

He stands from his stool and slides his drink along the bar as he walks towards you. You feel your heart rate increase dramatically as you swallow down your nerves. He takes the stool next to you, and now that he is directly in front of you there is no refuting that it’s him. His cologne is strong as you breathe him in, spicy and warm, everything you always expected.

“I think I knew it was you pretty immediately, but it’s dark in here and all…” you smile.

“Well, to be fair I don’t look the exact same as I used to, the years have been tough on me,” he laughs, fidgeting with his glass. “No one really recognizes me at all come to think of it, I’m a little surprised you did.”

“Oh, that can’t be true! I think you look the same!” you say, hoping to boost his ego just a bit. “Honestly, I almost didn’t say anything. I know you value your privacy and I really didn’t mean to bother you.”

He smirks to himself and nods his head, his eyes scanning over you as he lifts his head back up. He stops suddenly, grabbing your arm and turning it just a bit, feeling hesitant to touch you.

“My god, I haven’t seen that in years,” he says, his face completely shocked. “It’s um, it’s the Age of Machine symbol, right? From the album?”

You feel your cheeks grow warm at the recognition, suddenly feeling a bit bashful about the ink. “Yeah, yeah it is. It’s in desperate need of a touch up, but yeah that’s exactly it.”

He runs his finger over it gently in admiration, his eyes growing dark and a smile pulled across his lips. “I loved that one. I still remember when that song came out,” he pauses, taking a pull from his drink. “Those were the goddamn good old days, weren’t they?”

“Yeah, they were. I think that one ended up being my all time favorite,” you say nervously.

He releases his grip on your arm, and you mourn the contact, a sizzling fire burning through your skin at his touch. “My favorite album we ever cut. Always was.”

He sets his glass down and looks at you, really looks at you for the first time. His eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name,” he says, still fixated on your face.

You sip at your drink, needing the alcohol to hit you quickly if this conversation was going to continue. “Oh, it’s Y/N, I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind.” you giggle.

He takes in your name as if it’s a fine wine, tasting each syllable on his tongue. “Y/N…” He pauses, trying out the name on his lips. Feeling it roll off his tongue. He nods his head in a silent agreement, liking the way the name sounds falling from his mouth.

“It wasn’t true, you know,” he pauses, biting his lips together, “I didn’t try to be…reclusive or whatever people used to say. It’s not that I needed privacy. Things were just so different back then. I had to recharge, everything was just so…draining, I suppose.”

You find yourself smirking at his choice of words, swallowing down your giggle before you speak. “Yeah, I totally understand. I always wondered how it affected you all, the constant traveling and recording. I can’t imagine it was easy.”

He smiles at you and sighs, tilting his head back a little. The memories flash through his eyes, old and fond.

“It wasn’t,” he admits, a bitter chuckle escaping him. “I loved it. I loved what we were doing. I loved the music and I loved performing in front of huge crowds. There was nothing like it, still isn’t. But it was so…exhausting. I felt like I would never be myself again.” He says, looking back at you, studying you for a silent beat.

You're unsure how to respond to that, feeling guilty for being part of the reason he felt that way, but also being the reason he was able to do what he loved in the first place. As if he can sense your unease, he moves to change the subject.

He clears his throat, “Anyway,” he says, shaking the memories from his mind. “You were a fan. How was that? Did you see many shows or–”

“Yeah, actually. Quite a few. My friends and I would meet up and go together. It was always this big thing, we would plan for months…It was a lot of fun. I think of those days a lot. Miss them often.” you answer, taking a sip of your drink.

You notice his demeanor shift a bit, his tongue rolling out over his bottom lip as he listens. You can see his mind working, tumbling through his own memories no doubt.

He nods his head while you speak, feeling a pang of jealousy in his chest at the mention of your friends. A hint of loneliness in his heart that you were able to share those memories with someone but he no longer could.

“It’s weird, you get so caught up in being…famous, I suppose, as corny as it sounds, that you almost forget what you’re doing it for. You do it to make people happy, to give them a night that they’ll remember, and you get to feel it in return. There’s nothing like that in the world,” he laughs breathlessly.

“So you miss it, then?” you ask nervously.

He chuckles, looking at you. “Of course I miss it. I mean, I can’t say I don’t enjoy having anonymity again. There’s a level of safety and comfort in it, and I’ve learned more about myself and my needs since then, I’ve grown as a person. But at the end of the day I miss the performing, I miss the people, I miss the rush, I miss my brothers,” he says, taking another sip of his drink. “I miss all of it.”

You feel a pang in your chest hearing someone you adore so deeply confide in you about things so close to his heart. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine something like this.

“So you…don’t speak to them? Your brothers?” you ask quietly, not wanting to prod too much.

He sighs and his demeanor shifts, becoming cold and somber. The warmth he held earlier in his voice leaves him at your question.

“No,” he says firmly. “Not much. They’re doing their thing. I’m doing mine. We grew apart. It could’ve been avoided but…” He shakes his head, looking back at his half empty glass.

“We haven’t really talked in a long time. Especially lately,” he answers, his jaw clenches a little as he says it. “To be honest, I haven’t talked to Josh in years.”

“The two of you were always so close. At least, it seemed like that to us.”

“I thought so too. He’s my twin brother, my closest ally. I knew I could tell him anything, I knew I could count on him,” he says, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “Then everything happened the way it did and he left for California. We just…fell apart. Stopped talking for a while, and then we never really started again.”

“What about the others?” you ask, trying to pull his focus from his thoughts of Josh.

He clears his throat, shifting in his seat, his eyes flicking back to you.

“The others,” he says, taking a short breath as his mind runs down the old memories. “We talk on occasion. Sometimes, it’s a short conversation, talking about nothing. It feels like it’s hard to get through to them, to really connect in the same way we used to,” he explains, the sadness returning to his voice. “But when we do talk, it always feels like it did just a few years ago. Nothing’s changed between us but…the distance feels different. When your relationship with someone is built so heavily on one thing and then suddenly it’s taken away, you tend to fall apart from them too.”

“Yeah, yeah, I definitely understand that. I can’t lie, it makes me a little sad to think about it, but I guess that is the reality of life.”

“Yeah,” he says, resting his hand on his glass, “It’s certainly a hard lesson you learn early. Everything is fleeting, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t hold on to it, no matter how hard you try. Can’t live in your glory days forever.”

You sigh and nod, suddenly feeling the weight of the conversation hanging over you. “I always wondered if you would start your own thing.”

He perks up a bit, his expression turning cheeky again, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “I did for a little bit there, if you remember…”

“Oh yeah, god, I almost forgot about Mirador. Whatever happened to that?” you ask, suddenly remembering his side project. He gives a bitter laugh and takes a long, deep drink from his glass.

“Mirador,” he says with a shake of his head. “It was just supposed to be a little side project. Just me and an old friend writing some songs, you know? Sadly, it just didn’t go anywhere, to be completely honest. I realized I couldn’t do the same thing again. People expected too much from me, and every little bit of the project was under a microscope. At least, it felt like it was. It felt like I would never be able to get away from Greta. It felt like I was trying to recapture the magic of an already good thing, but no matter what I did, or how much I put into it, it wasn’t the same. I wanted to break out of my brother's shadow, but that’s very hard to do when he’s the sun.”

“So you knew that we referred to the two of you as the sun and the moon, then?” you smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

A small laugh escapes him, nodding his head. “Yeah I did. I remember that,” he shakes his head, “Me, the moon and my brother, the sun. It's incredibly accurate, I'll give you that.”

“So, you just stopped playing all together then?” you ask, tilting your head to rest on your fist.

He shakes his head, a serious look on his face. “God, no. That’s a ridiculous question. Music is my entire life,” he says, suddenly realizing how intense that statement was. He softens his voice as he continues, not wanting to ruin this good thing.

“I couldn’t give that up, even if I tried I don’t think I could. I love it too much. I have a little set up in my house. Nothing super crazy, my old stuff, my favorite things, the stuff I can’t live without. I write and play almost every day, I go to the occasional open mic or bar, you know how that is,” he shrugs. “I just, I don’t do it for a living anymore. Haven’t for a while. But it still brings me peace. It’s still a part of me.”

“I think there are a lot of people that would still love to hear the music you write, Jake,” you say, a bit of seriousness coloring your tone.

He looks shocked, as if not expecting praise like that. He smiles at you, almost shyly. “I don’t know. It’s been a while, and I’m not the same musician I used to be. I’m– I’m out of professional practice, I mean, I’m not twenty years old anymore,” he says, laughing slightly.

Your eyes flick down to his hands, seeing the callouses still prominent on his fingertips. “I don’t believe that.”

He looks down, his eyes following yours to his hands before flashing back to your face. He laughs again, “I’m serious. I don’t know if I even still have it in me anymore,” he pauses, bringing his eyes back to yours, looking into them as if searching for reassurance. “Playing in front of a few people and playing in front of thousands of people are very different things. It’s been a long time. I don’t know if I could do it again like I used to. I’m not half as good as I used to be.”

“Then you are right on par with every person playing now. You were always better than the rest, Jake, and you know that. Hell, half of the people playing guitar now were inspired by you in the first place. You playing at fifty percent is still everyone else's one hundred percent. And you didn’t win all of those awards for no reason.”

He looks at you, absolutely shocked by your praise. He can feel his heart in his throat, beating fast.

“I…” he stutters, at a loss for words. He stares at you, unable to do anything but listen. There’s such a conviction in your words, such a seriousness and passion behind what you’re saying that it makes his heart beat a little faster.

It’s not that Jake wasn’t used to being praised. In fact, it used to be his favorite thing on Earth. He had gotten used to compliments and applause for years, and soaked it all up. Hearing it from you, after being apart from that type of recognition for so long, was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“You’re giving me too much credit,” he teases, “You really were a fan weren’t you…” he says with a smirk.

“Are, a fan…” you correct. “Just because the band isn't together doesn't mean that I stopped listening to the music you made.”

He looks at you quietly, his eyes flicking back to the drink in his hand as a small smile graces his lips. “You don’t know how good it is to hear that,” he says, almost under his breath.

“No one has forgotten about you if that's what you're thinking…”

He shakes his head, taking a long sip of his drink to mask his embarrassment.

“It’s not that I thought people forgot about me, I don’t have that kind of ego,” he laughs. “I guess I just thought that people moved on, that’s all. It’s been a long time. But knowing that you still listen to it, that means a lot. Really, it does.”

You watch him resettle in his chair, turning his body to face yours a little bit more. You can see a sliver of his chest through his open shirt, his style still not changing through the passing years. His silver pendants still hang around his neck, shrouded by his long wavy hair.

His fingers fiddle with the glass in his hand as he turns his body a little more to yours. He’s a little buzzed now, not drunk but not completely sober. He glances down at the exposed bit of your arm, eyes lingering on the ink that graces your skin. He takes another sip of his drink, the alcohol flowing through his veins, emboldening him just a little bit.

“So what about you?” he asks, his eyes raking over you before meeting your gaze.

“Well, I've been here in Nashville all week for a work conference. Tonight is my last night here, so I decided to stop by here and have a drink. Needed to send a picture to my old friends to see if they remembered the place.” you confess.

He nods his head, listening as you speak. He can hear the nervousness coming from your voice, even though you’re trying to cover it up. He takes another sip of his drink, leaning a little closer to hear you better.

“A work conference? What do you do?” he asks, a curious look in his eyes.

“I'm a designer,” you answer confidently. “Mostly digital.”

He raises his eyebrows, a look of genuine curiosity on his face.

“A designer, eh? The artsy type.” He looks at you with an almost amused expression, a crooked smile on his face. “And you’ve been to this bar before?”

“Yeah, um, right before one of your shows actually. It was the opening night for the Starcatcher Tour…” you answer hesitantly.

He nods his head, “I remember that show,” he says under his breath, more to himself than anything else. “That was a very memorable night.”

“It was, it was,” you agree, both of you letting your mind fill with the old memories.

“That whole tour was one wild ride,” he pauses, letting his eyes flick over you. “So what else about you? Married? Kids?” he asks, sipping from the remnants of his drink.

You laugh, “Oh, no, neither. I'm divorced actually.”

His eyebrows dart up, looking surprised. “Divorced? How long?” he asks, tilting his head a little as he studies you.

“It's been two years.” you answer.

He nods, “Three for me. Shitty club to be a part of,” he grins, trying to bring up the mood. “Not even a free hat.”

“You're divorced?” you ask in shock, “I didn’t even know you were married.”

He nods again, his eyes looking down, avoiding your gaze for a moment. “Yep, three years now. It, uh-,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully. His fingers wrap around his glass, twirling it in his hands. “It didn’t end well. At all.” he says, looking up at you. “Two beautiful kids though.”

“Of course they are,” you tease, nudging his shoulder.

He laughs, the first genuine laugh you’ve heard from him all night.

“They’re fantastic,” he says, the pride in his voice evident. “They’ve grown so much, too much. I don’t get to see them nearly as much as I’d like, but they are amazing. Oldest just started college, and my youngest is finishing up high school.”

“Boys?” you ask.

He grins, a look of fondness in his eyes. “My son is following in my footsteps a bit, surprisingly. Loves music, plays several instruments, the whole deal,” he laughs. “My daughter, on the other hand, absolutely despises music and is an incredible athlete. I think she did that completely out of spite.”

“You're a lucky man,” you smile.

He looks up, his eyes meeting yours. In the low light of the bar, you can see the flecks of gold that are hidden in them. He sighs, letting his fingers pick idly at the rim of his glass.

“I suppose I am,” he admits, the corner of his lips tugging upwards. “The craziest part of all of it is how much I miss noise.”

“Noise?” you ask, giggling.

He laughs, his eyes twinkling. “That came out wrong.”

“I mean,” he continues, “I miss the sounds of a family. I miss the sounds of little girls yelling in excitement, of boys getting angry because they lost their game, of music playing every day every where, of arguing over what to have for dinner or tour schedules. I miss that more than anything. Sometimes my house is just too quiet. I’ve never liked the quiet.”

You feel a twinge of sadness in your chest, knowing the exact feeling he speaks of.

“I spent my entire life surrounded by it, shit, making it myself. I never ever knew a moment of peace, and it almost became comforting to me. Three siblings and a rock band will do that to you. But now it’s just quiet. Silent all the time, everywhere. You never realize how much you miss it until it’s gone. You’ve got no idea how silent an empty house can be until you’re forced to live in it.”

“I have a little bit of an idea,” you tease, finishing your drink.

He raises his eyebrows, a sly smile on his lips. “That's why I come here,” he says, looking around the bar. “To find the noise.”

“A sticky dive bar?” you laugh, tracing your finger around the rim of your glass.

“Exactly,” he says, nodding his head. “I’m sure there are a few nicer places I could go, but they wouldn’t be nearly as interesting,” he laughs, looking around. “There's almost always someone or something going on, music, people. It helps,” he shrugs, focusing on your face, “Fills the silence…Plus, it can’t be that bad if you found yourself here, too…”

You grin, nodding your head in agreement, “You make a great point, Mr. Kiszka.”

“I have my moments,” he says with a wink. He brings his drink to his lips, his eyes never leaving your face. He studies you as he swallows a sip, his eyes slowly looking over every part of you.

“You said you are texting your friends,” he pauses, glancing down to your phone on the bar top, “Should we send them a photo?”

“Do you want me to send them a photo?” you tease, raising your eyebrow.

He grins at you, his eyes flashing. “I think I do,” he says, his voice deep and sultry. He holds his hand out for your phone, “May I?”

You smile and nod, placing your phone into his hand. He hits the camera icon and opens the screen, the two of you appearing in frame in the dimly lit bar.

His eyes are focused on the screen, snapping the photos, but for a brief moment he flicks his eyes down to you, smiling. He lets the camera click a few times for each shot, getting a variety. He looks at the photos for a moment, a cocky look in his eyes. His body brushes against your arm as he moves it, the heat traveling from his body to yours.

“Smile for me, love,” he murmurs, his voice close to your ear. A chill runs down your spine at his words, his breath warm on your skin.

You grin as he snaps a few more photos, your mind reeling over the fact you were taking pictures at a bar with Jake Kiszka in the year 2049.

He gives an almost cocky smile as he hands you your phone back, his fingers slowly tracing down your arm. “There,” he says, taking a long drink from his glass, the alcohol going straight to his head. “Pick whichever one, I think they’re all good. Actually, you should send them to me, too.”

What?

You hand him your phone, letting him type in his number and sending a few photos to himself. He hands it back to you with a nod, and you swear you can almost feel your heart stop. You quickly pick a few, sending them off to your friends, anxiously awaiting their replies. You giggle as you lock your phone and set it back on the bar top. “Thank you, for that.”

He smiles back at you, his lips still wet from the alcohol. “Of course,” he murmurs. He leans back in his chair, his shirt gaping open a bit more, his necklaces on display. His chest is tanned and strong, you notice that he has kept in shape since the last time you saw him. He lets his eyes flutter across your body, his fingers toying with his glass.

“The least I could do after you’ve sat here and let me talk your ear off,” he laughs. “I should be thanking you,” he pauses. “It’s been really nice to reminisce with someone who remembers me when I was in my prime.”

“Who says you’re not, still?” you ask.

He laughs, his head cocked to the side. He looks at you again, his eyes raking over your skin. He lets the tip of his finger slowly trail down the exposed skin of your arm, drawing a small shiver from you. “That's awfully kind of you,” he murmurs, “But we both know that's not true. I'm not the same man I was twenty years ago. Definitely don't look the same. Not the rockstar I used to be.”

“It’s not the way we look on the outside, it’s who we are on the inside. And for what it’s worth, how you look on the outside is still just as beautiful as I remember. A perfect match for this,” you answer, pressing your finger to his chest.

His heart thumps wildly under your hand, a small gasp escaping his lips. He stares at you in shock, his breathing speeding up as your words and touch send heat through his body. He lets himself lean into your touch, enjoying the contact, savoring it. His eyes soften, looking at you with a different kind of look. He’s silent for a moment, just staring at you. When he speaks, his voice is raspier than before.

“You’re much kinder than I deserve,” he murmurs.

“I don’t think that’s true either, Jake,” you breathe.

He laughs again, his breath slightly shaky. The way you say his name sends another shiver through his body, your soft voice causing his heart to beat faster. He lets his own fingers brush up to encircle your wrist, gently holding your hand in place against his bare skin. He feels the heat radiating from your skin into his own, the touch burning him like a white-hot flame.

His eyes never leave yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let me ask you a question.”

“What’s that?” you answer.

He hesitates for a moment, the alcohol making him bolder than normal. His eyes are locked on yours, taking in every feature of your face.

“Did you ever receive a rose?”

You look down bashfully, fiddling with the ring on your finger, “No, actually. I never did. The people around me always did, but never me. I never got any of that kind of stuff.”

He can see the disappointment in your eyes at your confession. A frown creases his own brows. He lets his fingers run idly along the inside of your wrist, his skin craving the sensation.

His eyes darkened, “That’s a shame,” he murmurs. “But I can’t say I am surprised, my brother always did have a hard time seeing what was right in front of him.”

“Just wasn’t meant to be,” you whisper.

He lets his eyes search your face, almost as if studying you. He lets his fingers slowly brush up the underside of your arm, the light touch leaving a trail of goosebumps across your skin. He can feel his heart still stuttering in his chest, the alcohol and the proximity to you making his head spin. He lets out a breath as he looks at you, his eyes flicking over every feature of your face.

“This is going to sound crazy, but,” he pauses, rubbing his fingers over his lips, “Would you like to come somewhere with me? I want to show you something.”

“Oh, like– like leave?” you ask, taken aback at his suggestion.

He can see the surprise on your face and it makes him smile. He nods his head, his hand still encircling your wrist, his fingers tracing the shape of your arm. “It’s not far from here, I promise. Just a five minute drive,” he murmurs, his voice almost pleading. “I think you’ll like it, I’m sure of it.”

Your eyes dart around his face. Is Jake Kiszka really asking you to leave with him?

“Um, I-” you pause, trying to decide if this is a good idea. You know this opportunity will never come again, so you make the decision to agree. “Sure. We can do that.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his lips curving up into a smile. He lets his eyes rake over your face again before finally releasing your wrist. He fishes in his front pocket, pulling out a roll of cash. He tosses a few bills on the bar, more than enough to cover his tab and yours. He then places his hand on your lower back, his fingers searing at the touch.

“Let's go,” he says gently, guiding you off the stool. “It's not far at all.”

You let him lead your outside into the humid late summer air, the humidity thick and heavy around you. He leads you to his car, opening the passenger door for you.

He walks around the front of the car, his heart hammering in his chest. He gets in slowly, his eyes raking over your body.

He starts the car, the engine rumbling to life. He rests his hand on the gearshift and looks over at you, his expression uncertain.

“Ready?”

“Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?” you giggle, turning to look at him.

He laughs, the sound low and slightly nervous. He keeps his hand on the gearshift as he looks over at you, grinning. “You’ll have to wait and see,” he teases. “You’re just gonna have to trust me on this one, love.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sentiment, nodding your head as you turn your eyes back to the dark road in front of you. He was right, it wasn’t long at all until you were pulling into a parking space at a park. It was dark, only a few stray street lights buzzing overhead.

He steps out of the car, coming around to open your door. He offers his hand, the skin hot to the touch. He helps you out, holding your hand as he guides you out towards one of the lit sidewalks. He walks quietly next to you, keeping his stride short to match yours. The sound of crickets filters through the air, creating an almost peaceful hum.

He smiles at you, the warmth of his hand encompassing yours. “Almost there,” he murmurs, gently pulling you forward.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, the feeling of his hand in yours so gentle but so firm. The two of you walk down the sidewalk further into the park, finally stopping just in front of a large open area, with a single well manicured rose bush. A small gold plaque stands in front of it, but you can’t yet make out the words.

He looks over to you, the corner of his lips curving up in a slight smile. He gestures to the plaque, his voice is soft, “Go ahead, read it,” he says, reluctantly releasing your hand. He stays put, shoving his hands into the pocket of his pants as he watches you with a smug grin.

You walk over to the plaque, trying to focus on the weathered metal, but one thing is perfectly clear, the logo forever visible in your mind. 'Greta Van Fleet'. Your eyes focus harder in the low lighting, doing your best to read the old dedication.

‘This White O’Hara rose bush, dedicated on this day, October 19, 2033, celebrates the 15 year anniversary of the release of ‘Anthem of The Peaceful Army’. Planted in memory of the adoring fans that made this dream possible, in the name of peace, love, unity and equality.’

‘They pass the torch and it still burns, once children then it’s now our turn.’

He stands there, silently watching as you read the plaque. The sounds of the night fill the air around him, crickets and cicadas creating an almost peaceful hum. He watches your face intently, searching for your reaction. He can see you taking in each word, the slight tilt of your head, the narrowing of your eyes as you read. He stays quiet, letting you digest every word. He lets his eyes fall over you, taking in the way the light of the street lamp hits you. Admiring you.

You feel tears spring to your eyes as you let them take in the sight of the beautiful white roses, flourishing on the mature bush. The fragrance is overwhelming, the beautiful smell filling your senses. You turn around to look at Jake, seeing him smiling as you figure it all out.

He can see the tears in your eyes, his chest tightening at the sight. He silently watches you move closer to him, his breath hitching in his throat. He remains quiet, the words that he wants to say stuck in his throat. He swallows again, the intensity of his gaze never leaving your face as you come to a stop in front of him.

“Jake, this is so beautiful. It’s so– These are the prettiest roses I’ve ever seen.” you say, stopping in front of him.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his breath mixing with the muggy summer air. He reaches out and tentatively places his hand on your elbow, the touch almost hesitant. His eyes never leave yours. He can feel his heart thudding in his chest, the beat echoing in his ears. He bites his lower lip, his breath coming out in a soft huff.

“They are…they’re perfect, truly,” he murmurs, his gaze flickering to the beautiful white roses behind you. “My hard work has paid off I suppose.”

“Your hard work?” you ask.

He nods, his hand never leaving your arm. It moves though, ever so gently moving down to wrap around your hand again. He absentmindedly toys with your fingers as he speaks, his eyes still never leaving yours. He lets the edges of his lips quirk up in a wry smile. “I planted these roses. Well, Sam and I. And I tend to them now. I wanted something out here that would be here for years, centuries. I wanted something permanent.” He lets his eyes trail up your body, his gaze never leaving yours for a moment. “I wanted something eternal. This was sort of my last effort to fix things and– well, yeah.”

“Jake it’s beautiful,” you breathe, “A beautiful tribute.”

His voice is husky when he speaks again, “You like it,” he murmurs, the words a statement. “I knew you would. But there is actually one more thing.”

He pulls away from you, releasing your hand as he walks towards the bush, reaching his hand into his pants pocket and pulling out a small pocket knife. His arm descends into the mass of leaves, fiddling with the knife before pulling out a perfect, bloomed rose.

He turns back to you, holding the flower gently in his hand. The rose looks small in his hand, his fingers wrapped gingerly around the stem. He takes a step forward, closing the distance between you once more, quickly using his blade to shear away the thorns and leaves. He lifts the rose gently, the bloom just a few inches from your face, looking at you with unwavering eyes.

“For you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry it’s late.”

Your breath catches in your throat, accepting the rose from his hand. A smile parts his lips as he watches you bring it to your nose to breathe it in. “It was worth the wait.”

He lets a shaky exhale from his lungs, his chest almost hurting from how fast his heart is beating. He can feel his own breath get caught in his chest, his breath becoming labored at the sight of you with the bloom held in your soft hands. He swallows again, his eyes raking over your face. He takes a small step forward, the toes of his boots now almost touching your own. His voice is raspy when he speaks.

“I just wish it could have been sooner,” he mutters, his voice almost sad. He runs his hand through his hair, a slight flush of emotion crossing his face.

“I actually think I prefer this,” you breathe, letting your eyes flick up to his.

He lets out a disbelieving laugh, the sound filling the air around you. He can’t help the way his body reacts to your simple words, a rush of emotion surging through him. “Are you– Would you be up for one more adventure?” he asks.

You’d never felt more sure of anything in your life. You felt safe with him, you’d follow him to the ends of the earth. “Of course.”

He lets his smile grow bigger, a rush of relief coursing through him. He reaches to take your hand again, the skin warm against his own. He lets his fingers interlace with yours, holding on firmly.

“Good, then let’s go,” he says, pulling you along with him as you make your way back to his car, white rose in hand.

He opens the passenger door for you, gently helping you into the car. He closes the door, coming around the other side, climbing back into the car. He starts the car, the engine rumbling to life again. He shifts the car into gear, pulling out of the park, the streetlights casting a harsh glow over his face as he drives. His hands are still shaking on the wheel, adrenaline still coursing through his body.

“That was really sweet of you Jake,” you murmur, “I’ll think about this forever.”

He can feel his heart skip a beat at your words, his chest tightening at the sound of your voice. He swallows, his eyes never leaving the road.

“I hope you will,” he says quietly, his voice still a bit shaky. He lets his grip on the wheel tighten as he speaks. The radio is off, the only noises coming from the hum of the engine and the sound of his breathing. “There is just one more thing I would like to show you.”

“I can't wait,” you admit, watching him turn into a neighborhood. You can only assume he is taking you back to his home.

He lets his jaw clench, his eyes remaining trained on the road ahead. He feels the nervousness bubbling up in his chest as he continues driving, the familiar surroundings of his neighborhood coming into view. His house is still lit up, the outside lights leaving a soft glow on his expansive front yard. He pulls into the driveway, putting the car into park.

“This would be me,” he mutters, his voice low.

“This is your home? It's beautiful.”

He hesitates before turning off the car, his fingers still gripping the steering wheel. He lets his eyes glance at you before looking out at the house.

“It definitely was an upgrade back in the day,” he chuckles, still staring at the house, lost in thought. He finally lets his fingers slide off the wheel, taking the keys out of the ignition.

He opens the door, climbing out of the car. He comes around to your side, opening the door for you once more. He offers his hand to you, the gesture almost gallant. Once you’re out of the car, he closes the door behind you, taking your hand in his again. He leads you up the path to the front door, unlocking it quickly. His heart is beating fast once more, the blood rushing to his ears.

You take in the entry way of his home, grand and exactly what you expected his home to look like. “Wow, Jake, this is…”

The words leaving your mouth fill his chest with warmth, the anxiety from before replaced with a sense of pride. He lets the corners of his lips quirk up as he closes the door behind them, the sound cutting through the quiet in the house.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice soft. He glances down the hall, his expression slightly uncertain. “But the best part is back here...”

You follow him down the hallway, turning a few corners and stopping in front of a large wooden door. He twists the handle and pushes the door open, letting you enter first. You’re immediately captivated by the room, filled floor to ceiling with guitars, artwork, posters, and more memorabilia than you’d ever seen in your life. It was lit by a small lamp in the corner, the room glowing a warm amber color.

He lets his eyes fall over the room, taking in the look on your face. The look of awe is what he had hoped for, and he feels a sense of pride wash over him. His chest is tight, his heart beating erratically. He takes a step into the room, the small amount of light casting shadows on the floor. He walks over to a small, low table, flicking on another, smaller lamp.

“This is my office, so to speak,” he says quietly, his voice soft. “But I'm sure you know what actually happens in here.”

“This is where you play,” you breathe, letting your eyes focus on the guitars lining the walls. One catches your attention immediately, your hand itching to run your fingers over the frets.

“Indeed it is.” He slowly turns to look at you, his expression half-hidden in the dim lighting. The shadows on his face make his features sharper, the hollows beneath his cheeks creating deep shadows that leave his face in contrast. “Had it built custom for the house, has sound proof walls and everything…My ex she– she got tired of the music all the time,” he laughed. “Had to make some compromises.”

“There is so much here…” you say, looking around in wonder. “I don't even know what to look at first.”

He watches as your eyes flit from item to item, trying to take it all in and process it all at once.

“Feel free to look at whatever you want, touch whatever you want, I won’t stop you,” he assures and lets his eyes follow yours, watching as you look at all the pieces of his life surrounding you.

You recognize some things, others are completely new to you. Photos you’ve never seen, and posters you only ever saw photos of, here now in front of your face. “I wish this stuff didn’t make me sad,” you confess, snapping a few photos of old tour posters.

He takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes never leaving your face. He swallows and gently touches your arm, the contact sending sparks up his fingers. He can hear the sadness in your voice, his heart twists in his chest.

He stands close, his chest almost touching yours. He lets the edges of his lips quirk up into a slight smile. “I understand, trust me,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I can assure you there is something in here that may take the edge off.”

He makes his way over to a small shelf housing a collection of vinyl records, thumbing through the stack and pulling out a black cardboard sleeve. He pulls the vinyl from inside, revealing it to you in the light. The sticker on the front reads, ‘Test Pressing’ but offers no other distinguishing qualities. He offers you a teasing smile as he stands to place it on his turntable.

He carefully places the record onto the turntable, his slender fingers handling it with a certain amount of reverence. The record player is old, the vinyl spinning with a soft crackle of static. He’s almost excited to hear it, anticipating your reaction. He stands next to the record player, his eyes darting from the spinning record to your face, watching as you process his actions. He lets his fingers rake through his hair, a slight smirk on his lips as sound begins to play through the speakers.

Music begins to play, the familiar guitar tone striking a chord within your chest. You could recognize it anywhere, and just as you were about to speak, you hear Josh’s voice singing lyrics you’d never heard.

“Jake, what is this?” you gasp.

He watches as your eyes widen, your mouth parting slightly in surprise. He can see the disbelief in your eyes as you register the sound, a song you couldn’t place because it was never released. He can only respond with a small shrug, his heart twisting in his chest.

“I– I’ve never heard this,” you breathe.

He gently steps closer to you, his eyes never leaving your face. He’s close enough to get a good look at your surprised expression, his heart still pounding. “No one ever has,” he whispers, his voice soft. “It was never released. Never made it past the studio.”

“Why not?”

He lets out a huffed laugh, the sound almost sad. He runs his slender fingers through his hair, his expression almost troubled. He lets his eyes flutter down to the record, his heart twisting in his chest.

“Management thought it was too...” he trails off, struggling to find the right words to say. “It was too…intimate. Josh wouldn't budge on it. We all tried. We had so much other material...We could have gone a completely different direction. But Josh just–He wouldn't. Said it was this or nothing. This is ultimately what ended everything.”

“Oh my god, I– I had no idea.” you whisper, still hearing the beautiful and deeply personal lyrics playing in the background.

He lets a sharp exhale of air leave his nose, his eyes still focused on the record spinning gently, the sound of Josh's voice filling the small room. His heart is still beating violently, the sound of it thrumming through his body. He shakes his head slightly, his jaw clenching.

He wants to reach out and touch you again, but he suddenly doesn't know what to say. He lets the moment stretch for a few more seconds before he speaks again. “I thought you’d like to hear it.”

“I just can't believe it. It's beautiful, it would have been perfect…”

He swallows, the lump in his throat refusing to go away. He nods in agreement with you, his heart aching. The song is beautiful, it’s sad and lonely and everything that he loves. He looks back at the record, his eyes narrowing as he focuses on the record spinning.

“Yes...it would have been…” he mutters, his voice soft.

You feel the energy between you shift, his eyes are staring into yours, deep and dark, and you can’t seem to look away. His hands on your skin are burning through you like fire, and you can’t help but to fall deeper into the flames.

He swallows, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. His eyes are locked on to your face, a mixture of sadness and something else in his gaze. He feels his fingers twitching slightly, almost itching to reach out and touch you again, the burning in his body becoming increasingly more intense with each passing second.

“God…” he mutters, his voice low.

You place your hands on his chest, feeling his warmth against your palms. His face is inches from yours, and you know in this moment that he wants you just as badly as you want him.

The thumping in his chest increases, the sound of his heart beating in his ears almost deafening at this point. He can feel the tension in his body increase, his blood rushing through his veins. He reaches up, his fingers grasping the back of your neck, his body on autopilot at this point. He pulls you flush against him, the burning in his body increasing to the point of being almost painful.

He’s aware of the record still spinning in the background, but the only thing he can focus on is you. His hand slides up your neck to the back of your head, his fingers getting lost in your hair. He lets out a huff of air, the breath shuddering slightly, his body shaking. His eyes are focused on yours, the deep brown of them almost completely lost to the black of his expanding pupils. He feels your hands against his chest, the warmth of your body against his leaving a scorching trail across his skin.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathes, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Please,” you whisper.

He lets out a growl as he slams his lips against yours, his hand in your hair pulling you in tighter against him. The action makes his heart jump, his chest tight and aching. He kisses you hungrily, his body on fire as he tastes you through the kiss. He parts your lips with his, his tongue exploring your mouth with an increasing sense of urgency.

He tastes of Whiskey and peppermint, his lips warm as they envelop yours. His hands are tight against your head, gripping into your hair so firmly it’s almost as if he believes you will float away. Your hands travel beneath the opening of his shirt, feeling his warm chest on your fingertips. A hum leaves his lips as his tongue twists with yours, his legs walking the two of you backwards to an oversized velvet chair.

He moans as your fingers touch his skin, your warmth igniting something dangerous inside of him. He can’t help the way his body reacts, the way his fingers grip your hair a little more firmly, his body becoming almost starved of all things rational.

He continues to kiss you desperately, the taste of you leaving him wanting more. He guides you backwards, the back of his legs hitting the chair, causing him to stumble slightly before sitting down in it, pulling you into his lap without breaking the kiss.

Your legs straddle him, his hands automatically finding their way to your hips as he pulls you down further. He breaks the kiss, panting slightly as he pulls just far enough away to look at your face, his eyes raking over your features, taking in the flush creeping over your cheeks. “God, you're beautiful…” he mutters, his voice low and gravelly. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

Your insides turn to a puddle as his words float through your mind. All you can focus on is the feeling of his hands on your body, and the taste of his lips on yours. You can feel him growing hard beneath you, his hips moving upwards to meet yours ever so slightly.

He lets out a low moan as he feels you move against him, his body reacting immediately to the contact, a shiver rushing through his body in response. He lets his hands grip your hips again, fingers digging into the soft skin there, the motion making his heart pound. He leans back in, capturing your lips in a kiss, the action full of hunger and need. He can’t get enough of you, the warmth of your body against his own almost driving him insane.

You feel his hands trailing up your sides, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt as his lips move to press wet kisses to your neck. His hands stop just at the swell of your breasts, his fingertips gliding gently over the round skin. You pull away from him, looking into his lust blown eyes and nodding your head in approval.

“Please, Jake,” you beg.

His eyes flutter at the sound of your voice, the sound of your plea making his heart jump in his chest. He lets out a low groan, his body almost shaking at the sound of you begging, his desire increasing tenfold. He lets his lips move back up to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there gently as you feel his fingers move up, gently skimming the underside of your tits, the touch light and deliberate.

“Tell me you're sure,” he demands.

“I’m positive.”

He lets out another soft moan against your neck, his fingers gently caressing the soft skin of your sides. He runs his nose along the skin, his head spinning, his body already on edge, the sound of your voice fueling the fire within him. He leans back in the chair, his breathing ragged as he lets his eyes rake over your body, the sight of you straddling him on his lap almost too much to bear.

“Take your shirt off,” he rasps, his eyes glued to you.

You reach for the hem, pulling the fabric over your head as his eyes lock in on your bare chest. His hands move to cup at your tits, sliding around to your back and pulling you in towards his face until his lips connect with the plump skin. You feel his tongue swirling around your nipple as his hands move down your body, pulling your hips harder into his. He growls against your skin, alternating between sucking at your chest and nipping at the sensitive skin.

“Jake,” you whine, tossing your head back as you revel in the feeling.

He moans again as you say his name and pulls you tighter against him, his fingers gripping your body possessively, his need growing ever more urgent. “I need you on the bed, sweetheart,” he whispers hoarsely, his words laced with desire.

“So take me,” you answer, looking at his pink swollen lips.

He smirks at your response, the sound of your words sending a shudder through him, his eyes dark and intense. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He moves quickly, his strong arms scooping you up off his lap and setting you back down on the floor. He stands, his broad stature leading you with ease as he walks out of the room and across his expansive house.

He leads you to a large bedroom, the room lit only by a small lamp on the bedside table. He walks you quickly over to the bed, the plush comforter and pillows surrounding the king sized bed. He gently pushes you down onto the bed, his body towering over you as he stares down at your half naked body, his eyes practically black with desire.

You can feel the plush bedding beneath you, a dark navy color to compliment the jewel toned walls. Your chest is heaving with want for him, watching as he pulls his black linen shirt over his head.

He stands at the edge of the bed, his shirt tossed to the floor and his muscles taut underneath his skin. His eyes rake over your form on the bed, taking in every little detail, his need increasing by the second. He swallows suddenly, his nerves beginning to take over. It’s been so long since he’s done this with someone. He tries to push down the rising anxiety, his eyes never leaving your face.

You can see the unease on his face, sitting up on your elbows to look at him. “You okay?” you ask gently.

His heart skips a beat as you ask him the question, the genuine concern in your voice pulling at his heartstrings. He lets out a soft huff of air, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah…yeah I’m fine,” he reassures, but his voice betrays him, his words coming out as a whisper, his chest tight.

“You look amazing, Jake…”

He can feel another shiver run through him as you speak, your words pulling at him. He swallows, his chest getting tighter, his heart thrumming in his ears.

He takes another deep breath, letting his eyes rake over your body. “You have no idea how beautiful you look right now,” he says quietly, his voice raspy and low, his eyes taking in the sight of you on his bed, your skin practically glowing under the lamplight.

“Touch me,” you breathe.

He lets out a shuddering breath at your request, his skin prickling at the sound of your voice. He moves fast, closing the few feet between you and crawling onto the bed, his knee on either side of your thighs as he hovers over you. His hand gently cups the side of your face, his thumb tracing your jawline, his other hand running down your side, his touch feather-light.

You reach up, running your hand across his chest, feeling the smoothness of his skin and the cold metal of his necklaces. You wrap your hand around his neck, guiding his lips back to yours as he lowers himself to hover over you. As his lips connect with yours you feel his free hand unbuttoning your jeans, and pulling the zipper down.

Your kiss is harsh and needy, wanting him as close as you can get him. You lift your hips to help him slide your jeans off, leaving you in your underwear beneath him. His hand moves to cup at your heat, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as his hair tickles your cheeks.

He can feel the heat coming off of you, the sensation making him ache for more. He lets out a low hum as his hand runs between your legs, his fingertips gently running over your mound, feeling the heat and the wetness through your panties. He breaks the kiss, his head spinning as desire and need courses through his body. He peppers your jaw and neck with quick kisses, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin.

“God you're so perfect,” he whispers hoarsely, his breath coming out in short pants.

Your hips arch into his touch, silently begging him to remove the barrier between the two of you. “You feel perfect,” you whine, twisting your hand into his hair.

He lets out a low growl as you pull at his hair, the sound driving him crazy. He can't wait any longer, the burning desire to taste you, to feel you, becoming almost overwhelming.

He lets his hand slip past the elastic of your panties, his fingers slipping through the wetness, a low moan leaving his lips as he touches you. “God you're so ready,” he breathes against your neck.

You whine as his steady hand guides his fingers over your clit, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure through your body. “Fuck,” you whine, “Keep– Keep going.”

He can feel the way you squirm beneath him as his fingers work between your legs, his heart thrumming in his chest at your reaction. He lets out a low groan, his fingers circling your clit as he responds to your request.

“Yeah?” he whispers, his fingers tracing and teasing. “Like that sweetheart?” he asks, delivering a particularly sensual swipe of his fingers.

You hum in pleasure, letting your eyes flutter closed as you enjoy the sensation. You can hear his pendant tinkling together above your face, committing the sound to memory. He's painfully hard beneath his jeans, the feeling almost uncomfortable in his current position, but his focus is completely on the reaction he's getting out of you, the sound of your pleasure filling his ears, the feeling of your body beneath his fingers making his head spin.

You feel his hand slide further down, three fingers sliding through your wetness before gently gliding to your entrance. “Two or three baby, you tell me what you want.”

“Tw-Three,” you stammer, quickly correcting yourself.

He lets out another low laugh against your neck, his tongue tracing a line up to your ear. “Good girl,” he murmurs, the sound of the words sending a shiver through your body.

His fingers slide back through your wetness, a soft moan leaving his lips as he presses three fingers in to the knuckle, the feeling lighting your body on fire. “You’re so perfect, sweetheart.” he growls, letting his fingers move perfectly inside of you.

He lets out a low moan at the sound of his name on your lips, his fingers working inside of you, his knuckles rubbing against your inner walls. He's completely lost in your response, the feeling of you beneath him driving all rational thoughts out of his head.

“That's it, sugar, say my name again,” he commands, his voice low and breathy. “God, you feel so good around me.”

“Jake,” you whine, feeling his thumb move to rest on top of your throbbing clit.

He doesn’t stop his fingers, his thumb gently beginning to rub at your clit, the feeling and sound of you pulling another moan from his mouth. “That’s right sweetheart, let me hear you. Don’t hold back on me.”

You feel your insides starting to tense, your thighs are quivering with anticipation, and your blood is moving through your veins faster than it ever has. You let your eyes open to look at him, completely entranced with the way his fingers are disappearing inside of you. “I'm close, baby.”

He lifts his head to look at your face, his eyes scanning across your features, taking in the flushed appearance and hazy expression on your face.

“Let go, baby,” he rasps, his fingers increasing their pace. “I wanna see, I wanna hear you cum for me.”

You can hardly deny him, your body giving in to his demands whether you like it or not. Your body tenses around his fingers, your hips rolling up into his touch as the tension snaps inside of you. Your back arches up off the bed as his name falls from your lips, echoing through the air around you as soft curses leave his lips.

He stares down at your face, watching you come undone beneath him, and it’s the most breathtaking, perfect thing he’s ever witnessed.

He lets his fingers slow as you ride through your orgasm, gently removing them, a low hum leaving his lips as he sits back a bit, his eyes taking in your disheveled form. “God you’re fucking beautiful, baby,” he murmurs against your neck.

You are working steadily to catch your breath, looking at him as he pulls his fingers to his lips.

He lets his eyes stay on yours as he runs his tongue over his fingers, the taste of you making his head spin and his stomach tense. He moves onto his knees as you settle back down, his eyes roaming over you, the sight of so needy beneath him makes his body ache.

He lets his hands run up your bare legs, gently massaging your thighs and hips. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice low and raspy.

“That was,” you pause, letting out a sigh, “Amazing, Jake…”

He lets out a soft laugh at your response, his fingers continuing to massage your skin as he responds. “Yeah?” he asks, a smirk slowly spreading across his lips.

“Yeah, but you already know that,” you counter, pulling him down towards you by the chain of his necklaces. He moves quickly, his body pressed flush to yours before you move to roll him to his back, taking position on top of him.

His hands rest on your thighs, his thumbs making small circles on your skin as he looks up at you. He lets his eyes rake over your face, his hands gently squeezing your hips, trying to keep the cool demeanor as desire begins to overtake him.

“Think you’re taking charge here, sweetheart?”

“I know so,” you quip.

“Only because I’m letting you.” he smirks, moving a hand to rest behind his head as he watches you.

He looks so good beneath you, the years passed only adding to the natural sexiness he always possessed. Your eyes rake over his body as your fingers move to unbutton his pants.

He sucks in a deep breath as you get the button unfastened, his entire body practically burning now, his skin overheating. You pull his jeans down below his hips, revealing the thin boxers he’s wearing underneath, and the obvious print of his fully hardened length beneath the fabric. His muscles flex involuntarily as he tries to keep himself in check, but he finds it damn near impossible when you’re looking at him like this.

You drag your hand over his length, pulling a hiss from his chest. You stroke him through his boxers watching his lips part and his breathing become heavier.

He can hardly contain himself as you touch him through the fabric, a shuddering gasp leaving his lips, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him.

“Oh god, baby,” he grits out, his voice strained and harsh. He can’t keep his eyes off you, his heart racing in his chest as you tease him, the friction both incredible and completely torturous.

You move backwards on the bed, letting your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers, pulling them down his legs as you move further backward. His cock springs free from the confines of the fabric, slapping against his groin with an audible thud. His eyes search yours as you throw his boxers to the floor, reaching for his length and grasping it hot and hard in your fist.

He lets his tongue run across his dry lips as you continue teasing him, his eyes darkened with lust, his chest heaving as he tries to keep his breathing even.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he moans, his hips arching up as you continue your movements, craving more friction, more contact.

You settle yourself between his legs, as you continue to work him, giving him a playful smile before dropping your lips over his length. You can taste the saltiness of his precum on your tongue, and the warmth of his body on your lips.

He lets out a low moan of pure pleasure as your lips wrap around him, his heart feeling like it’s about to explode in his chest, his body practically on fire.

“God, yeah, that’s it baby,” he grits out, his hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white. “Just like that.” He can’t help but let his hips roll up into your mouth, the feeling and the sight of you, almost too much to take.

You flatten your tongue against him as you take him further into your mouth, feeling his tip brush at the back of your throat. His hips jerk into you, his own primal need for more manifesting. When you don’t gag, it takes him by surprise, his eyes widening as he looks at you.

“Fuck sweetheart, and I didn’t think you could get any better.”

You pull back a bit, sucking as you withdraw your mouth, cupping his balls and pulling a whine from his chest.

“God, yes,” he whines, “Doing fucking amazing.”

You begin to bob your head up and down at a faster pace, feeling his cock start to thicken in your hand. You pull your mouth from him, letting a string of saliva drip down the side of his length. Your eyes never leave his as you lick up the underside of his shaft, savoring the taste of his skin and the feeling of his veins on your tongue.

He practically whimpers at the feeling of your tongue on him, his chest heaving, his body practically trembling with need. He can feel himself getting closer with every movement of your mouth and hand, his eyes locked on yours as he tries to keep control of himself.

He’s on the edge, desperate for release, his body arching up into you. “Keep going, baby, don’t stop,” he moans out, his voice ragged and breathless.

You quicken your pace, eyes locked on him as you continue to work him towards his release, the jerking movements of his cock in your mouth letting you know its arrival is imminent. You hum around him, letting the vibrations of your voice work him even closer.

“Goddamn, Y/N,” he pants, gripping his hand into your hair. His grip is firm and his eyes are pleading, so you give in and give him the approval he is looking for.

In seconds you feel his hand guiding your head at a much faster pace, the head of his cock repeatedly hitting the back of your throat as he curses in pleasure. It’s only a few seconds before you feel him starting to twitch against your tongue, his hand loosening its grip in your hair.

His breathing becomes ragged as he guides your head, his hips bucking and rolling as he gets closer to the edge. “Look at me,” he demands.

Your eyes immediately meet his, and suddenly you feel the rush of bitter warmth as it flows across your tongue and down your throat.

“Take it, fucking take it,” he groans, his hips still moving on their own as he spills into your mouth.

As you swallow down the last of his release, he lets his head fall back on the pillow, his chest heaving and his heart still racing as he comes down from the high. He looks back up at you, his eyes dazed and half-lidded, his breathing labored.

“Jesus,” he rasps, his hand falling from your hair. You move to stand at the end of the bed, tossing your hair over your shoulders and sliding your thong down your legs. He watches you intently, his eyes taking in the sight of your naked body, causing his cock to harden once again. He strokes it a few times, still feeling sensitive from his last orgasm.

“I want you, Jake,” you whisper, kneeling back onto the bed.

“Come here,” he replies, his voice a low, gruff whisper. He sits up, his eyes still taking in every inch of you, his body practically aching with need, his heart thrumming in his chest. He holds a hand out to you, his eyes locked on yours.

You move towards him, taking his hand as you step closer, your body coming flush with his as he pulls you into his lap. He lets his hands move to your hips, pulling you even closer until you're straddling his thighs, his breath catching in his chest as he looks at you.

“You want me to ride you, baby?” you ask, a mischievous smile on your lips.

“Fuck yeah,” he growls, pulling your wet cunt into direct contact with his cock.

“Or,” you pause, pushing up a little, “Would you rather have me on my hands and knees?”

The question makes his heart skip a beat, and he lets out a low groan, his hands gripping tighter on your hips.He hesitates for a moment, his eyes locked on yours, and when he speaks his voice is low and rough.

“That's not fair,” he says, his hands moving to the small of your back, pulling you closer against him.

“Why not?” you ask, pretending not to understand his conundrum. His hands remain firm on your body as he responds, his voice a low, huskier version of his normal tone.

“Because I'm trying to show you some restraint, and you're making it very difficult for me, sweetheart,” he says, his eyes flicking between yours as he looks at you.

“Who said I wanted you to show restraint?” you ask, wanting everything he had to offer.

His eyes darken as you challenge him, his hand gripping tighter on your hip. “You're playing with fire, angel,” he warns, his voice strained as he tries his hardest to keep control of himself.

He can feel the way your body responds to his touch, and he can tell you want more, and god knows he wants more too. You roll your wet pussy against the head of his cock in an attempt to press him even further.

“Last chance baby,” he warns.

You suck a wet kiss to his chest, giving him your answer. He pushes you up, and rolls you off of him, standing from the bed as he snaps his fingers. “Hands and knees,” he barks, pointing to the center of the bed.

The demanding quality of his voice sends a flood of arousal to your core. You follow his command, getting on your hands and knees in the middle of the bed, your heart pounding in your chest as you hear him move behind you.

He walks over to his bedside table, pulling open the bottom drawer and grabbing a silver foil packet from the strip. He rips the packaging open with his teeth, spitting the corner out to the floor before rolling the latex over his throbbing cock.

He moves closer to you, his body now completely flush against yours, his hands on your hips to keep you in place. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, his breath hot against your ear.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathe, anticipating his first move.

His hands tighten on your hips as you reply, his heart racing as he hears the need in your voice. He leans down, his lips close to your ear as he responds, his words a low, gruff whisper. “Good girl.”

He moves his hips behind you, positioning himself at your entrance. He takes a moment to compose himself, wanting to savor this moment. His grip on your hips is firm, but his touch is gentle as he slowly pushes into you, a low moan leaving his lips as he does.

“God, you feel so good, baby,” he whispers, his body trembling against yours.

The stretch is indescribable, the burning fullness as he fully sheaths himself inside you is nothing like you could have ever imagined. You can feel the throb of his cock against your walls and the way his hands grip into your hips as he adjusts to the snug sensation overwhelming his senses.

“Jake, oh my god,” you whine, feeling his hand slide around to grip your chest. He pinches your nipple between his fingers as he drags his tongue down your spine.

“I know baby, you feel incredible,” he says, starting to move his hips at a faster pace.

The room is starting to grow hot, his headboard tapping the wall with every thrust into you. You can’t seem to stop the continuous flow of noises leaving your chest, only offset by the sound of his hips slapping against your ass.

“Jake, baby,” you cry out, his hips slamming into your at a bruising pace.

“I warned you sugar,” he pants, “I know you can take it.”

He’s right, the pleasure is overriding the pain, leading you towards what you know will likely be the best orgasm of your life. You begin to clench around him as curses fall from his lips, his hands gripping into your shoulders, pulling you back to meet each thrust.

You can feel his hair as it drags across your back, his lips pressing into the arch of your back. “So fucking good for me, sweetheart.”

You know you aren’t going to last much longer, the need for release inching its way closer and closer to the forefront of your mind.

“Baby,” you whine, looking over your shoulder at him. He’s the picture of perfection, hairline dotted with sweat as his chest glows.

“There’s those pretty eyes,” he smirks, “Have half a mind to turn you over, just so I can look at them when I cum.” he ponders, his hips slowing slightly, “You know what, I think I will.”

He pulls out of you quickly, guiding you down to your back before slipping right back into you with a groan.

“Goddamn, perfect pussy,” he murmurs, “Look at me, beautiful.”

You let your eyes meet his, his hair framing his face now as his pendants drag over your skin. Your hand moves to cup at his neck, your thumb splayed wide over his throat.

“Mmmm, yeah,” he growls, “This was the right choice.”

You wrap your legs around his back, his free hand coming down to grip at your ass. His thrusts are starting to become more erratic, his pace slightly off from the consistent speed he was working at earlier. Again you feel the warmth in your stomach starting to creep up your chest and you know that it will be only seconds until your undoing.

His breaths are coming in short, ragged gasps, his heart racing in his chest. He can hear the sound of your bodies colliding over and over again and it only fuels his fire. As he feels you start to get closer, he pushes himself even further, wanting to give you everything he has.

His hand snakes up your body, cupping at your face and letting his thumb trail over your kiss swollen lips. You part them, allowing him to press his fingers to your tongue. You close your lips around them, letting your tongue work at the digits, and suck them without breaking eye contact.

You feel his cock jump inside of you, and you know that you’re both there, but prolonging the moment as long as you can. He presses his fingers to the back of your throat, your eyes watering instantly as you gag around them.

“There it is,” he grins, “Just had to hear it.”

He pulls his wet fingers from your mouth and immediately presses them to your clit, circling around the throbbing nub to get you to the finish line with him.

“Cum for me, baby,” he demands, “Cum with me.”

“I want you, Jake,” you beg, “All of you.”

He lets out a low moan as you speak, the tone of your voice setting his body on fire. He knows what you're saying, what you're asking of him, and who is he to deny you?

“All of you, Jake… Take it off…” you whine.

He lets out a deep growl as you beg, his body trembling with need. He wants to give you what you want, but he also wants to show restraint, his self control hanging by a thread.

“You sure, baby?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you beg, “Want it so bad. Want to feel you.”

He can't hold back any longer, your words pushing him over the edge. “God damn it,” he growls, his body trembling. He pulls out of you, ripping the condom off and tossing it to the floor, pushing back inside of you with a sinful groan.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he pauses, “This what you wanted, baby? You want my fucking seed? Need to feel me all nice and warm inside you?”

“Yes Jake, Oh god– you’re so– give it to me baby,” you cry out, finally feeling the full warmth of his cock inside of you, stretching and filling you so perfectly.

“I’m there sweetheart, gonna fuckin cum,” he growls, his eyes locked on yours as his hips slam into you. “Soak me beautiful, squeeze my cock while I cum in this pussy.”

His words send you over the edge, your world exploding around you as the sound of his grunts fill the air you seem to be floating in. He’s hot as he spills inside of you, sweat dripping down his chest in salty rivulets.

His lips crash to yours as he works you through it, his tongue dancing with yours as you both start to come down from your orgasms. He breaks the kiss after a moment and rests his forehead against yours, his breathing coming out ragged, his eyes still locked on yours.

“Goddamn, baby, I think that almost killed me,” he laughs, “Was hot as fuck.”

You laugh, as you kiss him again, his smile making your heart flutter in your chest. “You're hot as fuck, so it wasn't hard.”

He laughs at your reply, the sound deep and velvety. “Oh, flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart,” he replies, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face.

He's still trying to catch his breath, his heart still racing from the exertion, but he still has enough energy to pull you closer against him, his hands gently rubbing your back as he speaks. “But you’re only adding to my ego.”

“I knew you were still in there somewhere,” you tease.

He pulls out of you, the evidence of his release slipping between your thighs. “You know, I did not expect my night to go like this.” he smirks, standing from the bed and making his way to the bathroom.

“Glad it did,” you smile, watching his perfect round ass make its way to the sink. He returns a minute later with a wet towel, gently cleaning you up as he showers you with praise.

“I’d like you to stay here, if you’d like.” he asks, nervously, sliding back into the bed next to you.

“I have a flight in the morning,” you counter, biting at your bottom lip.

He pulls you into his side, pushing the hair away from your face as he sighs, “I see,” he pauses, swallowing nervously, “Just stay, and you can leave at whatever time you need to, I would just really like to spend the rest of the night with you here.”

You can't help but smile at the sound of his words, your heart fluttering in your chest. You nod, snuggling closer into his side, your head resting against his chest. “I think I can manage that,” you reply, your voice soft and gentle.

You can feel his heart beating beneath your ear, the steady rhythm comforting you. You close your eyes for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of his body close to yours. He reaches over and turns off his lamp, leaving the room in darkness.

“Thank you, for the rose…” you whisper into the darkness.

His hand moves to stroke your hair once again, his eyes roaming over your face in the darkness. “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice soft and sincere. “Wish it would have happened twenty five years ago,” he says, his words a light tease.

“I’ll keep it forever.”

“You better,” he teases, a hint of a chuckle in his voice, “I expect to see it on Instagram by morning, and don’t forget to tag me.”

You slap at his chest playfully, the joking quality of his voice very present. “Be careful or I just might.”

He laughs, his hand moving to the spot you slapped his chest. “Oh no, please don’t,” he teases in mock horror. He pulls you closer to him, and sighs in contentment, his heart feeling light and happy for the first time in a long time.

—

Your phone buzzing on the nightstand wakes you, your alarm set for 5:00AM. The room is still pitch black, the black velvet curtains shrouding the windows and keeping the light from entering. The air is cool, a little too cold for your liking but the heaviness of the sheets make it bearable. You can feel Jake’s body heat beneath the sheets, radiating and keeping you warm for most of the night. His hands never left your body, keeping you close to him even in his sleep. You slept peacefully, though as you start to move around you notice the soreness of your muscles. You know you have to get up, you have to find your clothes and get back to your hotel before your flight.

You turn to look at Jake, still sleeping next to you. His lips are parted, soft puffs of air drifting between them as his eyelids move. His hair is pulled back away from his face, revealing his ear and the column of his neck. His hand rests gently on your pillow, his fingers twitching in his sleep and bringing a smile to your lips.

You roll over towards the nightstand, noticing that the white rose he presented you with last night was laying across the length of the small table, and you know he must have placed it there at some point during the night. The petals have opened more now, and your heart flutters as you remember him giving it to you. You grab your phone and open the camera, snapping a photo of the rose on the nightstand just to remember the moment.

You take in the sight of him one last time before silently slipping out of the bed, feeling very exposed as you look around the dark room in search of your clothes. You redress yourself as quietly as possible, remembering that you shed your shirt in his office. You grab your rose, and take one last look at his perfect sleeping form before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and slipping out of the large wooden door and into the hallway.

You make your way to his music room, seeing your shirt still laying on the floor and the record still spinning idly as the speakers crackle. You grab your shirt and pull it over your head, deciding to stop the turntable and place the record back into his collection. You take another look around the room, overcome with emotion as you look at the young faces on the posters and in the photos hanging on the walls.

Twenty minutes later you’re notified that your Uber is outside, and a pang of sadness washes over you. You know you have to leave but part of you wants to stay. To get back in bed with Jake in hopes of a round two, to see his morning face and hear the raspiness of his voice, but you can’t. You decide to leave with the memories and your rose, watching his house pass by the windows as the car pulls out of his driveway.

Your mind is swirling with thoughts of last night, the way he felt, the way he tasted. You scroll through the photos of the two of you at the bar, feeling a weight settle on your shoulders as you realize you will likely never see him again. In an effort to lift your spirits you pull up your group chat with your friends, forgetting that you sent them the photo of the two of you last night. You never thought to check their replies, feeling so caught up in your time with Jake that it never crossed your mind.

You’re instantly reduced to laughter as you read their desperate replies, catapulting you back twenty years when you all wished to run into him at a bar by chance. You sent a few laughing emojis and gave them all a quick run down of the night, finishing off your message with a picture of the white rose on the nightstand.

Their reactions were exactly as you expected, complete panic and begging for every single detail.

—

As you make your way through airport security you deposit your things into the large plastic bins, walking through the metal detector and out again, grabbing your bag and shoes from the end of the conveyor belt.

It’s a short walk to your gate, your flight home seeming daunting after the night you’d had. It had been a few hours now and still you couldn’t shake the thoughts of him from your mind. You knew you should be happy for that one perfect night with him, but you felt something with him. Something you hadn’t felt in years. Something different.

You take a seat at your boarding gate, letting out a sigh as you settle into the stiff airport chair. You can still smell the remnant of his cologne on your body, and you can almost feel his lips on your neck. A swirling feeling takes up residence in your stomach and your skin feels warm. You decide to take your mind off of him, reaching into the front pocket of your purse for your phone, but feeling something else against your fingers instead.

As you pull the items out of your bag, you feel as if your heart might stop in your chest. A small folded piece of paper emerges from the pocket with a note written inside. A relic falls into your hand as you open it, small and black and aged from wear over the years. A guitar pick, adorned with the ‘Age of Machine’ symbol sits perfectly in your hand. You feel your eyes well with tears at the special gift, letting them flick over to the note written in his messy handwriting.

Every Jake girl needs a pick. I hope you enjoy this one from my personal collection. Might even be the last one in existence. Thank you for everything tonight, your kindness to me will never be forgotten. You’ve reignited my spark in more ways than one.

P.S. - Check your phone

Love, Jake

With your newly acquired pick in your hand you reach into your purse, pulling your phone out as quickly as possible. On the screen you see more texts from your friends, but more importantly you see a text from Jake, who not only sent those photos to himself, but added his contact information into your phone. Your thumb shakes as you open his text, nervous to see what he has sent.

9:47AM: I’m guessing you found my note and it led you here. I hope you like the pick and that you will hold on to it for me. I meant what I said in that note and here’s your proof. Thought of this last night and recorded it this morning just after you left. It’s all thanks to you. Give it a listen and call me when you land. Hope to hear from you soon.

An attachment was sent along with his message, and as it opens you realize it's an audio file, but not just any audio file. It’s him, playing music the way he was always meant to.

JakeSoloDemo.mp3

As you listen to the track you feel a sense of pride swell in your chest. You’d brought him out of his shell, and all it took was a few encouraging words and letting him know that people still cared. You read over his message again and again, debating whether or not to text him back now, or wait to call him when you landed like he asked, but either way he wanted to hear from you, and the promise of the conversation to come was enough to keep a permanent smile on your lips for the rest of time.

Sure, you may have reignited his spark, but maybe, just maybe, he reignited yours, too.

Taglist: @gretavanmoon@britney-gvf @sacredstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @farfromthehomelands @takenbythemadness @writingcold @builtbybrokenbells @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @fleet-of-fiction @milkgemini @ageofcj@dancingcarbon @highway-tuna @stardustjake @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @gvfmarge @gracev0609 @myleftsock @literal-dead-leaf @peaceloveunitygvf @ageofbajabule @jordie-gvf @sadiechar @tinydancer40 @rosabellagvf @capnjaket @lyndz2names @thetroublegetssoloud71 @gretavanomens @spark-my-nature @josh-iamyour-mama @anythingforjtk @alwaysonthemend @danieljlmwagner @klarxtr @fortunatelytinybasement @demonrat444 @gretavansara @watchingover-hypegirl @hippievanfleet @digitalnomadz @raviolilegs @lipstickitty @hippievanfleet @klarxtr @strange-whorizons @do-it-jakey-baby @myownparadise96 @gvf-luna @starshine-wagner @cassiesgreta @joopsandjangs @whimsiliz @kiszkas-canvas @joopsandjangs @broken0mens @scoreofinfantryvines @whereiskeara @do-it-jakey-baby @miravanfleet @heckingfrick @gvfpal @watchingover-hypegirl @starshine-wagner @indigobrea @slut4lando @justdamnpeachy @sacredtheslay @jakekiszkashangnail08 @dayumclarizzel @objectsinspvce @gracev0609 @kisskiss-atticus @i-love-gvf @whimsiliz @dilflover-4ever

218 notes · View notes

realcube · 5 months ago

Text

WRATH & LUST . t.kei / y.tadashi

synopsis ✧ you hate tsukishima kei. you do everything in your power to make his life miserable but nothing works. now you have no choice but to fuck his best friend

cws/tags ✧ college au , enemies to enemies who screw, cursing, slut-shaming (both ways)

parts ✧ i. ii. iii. iv.

your friends call it 'inexplicable hatred', 'misdirected anger' and 'envy' but they couldn't be more wrong.

your feelings towards tsukishima kei were completely rational in your mind. he carried himself as though he was better than everyone and treated those around him like filth, yet he's still tolerated and his shitty attitude is even deemed charming by some self-loathing girls at your college.

it irritates you to no end how he behaves. too cocksure and too sassy; no dignified man should never act in such a manner, you believe. you could go on about other reasons you dislike him — his style atrocities and his punchable face, to name a couple — but you shan't.

you intended on going about your life, simply hating him from afar as you didn't see the need to stir up petty drama. but he made it impossible for you to do so.

one day he was sat behind you in a maths lecture. the seats are tiered so he is slightly higher up than you are. while making notes, his pen slips out of his hand and tumbles forward, landing somewhere under your desk.

you do the polite thing by making an attempt to search for it, but it is dark under the table you can't seem to find it.

a couple moments pass, and he remarks lowly, "are you just going to stare it?"

white hot rage courses through you at his comment. what ever happened to 'please'? to 'would you mind'? you were about to do him a favour by fetching his pencil and he still has the audacity to be snarky.

fuck that, he can pick up his own damn pen. you leave it alone and try to focus on the lecture.

you make it through the whole thing without him bothering you again, probably using a spare or borrowed pen. once the class has been dismissed, you gather your things and wait for the people in your row to start filtering out so you can leave, that is when you feel a gentle tap on the shoulder.

you turn around and lock eyes with a tan, freckled boy with mousy brown hair, he wears an awkward smile and point to your desk, "excuse me, my friend dropped his pencil and i think it landed under your desk. could you get it, please?"

his voice is meek and demeanour similar to that of a shy puppy, which is why it almost pained you to scoff at him and say, "tell your friend to stop being such a cunt, then maybe."

you rush out of the door, keen to get as far away from those two boys as you can. yet as you leave you hear the blonde's voice mutter in your wake, "what a moron."

after marinating on the situation during the retelling to your friend group, and a group vote, you came to the conclusion that perhaps your response to yamaguchi — you learned his name from one your friends — might have been a bit severe. but in your defence, you were peeved by the comment tsukishima had made prior.

it's as though manners and etiquette are totally lost on him.

ೃ⁀➷

two weeks passed since your last little altercation with tsukishima, and you were proud to say you haven't been involved in any conflict with him since then. mostly making snide remarks in passing or exchanging dirty looks in the hall.

however, that all changed when your professor was late to one of your classes. they expressed in the past that they prefer students to wait outside the lecture theatre when they aren't present, so naturally this caused many people to be clogging the hallways.

there was a long queue of people waiting to enter, you stood far away from the door, while tsukishima and yamaguchi happened to be standing opposite. you couldn't help but notice the outfit tsukishima had on: skinny light brown trousers with a black belt, and a pressed short-sleeve white shirt, that was a bit see-through.

you didn't know much about this guy but from his slightly toned figure, which was made apparent by his choice in clothes, you could tell he does some sort of sport. probably basketball, considering how tall he is, but maybe golf. he acts like a golf player.

lost in thought for too long, your finally yanked out of your own internal monologue by a familiar voice snapping, "what are you staring at?"

you blink, and before you even have time to process what he just accused you of, you blurt out, "has anyone told you that you're dressed like a slut today?"

yamaguchi must slap a hand over his mouth to suppress his burgeoning laughter. tsukishima's eyes narrow at his friend's offensive display, before they snap back to you and he argues, "really? me? i'm dressed appropriately. take a look at what you're wearing."

he motions to your outfit: jorts and a tank top. maybe not the most stylish choice but definitely not as whorish as his attire. "it might be more revealing but still not as slutty as you."

he rolls his eyes like what you said was contradictory, wearing smug smile. he wants you to believe what you said is nonsensical and 'proved his point' but all it does it anger you to no end.

not fond of his facial expressions, you retort, "don't pull stupid faces and play dumb. you're already dumb enough as is, so it isn't a very becoming look on you."

with furrowed brows, he opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, "and i can see your chest through your shirt. no one wants to see that!"

"you say that while your tits are out, have some self-respect."

"at least i have tits. you're wearing a short sleeve to show off the muscles you don't even have!"

yamaguchi is thoroughly entertained by this squabble, which is why it pains him to chime in, "uh, tsukki. the lecturer is here, let's go."

as much as he wanted to get the last word in, tsukishima glances between tadashi and the empty halls before he decides his education is actually kinda important and begins to make his way inside the theatre. it was good timing because he didn't have a witty response anyway.

your heart is beating rapidly, though you're unsure why. you gaze at the empty walls for a minute to collect yourself before heading into class as well. you totally won that fight, is what you tell yourself.

ೃ⁀➷

ever since the disagreement you had with tsukishima in hallways of the maths building, what was once comments and glares has escalated to threats and insults being made boldly in each other's face.

despite the fact you ate him up the first time, you've been on a losing streak since then. you feel as though nothing you say gets under his skin anymore.

you've tried belittling his face, his smarts, his personality, his mother but nothing seems to work. you even tried to ridicule his glasses but that didn't work either!

"hey, four eyes!"

"hey, five guys."

what the fuck? you weren't sure if that was a dig at your diet, your weight or your quantity of sexual partners but regardless, you could not let that slide.

verbal abuse wasn't working so naturally the next option was physical. you attempted to trip him in the halls but his legs were so long he stepped over you without even noticing. you attempted to pour milk over him but tadashi noticed and pulled him out of the way. you considered pushing his knees while he was standing in front of you but you realised that if he fell backwards his weight would crush you and you'd probably die.

all of that was so elementary and childish though; high school bullying at best. you need college level bullying. you thought about planting weed in his bag and calling the campus police on him but your friends said that was 'too far'. you thought about leaking his nudes but firstly you don't have them and secondly, he's already walking around college half naked anyway so he likely wouldn't be phased by it.

the hard thing about trying to torture a boy like tsukishima is you don't know enough about him to know what will truly drive him insane. you know he cares about his grades but sabotaging his test scores is beyond your means. he doesn't have any dignity so you can't humiliate him. even if you tried, his little gremlin of a best friend would probably catch onto you anyway.

that green haired boy was just as bad as his handler. always gawking at you to make sure you don't try anything; literally glued to tsukishima's ass at all times — it's so gross. and it gave you the most disgustingly perfect idea.

#kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x y/n #kei tsukishima x you #hq yamaguchi #yamaguchi x reader

177 notes · View notes

kookblurx · 8 months ago

Text

" I love you " - cloud pov [ oneshot ]

→ SUMMARY: cloud was never good with his words. a guy who appears to be cold towards others but since a few days he seems .. different towards you. its like something is burning on his tounge.

→ GENRE: fluff; awkward; innocent; confession; mutual feelings; golden retriver energy.

→ RATING: 13+

→ NOTE: i know this is something completely different from the things i normally write. normally i only write about jungkook and taehyung but since FF7 came out .. i found my love for Cloud again. So i decided to write a pov about him. maybe more will follow on the future. also please keep in mind that english isnt my mother tounge, thanks. IMPORTANT; The city mentioned never appeared in the games. its my own interpretation! also my gaming povs mostly never matches with the games.

♡.°₊ˎ SONG FOR THIS ONESHOT

your hands were sweaty as you were sitting outside in front of the old house. it wasnt something fancy, just an old block house deep inside the woods which served as some kind of shelter for your little group. The cold evening air blew a few strands of hair into your face. It would be a while before he would come outside to join you. for a short moment you regretted volunteering for this sort of misson, not that it would be difficult. this wasnt the reason why you suddenly became so nervous. You looked up at the darkening sky with your lips pressed together. A few small stars could be seen here and there, so it was a perfect evening to search for a flower which only blooms once a month on a full moon night. The fabric of your light blue dress began to rustle as you moved back and forth on the tree trunk. its been 20 minutes already, what took him that long? you wiped your sweaty hands on your dress once again. If this continues you would have to go back inside to change again. surely tifa would raise an eyebrow, probably asking herself if that was some kind of sheme from you. making sure that "he" will really come with you. he trusted you, so you trusted him, naturally. but still, you were nervous. This would be the first time in months that you've done something alone together. The others accompanied you on every other mission. You loved your friends but sometimes you wished you had more time alone with him. from behind the old wooden door finally opened but you were too nervous to turn around to face him yet.

"are you ready?" his voice was gentle in your ear which why you finally turned around.

the second you did, you cursed yourself for not preparing a bit longer. the man in front of you was none other than Cloud Strife, your best friend, your companion and the men you had a crush on for so many months now. cloud had always been beautiful in your eyes but tonight he looked completely different. his armor was gone, so he only wore his dark turtleneck tank top, matched with a pair of dark pants. your eyes traveled down on his arms as you noticed that he also werent wearing the gloves which he was normally wearing. compared to him you looked like always. even his blonde styled hair looked a bit messy underneath the rising moonlight.

"whats wrong? did you saw a ghost?" raising one of his eyebrows, cloud crossed his arms in front of his chest. "i- uh no! you just look so different ..." "dont be silly and come ..."

without another word he finally started walking ahead. cloud never talked much, not even with you so it wasnt suprising that he didnt paid much attention to your remark. slowly you started to follow him into the woods. the both of you only heard rumours about this special flower. apparently it glows in the dark whenever moonlight hits one of its petals. beside that it didnt had any powers but tifa really wanted to plant one on her garden. at first you thought you could go alone but the second cloud heard that you were going outside at night, alone, he decided to tag along.

fidgeting with your fingers all you could see was his back in front of you. cloud even left his buster sword at home. looking down at his bare hand a slight glimmer of red crawled up your cheeks. there was only one time were you held hands with him and this only happened because of a small accident. it happened on one of the many Shinra ships. cloud was busy fighting off some of the soldiers while you were busy cracking the code to the main gate. It wasn't a difficult task as long as cloud could distract the others, but one soldier didn't seem to fall for it. suddenly someone grabbed your shoulder and pushed you backwards. you landed roughly against the nearest wall. Of course, cloud noticed this and immediately rushed to your side. he grabbed your hand to pull you behind him. the whole time he protected you, he never let go of your hand. so that was the closest you ever got to holding his hand with him. beside that nothing romantic ever happened between the two of you. after a while you came to the conclusion that cloud, probably, doesnt like you like this. in the beginning this perception was hard and you were heartbroken for days. maybe it was too much to ask for, considering how clumsy cloud is and that he doesnt really talk about his feelings.

"everything okay?" you nearly bumped against his chest, not noticing that cloud has stopped in his steps. were you sighing again? did he heard it? you could feel how your cheeks grew hotter with every passing second. in a fast motion you shook your head as cloud took a step into your direction. "are you sure? you were sighing pretty loudly. are you already tired? If yes .. dont worry we are nearly there"

you wanted to answer something but cloud turned around again. expecting to take up his pace you took a step forward but in the next moment something warm slipped into your hand. suprised your eyes darted downward and at the same time your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. cloud held your hand, he really held your hand. slowly your fingers closed around his palm. Whenever you pictured this day in your head, you never imagined that his hand would be so soft. it was like you were holding a fluffy cloud in your palm, carefully not to crush it.

with a slow motion cloud slowly started to walk again. like usual he didnt addressed the thing he just did and you were fine with it. by now you were too busy to calm down your pounding heart inside your chest. slowly cloud pulled you between some green bushes into a clearing. you could imagine that in this meadow many beautiful flowers were blooming, since its been night most of them were sleeping peacefully. As your eyes scanned the meadow, they stopped in a certain place. You immediately let go of cloud hand just so you could run to that spot.

"hey Y/N! whats wrong?" his voice rang in your ear but your eyes didnt left the spot. this was it, this wasnt a dream right?

suddenly you came to a halt and kneeled down on the ground. right in front of you were the glowing flower. it was so beautiful that you didnt even noticed how cloud kneeled down on the ground right beside you.

"its beautiful isnt it ...?" you asked him as your fingertips brushed over the delicate petals "yes ... more than beautiful" "say cloud how should we-"

the moment you turned your head into his direction you noticed that he was looking at you. cloud's face was so close and yet so far at the same time. from this distance you could clearly see his eyes which looked so beautiful to you. some other people were scared of him because of the Mako in them but for you, it was something totally normal. the glow from the flower was illuminating his face and for the first time you were able to see a slightly red shimmer on his cheeks. was he blushing? slowly you lift your hand up just to make sure youre not dreaming. mid air cloud catched your wrist with his own hand just to place it against his cheeks. at the same time your eyes widen feeling his soft warm skin at the back of your hand. what was wrong with him all of a sudden? why was he so affectionate?

"im sorry. i lied to you Y/N" "w-what do you mean ... ?" "tifa didnt wanted that flower. i just ... wanted to show you something beautiful ... and i thought such a flower would be the perfect thing you would enjoy"

you could see the hurt in his eyes, probably thinking you would be mad at him now. shaking your head you turned your hand inside of his palm into an direction so you were able to cup his cheek. how could you have been so blind? yes cloud never talked about his feelings but he always made sure to show them. especially around you he was always considerate, making sure that you felt comfortable on all their journeys.

a small smile appeared on your face "im not mad. thank you for showing me something so .. beautiful cloud."

the moment you pulled away from him to get up again, cloud squeezed your hand more tightly. in the next second your cheek was met with his chest, the soft fabric of his turtleneck shirt carressing your skin.

"cloud ...?" "Y/N I ..."

it was clear to you that he was struggling to find the right words. with a smile on your face you slowly lifted your head up, the red on his cheeks grew heavier with every second he kept looking at you. anxiety crawled up inside of you as his grip loosens around your body, what if he changed his opinion about you? a nervous chuckle escaped your mouth as you wanted to turn your head away but clouds hand on your cheek forced you to look back. there wasnt much time to contemplate what to say because in the next moment his warm lips met yours. at once your whole body felt like jelly as it immediately relaxed inside of his arms. it wasnt a passionate kiss he shared with you, it was a soft and careful kiss. clouds heartbeat hammered against your chest, it was so strong and loud that you could hear and feel it. as you wrapped both of your arms around his body to kiss him back, he slowly broke the kiss. clouds lips were still hovering above yours, just millimeters away. it was a sweet distraction from the words he finally managed to say;

"I love you, YN"

those words were enough, nothing more needed to be said. with a small nod your head moves forward to occupy his lips again. that was everything cloud needed as an an answer. the moon kept shining down on the both of you, wrapping your bodies in blue moonlight. it was like the whole forest approved of your feelings to each other as all the animals went quiet. around the both of you some fireflies took off from the grass into the sky. this moment belonged to you and cloud, no one could take this away from you anymore.

#cloud strife #cloud x reader #cloud strife x reader #final fantasy #ff7r #ff7 rebirth #ff7 remake #ff7 fanfic #cloud strife fanfic #gaming #gaming fanfic #cloud strife imagine #cloud imagines #cloud strife pov #ffvii x reader #ff7 cloud x reader #ff7 x reader #bf headcanons

344 notes · View notes

enhaheeseung · 1 year ago

Text

Come back to me - L.HS

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warnings: cursing, crying, angst, divorce, alcohol.

WC: 3,720k

Part two

Heeseung was sat on the floor until morning, your wedding ring still in hand, while he blankly stared out the window, every event of the last eight months playing through his head.

He doesn’t know when it exactly happened, but he for sure knew why it happened.

The first night he went out with his co-workers, it was just for one simple drink, nothing more. He thought some company outside of work might be nice, so when he was invited to the bar downtown, he went.

You’d think, being a mature and married man, he wouldn’t be so easily influenced, but one drink after the other, and he started loosening up a bit, and after his co-workers made one too many dodgy comments about their wives, he decided to join in at first it was just a simple complaint about you “nagging” him about not putting his belongings away but the longer the conversation went on the more in-depth it got Jake would talk about his wife in more than unsavory ways which initially made heeseung uncomfortable, but since he wanted to hang with the new friend group, of course, he had to one-up then telling the guys about every little detail that “bothered” him even though he didn’t really feel that way he just said those things to fit in but the more he went to the bar after work the more those things suddenly became true instead of being repulsed by jays complaints about his wife he got used to it even laughing about it and adding in his own stories here and there.

Needless to say, when he came home from the bar, so did his attitude, and that’s when the change happened. He felt so stupid for trying to fit in where he didn’t. He feels like a complete jerk for treating you like you were less than human, and he wishes he could go back to the days when he wasn’t treating you like garbage.

At least Jay and Jake still communicated with their wives, and at least they were still happily married, but heeseung just had to take it a step further, and instead of it becoming nightly complaints at the bar, he took it home and just kept going and going until he was where he is at right now on the floor crying his eyes out cause he wanted to fit in, cause he wanted something new to talk about at the bar something that would get a laugh out of his friends and now thinking back on it he felt so stupid cause he gave up the love of his life just for a few chuckles and drinks after work.

The alarm clock going off is what finally broke him out of his heartbroken daze. He sniffles softly, eyes burning from staying up and crying all night.

He used every last ounce of strength in his legs to get up and turn off the alarm.

He didn’t even bother cleaning up before work. He went in, hair messy, eyes puffy, and suit wrinkled.

The day was a complete blur. Everything he did was almost robotic. There wasn’t any other thought in his mind besides you all day, just you, only you.

“You look like shit” Jake chuckles at his friend's crappy-looking appearance.

“Thanks,” he grumbled, glaring at Jake with eyes that could kill.

“Woah, man, my bad!” He pats heeseung’s shoulder. “Anyways you up for a round of drinks tonight? I’m buying.”

Heeseung thought about it for a moment and ultimately decided drinks would be the best thing for him. He wanted to get so fucking drunk that he’d black out cause maybe that way he’d see you in his dreams, and maybe in his dreams, you would both still be together. “Sure.” he shuts his eyes tightly, breathing a shaky sigh while he tries to appear to be okay.

“You sure dude? We can always cancel.” heeseung shakes his head back and forth.

“I’m good.” he tries his hardest to smile, but his lips don’t even begin to curve up. If anything, his frown deepens.

“Whatever you say, hee see you tonight,” Jake shrugs, going back to his cubicle to get some work done.

“You sure you good?” Jake asks.

“Just,” heeseung sighs deeply. “Just my wife, we’re not on good terms right now.” he knew that you guys were on more than just bad terms. Hell, you were divorcing him, but he was in denial cause, in his mind, you were both gonna buy a house, have kids, and grow old together, not get divorced after just a couple years of marriage.

“That’s a good thing, my friend,” Jay replies, thinking it’s just the same old same old.

“Not this time. I uhh, I don’t know..” he rubs his temples, a lump forming in his throat as he downed a shot.

“What is it? You can tell us your secrets are safe with us. You know that.” Jake nods, understanding the situation is a bit different than all the other times they gathered to talk about their significant other.

“Fuck” heeseung drops his head low, avoiding eye contact so they wouldn’t notice his bloodshot eyes and broken features. “She wants a divorce,” he whispers shakily as he buries his head into his arms.

Jay and Jake exchange shocked glances at each other, trying to find the right words to say to the shocking news. “I’m sorry, why so suddenly? I know you both had your little scuffles here and there, but not enough for a divorce,” Jake reasons.

“It’s not sudden.” heeseung lifts his head up, face red with snot running from his nose and tears leaking from his puffy eyes. “I fucked up” he hits his head against his palm, repeatedly beating himself up for ruining what used to be the perfect marriage. “I’ve been fucking up.”

“Woah, hey hey,” Jay grabs his wrists stopping him from hitting himself anymore. “I’m sure she was just upset. Maybe go home and talk things out with her.”

“I can’t,” he chokes out. “S-she’s gone, guys, she’s gone, and I-i- I don’t know what to do. I miss her, and I love her so much I can’t lose her.” he breaks down like a newborn baby, crying in front of his co-workers and every person in the bar without a care in the world.

“I think we should call it a night. I’ll drive you home, and we’ll pick up your car before work in the morning,” Jake consoles as he gets up from the table, and Jay follows soon after.

“O-okay, sorry f-for ruining the evening,” heeseung hiccuped, all the shots finally making their way to his system before he left. He takes the whole bottle off the table and throws down however much money he has left in his pocket.

“Hey, it’s no problem,” Jay assures.

Once they make it outside, Jay assists Jake as they move heeseung to the passenger seat, buckling him in.

The whole ride home, heeseung was a complete mess, crying hysterically. Jake was almost scared that he might pass out from crying so hard, so he stepped on the gas to get his friend home sooner.

“Y/n, please come back to me,” he mumbled, halfway asleep, tears staining his cheeks as Jake pulled into the driveway.

“Come on, big guy.” Jay had gone his separate ways, and now carrying heeseung up to his house was like carrying dead weight with how intoxicated he was from drinking the whole ride there. “Here you go,” Jake whispers after laying him down on his bed. “Get some rest. See you at work tomorrow.” Jake smiled sadly. Sure, they all had their little nights out of talking about their wives, but he knew deep down heeseung still loved you, and to see him like this wasn’t the easiest thing to deal with in the world, and Jake made a mental note to stop saying such negative things about his wife, and when he went home, he was going to shower her in love before he wound up in a situation like heeseung.

“Hey, mama’s.” it was currently the next morning, and heeseung was on his lunch break, finally somewhat over his hangover as he talked to your mom on the phone.

“Heeseung? Oh, hello sweetheart, it’s so nice to hear your voice,” he smiles, feeling the same way it’s been a while since he visited your parents.

“You too, it’s been some time,” she hums in agreement.

“It sure has” heeseung feels his heart drop cause if it wasn’t for him being a total fucking dick, he would have made it to last year's Thanksgiving dinner, but no, because you and him got into a fight prior, and he wasn’t man enough to apologize so he let you go to sleep angry at him, and the next day you were already out of town by the time he woke.

He swallows down the lump in his throat and makes a promise that he doesn’t even know if he could keep given his relationship status with you right now. “I’ll come over soon, I promise.”

“That would be lovely. My husband has been wanting to catch up with you, too.”

“Has he? I’ll for sure come soon, okay mama’s? Hey, could I ask you a question?” He bites on his lip nervously as he checks his watch to see how much time he has left on break.

“Of course, my dear,” she says sweetly.

“So me and y/n had a little fight the other day, and she left, so I’m assuming she came to stay with you?” He knows how bad it sounds that he didn’t even know his own wife's whereabouts, but at this point, he didn’t have much time to beat around the bush.

“Yes,” she sighs, remembering your hurt, tear-stained face as she walks in. “Yes, she did.” heeseung was half sad, half happy, sad because you were gone, and happy because at least you were somewhere safe and his heart could be put to ease. “Only for a while, though, then she went to sunghoons house so she wouldn’t be a nuisance. I told her she could stay until you guys worked things out, but she decided it would be best to leave, so I let her.”

Anything that came after the name sunghoon heeseung had nearly tuned all the way out because why were you over there? Why did you go to another man when he was at home waiting for you?

Before he could think of anything else that made his blood boil, his timer on his watch went off, indicating his break was over. “Ok, thank you so much, mama’s. My lunch is up so I have to go now, but I’ll see you soon. Tell pop’s I said hi.”

“Will do, oh, I can’t wait to see you! Have a good shift, my sweet boy, and keep me updated on you and y/n. She didn’t wanna tell me anything, but I’m hoping you two will figure this out. I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding.”

“Hey, don’t worry, we’ll talk things out. We always do,” he says bye one last time and hangs up the phone once the conversation is concluded.

“That’s everything,” Sunghoon, one of your old friends, says as he helps you put up the final touches in your new room, aka his spare room.

“Thank you so much for everything,” you thanked him sincerely. You don’t know where you’d be without him right now.

“It’s no problem. You know I have your back since we were little.” he pulls you into a side hug, messing up your hair like he used to do when you were kids before releasing you from his tough grip.

“Hoon,” you grumbled, and he just laughed at your pouty face.

“Get some sleep, yeah? You look exhausted,” he pouted. He knew you were going through it right now. The day you came to him with suitcases and red puffy eyes, he already knew what happened, but when he grew to know the details, oh, how he wanted to rip heeseung’s dick off and shove it down his own throat before punching him to a pulp maybe that was extreme but he was fucking furious at your husband the heeseung he saw at your guys wedding would have never done some bullshit like that so what the fuck has changed?

“You’re right.” you nod, a half smile making its way to your lips.

“Goodnight, y/n. Hope you feel better soon,” he pats your back softly. “I’ll be at work early in the morning, so sleep in, and then later, maybe we can go out and get some groceries or something.”

“Yeah,” you say, barely above a whisper. “Night hoon.” You closed the door once he left and laid down on your mattress or the mattress that Sunghoon bought you. You were so grateful for a friend like him.

You didn’t want to burden your parents even though they would have happily let you stay.

You just felt like in your state and conditioned, it’d be hard to let them see you so broken it was hard to come to Sunghoon in your state as well, but it was less of a blow than seeing your mother's worried face every single morning.

You couldn’t even tell her exactly what happened between you and heeseung because you knew it’d break her poor old heart knowing that her son-in-law turned out to be the biggest piece of shit on the planet.

You simply told her you guys needed a bit of a break, and that was all. How could you tell her about heeseung’s reckless behavior? How could you tell her he’d been neglecting you? How could you tell her that you two were getting a divorce?

That would be a bridge that you’d maybe be able to cross after the fact of finalizing everything, but right now, you couldn’t deliver a gut-wrenching blow like that, especially cause your parents thought heeseung was perfect for you.

Sighing to yourself, you turn off the lights, struggling to go to sleep without your husband or ex-husband holding you close to his chest. The bed felt so cold and empty without him, but that would just have to become a thing of the past because the reality is he was not and was never going to be again.

The thought broke you into tiny little pieces, but what could you do? You were just a victim of another abusive marriage that ended in divorce because your husband didn’t care, and he loved going to the bar and his friends more than he loved you.

It was a hard pill to swallow and a tough reality check, but nevertheless, it was your life.

Heeseung clears his throat for the thousandth time while he stands outside of sunghoons door.

The amount of days it took to build up the courage to finally come to see you was embarrassing for him, but he finally stopped being a coward and came to apologize, and hopefully, at the end of it, you’d be coming back home with him so you could both happily sleep in the same bed again.

“Y/n, I’m sorry for the past few months. I just ugh.” he shook his head, not liking the way what he prepared was sounding out loud. “Y/n, I know I hurt you- fuck” he shook off his nerves a little bit, but not even that worked. “Y/n-“ he couldn’t even say your name out loud without feeling like he was going to cry. He missed you so much. The house was unbearably quiet. Your scent had disappeared days ago even though he hadn’t washed the bedsheets or your pillowcase since you left, and the hardest part was not being able to feel you cuddling up to him in the chilly mornings. It was so cold without you, so empty. His life felt meaningless without you there, and on top of all that, everything was his fault from start to finish. He made his bed. He knew that much, but he prayed he wouldn’t have to lay in it.

He pushed all his previous apology rehearsals behind him. He was going to just tell you how he felt even if his brain was scattered and his thoughts weren’t put together. He was going to give you his real raw emotion because that’s what you deserved, and it’s the least he could give you.

He took a deep breath before knocking on your door, or your friend's door, and the name Sunghoon almost made him roll his eyes, not cause he was a bad guy. No, sunghoon was a fucking great guy, and that’s what bothers heeseung. He was fucking jealous cause his little y/n was with another man that had him beat in every department by miles. He wasn’t one to compare, but it’s hard not to notice those things when he treated you the way he did heeseung turned into a piece shit, and he knew it, but what didn’t help the fact was that he knew Sunghoon could treat you better and that’s what he was scared of heeseung knew it was selfish but he wanted you for himself even if you were better off with someone one else.

When the door opened and revealed a very handsome, tall Sunghoon, Heeseung immediately shrunk back. He felt so small and insignificant, especially with the cold glare coming from sunghoons eyes. “Y/n’s not here,” he says without a single hello which hurt heeseung like heck 'cause they used to be pretty damn close, but apparently, he managed to fuck that up too.

“O-oh,” he gulped, eyes trained on his feet. “W-when wi-will” he was so nervous he could barely even breathe, let alone form a proper sentence.

“Don’t know, is there anything else you need? I’m busy.” heeseung looked up, finally meeting sunghoons gaze.

“Could I maybe t-talk to you? I’m sure y/n already told you, but-“Sunghoon opened the door fully, and heeseung entered the home looking like a dejected little boy.

Sunghoon led him to his room just in case you came home soon. He didn’t want you seeing heeseung there in case it made you uncomfortable.

“Your place is nice.” heeseung took a seat on the chair by his desk, the roses he bought for you still clutched tightly in his sweaty palm.

“Thanks,” Sunghoon mutters and takes a seat on his bed, angry but still interested in the other side of the story cause he wants to know what turned heeseung into the man you told him about.

“First, I’m sorry for hurting y/n. I know she’s your best friend, and I know this is probably just as hard for you as her,” he sighed, lowering his head in shame, but he couldn’t be a coward now, so he picked his head up staring at sunghoon with the most intense gaze he could muster. “There’s no excuse for the way I treated her these past months. I’m just a terrible fucking person,” he chuckles pathetically at himself. “I did stupid things, and saying it out loud sounds so fucking ridiculous, but I got around the wrong crowd, and what was supposed to be jokes about our annoying wives soon turned into my reality, going to the bar and hanging out with other married men you know letting the steam off or so I thought” he taps his leg a nervous habit that never seemed to go away until he met you, but he sees it’s making a little comeback. “Only that same attitude followed me home, and next thing you know, we’re getting into fights, not talking for days on end, but that didn’t stop me. It just gave me more shit to talk about the next day at the bar, and apparently, a few laughs and drinks were better than my own wife” he doesn’t even know when he started crying, but he did, and he didn’t even try to hide it. “At the end of the day, I was always sorry, but I never told her that,” he sniffles. “I love her. That woman is my life, and if she’d give me just one more chance, I’d never fuck it up ever agai-“

Heeseung looked like he had just seen a ghost. sunghoon was waiting for him to continue, but he never did. The sight of your sleepwear on your friend's bed was enough to leave him speechless he felt anger, jealousy hurt sadness all at once, but he couldn’t blame anyone but himself, and now he felt so fucking stupid for thinking he even had a chance with you again he sat there like a fool up all night thinking of words to say to you to show you he still loved you meanwhile you had already moved on and were making love to another man.

He smiles at Sunghoon softly despite his heart being shattered. “Here, give these to her. These are her absolute favorite.” he pats Sunghoon on his shoulder while the younger man just stares at him, bewildered by his sudden change in demeanor.

Heeseung felt horrible now, but knowing you were with somebody better made his heart feel at ease. sunghoon was a great man. heeseung knew you’d be safe, loved, and happy with your childhood best friend, and that made him happy even if he wasn’t the man behind all your laughs and beautiful smiles. “Protect that woman with your life, and don’t ever take her for granted.”

Heeseung let himself out in a matter of seconds, the air finally circulating in his lungs the moment he stepped outside on the porch.

He took a deep, shaky breath before the tears started to fall, yet again, he quickly got inside his car and drove home.

Once he made it safely, he went straight to the bedroom to willingly put his signature on the divorce papers. He was happy you wouldn’t have to be tied to someone like him anymore cause you deserve so much more.

A few tear drops fell, wetting the papers, but he had already signed and made his decision with the understanding that you’d never come back to him.

Permanent taglist:®• @hello-stranger24 @ashxsmoon @lhsggg @scarlet127 @bunhoons @axartia @kpopscruggles @badidealy @heeseungleeworld @jayroseyy @bangchanhasbigfeet @duolingofanaccount @oceanyocean @hee-in @heesgirl @bambisgirl @heeaddict @heartandfangs @nyxtwixx @iamliacamila @ramenoil @mimikittysblog

Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night♥️

#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen lee heeseung smut #enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #enha heeseung #engene #heeseung angst #lee heeseung angst #heeseung enhypen #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen hard hours #kpop smut #enhypen fluff

584 notes · View notes