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freedomfireflies · 20 days

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Pillow Talk*

Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Come on. Just one time.”

“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”

You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it.

“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”

You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”

“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”

You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine.

But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.

“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”

There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.

You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.

Or maybe it won’t.

But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.

So, with that thought…you open the door.

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.

And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.

He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.

“What?” you huff.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”

“Okay…?”

“You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. It’s nice.”

You cross your arms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.

“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.

“Right, yeah.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.

When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Why?”

Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”

He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”

Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Never thought I’d have to say it.”

“Mm. You changed your mattress.”

“Obviously.”

“And the sheets and blankets, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”

“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”

“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“Bite me.”

He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”

“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions.

You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.

And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”

You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”

“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Yeah. I know.”

More quiet.

“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence.

Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”

“Right.”

“And I just figured—”

“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.

The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.

“What?” you eventually hiss.

“Are you dating someone?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”

“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”

“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”

“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”

Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”

His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”

You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”

“Vanilla?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”

“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”

You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”

“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”

Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”

“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”

“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”

“So he’s not vanilla?”

“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”

“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”

“I…yeah. Uh-huh.”

Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”

“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”

“So what he’d do?”

“Harry—”

“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”

“Ew, no—”

“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”

You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”

“And…?”

“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”

“Sure.”

Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”

Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”

“I guess. It could have been worse.”

“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”

You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”

“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”

“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”

He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”

You turn back. “What?”

“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”

“Poppy—”

“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”

“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”

“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”

“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”

“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”

You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”

He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”

“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”

“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”

“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”

He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”

“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”

“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”

“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”

“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”

“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”

“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”

“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”

“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”

“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”

He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.

Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.

But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.

Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.

He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.

The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.

He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say.

His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”

You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”

He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”

“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”

Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.

He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.

Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.

However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.

“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”

“Hm. Don’t push it.”

“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?”

“Maybe.”

“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”

“…not exactly.”

“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.

“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”

“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”

He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”

He smirks. “How romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”

So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.

Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over.

He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.

And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out.

Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.

He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.

You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.

But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?

There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment.

Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh.

And just like that…

It’s over.

You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.

He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.

Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”

You blink. “Um…okay.”

He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”

The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”

“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”

“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.”

“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”

“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”

“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”

“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”

“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself—”

“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”

“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”

He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”

He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”

You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”

His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”

You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”

His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.

“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”

You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

And deep down…you know he’s right.

“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”

Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.

Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.

So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit.

You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.

Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.

And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.

“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”

“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”

“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”

“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”

“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”

“Harry. Come on. I know you.”

“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”

You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”

“No?” He grins. “Why not?”

“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”

He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”

You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”

He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”

You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one.

He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.

Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy.

“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”

“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”

“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”

You pout. “Mhm.”

He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle.

And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment.

“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.

“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”

You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.

He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon.

But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.

You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.

You glance up.

“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”

“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”

He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

The soft strokes against your spine slow.

“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”

“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”

You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.

But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.

“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”

“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.”

“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”

More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.

And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Another pause. You don’t know what to say.

“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”

You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”

“Did we?”

“Harry…”

“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”

“Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”

“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”

“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.

But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.

“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”

You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat.

“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”

You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.

You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.

“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further.

He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”

You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.

His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”

You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”

He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”

“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”

He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”

You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”

“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, you did, huh?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”

You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”

“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”

“We did indeed.”

“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”

“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”

“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”

“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”

“And does it work?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”

He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”

“I imagine you, too.”

You blink. “You do?”

“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop.

Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.

Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent.

Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.

Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.

The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.

He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.

You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.

You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot.

You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave.

And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.

You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.

Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.

But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.

“Make me a deal,” you whisper.

He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”

“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”

His eyes open.

“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”

He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.

Even if it’s just as friends.

Exes.

Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.

His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.

You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.

You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open.

You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.

And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Good morning, Poppy.”

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry

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scealaiscoite · 2 months

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valentine’s prompts; tropes ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍊 ꒱

ੈ✩‧₊˚ friends to lovers

¹⁾ “you really planned this?! remind me how you’re single, again?”

²⁾ “thanks for making today a little less depressing.”

³⁾ “has it occurred to you that we’ve spent more valentine’s days with each other than with people we’ve actually been dating?”

⁴⁾ “c’mon, like i need an excuse to spend time with you.”

⁵⁾ “i can’t help but think that this is a little more effort than someone would normally put in for their friend.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ coworkers to lovers

¹⁾ “if you’re still wondering who left those flowers at your desk, i think i’m ready to put your mind at ease.”

²⁾ “you’re telling me you really have nowhere better to be than here today?”

³⁾ “c’mon, it’s not like haven’t shared a dinner whilst working late before. it doesn’t have to mean anything different just because of the day that’s in it.”

⁴⁾ “someone’s been leaving valentines for me all over the building today, and i’m pretty sure i know who.”

⁵⁾ “i don’t have any plans after work, and i know you haven’t either. how about we keep each other company instead of spending it alone?”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ roommates to lovers

¹⁾ “before you say anything about me being at home tonight, i want to remind you that you are too.”

²⁾ “i thought that since we both had nowhere to be today, we could make a day of it. just ourselves.”

³⁾ “i’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything i need to know about how your date went.”

⁴⁾ “wow, someone’s looking good. hot date, or what?”

⁵⁾ “i’m happy i got to spend the day with someone i actually care about.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ exes to lovers

¹⁾ “don’t tell me; you had so much fun with me last year, that you just couldn’t resist spending it with me again.”

²⁾ “wow, you really don’t have anyone special in your life at the minute.”

³⁾ “ i wanted to treat you how i should’ve before.”

⁴⁾ “you really thought i wouldn’t remember what you like? please, give me a little credit.”

⁵⁾ “maybe if things had gone like this every year, we wouldn’t have ended up the way we did.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ secret relationship

¹⁾ “are you telling me we can’t do anything to mark the day?”

²⁾ “i understand if you don’t want to, but i wanted to tell you that i planned a few things for us today.”

³⁾ “it’s so much less than what you deserve, but it’s all i could think to do given the circumstances.”

⁴⁾ “and here i was, expecting just an anonymous bunch of flowers.”

⁵⁾ “i couldn’t think of a better night to show everyone how in love with you i am.”

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xspeter · 24 days

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𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝘾𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙋𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙋𝙚𝙣𝙨 (𝙒𝙖𝙞𝙩 𝙐𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙈𝙚 𝘼𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣) / Part One

❣︎ 𝗦𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

❣︎ Steve remembers the exact moment he ruined everything. He remembers when those blinds closed for the last time, and he lost you for good. But, it’s been a year since then, and Steve is determined to make you fall in love with him again.

❣︎ wc: 16.4k

❣︎ notes: 𝙚𝙭𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙚!𝙖𝙪, jason carver gets handsy with reader but nothing happens, some cussing

reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

September, 1979

You’d met Steve Harrington a week before your first day of seventh grade. You’d just moved to Hawkins from some small town in Pennsylvania - apparently your parents were big on the small town life - and you had been terrified.

You’d spent your entire life with the same group of kids and the same friends. You didn’t want to leave them, but you didn’t have any choice. And to a thirteen-year-old you, it felt like your parents were stabbing you in the back.

You still remember the tears that rolled down your cheeks as you helped your parents move the boxes holding your childhood items out of the U-Haul and into your brand new bedroom. Your mom did her best to cheer you up, “Look,” She spoke softly, tugging you into her side, “It’s so much bigger than your old room. Isn’t that nice?”

You just cried harder.

It was true, your dads new job in Hawkins was rolling in money like your family had never seen before, but you didn’t care about those kinds of things, you never had. You cared about the people and the memories you had to leave behind.

But, of course, none of that mattered at this point. You’d left. You still had your friends' numbers memorized, but how long would it be before it faded from your mind, and your number faded from theirs? The thought made you nauseous.

You spent that first night sniffling, surrounded by scattered cardboard boxes and various items. You didn’t even have your bed frame yet, the U-Haul had gotten delayed for whatever reason, so you were stuck with a mattress laid onto the dusty hardwood floor.

But, like there is with almost everything, there was a silver lining. Your books.

To most people, books are just that. Books. They’re boring, expensive, and seen as a way to waste time and nothing else. They don’t see them for what they really are.

To you (and your friends back home), a book was an escape. It was the perfect way to spend your time and the perfect hobby, and right now, it was the only thing keeping you from breaking down.

Your current book was about four sisters who all were navigating through different paths in life, and all finding different ways to deal with the world around them. It was a classic, and you saw a bit of yourself in all of the sisters. (The painter a little more than the others in all honesty.)

It was simple yet complex in all the right places and definitely one of your favorite books this year. You continue to read it through glassy eyes, doing your best to keep your mind off of your current situation, when suddenly there’s a bang at your window.

You jump up, arms instinctively hugging the open book to your chest. There was another one, and then another, and then another, before you finally swallow harshly and work up the courage to approach the glass. You placed your book gently onto the hardwood next to you, the spine up as it laid flat, and softly padded towards the noise.

Goosebumps rose onto your skin as you did, your short clad legs attempting to get used to the cold air around you now that you’d left the safety of your blankets.

At first, you couldn’t make anything out except for the house next to you and the starry night sky, but then you saw the cause of the noise. A rock. Someone was throwing rocks at your window.

You furrowed your brows and looked towards the ground, and low-and-behold some boy was standing outside your window. He had dark brown hair, wore a green sweatshirt with what you’re assuming is a school logo on it, and gray shorts.

Hesitantly, you unlocked your window and hauled it up, but not before another rock hurled its way straight at your neck. It hit you smack in the middle of your throat, causing you to choke for a moment and grab at the area. “Ow!”

The boy winced and immediately dropped the rest of the rocks in his hand, (why did he have so many rocks? At least ten fell out of his hand!) “Sorry!” He yelled out.

You glared at him, hand rubbing soothingly at your now sore throat, “Who are you?”

“Uh, Steve - Steve Harrington. I live next door.” He pointed at the house next to you, “You see that window?” He gestured to the one directly across from your own, “That’s my room.”

You nodded, eyes narrowing into thin slits, “Alright, Steve. If your room is right across from mine, why didn’t you just stay up there instead of going through the trouble of pelting rocks at me?”

Steve stills for a moment, and you can physically see the gears turning in his head. “Um,” He stumbles for a moment, “Give me one second.” You can hear him practically sprinting back into his house, his sandals smacking against the ground as he goes, and you can’t help but snicker.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t find the twenty seconds you’d spent with the boy so far to be the most enjoyable of this whole week, but it had. It was almost strange to you - to be talking to a boy. All of your friends back home had been girls, and you mostly stayed away from the boys. To you, they felt like unknown territory. What did they like to talk about? What did they like to do for fun? Did they have any interest in a girl like you? Would they ever have any interest in a girl like you?

All of your friends had had a boy like them at some point in time, some of them had already had boyfriends! But not you. No, never you.

Boys didn’t look at you. Steve was the first to ever even show any interest in you at all. It made your stomach flutter.

Soon enough, the light across from you flicks on and you watch curiously as Steve stumbles across piles of clothes and other knick-knacks to reach you. He struggles with the window for a second, before it suddenly pops open with a slight screech.

“Hey,” He smiled, breaths coming out a bit heavy.

Your lips twitched upwards at the corners, “Welcome back.” You teased.

Steve slapped his arms at his sides and let his head dip to the side, his eyes rolling a bit as he did, “I’m sure you missed me.”

You furrowed your brows, “You were gone for, like, five seconds. And I don’t even know you. Why would I miss someone I don’t know?”

“Uh, because I'm super buff and attractive?”

A snort slipped from you at that comment, “Yeah, okay. Keep telling’ yourself that.”

“I will.”

There’s a short pause between the two of you, and you nibble on your bottom lip. You’d never been able to banter so easily with many other people before. It made you excited.

“Soooo, where are you from?” Steve asks, effectively breaking the silence.

You sighed and leaned your elbows against the sill, your chin falling atop your hands, “Pennsylvania.” You answered dryly.

Steve nodded and copied your actions so that you were face to face, “I’ve never been there. I mean, my dad has for his work, but I never have personally.” He rambles.

You click your tongue, “That’s cool.”

Steve nods slowly, “Why’d you guys move?”

“Are you interrogating me?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

You quickly shake your head, “No, I do. I just wasn’t expecting so many questions,” you chuckled, nervously tucking a stray piece if hair behind your ear, “Um, my dad got a new job here. Some bank job or something, I’m not really sure.”

Steve perked up, “My dad works at the bank too! Maybe they work together.”

You shrugged, “Maybe.”

Steve licked his lips and glanced down at the ground below you. The both of you were only on the second story, but the grass felt so much farther away then it really was. “You don’t seem very excited about it.”

You bit your lip, eyes darting across his tanned skin. The summer had done wonders on him, but you were sure the upcoming school year would fade it away. “Because I’m not.”

“Why?”

You gave him a look, “Would you wanna move away from all your friends?”

Steve paused to think for a moment. To him, leaving Tommy and Carol wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. He could start over and ditch the reputation he’d built, but he knew that wasn’t the answer you were looking for, so instead he said, “No, I guess not.”

You gestured with your hand and huffed out a breath, “My point exactly.”

Steve shrugged, “Well, Hawkins isn’t all bad. It’s not like there’s monsters hiding out around here or something.” He joked.

You could help but laugh along with him. There was something about the way he always had something positive to say to make you feel better, or maybe that was just how you were observing him in the last ten minutes. “You’re funny, you know that?”

Steve scoffed out a laugh, standing back and crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to look nonchalant, “Duh, of course I know that.”

You snickered, “Don't let it get to your head.”

“Too late. I can already feel my skull growing to accommodate.”

Your body shook as you laughed, moving your face under your hands to hide yourself. Steve mentally fist pumped at making you laugh like that, and he prayed he’d hear it again, and soon.

Once your laughter died down and all was left was silence, Steve asked, “Are you going to Hawkins Middle for school? Or did your parents enroll you in that Catholic place down the street?”

You shrugged, “Well, I’ve never heard of the Catholic place down the street, so I’m gonna say Hawkins Middle.”

Steve grinned, “Great! I go there, too. You can totally sit with me at lunch and stuff.”

“I’d be grateful to be allowed in your presence.” You tease, pretending to bow your head.

Steve just smirked, “I’d expect nothing less.”

You and Steve spent practically all night talking. He’d gone down to his kitchen at some point for a snack and came back upstairs with two bowls of chips. After many failed attempts, some including one of you nearly falling to your death, you were able to grab the chip bowl meant for you.

Once both of you were full and content, it was already nearing midnight. If your parents saw you up and talking to Steve, you’d be in so much trouble.

“I think I’d better head to bed.” You mumbled, a sad smile on your face.

Steve nodded and wiped his palms on his pants, “Yeah, me too.”

You didn’t want this to be a one time thing in all honesty. You really, really enjoyed talking to Steve, and you hoped he really, really enjoyed talking to you as well.

You opened your mouth to tell him so, but decided against it, so all that fell from your lips was a simple, “Goodnight, Steve.”

He gave you a sappy smile, “Goodnight…” His eyebrows furrowed and he blinked excessively, “Wait, you never told me your name.”

He was right. You hadn’t realized it, but you never thought to tell Steve your name.

“It’s Y/N.”

Steve just chuckled and placed his hands above his head onto the window, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

❣︎

That following week had been filled with late night conversations between you and Steve. They’d always start the same - you’d be laying in your bed reading a book (you’d gotten your bed frame finally), Steve would throw something at your window, and then you’d talk and share a bowl of chips.

In all honesty, this tradition had become your rock. It felt like the one thing that was really yours in this new town.

That last night before the first day of school, Steve had seemed troubled, his brows crinkled and he wasn’t talking as much as he normally did.

“Whats wrong?” You asked hesitantly. You weren’t sure if you and Steve were at the point in your relationship where you could be open with each other. In all honesty, you were expecting him to say something like oh, i’m fine or nothing, why? But he didn’t, instead he said, “I’m worried about tomorrow.”

You furrowed your brows. Steve had been practically shouting from the rooftops how excited he was for you to meet all of his friends just two days before. “Why?” You asked, “I thought you were excited?”

Steve bit his lip, “I was.” He sighed, “But I went to this pool party at a friends house today and it just.. it reminded me of some stuff I’d forgotten about.” Well, that explained his fresh tan.

You weren’t sure how to reply to him. You didn’t want to push him or make him feel pressured to say anything, but you were also curious. “Was it.. was it bad?”

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “Honestly? Um, kind of.” He groaned, eyes shut as he tried to find the words, “Tommy and Carol… they’re not the best people. And I know that I shouldn’t be friends with them but,” he paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose. You wanted to reach out and comfort him. “I feel like I owe them, you know? I was a real lonely kid and they were the first people who ever made an attempt to get to know me, but now…” He trailed off, his forehead hitting the windowsill as he dipped his head.

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. You didn’t know Tommy or Carol, the only things you knew about them were what Steve had said, which were only good things.

You crossed your knees, left heel popped as you nibbled on your lower lip in thought. If Steve really felt this bad about whatever they were doing, then the right thing would be to distance from them, but you didn’t know his situation. To Steve, he felt as if he owed them something, even though friendship isn’t something that should have to be repaid.

You sucked in a breath, socked feet tapping rapidly at the hardwood below you, “It’s okay to grow out of friendships, you know?” You mumbled. “It’s happened to me, and we both parted ways happily without some big, dramatic fallout. If you really feel that way about them, maybe it’s time you do the same.”

Steve was silent for a few moments, and you couldn’t help but feel badly for him. “Thanks Y/N, but…” He took a deep breath and shook his head lightly, “I just don’t think that’s something I can do. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

You were a little shocked when he ended the conversation so suddenly, and were worried you’d said something to bother him. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

He chuckled softly, messy brown hair falling over his eyes, “Don't worry, It’s not you. But I've really gotta get to bed, okay?”

Unconvinced, you just nod. “Alright… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Steve crashes into his bed with a muffled groan, pink lips pulled down into a frown. In all of reality, he’d gone to this party and boasted to everyone about his new neighbor. And instead of being happy and excited to have a new person in the group, Tommy and Carol had grimaced at the thought.

“What’s her name again?” She asked, legs crossed as she sat on the purple lawn chair.

“Y/N.”

Tommy snickered and leaned over to whisper something in Carol's ear, and she got that knowing smirk on her face. The one that practically dripped venom. “Oh, you little friend can totally hang out with us.” She said, tone heavy with sarcasm, “She seems just peachy!”

Steve’s stomach immediately twisted, his intuition practically screaming at him to realize it’s a setup, and to do everything in his power to keep you away from it.

“Come on, guys,” He grumbled, wiping a hand over his face as water dripped from his hair onto the concrete below him, “will you please just be nice?”

Carol crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips, “What makes you think we’re not gonna be nice to her, Stevie?”

His nose scrunched at the nickname, anytime Carol called him that he knew he’d struck a nerve. “I’m not trying to say you won’t be, it’s just… I really like her and I don’t want her to stop talking to me if you guys do something.”

Carol snorted, her red hair falling over her shoulder as she did, “You like her? You don’t even know her!”

Steve’s cheeks flush a bright pink as he sinks further into his chair. Yes, it was true that he’d grown the tiniest crush on you during your late night talks, but he couldn’t help it! You were so kind and soft-spoken, and you always knew how to make him laugh. And the fact that you were one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen was just the icing on the cake. How could he not fall the smallest bit in love with you?

That next morning you’d been practically shaking in the car. Your mom assured you over and over that it’d be a good day and you’d make lots of new friends, but it wasn’t that you were nervous about.

Sure, school without friends sucked but you could live just fine without them. No, you were worried about Steve. He’d been worried about something his friends had said, and you had a sinking feeling it had something to do with you.

As soon as you stepped foot onto campus you were immediately looking for Steve. You’d seen him leave his house a couple minutes before you did, so you assumed he was already here, you just weren’t sure where.

You swallowed as you walked through the crowded halls. There were groups of girls reuniting after summer vacations spent in Europe, guys with tan skin and even brighter eyes, but no Steve.

You get through your whole first period class with zero sign of the brunette boy, and it’s not until you’re halfway to your second do you catch a glimpse of him. His back is turned to you, but you could recognize that laugh anywhere.

Shyly, you walk up to him. You can see he’s with a freckled boy and red headed girl, who you assume are his friends, Tommy and Carol.

Carol notices you first, and she eyes you up and down with precision. She smacks on her gum before she nudges Tommy and gestures her head in your direction.

The both of them stare at you for so long that by the time you even make it to Steve’s side he’s already turning to face you.

Surprise flashes on his face, but it’s soon replaced with happiness, and then something you can’t quite read. The smile on his face is strained as he says, “Y/N! Hey!”

You give him a small wave back, nerves crawling up your spine at the hungry look Carols giving you. Like you’re her next meal.

“Oh my gosh!” She practically squeals, grabbing your arm and forcing you closer to her. You nearly stumble to the ground from the force but Steve grabs your shoulder and steadies you. “Steve told us so much about you!” She leered, well manicured hands hugging you close to her body.

You pushed away from her gently, uncomfortable with all of the attention, “Oh. That’s nice.” You glance at Steve to try and get a read from him, but his face is blank. He meets your gaze apologetically and crosses his arms over his chest, “Leave her alone, Carol.” He mutters.

Tommy flashes his teeth with a hateful grin, “Oh, come on,” He snickers, “we just wanna know your girlfriend better.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Steve defends, eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

Carol rolls her eyes at him and then turns her attention back to you, “Look, why don’t you eat lunch with us today, hm?” She asks, batting her lashes.

Your eyes dart to Steve. You don’t want to invade his space (even though he’d said you could eat lunch with him days ago), and you can tell he’s clearly uncomfortable with the way Tommy and Carol are acting, so you attempt to say, “Oh, I don’t think-”

Carol cuts you off, “We’ll see you there, okay?” She draws out the syllables in the okay, linking her arm with Tommy’s and then walking away without allowing you to answer.

You and Steve watch them go, and you begin to bite your nails, a nervous habit you’d been trying to break. “I didn’t mean to-” You begin, hoping Steve isn’t too angry with you including yourself like this, but he just shakes his head with a sigh. “It’s.. fine. It’s not like Carol gave you much choice.” He attempts to joke, and you let out an awkward laugh.

Steve eyes you, clearly unsure of how to release the tension surrounding the both of you, but the late bell does it for you.

You barely bid him a short goodbye before you’re reaching for the map in your back pocket and leaving Steve behind to stand awkwardly in the hallway alone.

He watches you leave, stomach flipping at whatever he knows Carol must have planned for lunch.

Unlike Tommy, Carol was calculated. Tommy would be mean on the spot, he didn’t really plan out any of the things he did, they more so just happened. But Carol, she’d plan them for weeks.

Once, she’d pretended to be friends with Jacey Collins for nearly the entire fifth grade year just so she could embarrass her at her birthday party. Steve doesn’t know what Carol did, but whatever it was, it was bad enough to make Jacey move schools.

So, yeah, he was a little nervous for lunch.

He was even more nervous every time he’d catch Tommy and Carol giggling with each other, both refusing to tell Steve what the hell they were talking about, and instead promising he’d find out soon enough.

By fourth period, their last period before lunch, Steve had had enough. Carol was whispering something in Tommy’s ear, casually glancing at Steve as she did. Finally fed up, steve smacked his hand on the desk and said, “Carol, whatever you're planning, just quit it, okay? Y/N’s a nice girl, and she doesn’t deserve whatever twisted joke you and numb nuts are planning.” He smacked Tommy upside the head, causing the boy to rub at the spot gently.

Carol glowered, her eyes thin slants, “If you really have that much of an issue with it, why don’t you go sit with your little girlfriend in the bathroom or something. I’m sure she’d love that.” She giggled with a suggestive wiggle of her brows.

Tommy cackled, “I could totally see her and Steve getting it on in the bathroom.”

Steve scrunched his nose, “Gross, man!” He shoved Tommy in his chair, and then focused his attention back onto Carol, “This is the only time I’ve ever asked you to do basically anything for me. So please, just this once, can you just be nice?”

Carols lips thinned into a line as she swung her feet back in forth in her chair, back resting against the plastic seat. “If I leave your little,” she pretended to gag, “girlfriend alone, what’re you gonna do for me?”

Steve should’ve known that Carol Perkins does not do anything for anyone unless there’s something in it for her. He shrugged, “Anything you want.”

A cheshire grin immediately spread onto her glossy lips, “Anything?”

“Yep,” Steve huffed with annoyance, “anything.”

She shared a look with Tommy, the both of them almost looked to be communicating with just their eyes. “Okay,” She suddenly slapped her palms onto her lap, “We want full 24/7 access to your pool for the rest of the summer.”

Steve immediately groaned and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t use the excuse that his parents would get mad at him because his parents were never home anyway and they knew that. That’s why she asked him, because she knew they could get away with practically anything there.

He’s tempted to say no, to refuse and let Carol have her way with you, but then he thinks about the soft smile you get on your face everytime he opens his window, and he knows there’s no way he could do that to you.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” He already knows this is a bad idea, but he reminds himself who he’s doing it for. “The pool is completely yours.”

Carol squeals happily, immediately turning to Tommy to discuss what Steve assumes are the things they’ll do together, but he drowns them out.

All he knows is that you won’t have to be subjected to Carol’s cruelty, and that makes the whole thing worth it.

But, he should’ve known Carol would find a loophole.

By the time lunch came the knot that had formed in Steve’s stomach had disappeared, and he was actually excited to see you.

Tommy spotted you first, a yellow tray in your hand as your eyes darted across the room. “God, she looks like a puppy.” He snickered in Steve’s ear.

Steve shook him off, muttering a quiet shut up under his breath as he made himself known to you.

“Y/N! Hey.” You’d never looked so relieved to see him as you do now, your furrowed brows immediately relaxing. “Hi.” you murmured.

“Uh, I’ll take you to our table.”

You gazed down to his empty hands, “Aren’t you gonna get lunch?”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at your words, “Oh, no. We never eat lunch here.” He gestured with his head to the rest of his friends, who were already sitting and were also without lunch.

Your gaze dropped down to your own tray, and you suddenly felt insecure. At your old school, you and your friends always ate lunch, you didn’t even know it was a thing not to. “Should I…” You trailed off, gesturing to the trash can. Steve immediately shook his head, “Oh, no! I mean if you’re hungry then you should eat.”

You nodded and squared your shoulders. Steve was right, no one was gonna care if you were eating lunch or not. It was just your insecurities speaking.

You gave him a genuine smile and let him lead you to the table, you sat next to him obviously, on the outside of everyone else.

Carol flashed a grin at you, “I’m so happy you decided to come! For a second there we thought you might run off to the bathrooms with the freaks!” She giggled. The comment made your stomach churn, but you were sure it was just some harmless joke, right? You forced a laugh, “Oh, no. I was just confused in the whole lunch situation.” You said, pointing to the empty spaces around them.

Carol hummed, pretending to be intrigued, “Oh, we never eat lunch here. It makes you gain, like, twenty pounds in just a day!” All of Carol's friends giggled, and that nervous feeling in your stomach suddenly came back tenfold.

“Oh,” You swallowed, “I didn’t know that..”

“Of course you didn’t, silly!” She eyed you up and down, “Actually, do you want me to throw that away for you? It’s probably a good thing you don’t eat that you wouldn’t want to..” She trailed off with a wince.

Tommy let out a loud laugh, “Yeah, no offense, but how often did you eat your other schools lunch? It kind of shows.”

“Tommy!” Steve shouted suddenly, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

To you, your body had never really been an insecurity for you. But Carol and Tommy’s comments suddenly have you folding your arms over your stomach in an attempt to hide.

Tommy pursues his lips, “It’s just the truth!”

Steve just scoffed and stood roughly from his spot, “Come on, Y/N.” You immediately followed him, doing your best to avoid Carol's smirk as she watched you walk away.

Steve led you into the empty hallway, hands clenched at his sides in anger. “God, I am so sorry. I should’ve known they’d say some dumb shit like that-”

“Hey, hey,” You shushed him, “It’s fine. You didn’t know. We did the right thing by leaving.”

The guilt still didn’t leave Steve though, because deep down he did know something was going to happen. He knew Carol wouldn’t stop just because Steve offered her something. And the thing about her was she was so subtle about it that it seems like she doesn’t know what she’s saying is mean, when in all actuality, she does.

“No, still, I shouldn’t have let you sit there.”

You sighed, “Look, maybe I just..” You swallowed, “Why don’t we just keep our friendship out of school, okay? I’ll find some friends on my own.”

Steve’s lips parted slightly, eyebrows crinkling together in confusion, “So I'm just supposed to ignore you?”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips, “I’m not saying that. We just won’t go out of our way to see each other.”

Steve sucked in a breath. Doing that made it seem like he was ashamed to be friends with you, which was honestly anything from the truth. If anything, he was ashamed to be friends with them.

“I don’t want you to think…”

“I won’t think anything,” You reassured, “This was my idea anyway. And besides, this way we can keep everything more private.”

Steve took a breath and let himself soak in the information. You would still be friends, just not at school. Easy.

“Okay,” He said, “I’ll see you tonight then.”

June, 1986

Present Day

Getting a summer job at the bookstore was honestly one of the best things you think you could’ve done. After graduation, and the unfortunate mall fire at Starcourt which destroyed your job at The Gap, you’d been out of work and living with your parents.

For most people, nineteen is a normal age to be living with your parents, especially when you’re putting yourself through school like you are because you’re parents refuse to pay because you chose a local college instead of the prestigious one they’d picked out for you across the country.

Your parents were disappointed with your choices and you knew that, but you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving just yet. There were so many relationships you weren’t ready to end and so many things left unsaid with.. certain people.

Like Robin for example. You’d both met a couple weeks after your seventh grade year started. She was a year younger than you were, but she was still the closest friend you had outside of, well, yeah. Steve.

Yours and Steve’s relationship had grown much more complex as the years went on, and long story short, you didn’t talk to him anymore. It hurt too much to do so.

But, Bookish was almost like an escape for you. Most of the people that came in were either kids with their mothers, usually just beginning to fall in love with books just as you did, or they were elderly people who'd fallen in love with it way before you’d even been born.

Robin working there with you only made it better. She used to work at Scoops Ahoy in the mall, along with he-who-shall-not-be-named, but once it burned down she’d been left without a job just as you had.

She’d been over at your house during spring break, the both of you watching Footloose. You on your back, head hanging off of the edge of your bed. Robin rested her back against the headboard, shoveling another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “You know,” Her words came out muffled, so she paused to let herself chew the rest of her food. “That new bookshop or whatever opened a couple weeks ago. Maybe we should apply there.”

You readjusted so you were leaning back into your elbows, a slight raise of your brow. “Bookish? I just went there the other day.”

Robin nodded and popped another piece of popcorn in her mouth, “Did you see if they were hiring?”

You scrunch your nose, trying to remember. During your visit, you’d been too preoccupied trying to find the best book to purchase and hadn’t really looked. “I have no idea. But, if they're new, they probably have to be.”

Robin agrees with you with a nod of her head, and the both of you decide to finish out the movie and then drive down. Robin unfortunately doesn’t have a license, so that meant you were basically forced to drive her everywhere. Well, either you or Steve.

Robin used to hate Steve, even while you were friends with him. She was one of the only people who was aware of your friendship and what it had turned into, and she constantly reprimanded you for getting involved with a guy like that.

But, once they started working together at Starcourt, her view completely changed, but by that time you and Steve were already avoiding each other like the plague.

You glanced at the window, wondering if maybe Steve was on the other side. You hadn’t opened that window or even the blinds for over a year, too afraid of what you might end up seeing.

“Hey, you ready?” Robin asks, throwing her jacket on and leaning against your doorframe. You swallow, eyes lingering on the blinds before you turn to her with a smile. “Let’s go.”

And that was that. You’d both gotten hired nearly on the spot by the sweet old lady who ran the store.

Bookish was one of those places that made you feel like you were entering a different time. The floor was dark oak wood and the walls were linen, and it was lined with rows and rows of books. Some were neatly displayed while others just stacked messily.

It was June in Indiana, which meant all the electric fans were going and the AC was cranked as high as it could go, but the warmth still seeped into the building.

“It’s so hot!” Robin groaned, leaning over the counter dramatically, “I’m gonna melt.”

You snorted as you continued to organize the books in the fiction section, “It’s not that bad.”

Robin smacked her lips, “You say that now, and then you’ll turn and see i’ve become a puddle on the floor.”

You placed a hand on your heart in false sympathy, eyes closing as you imagined the situation, “That would be so, so completely horrible.” You sniffled, pretending to be sympathetic, then whipped your head to her with a teasing glint in your eye, “But maybe I'd finally be able to get some work done without that constant whining in my ear!”

She scoffed, pretending to be offended. “This is not whining! It’s complaining. There’s a difference.”

You grinned and pushed the cart holding the books back behind the counter, “Doesn’t seem like it to me.”

She just rolls her eyes, slumping back into the counter with her head resting in her hand, “Whatever…” She trails off, eyes wondering across the building, and then she gasps suddenly, “Oh, shit.”

You turn to look at her, eyebrows crinkled, “What's wrong-” She cuts you off by basically pushing you to the wall, her hand covering your eyes.

“What the hell, Robin!” You huff, pushing on her arm in an attempt to release yourself form her hold.

“I am so, so sorry.”

“What are you talking about-” You��re finally able to push her away from you, her arm falling to her side as you blink in an attempt to get used to the lighting again. “Seriously, what is wrong with you?” You question, wiping your hands on your dress.

Robin bites her lip and stares right past you towards the front door, her eyes slightly wide.

You like to think that after so many years of knowing Robin you’ve become an expert on her body language, and right now it was practically screaming one thing. Panic.

Hesitantly, you allow yourself to look towards the front where Robin was staring. Honestly, based off of the look on her face you were expecting a monster or maybe even Tammy Thompson to be standing there, but the reality is much worse.

“What the hell is he doing here?”

Steve Harrington is casually conversing with Mrs. Beck, the old lady who runs the bookstore, like he’s known her for years. He’s got that soft smile on his face he always got when something made him happy, and his hair has grown a little since the last time you saw him. His face looks freshly shaven, and he’s wearing that god-awful bright yellow sweater you’d told him to burn years ago.

“I can explain.” Robin stammers, hands coming up to tug at her shirt the way she always does when she’s nervous.

You scrunch your nose and force yourself to turn away from him. It should’ve been a no-brainer that Steve being here had something to do with her, because you don’t think you’ve ever seen the boy pick up a book willingly his entire life.

You point an accusing finger at her, “What did you do?”

Robin swallows, jaw opening and closing as she tries to find the words to defend herself. Finally, she lets out a loud huff and smacks her hands against her sides, “He needed a job! Keith fired him over at Family Video because he was apparently “stealing all the hot ladies from him”, and I told him to come here without thinking! I promise I immediately regretted it and I tried to talk him out of it but it was like he pulled the application out of thin air!”

You rub your temples in an attempt to calm your budding nerves. You didn’t want to be angry with Robin because she didn’t deserve your anger for offering her friend a job, no matter what your history with said friend is, but you couldn’t help the growing irritation in the pit of your stomach. “Why didn’t you at least tell me? Then I could’ve at least prepared myself!”

Robin stutters over her words, hands gesturing wildly, “Because I knew you’d be mad!”

“I’m not mad!”

“Mad about what?”

You’re almost surprised Steve has the audacity to join the conversation so casually, as if you were still the best of friends who talked every night.

You swallow and squeeze your hands into fists at your sides until your knuckles are a pure shade of white. Robin just stares at him with parted lips, eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Uh,” She swallows, allowing herself to steal a glance at you, who has since paled significantly, “Nothing.”

Steve lets out a huh, his eyes lingering on you, who hasn’t had the courage to turn around and actually look at him, instead leaving him to stare at your back. Steve doesn’t mind though, a little bit of you is more than enough for him.

The three of you are at a stand-still, everyone waiting for one of you to make the first move, for someone to speak, to shout, scream, anything.

But you can’t move because this is the first time you’ve heard his voice in over a year. It's still smooth as butter and music to your ears. It’s the first time you’ve smelt his cologne, pine and oak but still with a hint of the ocean. It’s the first time you’ve been near him, and it hurts.

It hurts because you can’t help but wonder about how different your life would be if Steve hadn’t screwed everything up, if he hadn’t said what he said or did what he did.

The back of your throat begins to ache with an onslaught of tears fighting to be let out, but you swallow them down. You refuse to shed any more tears over him.

“What’re you doing here, Steve?” Even his name hurts to say.

“Robin, uh, she told me Mrs. Beck was hiring and, well, I needed a job..”

You finally whip around and face him, your hair following you as you do and harshly slapping against your face, but you ignore it. “That’s the only reason? I find that a little hard to believe.” You mumble the last part, eyes narrowing as you stare at him. Steve hadn’t realized how much he missed your glare.

“Yeah, it is. Why do you wanna know?” He asks with a suggestive taunt, almost as if he’s daring you to take the bait. You know how his mind works though, so you don’t fall for it.

“I just didn’t know if you finally decided you wanted to learn how to read s’all.”

Steve can’t help the smirk that grows on his face. “I was hoping you’d teach me, actually.”

You scoff, a shiver running up your spine in disgust. Of course he’d say some stupid shit like that, he always knew how to get on your nerves. “In your dreams, Harrington.”

Steve grinned, a snarky remark begging to spill from his lips, but you don’t let him. Instead, you flip him off and nearly jog into the back room, your legs shaking as you go.

Robin can’t help but feel concerned as she watches you leave, seeds of guilt already beginning to grow in her stomach. She furrowed her eyebrows and smacked Steve on the back of the head, causing him to let out a sharp yelp. “What was that for?” He grumbled, hand reaching back to nurse the spot.

“What was that for?” Robin mocked, nostrils flared as she pointed an accusing finger at Steve, “You said you were gonna try and win her back! Newsflash buddy, but making her even more angry than she already is isn’t gonna do that!”

“I know that!” Steve defends, “I know what i’m doing, okay? Just trust me.”

Robin was really beginning to regret this.

❣︎

March, 1981

By the time you and Steve started your freshman year of highschool you’d gotten involved in completely different social circles. Steve stayed with all of his popular friends, and was rapidly climbing the highschool food chain. You on the other hand, well, you were doing the opposite.

You weren’t exactly a weirdo per se, but you definitely weren’t cool enough to be associated with any of the popular kids, and that was completely fine with you.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but there is no universe where Queen is better than The Beatles. It’s just not a thing!”

“You’re just uneducated! Freddy Mercury is a musical genius!” You argue, pelting a potato chip across your window. It nearly hits him, but loses speed and falls to the grass instead.

He chuckles and leans back in his desk chair. You and Steve had both long since decided to just leave your chairs next to your windows, it only made sense since you spent hours talking each night. “I’m not saying he isn’t, but you’re forgetting about Beatlemania. Last I checked, there was never a thing like that for Queen.”

You groan and cross your arms over your chest, eyes flickering to the Queen vinyls on your shelves. “Just admit you’re wrong so we can move on, please.”

Steve is stubborn. He knows that on all levels, The Beatles are better than Queen. But you have that pleading look on your face, the one with the puppy dog eyes. The one Steve has never been able to say no to. He sighs and throws his head back, a lopsided grin on his face as he admits, “Fine, Queen is better.”

You smile gleefully and cross your legs, “Was that so hard?”

No, it wasn’t. If you looked at Steve like that and asked him to move the world, he’d do so without breaking a sweat.

“Yes, actually. It made me nauseous.”

“You’re such a baby.”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t spent these last two years falling in love with Steve Harrington. How could you not when he made it so effortless? Honestly, you didn’t even notice it was happening until one day you looked at him and suddenly it was like the stars aligned in front of you.

Sometimes, you’d catch yourself staring at him for too long at school and would have to physically rip yourself away and back to whatever lesson the teacher was babbling about or whatever rant your friend was on. He was just so… distracting. Especially now that he’d joined the swim team and had begun to fill out his clothes.

But, you could never have Steve. There was too much on the line. The most obvious being your friendship, and that was something you just couldn’t risk losing. It meant too much to you. But, sometimes you still let your mind wonder. You’d let yourself dream of kisses on cheeks, of love confessions done under covers and milkshakes shared over dinner.

You’d always have to stop though, because thinking about it for too long just made you sad.

The obvious fact that nobody outside of your family and Robin knew of your friendship with the boy was also a big problem with this fantasy. You knew how Steve’s friends were. If he began dating you secretly and suddenly stopped being interested in typical, well, boy things, it’d bring up questions that Steve couldn’t answer.

So the general consensus here was that Steve Harrington was off limits for the foreseeable future.

“What're you thinking about in that big brain of yours?” He asks softly, pushing a stray strand of hair out of his face.

You swallow, embarrassed to have been caught but also unsure of how to approach the question. “Nothing. Just.. thinking about this project for school.”

“What is it? Maybe I can help.”

You snorted. Steve was a lot of things - beautiful, funny, athletic - but helpful with anything school related? Absolutely not. “I doubt that.”

“No, seriously,” He straightened in his chair a bit, hitting the backrest comfortably, “hit me.”

You chuckled awkwardly, eyes avoidant. In all actuality, there wasn’t any project, it was just an excuse you made up on the spot. But, maybe you could play this in your favor.

“Well, we read this short story about this girl who’s in love with a guy she can never have, and no matter how many solutions she comes up with in her mind he will always be off-limits from her. We’re supposed to come up with a solution for her to show that, like, nothing is impossible, I guess…” You trailed off at the end, rubbing at your arm uncomfortably.

Steve made a strange noise in the back of his throat, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyebrows knitted together. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, and sucked in your bottom lip nervously. Would he know you were lying?

“That’s a weird project.” He mumbles, completely unaware of your wide eyes. “Uh, yeah, it is.” You stammered, the confused look on Steve’s face made you realize how stupid this was, and you immediately go to discard the entire thing, “Just forget it, It was stupid anyway-”

“I’d tell her to just go for it.”

Your mouth goes dry, “What?”

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? He says no? And what if that guy really does like her back, what then? She’ll never know if she doesn’t tell him!”

Your stomach practically explodes in nerves, and you're unsure of what to say. Steve’s looking at you expectantly, but all you can focus on is that one short phrase. She’ll never know if she doesn’t tell him.

It was true, but was it really that simple? No - it’s not. The risks are too great, and sure, Steve makes it seem so easy, but it’s not. Nothing is easy when it comes to your feelings for him.

The one thing you were almost certain of was that Steve doesn’t love you like you love him. It was obvious in the constant stares at prettier girls, with fuller figures and whitened smiles. It was obvious in the kisses he’d share with them behind bleachers, hidden away from prying eyes. It was obvious in the way he’d gush to you about his latest crush, of how beautiful they were and how in love he was. And the funny thing? They were always the opposite of you. More outspoken and confident - not afraid to show a little skin. Something you were envious of.

“But.. What if she does know? And she can never tell him because she knows he’ll reject her and then everything between them will never be the same again?”

Steve is a little surprised by your question, and he begins to feel nervous under your piercing gaze. Why were you asking him this? Did you.. did you know? There was no way you did - he always made sure to keep his feelings hidden away anytime he was with you. He’d fight down the blush, push away the longing - all of it. In all honesty, he was starting to question if this was for a project in the first place.

At first, your project had hit a little close to home, but he didn’t let himself overthink it. But now, his mind was practically swarming with uncharted waters he’d always ignored.

But, still, he amuses the question. “Maybe their relationship will change into the way she wants. She can’t assume the guy doesn’t like her just because he doesn’t show it. Maybe it’s there, and he’s just really good at hiding it.”

You no longer enjoyed this conversation. Now it just hurts - because Steve doesn’t even know what he’s doing to you. He’s giving you hope, and that’s a dangerous thing to have. It was something you couldn’t let yourself have.

You needed to get away from this conversation and honestly just let it die out. You needed to breathe in the fresh air, finally let yourself take a full breath instead of this constricted, shallow breathing you were currently experiencing.

“Do you wanna go for a bike ride?”

Steve snorts, shoulders rising and falling as he does. “Now? It’s almost midnight and we have school tomorrow -”

“I’ll go by myself then.” You’re already slipping in your tennis shoes before Steve can even argue, throwing a jacket on to protect yourself from the cold night.

Steve nearly jumps out of his chair, brown eyes amused and a smile tugging on his lips. Usually he was the one forcing you to sneak out with him, so this was a nice change of pace.

He meets you outside, watching as you wheel your light blue bike away from the side of the house and to the driveway.

“Where are we going?” He asks, throwing a leg over his own bike and gazing at the soft smile on your face.

“Anywhere.”

That's how you both find yourselves now, wide smiles on your faces as you ride through the quiet town. You were used to the quietness of Hawkins, but not like it is now. There’s not a soul in sight, the only thing illuminating the road in front of you being the yellow street lights.

Eventually, you find a nice hilltop to stop at, and the both of you practically collapse onto the grass.

You’re panting slightly from the ride, but you don’t even care. All you can focus on is the starry sky, thousands of different constellations making themselves known to you.

Sometimes, you think Steve is like a constellation. Beautiful to look at and widely studied, but untouchable. Only a select few got to go up and be with the stars, and you weren’t one of them.

“It’s beautiful out here,” You whisper, hands intertwining on your stomach comfortably.

Steve gazes at the side of your face from where he lays next to you, hands behind his head. “Yeah,” He breathes, forcing his gaze away from you and to the stars above, “It really is.”

You’re not sure how long you’re out there with him, you just know by the time you get back home you’re exhausted.

You and Steve barely spoke a word to each other that whole time, only occasionally pointing out a star that shined brighter than the others or made a funny shape.

But, as you collapse onto your bed and drift into a dreamless sleep there’s one thing you’re sure of.

You are in love with Steve Harrington, and you think you always will be.

❣︎

June, 1986

You’ve chosen to completely ignore Steve, even when he attempts to talk to you. You’ll simply stick your nose farther into your book and walk away from him.

You’ll give him some grace though, because he never takes your rejection harshly. He simply watches you walk away with a sigh and turns to talk to Robin about something.

Robin watches you turn tail and practically run away from Steve for what feels like the thousandth time this week, and she’s had enough. “Steve.”

He turns to look at her lazily, hip resting against the counter top and arms crossed against his chest. He’d attempted to ask you what you were reading today because he noticed it was different than the one he’d seen you with for the past couple of days, but as soon as you saw him approach you shot him an icy glare and walked to the other side of the store. He could see you now, sitting in the window nook comfortably.

“I’m not sure if you’re noticed, but you’re not really making any progress here.” Robin scolds in a hushed voice. She wants you to be happy, and for the past year you’ve been anything but. She’s had to comfort you through too many crying sessions, had to stay over because you couldn’t be alone way too many times, and had to watch you close those blinds for the last time and never open them again.

Robin remembers how you were before Steve went and messed everything up, and she selfishly wants that back. Don’t get her wrong, she still loves you more than life itself, but she knows what you’re like when you’re happy, and right now this is not it.

Steve crosses his arms over his chest, “I know that, Robin. But she won’t talk to me.”

She scoffs, “Can you blame her? You broke her heart! Personally, I wouldn’t talk to you either after something like that.”

Steve stares at the floor in front of him, shifting his position so his back is leaning against the counter instead of his hip.

Steve hates thinking about how he treated you during your senior year. Actually, he hates to think about how he treated you nearly all of highschool. You didn’t deserve it, and you were an angel for putting up with it. But, sometimes angels get pushed too hard.

He still remembers the tears that stained your cheeks as you begged him to explain himself, remembers the hoarseness in your voice as you screamed at him to leave. But, he thinks the thing that hurt the most was watching you close those blinds for the last time.

That was when he knew it was over. Anytime you’d argued in the past you’d always kept the blinds open, it was almost like a peace offering, like your silent way of telling him you guys would be okay.

“I don’t…” He swallows, “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Robin can’t help but feel sympathetic for him. She understands why you refuse to talk to him, hell, she’d probably do the same thing. But, she also knows Steve and she understands how much he regrets his decisions back then. She knows how heavily he was influenced by the people around him and the constant pressure to be King Steve.

“You need to show her you’ve changed, not just tell her. I could tell you I had a boyfriend but once you saw me kissing a girl you’d know I wasn’t being truthful.”

Steve can’t help the snort that slips from him at her comparison. But, he knows she’s right. What good is it to sit here and preach to you that he’s a changed man if he doesn’t do anything to prove it to you?

You on the other hand couldn’t even focus on your book. You’d reread the same page twenty times in the last five minutes, and you still had no idea what was going on! Steve was too distracting - and not just because you hated him.

You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but sometime in the last year you’d forgotten just how attractive Steve was. The moles that dotted his neck like they’d been crafted by Aphrodite herself, and the way his eyes glimmered a honey brown whenever the sun shined on them. His lips, so pink and sculpted to fit the frame of his face. And don’t even mention his muscles or you might just faint on the spot.

You steal a glance towards him from the corner of your eye, watching as he talks with Robin about something you can’t make out. His head is hung low though, so you can assume it’s nothing good. Maybe she was lecturing him for bothering you, and if you were lucky he’d finally listen.

But, unfortunately luck never seemed to be on your side, and he’s approaching you faster than you can run away. “Y/N.” He has you cornered, your back against the window as you glare daggers at him. What the hell did Robin say?

You refuse to answer, instead choosing to go back to pretending to read your book. Steve doesn’t say anything, he just places his hands on his hips and stares down at you.

You're stubborn though, so you refuse to look at him, no matter how badly you might want to. Steve, seemingly getting the hint, just lets out a loud sigh and says, “I’m going to get food from Bennys, do you want anything?”

Fuck. You loved Bennys. But, you didn’t want Steve to let you saying yes get to his head, so you just let out a harsh no.

“You haven’t eaten since you got here four hours ago, that’s not healthy.”

“I’m not hungry.” You respond dryly. Glancing up at him through your lashes. His lips are pursed and he’s got that look on his face he always gets when he’s annoyed. He shrugs, “Suit yourself.” And then leaves without another word.

For a moment, you’re almost shocked. You’d expected him to fight with you more about it, but you’re not mad that he didn’t.

You practically shoot up and beeline for Robin, who’s already gazing at you like she’s been prepared for this. “God, I hate him!” You groan, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

Robin snorts, hopping onto the countertop and picking at her nails, “Because he offered to buy you food?”

You shoot her a glare, “Because he’s pretending nothing happened between us.”

Robin chews on her bottom lip, glancing up from her chipped nails to a fuming you. “I think he’s just trying to be nice.”

“Since when were you his biggest defender? You were begging me to leave him not even two years ago!”

Robin winces at the memory. It was true, she used to absolutely loathe Steve with everything in her, but that was before and this was now. People change - and Steve Harrington was a prime example of that.

She stays silent, knowing there’s nothing she can say at this current moment that’ll make you feel better.

You force yourself to take a deep breath and lay your forehead onto the counter top, elbows wrapping around your head as you do. You’ve been arguing with yourself on where you stand with Robin lately. On one hand, she’d deliberately offered the one man you couldn’t bear to see a job at the one place you’d felt safe from him without even asking you first, and essentially ruined it for you forever. On the other, she was just a girl helping someone she loved get a job somewhere that wasn’t a shit hole like most of the places in town.

It just wasn’t fair that that place has to be here.

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut, “I just need a second by myself. I’ll come back out if things get too busy.”

Robin just nodded, eyes glued to the floor as you walked past her and into the employee area.

Robin knows you have every right to be mad at her right now, but if risking your friendship was what it took for you to be happy, she’d do it everyday.

By the time Steve gets back the sun has already started to sink below the clouds, and there was only an hour left of your shift.

You were still in the back room, eyes puffy and red with the remnants of tears. It embarrassed you to admit, but you’d let a few tears and sniffles escape you. You were just so frustrated with your situation.

Steve walks behind the counter nonchalantly, large hands reaching into the white plastic bag and pulling out three styrofoam boxes.

Robin furrows her brows at this, only expecting two. “What’s the third one for?”

Steve’s silent for a moment, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Did you really think he was gonna let you go hungry? He knows you - knows you love Bennys like you love breathing. It’s the only reason he got it.

“Y/N.”

“But didn’t she-”

He shoots her a look that shuts her up as she realizes what he did. Her eyes crinkle as she smiles, and opens her box. “Do you want me to take it to her?”

Steve thinks for a moment about what you would want. Logically, he knows you would want Robin to bring it to you, but what would you have wanted before he screwed everything up?

“I’ve got it.”

He grabs your box in one hand and his own in the other, taking a deep breath before he pushes the door open with his hip. You're sitting there, arms crossed over your chest and nails between your teeth. A nervous habit of yours.

You look up, clearly expecting Robin, but your gaze immediately hardens once you realize it’s him. You push your chair out from under you harshly, it screeches across the floor as you do. You grab your jacket that hangs on the back of it and go to walk past him, but he blocks your path. “I brought you something to eat.”

“I said I wasn’t hungry.” You attempt to push past him, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he gives you that knowing, motherly look of his. The same one he used on Dustin Henderson when he babysat him junior and senior year. “You haven’t eaten since noon, and,” He glances at his watch, “it’s almost seven, Y/N. Pretend it’s not from me, I don’t care, just please eat.”

You're at a standstill for a moment, the both of you staring at each other. You know Steve’s right, but you hate it. It makes you feel nauseous that he knows you so well.

Finally, after much hesitation, you finally sit back down in your chair. Your arms are still crossed and you’re refusing to look at him, but Steve can breathe easy knowing he’s finally getting at least something from you.

He sits across from you and slowly slides your box over to you, which you open lazily.

You wanted to yell at him to go - to leave you alone to eat in peace - but it almost felt nice to feel his presence again. If you focused on it long enough, you could almost pretend it was still that blissful time before senior year. When everything had been perfect.

Steve watches as you open the box and inspect the food carefully. He can tell by the way your eyes widen slightly that you’re surprised by what you see.

“Is this..” You trail off, heart constricting in your chest.

He nods, “You really thought I wouldn’t remember what you like? Please, give me a little credit.” He teases.

You never even knew he had it memorized.

A ghost of a smile plays on your lips, head flooding with memories of late winter nights spent at Bennys with Steve.

You allow yourself to glance up at him, cheeks flushing when you find he’s already staring at you. As soon as his eyes meet yours he smiles, a genuine, crinkle-at-the-corner-of-the-eye smile.

You eat in silence for the rest of your shift, but Steve doesn’t care. Being with you is more than enough.

❣︎

November, 1981

Sophomore year is difficult for you.

Your grandma died just three days before Halloween, and it hit you hard. Steve was with you nearly all the time, not even saying anything, just holding you as you sobbed.

He never quite knew what to say to make you feel better because none of his own family was in his life. As far as was concerned, you were the closest thing he had to that.

Today marked a full week since your grandma passed, and you’d just gotten home from the funeral. He could see you now through his window, laying on your back unmoving in your bed, black dress still heavy on your body.

You’re not even crying, just staring at the ceiling. You’d always heard that grief presented itself in thousands of different ways, but you’d never been subjected to it yourself until now.

Memories of your grandmother and her infectious smile played on repeat in your mind, and sometimes if you focused hard enough, you could pretend she hadn’t died.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you did so, replaying a memory of her from your eleventh birthday party. You’d been crying for some reason you can’t even remember, and she’d stumbled upon you on the floor of your bathroom.

“Oh, Hunny, what happened?” She cooed, closing the door and sliding down next to you. She winced as she did, her knees popping the whole way down, but she didn’t complain. She just threw an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into her.

“I-I’m scared.” You whimpered, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Of what?”

You sniffled and looked into her loving eyes, “You’ll think it’s silly.”

She chuckled, forehead wrinkling with the movement, “No, I won’t.”

You swallowed, scratching at your arm nervously. “Are you sure?”

“I’m your grandma, I’d never laugh at you.”

You swallowed, letting your forehead hit your knees solemnly, “I don’t wanna grow up.” You admitted.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, which made you feel even worse. Getting older was natural and there was nothing you could do to stop it, but it’d hit you that you were growing out of your childhood.

You’d never be as innocent as you once had been, and at some point in your life you’ll never be mommy’s little girl again. And you hated that you just had to accept that.

Your grandma sighed, fingers drawing shapes onto your arm, “I know it’s scary growing up,” She murmured into your ear, “but it’s also good for us. We learn more as we grow, and we get to experience so many new things. Take me and your grandpa for example, we met when we were twenty five. If I'd never grown up, I never would have met him and fallen in love.”

The mention of your grandfather put a smile on your face. He was a sweet old man with a dashing mustache and a love for your grandma so strong you could feel it without even knowing him.

“I guess you’re right.” You sighed, laying your head against her side. She always knew how to make you feel better, it was like her special talent.

That’s why her death hurt so much, because you’d been talking to her less and less the older you got. It wasn’t something you did purposely, but with the move and all the new things that were happening in your life calling her had just never been at the top of your list. Now you wish it had.

You don’t even hear the knock in your door, you only notice Steve’s there when he’s scooting into bed next to you. You welcome him calmly, automatically falling into his open arms. He strokes your back comfortingly, leaving a soft kiss on your hairline. “How’re you feeling?”

You make a noise in the back of your throat, a mix between a whimper and a groan that shatters Steve’s heart. He hates seeing you hurt like this.

“That bad, huh?” He mumbles, squeezing you closer against him.

You choke out a sigh, “I just wish I would’ve called her. I had every chance too and I never did. What kind of- of granddaughter does that?” Your eyes are brimming with tears again, a sob tearing from your throat as you press your face closer into Steve’s neck. He smells like home.

He doesn’t mind that you’re soaking through his white shirt, in fact he barely even notices. “C’mon, Sweetheart. There was no way you could’ve known, and blaming yourself isn’t going to make you feel any better.”

“I-I just… I just wish I would’ve been better.” You hiccuped.

Steve immediately shakes his head, “No, no,” He stands and takes your hand, gently forcing you to your feet, “You’ve gotta get outta here, no way staying in this room all day is healthy for you.”

You sniffle and glance around your bedroom. Its usual warmth feels cold and empty.

“Where would we go?” You ask, gazing at Steve as he wipes your tears with his thumbs. “Anywhere.”

That's how you ended up at Bennys. Steve had recently gotten his license so you no longer had to bike everywhere.

The cloudy sky combined with the glaring overhead lights must wash you out, but Steve’s not sure you’ve ever looked prettier. The black dress compliments you perfectly, and call him selfish, but he thinks the glossiness in your eyes accentuates them so nicely.

You solemnly drink a sprite, biting on the straw occasionally and leaving a permanent indent in the plastic.

You’d heard of Bennys, apparently it was a Hawkins staple, but you’d never been yourself before now. For how popular it apparently was, it's not very busy, just a few stragglers.

You can see the chief of police, Jim Hopper, and a few of his cop buddies in one corner, a couple in a booth across from them, and two old fishermen at the bar.

“I’ve never been here before,” You murmur, watching as Steve’s head lifts from the menu to look up at you. “I’ve only been once with Tommy and Carol,” He says their names with so much disgust it nearly surprises you, “and it was really good.”

You knew Steve wasn’t the biggest fan of his friends, which was still something you found pretty weird. Why be friends with them if you couldn’t stand them? But you also understood Steve’s situation. He had affirmed his status as King Steve at the beginning of the school year, when he’d fought Mitch Mikealson and won. Ever since then he’d gotten more cautious with being seen with you.

And, yeah, it hurts sometimes to see him pretend you didn’t exist. Before, he’d still give you the occasional wave or smile, but now he didn’t even spare you a glance. But, you’d always remind yourself it was fine, because only you got to have the real him. The soft Steve, who’s boyish charm and honeynut eyes made you melt everyday.

You let out a soft huh, glancing over the menu before finally deciding on something. A plain cheeseburger with a side of cheesy fries. How American of you.

After you’ve given the waitress your orders, you both sit in a constricting silence. Steve isn’t sure of what to say to you right now or even how to approach the obvious elephant in the room, but you could hardly even focus on that.

If there’s one thing your grandma's death has taught you, it’s that you can’t let time escape you. You’d pushed off calling your grandma for months, and then suddenly you couldn’t anymore. What happens if you put off telling Steve how you feel for him, and then suddenly you no longer could? Would you feel regret like you do now?

You think you’ve known Steve long enough now to decipher how he’d react. A soft rejection, but without a loss of friendship. You think things would continue how they normally do - maybe a bit awkwardly at first but, still, as they normally do.

Then you consider the other option, which you thought to be the less likely one. On the off chance Steve does like you back, then your entire relationship would change. Would he kiss you in front of his friends? Scream from the rooftops that you were his and he was yours? Or would he hide you away, protect his reputation from your influence?

You weren’t sure.

“What’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

You smile softly at the phrase, glancing up at him through your lashes. He's leaning onto his elbows on the counter, cheeks squished between his hands. You think he looks innocent like this, and a glimpse of his seventh grade self flashes in his eyes, a time before King Steve even existed.

“Just… thinking.” You murmur, playing with your fingers in your lap.

Steve frowns, assuming you’re talking about your grandma, and he says, “I’m really sorry, Y/N. You know I'll be here for you every step of the way, right?”

You warm at his words, stomach twisting in knots. “I know,” You breathe, “we’re best friends. We have to be there for each other.”

Steve's heart constricts at the phrase. Best friends. Was that what he’d always be to you? He wants to be so much more - he wants to sweep you off your feet, show you just how much he loves you. If real love is something teenagers can’t experience, then he’s not sure he ever wants to, because whatever it is he’s feeling for you right now is practically engulfing him whole.

“Yeah,” He smiles weakly, “Best friends.”

Your eyebrows knit at the solemn look on his face, watching as he swishes the straw in his drink with his fingertip.

“Steve-” You begin, but the waitress is approaching you with your food before you can finish. Steve’s grateful for the interruption, not sure if he’s ready to answer whatever it was you were going to ask.

He distracts himself with his food, and you do the same. You're not sure why, but something about the way Steve said best friend made you feel uneasy. Did he not think you guys were? Or did he… did he want something else?

You blink the thought away, forcing yourself not to think of it.

But… what if…

You think of your grandma, how the regret of not calling her filled your entire body until you could barely breathe. Did you want that to happen with Steve? No, you didn’t. So there was only one solution.

The moon is up by the time you get in the car, and you allow Steve to drive you to your spot.

The hilltop where you first rode your bikes to last year had become almost like a comfort place for the both of you. You went anytime either of you were upset, and you always sat in the same positions. You, with your hands laid comfortably on your stomach and him with his hands behind his head. It was basically a routine at this point.

But, tonight, it’d be different. Because you were either about to ruin your friendship with Steve forever, or start something you’d never be able to turn away from.

You’re both silent, but while Steve seems peaceful, you’re anything but. Your mind is running wild with what-ifs, and you anxiously chew on your bottom lip. Just do it, you think, just do it.

“Steve?” You mumble, placing your hands behind your back and sitting up. Steve follows your lead, an eyebrow raised as he does. “Yeah?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull your knees into your chest, dress riding up until its hem is at the middle of your knees. “If I.. If I tell you something, you promise you won’t judge me? And- and nothing will happen to our friendship?”

He laughs nervously, “What’re you talking about?”

Just do it, you chant in your mind, Just do it.

You suck in a breath, “I love you. A lot. Like- more than I think should even be humanly possible, and I think I always have. It’s like- like this weight in my chest everytime I see you, you know? Because you’re you and I'm, well, I'm just me. And I tell myself there’s no way you could ever love me back but then you started acting all weird in the diner and I just- I had to know.” By the end of your rambling you’re panting softly, refusing to even look at Steve. You're too afraid of what you might see.

But Steve feels as if an angel herself has just blessed him. You love him?

You love him?

He feels too shocked to even move, heart practically beating out of his chest as he stares at you. The moonlight brings out your features so nicely, and your lips just look so- so kissable.

It’s crazy. He knows it is. But he’s waited so long, and he’s not sure how many times he can imagine the softness of your lips before he needs to feel it. So he does.

He connects his lips with yours so fast you barely even register it. It’s a soft peck, barely even a kiss really, but it’s perfect to you.

He pulls away quickly, hand on your cheek as he stares into your eyes. Only half of his face is visible in the darkness, but it’s enough for you. Because you’re plunging back in like you’ve been starved.

It’s messy, with clattering teeth and wandering hands. You find purchase in his hair, tugging slightly, and he lets you, groaning slightly at the feeling. His hands ghost of your waist nervously, and you reach down and place them comfortably on your hips.

It should be sinful how good he tastes - like strawberries eaten next to the pool on a warm summer day. “S- Steve,” You gasp between his lips, barely able to get the word out before he’s immediately diving back in.

You indulge in it for a few seconds more, before you’re gently pushing him away from you. He pulls back completely, removing his hands from your waist in a panic, “What’s - What’s wrong?” He pants.

You shake your head, assuring him it’s nothing like that. You take a breath, “What does… does this mean that you..?”

Steve has a big dopey smile on his face, tucking a peice of hair behind your ear, “That I love you?” He mumbles, “Because I do. So much. More than I think you’ll ever know.”

It’s those words that confirm what you’d thought for the past two years. Steve is your soulmate, someone you were always meant to find. Suddenly, you’re thankful for the move. Something that had once seemed life ruining has been the opposite - it brought you to your reason for living.

“Then what does this mean for us?” You question.

It’s then that Steve realizes this might not be all great like he thought it would be - because Tommy and Carol were still in the picture. He couldn’t just walk into school holding hands with you as if they hadn’t spent every waking day making fun of you. He never joined, always choosing to stay silent during their tangents, but he never stopped them either.

He swallows, studying your face. Would loving you be enough for him? Could he throw it all away, the parties, the friends, the popularity - if it meant he’d be able to be with you?

He’s not sure.

But what if he can have both? The popularity and you. He’d just have to keep your relationship a secret just like you had been doing for years, it was that simple! But, he doesn’t want to ruin the moment with you right now and get into that. So instead, he kisses you slowly again and murmurs, “We'll figure it out as we go.”

❣︎

July, 1986

It’s been two weeks since what you called The Tolerable Act. AKA, the day Steve Harrington brought you food and also made himself more tolerable.

You wouldn’t be going out of your way to talk to him, but if he approached you you no longer ran. Your responses were always short - but they were responses. Baby steps.

Today, when you walk into work Steve is already there stacking books and organizing shelves. His eyes are almost immediately drawn to you, and not just because he loves seeing you - no, this time, he notices something.

He thinks his heart drops into his stomach for a moment once he sees the guy with you. You're all smiles and giggles, playing with the hem of your lacy white shirt.

Jason Carver stands casually in the doorway, arm thrown above his head as he leans over you. Steve can’t see what he’s saying from here, but whatever it is, it’s making you blush.

Steve’s not even sure what comes over him - but he’s dropping the rest of the books he was organizing messily onto the shelf and speeding over to you before he can even think it through.

Jason notices first, his eyebrows furrowing as he eyes him. Steve gives a tight lipped smile, brown eyes darting between you and Jason.

Steve never really disliked Jason - he was a nice guy. A little pushy at times, but overall he didn’t seem too bad. But, now, watching Jason flirt with you like he knew anything about you made Steve’s stomach twist in the worst way.

Jason didn’t know you. He didn’t know anything about you! Steve knew it was selfish of him to expect you to be hung up on him forever like he was hung up on you, but did you have to bring Jason here?

“Harrington,” Jason said sultry smooth, bringing his arm down and stuffing his hands into his varsity jacket. He’d graduated last month and was still wearing that thing? Steve thought that was a douchey move. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Steve hummed, “Started a couple weeks ago.”

Jason smirked, “Still working at dumps like this place, huh?” He joked. Steve could see the intentions behind what he said - they were a poke at Steve still living with his parents and not making it into college. He glances at you, but you don’t say anything, instead choosing to keep your eyes on the carpet.

“Still wearing your highschool jacket in public, huh?”

Jason’s gaze hardened just barely, enough for you to not notice, but Steve did. They both just stared at each other for a few moments, almost like they were challenging each other.

“Jason -” Both boys tore their gazes away from each other and onto you, “I’ll see you tonight, okay?” You usher, silently pushing him out. Jason bent down to kiss your cheek, eyes never leaving Steve’s as he did.

Once he was gone, you turned around and tried to make your way past him to clock in, but Steve stopped you. “Jason Carver? Really?”

Your nostrils flared, eyebrows knitting together as you gave him a harsh glare. “Who I talk to isn’t any of your business anymore.”

“That guys a total asshole!”

“And you aren’t?” You retorted, “I’m not sure if you remember, but let me remind you that-”

He cuts you off with a sigh, large hand running through his hair. His shirt rode up as he did, and you had to force yourself not to look at his tanned skin. “I remember.” He mumbled, “But, at least I've tried to better myself. Jason hasn’t! And he doesn’t deserve you, you’re so much better than he ever will be. I can’t believe you don’t realize that.” He took a breath, studying your face.

Jealousy is something Steve wasn’t used to feeling when it came to you. He’d always known that you were his and he was yours, and nothing would ever change that.

But, watching Jason Carver pull all those little giggles and shy smiles out of you that he used to - it hurt more than he liked to admit. His dad would tell him to: “grow up, she's just some girl after all.”

But you aren’t. Steve doesn’t think you ever were.

“Stop doing that!” You choke out. You’re more than fed up “Stop pretending that you’ve changed and that everything is- everything is fine! You played me for years, Steve. And as soon as I'm back together again you just show up here and remind me why I-” You pause, eyes going glassy and nose turning a shade of red, “why I can’t love you anymore. And it hurts - God, it hurts - but, I won’t allow myself to fall apart like I did again. And Jason- Jason likes me. I know he does. So don’t fucking ruin this for me.”

Steve’s silent, arms crossed over his chest as he processes your outburst. He knows he deserves it and it’s something he thinks he needs to hear, but that doesn’t make it any easier. You played me for years, Steve. Did you really think that?

Still, against his better judgment, he watches you as you turn your back to him and stomp into the back room.

You finally let out the sob you were holding in as soon as you’re out of sight, back hitting the cold stone wall. You hate him. Him and his stupid, stupid face and his horrible jokes. You hate that he can make you feel so many inexplicable things with just one sentence - He doesn’t deserve you.

If Jason doesn’t deserve you, then who does?

You avoid Steve your whole shift, and it’s easy, because Steve avoids you too. Robin called out sick which meant it was just the two of you and that made things so much worse.

You can feel his gaze lingering on you every time the clock ticks closer to your date, and it sends a shiver up your spine each time. If it’s because of your nerves about seeing Jason again or your undeniable longing for Steve, you’re not sure.

Once Jason arrives, Steve watches from behind the counter as you take Jason’s hand and let him lead you to his car, a toothy grin highlighting your face.

He sighs, crossing his legs where he stands and leaning onto his forearms. He feels helpless, like he’s an onlooker in his own life, watching you pull farther and farther away from him and not being able to do anything about it.

Jason’s car pulls away, and you watch as Bookish disappears from your line of sight. It feels foreign - leaving Steve behind to go with another guy. If you’d told yourself two years ago this was what your relationship would become, you never would’ve believed it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Harrington?” Jason asks, stealing a glance at you.

You chew on your lip, cherry chapstick lingering on your tongue. “We used to be really close, but we kinda just…” You swallow and play with your fingers in your lap, “grew apart.”

Jason hums, fingertips drumming against the wheel as he drives. “You guys seemed more than close back there.”

You’re stumped. You can’t understand why Jason is so interested in this topic, which is something you really don’t want to talk about with him, and understandably so. You think up a quick excuse, “He’s just protective.”

He scoffs out a laugh, “Protective? No, it was more than that. It was like he- he loved you or something.” He says it like there’s no way that could be true. Like The Steve Harrington couldn’t ever love a girl like you.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Can we talk about something else, please?”

Jason doesn’t say anything and just drives silently. He’d told you he was taking you somewhere special but didn’t specify after that - and as you watch him drive deeper and deeper into the woods you’re beginning to get nervous.

He parks next to Lovers Lake, turning in the radio and immediately shifting his seat back.

You’d heard stories of guys doing this - taking a girl out to hook up with and disguising it as a date.

He's leaning over right as you realize what this is, and you pull away quickly, head nearly hitting the window. “Jason, I thought we were going out?”

“We are. I just thought.. we could have fun first.”

You swallow. This was wrong, you knew it was. Didn’t you deserve to go on a real date like other girls do? What made you so different from them?

But… Maybe this was a real date. Maybe this was what other girls did. And if that was true, shouldn’t you indulge? You’d always been aware your relationship with Steve was different than most other highschool relationships, so maybe you were finally getting a taste of the reality.

You kiss him first, practically surging forward. It’s hard and sloppy. It’s too much. It’s wrong.

You remind yourself that this is what real girls do.

You kiss him harder, holding back the whimper that begs to escape from your throat as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and mint - nothing like Steve.

He pulls you by your hips over the center console awkwardly, your legs banging against the dashboard as you move, but he never breaks apart.

You settle on his lap, letting him push and pull you anyway he wants. He’s in no way soft - wandering hands never asking for permission as he slips them under your shirt. This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong-

“Jason-” You breathe between his hungry lips, attempting to push away, but he grabs the back of your neck and forces you against him again. Your hands push at his chest hard, and he’s so shocked he lets you go.

“What’s your problem?” He pants, eyebrows knitted together.

You want to sob- because what the hell are you doing? Kissing Jason Carver in his car in the middle of nowhere? This is wrong. If this is what other girls do, then you don’t want to be like them.

“Can we-” You suck in a breath, shifting uncomfortably on his lap, “Can we just take a break? Maybe actually talk and try to get to know each other?”

He stares at you coldly for a few moments, blue eyes searching your face for something you’re not sure of. Then he’s laughing - as if you’ve said the funniest thing in the world. His chest convulses as he does, and he attempts to kiss you again but you pull away.

His laughter immediately stops and his face contorts into anger, his nostrils flared. “Are you kidding me?”

“Jason-” You attempt, but he’s pushing you off of him before you can get the word out. You land in the passenger seat uncomfortably, legs at an awkward angle but you feel too unnerved to move.

“You came onto me first!”

He was right, you had kissed him first. It was your fault he thought he’d be getting something else tonight. “I know and i’m sorry, but-”

He cuts you off with a laugh, tongue running over his teeth like a hungry animal. “I mean- there’s no way you’re being serious right now, right?” He asks, “Why the hell do you think I brought you out here? To talk? I thought you were smarter than that.”

Your eyes go wide, jaw hanging open as you process his words. Had you really been so stupid?

He points an accusing finger at you, “If you think any guy is going to want you beyond just fucking you then you’re in for a treat. Now get the fuck out of my car.”

“Jason-”

“Get out!”

So you do. You stumble a bit as your feet hit the grass, barely having any time to close the door before he’s speeding off.

The tears come before you can stop them, arms wrapping around yourself as you stare out into the lake.

The water makes the air feel cooler, so goosebumps form across your skin and cause a shiver up your spine. You don’t know how to get home from here - or to the bookshop. But there is one place you can think of.

You're not sure how long you walk, you just know by the time you reach the hill your feet hurt and your calves feel practically numb.

You collapse onto the grass with a soft groan, immediately hugging your knees to your chest. The tears had long since stopped and were replaced with occasional hiccups, eyes glassy but the tears never falling.

You stare up at the sky, finding comfort in all of the familiar constellations. Lately they’d been the only constant thing in your life, the one thing you knew would always be there and would never go away.

You hate that Steve was right more than you’d like to admit. He doesn’t deserve you, you’re so much better than he ever will be. What right did he have to say something like that to you? It makes you almost nauseous.

Steve Harrington had become something of an anomaly to you over the past year. You’d been told thousands of times that he’d changed by Robin - hell, Steve himself had been making an effort to show you that he’d never make the same mistakes he had again, but it was like you couldn’t accept it.

Your heart had subconsciously built up brick walls to protect yourself from ever being hurt like that again, and any mention of Steve Harrington threatened to tear them down.

You sigh, forehead dipping down to rest on your knees. You’re not sure how you’re going to get home, but right now it’s the last thing in your mind.

“Y/N?”

You’re head shoot’s up, neck craning to see the eyes of the person in front of you.

It doesn’t surprise you once you realize it’s Steve, because who else would be out here this late?

“Hi.” You mumble, head immediately going back to lay on your knees comfortably.

He sits down next to you cautiously, plastic bag falling next to him as he does. He subconsciously makes sure to leave enough distance between the both of you so he doesn’t scare you off. “Where’s your date?”

You close your eyes, breaths coming in shallow as you shift uncomfortably. Your head lols lazily to the side, allowing yourself to get a full view of his face. His eyebrows are raised and his arms are behind him and holding his torso up.

“Probably out being a douche somewhere.”

He chuckles, “That bad, huh?”

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Definitely wasn’t the best date ever.” Not like you had many to compare it to.

“I won’t say it even though I really want to- but just know i’m thinking it really, really hard-”

You roll your eyes, “Just say it.” You huff.

He doesn’t hesitate, “I told you so.”

You mentally conclude that Steve should not be allowed to be right ever. “What are you doing here?” You ask.

Steve’s gaze falls to the grass below, throat bobbing as he swallows. “I needed to clear my head.”

You hum in response and decide not to push it, instead letting your knees stretch in front of you as your hands fall behind you. Your eyes fall to the white Walmart bag next to him and you gesture to it with your head, “What’s in the bag?”

Steve reaches over and pulls out a six pack of cheap beer, the kind you drank when you were trying to get stupid drunk. “I wasn’t planning on having any company, so I hope six’s enough for you.”

You snort, watching as he rips one out of its packaging and hands it to you. You ignore the brush of your hands as you do.

It pops open loudly, and you immediately bring it to your lips, ignoring the burning in your throat as it slides down roughly. Steve does the same, and you both sit in a comfortable silence and drink your respective drinks.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, but you can’t stop looking at him. Thoughts of how pretty he is run through your mind - but so do others. Like questions of how you became strangers who knew everything about each other so quickly.

“Do you ever wonder about what things would be like if.. if we hadn’t broken up?” You question quietly, eyes lingering on the side of his face.

He doesn’t move for a moment, lips thinning out into a line. He breathes in through his nose, “Sometimes I do. But every time I remember how things are between us I have to stop, because lying to myself almost hurts more than the reality.”

Your hands tighten into fists by your side, and you force back another gulp of the warm drink. “How did we even get here?” You suddenly laugh out, “It doesn’t even feel natural.”

Steve shrugs, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Honestly? I’m not really sure. Sometimes it feels like one day I was waking up with you and then the next I wasn’t.” Well, technically that is what happened.

You're not sure if it’s the alcohol that gives you courage, but you finally admit, “Sometimes I hate you for turning us into this.” You mutter, “Sometimes I hate myself for not trying to fix it. But, sometimes I think that is how things were always going to turn out - that maybe we were never meant to be in each other's lives and we somehow screwed up Gods plans and this is our punishment.”

“I don’t think he means it as a punishment.” Steve breathes, finally letting himself look at you, “I think it’s more of a lesson. A reminder, maybe.”

You snort, “Well, I hate this lesson, and I’m ready for it to be over.”

“Me too.”

You don’t argue when Steve scoots closer to you so your legs are touching, shorts rubbing against each other awkwardly.

You and Steve share an actual conversation - one without any arguing or resistance from you. It’s a conversation like you used to have.

You don’t argue when Steve offers you a ride home, showing that his beer is still half-way full. You don’t argue when he tells you good night, in fact you bask in it.

That night when Steve goes to bed, he watches your light flick on and your shadow approach the window. You stand there for a while - contemplating he thinks - and he hopes that you do it. That you open the blinds and show him that everything would be okay again.

But you don’t. You flick the light back off, and go to bed. Leaving the blinds closed.

taglist: @stevesxwhore @billielourdslays @carinacassiopeiae

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #joe keery #joe keery x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #jason carver #stranger things #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfic #exes to lovers #yn #x reader #robin buckley #Spotify

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jarofstyles · 6 days

Text

Bad Idea, Right?

Obviously inspired by Miss Olivia Rodrigo’s song, here is a one shot I loved writing :) a bit of angst, a bit of a fluff, a lot of smut, a little bit of everything!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings!

WC- 6.2k

Warnings- toxic relationship, kinda asshole h, angst, crying, slight degradation, spitting, impact play (light), sex tape filming, daddy kink (light), use of Mama 🤭

—-

Y/N knew this was a very bad idea. She knew she was going to regret this in the morning, as she usually did when Harry texted her to show up somewhere, but here she was.

Her best black dress in the most soft fabric, the one he had complimented her on endlessly before peeling it off when they had still been together, was glued to her body, Hair curled and falling down her shoulders. If she was going to show up at a houseparty that her ex boyfriend was throwing, she may as well go all out and wear something that she knew he liked.

Internally, she tried to talk herself out of it as she approached the open door, ignoring the people making out on his lawn. The thump of the bass was audible outside, a deep sigh being let out as she tossed her phone in her clutch after texting him a simple ‘here.’ The shot she had taken before had done next to nothing to calm her nerves, her red lipstick meticulously touched up in the back of the uber as she squirmed in the seat surely getting fucked up as she bit down on her bottom lip, venturing into the home that used to be so familiar to her.

It had been 5 months since they’d broken up, but it had barely seemed like it. Harry had a way of getting into her head and driving her absolutely fucking mad. Their back and forth seemed neverending, their text threads updating every few days. A fight, a makeup, a request to see one another. As much as she wanted to claim it was all him, she knew she was equally as bad. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to find someone else- but no one else could get her off like him.

Harry knew her body better than anyone else, every curve and mark, where to touch and stroke. Where to stroke, where to lick, where to bite. He was an expert on how to get her off in just minutes, her cunt completely dedicated to him as much as she wished it wasn’t. Her brain and pussy had no communication in the information regarding the fact they were broken up, much to her dismay. The only thing saving her ego was that she knew that she had the same effect on Harry. There was no way she didn’t. Harry could very well fuck anyone he wanted to, more than capable to pull. Y/N had been overly jealous as a girlfriend and she knew that, but people were drawn to her boyfriend despite the fact it was well known he was taken. While he didn’t seem to take them up on it- he ate up the attention and preened over it, much to her irritation. It caused fights upon fights, her going out of her way to make him jealous- which worked. They both seemed to get off on pissing each other off.

Breaking up was supposed to stop the cycle, but it seemed to only string it out further.

There had been so many times she deleted his number but when he pulled up on her notifications again, she recognized the number and his attitude and couldn’t resist temptation. No one had ever made Y/N feel so many emotions in her life. Being around Harry was like a live wire, electric and hot, dangerous and potentially harmful, but the benefits sometimes outweighed the risks.

Her nose crinkled as she felt the floor stick under her shoe, knowing he would be pissed about that tomorrow. Whatever spiked punch was all over the floor and that would take some elbow grease to get out. Navigating through the entryway, she made her way into the living room. It was dark, flimsy lighting had been put up to make colorful strobes go around the room, the room far too filled for comfort. It was stupidly warm, regret crawling up her neck as she looked around to find anyone familiar.

“There she is!” The voice was unmistakable. Niall, arms tugging her in for a hug and pulling her into the kitchen where it was a bit quieter, the main group she was familiar with strung about along with a few strangers. “Harry’s girl is here, everyone! Y/N herself.” He chirped, making her give him a confused look until she followed his gaze to see Harry standing stiffly, a girl too close for comfort. Her eyes narrowed, taking in how the girl angled her body, hand resting on Harry’s arm, looking at her with a scowl.

It was an ugly feeling to see someone else around her man. Well- he wasn’t her man, but it was another miscommunication between her heart and brain. She hated seeing him around someone else, the mere idea of him being with someone that wasn’t her made her stomach turn. It wasn’t right. Yes, she knew it was a toxic cycle but it was one she didn’t know how to break. She knew this was bad, but she didn’t want anyone else having him the way she did.

The only saving grace was the fact that Harry looked uncomfortable, immediately peeling himself away from the other girl and coming straight over to Y/N.. Her face must have shown her irritation, mouth opening and arm resting on her hip as she went to give him a bit of hell but was cut off by his mouth.

And Y/N’s body, she was a fucking traitor. Feeling his arms wrap around her and push her against the counter, his tongue pressing into her mouth and tasting the cinnamon from the alcohol and sticky remnants of Coca Cola on his lips made her brain go numb. She always did love how strong he was, how safe she used to feel wrapped up in his arms. There were a few wolf whistles surrounding them, but Y/N had been taken aback from the heat of it so early on, hand slipping between her and the counter to grab at her ass. A surprised moan left her mouth before Niall let out a laugh.

“Alright, alright. Stop eating her, Harry.” Niall smacked his back, making Harry pull back with a hazy smirk. Almost dopy, making her blink up at him with her eyes narrowing again. His eyes were dark, lips wet now and that dark pink she liked so, so much. He hadn’t shaved today, leaving a bit of stubble around his face, a backwards hat combing his hair back to keep it out of his face. The nose piercing was swapped from a stud to a hoop, making her a bit surprised. Had he done that for her? He knew she liked it….

“You can take your hand off my ass now.” Her sassy tone didn’t match how her eyes looked, secretly loving that he had so publicly claimed her in front of a girl they both knew wanted him. It was a sick feeling, the victory even though she knew it was wrong to feel that way. It was a constant fight with herself. Knowing she should most definitely not be feeling so happy that her ex had just kissed her dumb in front of all his friends, but still liking that she had a claim on him.

“I could.” He retorted. “But it feels so nice in my palm, and we both know how much you like it.” A squeeze was given, Y/N scowling back up at him but not making any attempt to move. If she wanted to, he would get out of the way- but they both knew how this went. She pretended she didn’t liked his hands on her, he taunted her, they would glare and play fight before it got a little real, and they’d fuck. A circle they’d swung around plenty of times. His lips lowered to her ear, ignoring the chatter around them. “You’re wearing my dress, hm?”

“Yours? M’sorry, did you want to wear it?” She rose her eyebrow that she definitely hadn’t laid to perfection before she came here. “I forgot you even liked this one. It was the first thing I could reach in my closet.” Her nose was turned up, this time pushing past him to go over to the drinks. She looked down to see a cup with his name scribbled on it with a sharpie, lifting it up for confirmation before throwing it back.

Regretted immediately.

“Ugh- Harry, what the fuck?” She gagged, nose wrinkled as she opened his fridge to grab a bottle of water. “I forgot how disgusting your drinks are. God, how do you even have a stomach?” She gave him a horrified look, swishing the water in her mouth.’

“No one told you to fuckin’ take mine!” He grumbled, taking the cup to find it empty. “Fucks sake, Y/N. Taking my drink and then bitching about it. As usual.” He came up behind her to grab the bottle over the fridge, his ‘good stuff’ or whatever. It was already that time of night?

Where they started poking at each other to cause a fight. To have an excuse to wander off and to strip down to nothing.

“Excuse me?” Y/N grit her teeth, turning to look at him as he poured into his recently emptied cup. He was trying to get a rise out of her.

“You heard me, princess. Know those ears work, considering you’re an eavesdropper.”

Oh, he was going low. She crinkled the water bottle in her hands, shoulders tending as she exhaled sharply through her nose. “Well I wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t get so fucking weird with your phone. You were the one hiding a ‘project partner’ from me.” Her fingers did air quotes around that, showing that she didn’t believe his excuse.

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Harry hissed, his own jaw setting. “I told you that she was just a partner for my paper. I didn’t tell you at first because I know you’d overreact and go all insane on me for daring to interact with another woman.” He snarled back, knowing where to hit where it hurt.

“I wouldn’t have had to be paranoid if you’d respected me to stop flirting and entertaining girls who disrespected our relationship by hitting on you in front of me! You literally encouraged it!” She was trying to keep her voice down, but it was hard. This was an especially sore spot.

“So replying with a thank you is encouraging it? Sue me for liking that someone complimented me on something!” He raised an arm up, running fingers through his hair in frustration before he turned away to lean on the counter with his arms crossed, cup in hand. “God, you do this every fucking time. We aren’t fucking together anymore, that’s your fault. Why do you continue to harrass me about this? Even if I did encourage it, I never went for it did I?” A cruel smirk emerged. “Though I’m a free agent now, yeah? Could go take Josslyn or Heather up on their offers?

Harry knew he had taken it a bit too far when her breathing caught for real, watching as he froze and her bottom lip trembled. That wasn’t a part of their regular script to wind each other up before hot sex. It was a bit of the real hurt that has blossomed through, but he hadn’t meant to let it out. Her eyes turned glassy, her hand snatching his drink and throwing it at his shirt.

“Fuck you.”

Harry felt the cold liquid hit him, hissing as he stood in slight shock as he watched her turn to leave. He had really fucked up. His stomach dropped as he tried to gather his bearings, cursing under his breath before going after her.

“Y/N! Fuck, don’t go.” He yelled after her, making his way through the throngs of people in his living room, eyes watching her back go towards the door. While he had definitely said fucked up things before, this had been designed to hit where it really hurt.

Y/N stomped through the living room, ignoring his calls for her as she got closer to the door- closer to escape- when she was caught. Arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her into the bathroom next to the stairs and turning so he was against the door. Y/N kept her back towards him but yanked herself free from his grip, irritated that she was crying. That it still hurts. He knew it would and that’s partially what made it worse. He had been out to hurt her and she had known it was a bad idea to show up tonight but somewhere in her heart she had this tiny, tiny hidden hope that maybe tonight would be a night they could finally get over their differences. She missed him so much it ached if she allowed herself to feel it, but she had tried to refuse her feelings.

It had boiled over now, though.

Harry swallowed thickly as he heard the sniffle. Y/N wasn’t one to cry about a lot. She hadn’t shed a lot of tears in the time they’d been together, emotionally iron clad as it seemed. When she did? It was unnerving. Heartbreaking. It was one of his least favorite things ever, seeing her crumble. While he may have enjoyed getting her angry and irritated, maybe a little jealous, he never liked hurting her. He gained no pleasure from that.

“Baby…” He spoke softly, trying to turn her around, hands pulling at her shoulders. He was bigger than her and could definitely turn her around if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t ever touch her in a way she didn’t want.

“No. You can’t- you can’t call me that anymore. I am not your baby.” She hissed, keeping herself turned from him. Harry winced. She hadn’t said that before, not seriously, but the venom in her voice had shown how upset she was. It was laced with the hoarse blanket that coated her voice when she cried, making it even worse. “You can go call Josslyn or Heather. I’m sure they’d love to be your b-baby.” The end of the sentence was joined with a little sob, effectively breaking his heart further.

“No. No, I’m not… I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I promise. I was just upset and I didn’t mean for it to come out, I just wanted you to feel-”

“What?” Whipping around, Y/N’s mascara streaked cheeks were a blow to the chest. Her vulnerability was something he used to crave, to be the one she confided in or let herself break with. He wanted to be there for her. Not be the cause of her tears. “You wanted me to feel hurt, like you did? Do you not think I don’t hurt every fucking day?”

“You broke up with me!” Harry tried, her glare making him stop talking quickly after.

“I broke up with you because you didn’t take me seriously. How could you go from telling me you can’t wait to put a ring on my finger, can’t wait to have a family with me, to flirting with girls the same night? Do you know how humiliating it is to have your friends tell you that they heard so and so say they were going to try something because it ‘obviously isn’t serious with Y/N?” The incredulous look on her face made him shrink back a bit.

“I didn’t know that! It was never real flirting, Y/N. I liked to get my ego stroked, the attention felt nice, but I would never, ever step out on you. I love you, for fucks sake!” He went to reach for her but she backed up, flinching slightly. Another dagger to the chest. He had really, really fucked up. She never denied his touch.

“You love me?” A humorless laugh escaped her swollen lips. “Is that how you love people, Harry? Make them feel disposable and humiliated because you can’t be happy with one girl telling you that she loves you back? My compliments weren’t enough?” Arms crossed defensively over her chest. “Give me a fucking break. Telling me that as if you didn’t just say moments ago that you should take up girls who actively disrespected our relationship on their offers to fuck you while you were dating me? Yeah, that’s definitely something someone who loved me would do.” She wanted to stay angry but she was hurt. Hurt so bad, the full weight of their breakup actually hitting her as she felt the sob crawl up her throat and hurried to cover her eyes as she began to cry. It couldn’t be held back. She was at her breaking point.

Harry wanted to throw up. He hadn’t thought of it that way, and honestly? He had never expected this. Sometimes Y/N had acted as if she didn’t have a lot of emotion, reserved and a bit quiet when she expressed herself. The one time he had gotten her to let go was during sex, where he truly felt her desire. That was maybe why he liked the attention from other people. She wasn’t very forthcoming with praise or overly lovey with him, and it had hurt a little. But he could deal with that later, because his poor fucking girl was sobbing in front of him.

“No, no… sweet girl. Please.” He watched as she dropped down to sit on the floor, gathering her knees to her chest as he followed after her. “Hey- M’so sorry. I didn’t think about it like that. I really didn’t. I was just talking out of my ass because I was hurt we’re still broken up a-and I shouldn’t have said anything but….” He sat down fully next to her, pulling her body on to his lap. She tried to squirm at first but he could tell it was half hearted as she settled down a moment later, the sobs wracking her body as his arms wrapped around her and his lips went to her ear.

“M’so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t ever want to make you feel that way. You’ve always been so important to me and this is breaking my heart.” He whispered. “Hate that you’re crying because of me. I hate that I ever made you doubt that you were important to me, or that I respect you. I do. I promise you, I do.” He whimpered slightly, desperate to get her to believe him. “I’m an ass, I know. But you have to know I do, I love you so much. I’m so fucking sorry for throwing that in your face.”

In the grand scheme of things, he knew that some people would think she was overreacting- but he understood now. He hadn’t truly meant to take it that far, hadn’t even stopped to think that those exact women had been sources of insecurity. They were the first to pop into his head because he had rejected them again tonight, waiting for Y/N to arrive.

He never wanted to be broken up with. He had planned on being with her forever, and he had fucked it up.

Her cries started to fade, sniffles taking the place of sobs as he whispered soft words, consoling her. He knew he’d fucked up tonight, in their relationship. He hadn’t communicated the way he needed to and he played games, but he thought that it would get a different reaction. His intentions weren’t to hurt her. Selfishly, stupidly, he assumed it hadn’t phased her. That she was just angry and not upset.

If she’d give him another chance he’d fix it. He’d make sure to open her up a little more, make her feel more safe. Reign in his flirting, make sure he was just polite instead. He’d never put their relationship in jeopardy again. “C’mon. Come with me, to my room.” Standing up, he pulled her along with her. It said a lot about her right now that she wasn’t fighting, letting him lead her to his room with her hand tucked in his own. Her face was downcast, making sure no one could see that she’d cried as Harry took the key from his pocket and undid the lock. He really didn’t want strangers in his room.

It was still the same. His navy bedspread and Nirvana posters on the side of his wall, his desk slightly messy with a leftover fast food cup sitting next to his water bottle on his night stand. He’s gotten it for her, because she got thirsty in the middle of the night.

What really got her attention was the framed photo of them that was right next to it. Her soft smile and his wide one, teeth out as he held her in his lap. His flannel was around her and his hat was backwards as he snuggled her. It had been cool that night but there was a bonfire, not enough seats and a handsy Harry ready to make his lap her throne. Her throat tightened as she looked at the photo, dropping his hand and wrapping her arms around her body to self soothe before she walked up to it.

“Why do you still have this up?” Her voice was shaky still, looking down at the happy memory.

“Because I still love you. I told you.” Hands were placed on her hips as she was brought into him, hugging her from behind as he unwrapped her arms and threaded their fingers together. “I know I’ve been shit. I’ve been… impatient, an attention whore, all of the insults you’ve said. But I love you. I have since day one. I’d have never cheated on you, regardless of what you may believe.” The idea of it made him feel ill.

“Then why?” Her wavering voice made him frown. “Why did you keep flirting with people in my face? I know you said it was cause I wasn’t giving you enough compliments but I didn’t know you thought that.” His heart nearly snapped in two when her voice broke. “I thought the world of you. I was so proud to be with you and then… I thought you just didn’t like me anymore. I know…” A deep inhale was felt as her tummy lifted both of their arms. “I know I can be a little cold or quiet, but I had no idea you felt neglected. I pulled back because you kept talking to other girls how you used to talk to me and… I didn’t feel like it was okay to.”

It made him feel worse. Hearing this now. Y/N had broken up with him and he’d been hurt, his pride making him sneer at her and the nastiness was even more uncalled for now that he knew. Y/N wasn’t a bitch, she wasn’t unfeeling- she didn’t feel safe. He’d done that to her because he was the little bitch here, not giving her the safety she needed in order to open up. While they should’ve been continuing growing, he got his feelings hurt and made it impossible for her to feel like she could give those things to him.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was weak. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep saying it. I didn’t mean it. I promise, nothing I've said is true. I wanted to wind you up, I wanted to fuck you because it was the only way you’d get close to me again. I never intended on making you feel unsafe with me, fuck. That’s the last thing I ever wanted. Makes me feel sick to hear that.” He nuzzled against her neck, placing a kiss there before pulling away, unwrapping them and sitting on the edge of his bed. Y/N wasn’t fighting him, so he gently tugged her to sit on his lap, this time facing him. “There she is.” A sad smile lifted his lips, thumb wiping away the streaks of mascara that had flaked off with her tears. “Still so pretty when you cry, even if it breaks m’heart.”

It was worse than a kicked puppy. Y/N wasn’t a huge emoter so knowing that he’d done this had made him wonder what she did alone. How many other times he’d made her cry but she wasn’t solid enough around him to do it in front of him.

“You broke mine.” She whispered, looking down at his shirt. “I don’t mean to be a bitch. I was just scared.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Let me fix it. Please?” Holding her face in his hands, he got her eyes back on his. “Let me make it better. I won’t do any of that ever again, I’ll communicate better… Just let me make your heart feel safe again.”

Y/N knew she was a sucker for this. She shouldn’t say yes. Every part of her except her brain was screaming to stay, though. While her head was telling her to run away as fast as she could, her heart thudded in her chest and her body wanted closer to his own. It was a decision she may come to regret, maybe she’d hate herself for it, but she couldn’t let go. “O-Okay.” She whispered, feeling his head fall against hers. “Please don’t break my heart again, H. I can’t do that again.”

“I’d rather die.”

His lips were pressed against hers, and moved quickly from there.

One of the things that never lacked with them as a couple was sexual chemsitry. It’s what had them so obsessed with each other at first. The best way to get Y/N to express herself was when she was full of cock or close to the edge of orgasm, which was why Harry had no problem saying his apologies between her legs.

“M’sorry, baby.” He crooned, licking over her drippy slit. “So, so sorry. M’gonna take care of you.” Lips pressed kisses to her clit, a keening whine leaving her lips as fingers clutched his hair and brought him closer to her. His mouth had always been his greatest gift and biggest curse. Somehow he knew all the right things to say, all the right things to do to pleasure her but always stuck his goddamn foot in his mouth. He was going to change that now.

Dark green gazed into hers as he took another broad lick, the tip of his nose brushing over her clit. Large hands with chipped polish wrapped around her thighs and kept them spread, his hair a mess from her hands carding through it with their hot makeout and now his time spent working on her pussy. This was undoubtable a perk of being with the man, knowing how much he genuinely loved to eat pussy. He’d spend hours licking and sucking on her, making her sensitive and cum over and over again whenever he had the chance. For his birthday he’d genuinely wanted a day inside with her where he spent the majority of his morning eating her for breakfast, her thighs his perfect earmuffs from the snow that happened to fall on the day.

Whenever they spent time apart he missed this desperately. He’d not even tried to find someone to replace this because he knew the feeling wouldn’t ever be the same. Sure, he’d loved eating pussy before Y/N but it had turned into a full on obsession with her. No one had ever tasted as good, made as many cute noises, squealed when his mouth latched on her clit and his finger curled just right- like he was doing now, holding her bucking hips down.

“Oh, I know, Mama, I know.” He cooed against her. “Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Needed my mouth on this greedy fucking pussy…” Pursing his lips, he spit over her slit and watched it drip with a hiss before usng his tongue to spread it, digits dripping down to his wrist before his tongue trilled over the swollen bud. It didn’t take much to push her over, but a well timed smack against her thigh to get her to stop squirming had done the job. A wet gasp tore from her mouth as she squeale his name, simultaneously pulling his mouth against her and trying to push him away. Using his strength against her, he made sure to lick up a bit before spitting again, leaving her pussy wet and messy as he climbed up her body and kissed her hard.

His chin was wet and she knew he was a fucking mess but her tongue delved into his mouth, tasting herself on him. She could hear the tug down of his zipper, felt him moving and wiggling his pants down but she was too busy sucking on his tongue and reveling in his moans against her to think twice before she felt the tip of his cock smack against her cunt.

“I’m clean, baby. No one but you, never need anyone but you.” His grip on her chin was tight as he rutted himself against her cunt. “Even when you were being a miserable bitch t’me, all I wanted to do was love on you. M’gonna make sure you never fucking doubt how much you own me again. This is the only cunt I need.”

There was sick satisfaction that rolled through him as he slid into her and felt the stretch, watching her mouth fall open as she was filled. It only confirmed what he had hoped- she hadn’t been fucking around much, if at all. Granted, he was thick and long and it would be hard to beat him, but he knew what she felt like when she was well fucked. “Oh, look at that…” He whispered, angling her head down to look at where her pussy lips clung to his cock as he pulled out a bit. “She missed me, didn’t she, baby? Sweet pussy missed my cock so fucking much, doesn’t want me to pull away.”

Harry was by far the filthiest man she’d ever experienced but that’s part of the appeal. He may be a bit of an asshole, but god, he knew how to fuck. How to kiss. How to make her feel special when he wasn’t being a dickhead. Moments like this always wiped that shit clean, the slate cleared and her head foggy as all she could focus on was how right he was. “Yeah- yeah, don’t take it from me again.” She growled, digging her nails into his skin. “Don’t fucking take my cock from me again, don’t make me walk away. This is mine.”

Harry hissed, loving the sting on his skin and how she spoke. Y/N could be a fierce little bitch and he loved that about her. She hadn’t been pleased tonight and he’d taken it too far, but she was going to have no doubt how much he had been missing her. Their hate sex had been good, but their makeup sex was even better. “Never, Mama. Never, it’s all yours. You’re right.” His voice soothed, pushing back into her and reveling in how hot she was. Tight. Everything he could possibly need. “It’s yours always, and I don’t want anyone else. Jus’ want you to let me love on you, make you feel good. Be my girl again. He had everything else he wanted, but Y/N was the missing link. He’d fucked up with her, but he wouldn’t do it again. Not when this was how explosive it was between them.

“You better fucking treat me right.” Her hand held his face now. “Better be so nice to me, buy me f-flowers and hold my hand… Fuck me good, make sure all the other b-bitches know that you’re taken.” Her legs wound around him and he felt a heel surely to bruise his ass, but he didn’t care. “Don’t let them think you’re available because you’re an attention whore.”

Harry moaned at the degrading words, because they were true. He was indeed an attention whore and he’d never deny it. “Only for you, baby. Want all your fucking attention… fuck.” He hissed, thrusting slower as he looked at where they joined. “Creaming on my cock already, really must have missed me.” Noses brushed before he fucked harder into her, trying to bring her to the edge. “Fingers didn’t cut it, did they? No toy can make you feel as good as his. Know that you needed Daddy t’fuck you right.”

Y/N let out a wail as he tugged her hips up, his face leaving hers to sit on his knees while he fucked her. He was getting the spot she needed, saying the words she wanted and she felt hot all over. Syrupy, sticky hot as she dripped down her ass as the sound of their sex filled his room. The music muffled behind the door didn’t matter, all she wanted to hear was his dirty talk and the sound of their skin. “Yes, I needed it Daddy- Fuck me, fuck me right. You always make me cum over and over…” her head rolled back on the mattress as her fingers found his wrists, grounding herself as he fucked her steady and hard.

His eyes took in the view of bouncing tits and a messy cock pistoning in and out of her creamy cunt, breathing heavy while he felt her tighten up on him. His goal was always to make sure she came over and over, a generous lover being one of his positive attributes. “Mhm… It’s never changed, Mama. M’gonna give it to you just like that. God, you look so fucking pretty on my dick, baby. Need to capture it.” He adjusted slightly as he took his phone out, thankful his pants had only been down a few inches as he pressed record. A breathy laugh left him as he fucked into her willing body, aiming the camera down at her face. “Say hi to the camera, pretty girl.” He crooned.

“H-Hi Daddy.” She mewled, preening under the attention. It was a guilty pleasure of hers, knowing he had the filthy images and videos on his phone. It was even better to watch it back and see just how wrecked she got from him. “You’re gonna be nice to me so you- so you don’t have to delete these, right?” He’d had to delete all the videos when they broke up, but she hoped this time they’d get to stick around forever.

“Of course, my sweet girl. Never gonna fuck this up again… Not when we look so fucking good together. Feel so fucking good together…. Fuck, look at that…” He got a close up of her cunt as it stretched to fit him, clinging to his length. “You’re gonna cum, I can feel it.” His eyes met hers as he started to get her to the edge, her face glistening and eyes hazy. “Go on, baby. Do it. Cum on my cock, make a fucking mess.”

Harry could feel it as she did, the high pitched whine of his name and the bite of her nails as she writhed on his cock, the camera capturing her face as she did so. Mouth open and eyes rolled back, the blissed out smile following as he fucked her through it. He didn’t stop, tossing the phone to the side as he kissed her again as his cock pulsed, trying to hold back his own orgasm. “Mmm… fuck. I love when you cum on me. So gorgeous, all mine.” He rubbed their noses together again while humping into her, her impossibly hot cunt clinging to him as he peppered kisses to her face. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

“No?” She grinned, feeling drunk. “Should have known, you sex maniac- fuck.” She pushed his hand away from her cunt. “Give a girl a minute, fucks sake.”

“Just got you back, can you blame me?” He smiled against her mouth, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. He wanted her to look freshly fucked and glowing tomorrow when she had to meet up with her friends for brunch, sure to piss them off with the news that they’re back together. “Mean it, I’m not letting you go this time. Never again.” His smirk got bigger. “Pussy’s too fucking good.”

“Shut up, slut.” She pushed his face away playfully. You’ve got more than one orgasm to go until I think about taking you back. Prove your worth to me.” His cock could be felt twitching inside her yet again.

“Whatever you say, Mama.” He cooed, pulling out of her regretfully. “Now, get on your knees. I’ve got to say sorry to your pretty ass.”

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kooklovee · 8 months

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Jungkook- ff recs masterlist 🔞

So here's my fav Jungkook ffs of all time plus a MUST READ compilation 💌.

All the recommended ffs are 18+ so MDNI!!

S: smut | A: angst | F: fluff | ❤️: extreme favs

(fics are not ordered in any specific order of preference and neither do they entertain infidelity or any major triggering themes 🙃)

Starting off with the 2 most "SEVEN" mv inspired one shots I've read till now -

■ Night after night by @brown-bi-beautiful ❤️ ( S, A, F )

■ Devoted to trouble by @jeonsweetpea (S, slight A, F)

Seven days a week by @jjkeverlast (S, slight A, F)

Thirteen rounds by @moni-logues (S)

Slow motion by @rerefundslocals(S, A, F)

@personasintro 's masterlist ❤️

Legit ALL her ffs are TOP NOTCH. So here's link to her entire masterlist. Fav author for a reason 💜

Ps - Mutual help & Away from you are Ultimate lovee!

Stay with me by @jungk0oksthighs ❤️(S, A, F)

Reminder by @dollfaceksj ❤️ (S, A, F)

Over wine (Ongoing) by @koocycle (S, A)

There's no way by @redjoonie (S, slight A, F)

Seven ways to sunday (Ongoing) by @jeonjcngkook (S)

Bad Omega, Sweet Omega JJK by @helenazbmrskai (S, A)

Drabble collection by @onlyswan (F)

Office break by @vminizzle (S)

Two point five by @bratkook (S, F)

My you by @wnderkoo (S, slight A, F)

This is how we break by @ahundredtimesover (S, A)

Unplanned night by @vminizzle ❤️ (S)

Rolling stone by @kooktrash (S, A)

4-7-8 by @jiminrings (S, heavy A, F)

Sleepless nights by @wnderkoo (S, F)

Backstage quickies by @btsqualityy ❤️ (S)

So good by @ggukiepie ❤️ (S)

Lost on you by @letjungcoook7 (S)

Cramped quarters by @btsqualityy (S)

Kink series by @btsqualityy ❤️ (S)

Bts reactions by @cheolhub (S)

Early riser by @moni-logues (S)

Bf!Jk drabble by @letjungcoook7 (S)

Standing next to you by @back2bluesidex (S)

On my mind by @angelguk ❤️ (S)

Ceo!Jk one shot by @letjungcoook7 (S, slight A)

All over again by @jungkookstatts ❤️ (S, F)

Return the favor by @back2bluesidex (S, F)

Jk!drabble by @borathae (S)

The bet by @letjungcoook7 (S)

Bf!Jk (kinda break up au) by @letjungcoook7 (S, A)

Bf!Jungkook by @jungkookstatts ❤️ (S, F)

Cherry flavored by @jungkookstatts ❤️ (S, F)

Black dye by @mercurygguk (S, F)

When the end comes by @oddinary4bts ❤️ (S, F, huge A) happy ending tho

Down on you by @ki-yomii ❤️ (S)

I want you to stay by @ahundredtimesover (Ongoing)

Birthday boy by @jeonfics (S)

Wishing for you by @kookiestarlight (S, A, F)

Guilty Pleasures (Ongoing) by @kookslastbutton (S, A)

The violence of the dog days by @youarewhatyoulove-blog ❤️ (S, F)

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urfriendlywriter · 10 months

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'Exes to Lovers' prompts aaaah :

(feel free to use | also YALL GOTTA WRITE AND TAG ME. 8, 15, 19???? 20 and 25TH AHHHHH.)

glancing when the other isn't looking

not being able to hold their eye.

walking into them after years or months and realising, nothing has changed.

"wanna.. meet up for uhm some coffee later this week?"

realising how much you admire each other

getting too close to one another and fumbling away.

being pushed onto them in a crowd. and they're as warm as they were. AHHH

a brush of their fingers over yours. that small glance.

them shielding you from the crowd in an elevator (kdrama vibes aaah)

doing something you both used to do together. (like dancing, karaoke, baking, movie nights, getting coffee together etc)

laughing comes so easily with them. them knowing how to make u feel at ease >>>>

wondering if another step is taken it'll end up the way it was--broken.

"I've.. always missed you."

being so close to kissing. but saying, "I'm sorry." while still leaning in. "im so so sorry, i can't do this-" and then leaving.

"am i reading this wrong? if I'm.. push me away." WHILE BEING SO CLOSE, NOSES TOUCHING, eyes all over your LIPS AND SHI. AHHH.

"i don't want to lose you again, [name]. it hurt too much the first time and i was a coward for letting you go like that."

holding hands. trying to let go, but they gently squeeze it tighter.

falling back in love with how it feels to be around them first before u fall in ♡ w them.

"how can i ask you to stay tonight?" as a whisper, as a silent plead, or as a clingy tug.

"don't leave me alone." "i won't, love. not this time. never again."

the yearning gazes, lying near each other. just looking into each other's eyes.

"I've missed," they say pulling you closer, "everything about you."

"i didn't know how i feel yet. for you. for.. this."

^ "but..?" "but I'd like to listen to my heart. that's asking me to stay..."

kissing while crying?? just. gasping for more, fitting right between their arms and loving it???? ahhhh :'((

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rinhaler · 4 months

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And a LU$T 4 LIF€ keeps us alive

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ex fiancé!rin itoshi x f!reader

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ SYNOPSIS : It's only been a few months since you broke things off with your ex fiancé, but you haven't broken things off with his family! You aren't sure what to do when Sae invites you to spend the holidays with him and his friends at his family's cabin. But it might be okay, as long as Rin doesn't turn up...

⛧ GENRE : hallmark christmas au, angst, exes to lovers! ++ smut! ♡

CHAPTERS

I. PRELUDE

18+, alchol consumption, mentions of a breakup.

words: 1k

II. MY BOYFRIEND'S BACK, AND HE'S COOLER THAN EVER!

18+, alcohol mention.

words: 4k

III. THERE'S NOBODY HERE

18+, alcohol consumption, oui'd smoking, shotgunning, lots of flirting, sex talk/discussions, squirting mention, dry humping?? (grinding while dancing), rejection, pet names (baby, princess).

words: 8.6k

IV. TAKE OFF, TAKE OFF, TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES

18+, alcohol consumption, hate sex? + love making, dry humping, mutual pining, no prep, vaginal sex, premature ejaculation, creampie, fingering, oral, mattress humping, tit sucking, multiple rounds?, overstimulation, squirting, choking, praise, dacryphilia, pet names (princess, baby).

words: 12.2k

V. IN THESE STOLEN MOMENTS

18+, vaginal sex, exhibitionism, slight choking, spanking, slight overstim, slight oral (m receiving), near death experience?, arguing, blood/nosebleed, slight violence.

words: 6.1k

VI. THERE'S NO STOPPING NOW, GREEN LIGHTS FOREVER

18+, alcohol consumption.

words: 2.6k

#rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi smut #rin itoshi x you #itoshi x reader #itoshi smut #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #itoshi rin smut #bllk smut #bllk x fem!reader #tw angst #exes to lovers

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ghost-recs · 23 days

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Oikawa SMAU Rec

nonsense by @idlerin

synopsis: university student, chaotic friend group, and up and coming actor/model oikawa tooru as your secret ex, what could go wrong?

the perfect combination of angst, cuteness, and humor that left me a puddle for oikawa tooru (i highly recommend the playlist too, pls pls).

syrup by @eggyrocks

synopsis: oikawa, to put it bluntly, is love sick. unfortunately, there is a bit of an obstacle in the way of his happy ever after with you...

lots of crack and chaos. humor that has me going. [ongoing...]

pose for me by @authentictiramis

synopsis: vlogging au where two groups decide to collab, simping ensues.

short and sweet, full of fluff and some humor. cute!

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creativepromptsforwriting · 10 months

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Exes to Lovers Masterpost

Dialogue Prompts

"I'm sorry for how it ended." "I'm sorry that it ended at all."

"Do you still have place for me in your life?"

"Three years was not enough to get over you."

"We'll always find our ways back to each other."

"I couldn't stop loving you, even if I tried. And I did try for some time. But it didn't work."

"Seeing you again brought everything back."

"It was a mistake to just go away. We should've fought more for what we wanted." "We are doing it now."

"Being back in your arms is everything I wished for since we broke up."

"I can't believe you would actually take me back."

"Do you have any idea how much I wished to take it back? To just go to your house and apologize?" "I would have waited for you. I did wait for you. Even if it took some time, you are here now."

"I shouldn't have ever let you go away. I need you by my side."

"The fight we had was so stupid and breaking up was irrational."

"We work much better as a team."

"I don't ever want to lose you again."

"It was the right thing at the time. We weren't ready for it." "Do you think we are now?" "Yes, absolutely."

"People called me crazy for letting you get away. And they were right."

"I will never let you go again."

"We were both so hurt that we didn't see how much the other one was hurting. I hope that we're now able to look past that and be able to heal together."

"Honestly? I never stopped loving you."

"Let's never break up again. Ok?"

Text Prompts

Having broken up, but still living in the same area they keep running into each other. At the park, the grocery store, the laundromat, … everywhere.

They are still in the same friend group and they want to make it work as friends. But hanging out all the time makes it hard to get over each other.

Person A moves to another apartment and finds some of Person B’s, their exes’ stuff while moving and the former lovers meet up for the first time since the break-up to exchange the goods.

While not having adopted it together, Person A’s pet becomes miserable after Person B stops being over, so finally they have to arrange for a meeting in a park, like two divorced parents.

They are still each other's emergency contact. Which becomes apparent when one of them ends up in the hospital.

Having their car breaking down by the side of the road is bad enough. Their ex being the one to come save them is even worse.

They had already booked everything for their friends' destination wedding before they broke up. To celebrate them and not lose their deposits they decide to still share the hotel room.

Person A’s family still invites Person B to all of their family events. And Person B actually goes.

They bought tickets for their favourite band’s concert one year in advance. It’s been a few months since their break-up and they believe the emotions have calmed down a bit, so they decide to still go together when the time comes. But maybe they don’t have calmed down that much, when their song comes on.

They know each other best. Even after their break-up their ex is still the first person they want to call when something good or bad happens.

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

#exes to lovers prompts #exes to lovers #writing prompts #writing inspiration #writeblr #writing #masterpost #writers on tumblr

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corvase · 2 years

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falling in love prompts +

feel free to use :)

“i genuinely don’t know why my brain just goes blank when i look at you. i think i’m going a little crazy.”

the little laugh or smile a character a does in utter disbelief because character b is just so endearing and sigh

one character going “so this is really awkward cause i know i told you i wasn’t looking for love but then i kinda fell in love and i would love it if you’d take me”

“can i love you?”

“i just… adore you.”

character a noticing character b is sleepy while driving and being like “hey i can take over for you”

the classic “no i’m not in love with character a, yes thinking about hurting them makes me want to throw myself into ongoing traffic, no it doesn’t make sense to me either”

their love interest fell asleep and your main character has a blanket so they give it to them

confessions when one character thinks the other is sleeping

they kiss for the first time and one character just steps back and is like “um ok. yeah that’s not a normal kiss i def love u”

character not being able to even fathom or come close to understanding how someone can dislike such a beautiful ray of sunshine and oh yeah ok…. they’re def in love

characters who’ve been married for years falling in love all over again

exes to lovers

“i think i love you…?” “….. think?” “let’s just say a ninety-nine percent chance.” “i’ll take it.”

that moment where your character just… looks. just looks at their love interest for more than five seconds and doesn’t understand why or how this earth can exist and the sun and moon exist and the sky can be an eternal source of happiness and yet this person right here can bring so much more warmth and comfort to them with just a single glance

note confessions because yes written confessions in letters are superior

“i got you a gift. i hope you like it.” and character who receives the gift tries not to mention that any gift would mean more than the stars in the sky as long as it was from them

“do you… love me, by any chance?” “yeah, why?” “well, i’m sorry, i was just— WAIT WHAT—”

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mattmurdocksscars · 8 days

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Exes

Summary: After a dare to call an ex goes the opposite way you thought it would, you and Matt reconcile.

Word count: 3k

It started out as a normal enough night. You and your girl friends had gotten together after a long week and were having some drinks. Then someone suggested shots. Then someone suggested truth or dare. And that's how you found yourself in your current position.

Your phone was held in front of your face on speaker as it rang. You had been dared to call an ex and after a moment of panic, you'd realized exactly who to call. There was no way he would pick up. Not only had the two of you ended on bad terms but it had also been quite some time since either of you had spoken to each other. Plus, he had nightly activities that would keep him busy. So surely he wouldn't answer-

“Hello?” You froze as Matt's exhausted voice cut through the chatter of the bar. All of your friends immediately began to giggle, covering their mouths to hide the sound. When you didn't answer after a moment, Matt said your name with concern. Clearing your throat, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I didn't think you'd answer.” You heard the sound of him moving around on the phone followed by a small hiss of pain.

“Of course I answered. You never call. So clearly something must be wrong.” Your brain was quickly putting together the hints he was giving off, even in your inebriated state. He was obviously home, exhausted, and the sound of pain he'd let out all told you he was hurt. Without further thought, you took your phone off of speaker and walked away from the table, much to the disappointment of your friends. You told Matt to wait a second before you moved so you were outside the bar where it was slightly quieter.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called. To be honest, it was a stupid dare from my friends and I genuinely thought you wouldn't answer.” Matt sighed on the other end.

“It's… fine. I just thought… nevermind. I'm glad you're okay. Do you need anything else? If not, I'm gonna go.” His voice was cold but you could still hear the exhaustion.

“Are you okay?” You blurt out, before you can second guess yourself. The line is tensely silent and after a minute, you find yourself rambling

“It's just that I can hear the exhaustion and pain in your voice. I don't mean to pry but I'm just worried about you. Did you get hurt again?”

“You're worried about me?” You feel your cheeks heat at his question and look down at your feet, kicking the pavement.

“I-...of course I am. It sounds like you're really hurt. I know we're not together anymore but that doesn't mean-” Your brain catches up with what you're saying and you abruptly cut yourself off.

“Doesn't mean what?” Matt asks, his voice quiet but hopeful. You sniffle, feeling tears prick at your eyes as the realization really hits you. You miss him. So damn much. And in your inebriated state you can't help but to tell him the truth.

“It doesn't mean that I don't care. Because I do, Matt. I care so much. I miss you so much. Where did we go wrong?” You ask brokenly. Matt's heart shatters at your words and he grunts as he gets to his feet.

“Sweetheart, where are you?”

“Why?”

“Cause I'm gonna come get you. You're obviously drunk and I don't want you walking home alone.”

“No, Matt, you're hurt. You don't need to be worrying about me right now.” You wipe your eyes and sniffle again. “I'll be okay. I'm sorry I called.”

“Are you?”

“...No. I'm not. I missed your voice.”

“I missed yours too.” Matt admits quietly. “I'm sorry I couldn't be who you wanted me to be. I know you wanted me to give up Daredevil but-”

“No, Matt, no! I never wanted that, I just wanted you to slow down some and take care of yourself. You were so hurt all the time and it got to the point I was scared you wouldn't make it home at night. I never wanted you to stop, I just needed you to understand that you were running yourself into the ground.”

“You- Really?”

“Really.”

“All this time, I thought… God, where did we go wrong?”

“I don't want you coming out because it sounds like you're hurt but… can I come to you? Can we talk this out?” You bit your lip as you waited on a response.

“Are you sure you're sober enough for this?” You laughed, hearing the teasing edge to his voice.

“I will be by the time I get to you. Please, Matt? The thought that we could fix this…”

“It is a very tempting thought.” Matt murmured. “My place is a bit of a mess but it's open to you. It always will be.”

You immediately grinned and turned back to the bar.

“Let me pay my tab and say goodbye and I'll be there soon.”

“Stay on the phone with me? Since you won't let me come get you.” You chuckled but agreed. Swiftly, you paid your tab, said goodbye to your friends, and hurried to Matt's. The entire time, the line hung open between the two of you. Soft conversation flowed freely and you felt yourself getting giddy the closer you got to Matt's. By the time you reached his apartment complex, you were almost breathless. The alcohol had worn off on the brisk walk and you were almost wishing for the liquid courage it would have provided you. Instead, you pulled open the door and hurried up the stairs. You made it to Matt's door and got ready to knock when the door swung open. Still holding the phone to your face, hand comically in the air, you grinned.

“Hi.” You breathed out. Matt smiled at you nervously, ended the phone call between you two, and let his hand fall to his side.

“Hi. Come on in.” He said softly. He stepped to the side, and you entered. You kicked your shoes off and slowly walked down the hall into the living room. You took everything in, from the empty beer bottles on his dining table to the open bottle of painkillers on his coffee table. Turning back to him, you looked him over.

He was dressed in a hoodie and sweats. The hoodie was zipped all the way up for once and you knew it was to hide the extent of his injuries. His hands were tucked in the pockets of the hoodie and he slowly made his way over to you. You felt sympathy well up at the way he was limping and opened your mouth before you could think it through.

“Are you sure you're up for this? You look like you're in a lot of pain.” You told him. His glasses glinted in the light from the billboard as he tilted his head at you. There were bruises hiding behind the lenses and across the bridge of his nose. His lip was split and it highlighted his frown.

“I'm fine. Like you said, the thought that we could fix this is something I can't ignore.”

“We could always fix it later, when you feel better.”

“Having second thoughts?”

“Not at all. Just worried about you.” Matt sighed and walked over to you. He hesitated before reaching out and taking one of your hands in his. You welcomed the touch and told him so by gently squeezing his hand.

“I'll be okay. I promise. Now, do you want anything or should we just get into it?”

“Let's just get into it.” You told him. You gently squeezed his hand again before separating from him and sitting on the couch. You leaned forward and put your elbows on your knees, looking up at Matt.

“I am so sorry that I made you think I wanted you to stop being Daredevil. That is the last thing I wanted. I know how important it is to you and I would never come between you and your nightly habit. That being said, I did want you to slow down. You were getting so hurt and it killed me to spend my nights wondering if you were even going to make it home because you kept going out even when you were really hurt. If we're going to reconcile, I need to know you're going to take better care of yourself.” Matt nodded slowly at your words. There was a frown etched across his face and his head tilted as he regarded you.

“I'll be honest, since we've been broken up I've been more reckless. With no one to come home to, I felt like there was no point in being home. Not that I'm blaming you or saying it's your fault. I just spiraled. Foggy and Karen had to set me straight. They made the point that if I ever wanted balance in my life, I was going to have to take more time as Matt and less time as the Devil. It took some time but I finally got it through my head. I'm actually home tonight because I'm healing. As you've already guessed. I won't trouble you with the details but it was bad. This is my second night home. Even with Claire patching me up, I knew I needed to give my body time to heal. So I like to think I am taking better care of myself.”

“Oh, Matt. How bad is it?” His sightless eyes darted back and forth as he shrugged, shifting on his feet.

“Not as bad as the Nobu fight but close. Claire and Foggy stayed with me through the next day. Once I promised them I was staying home for a couple of days and would take care of myself, they left. When your phone call came through, I… I was so nervous. I was afraid you were calling because you were in trouble and I was too hurt to help…” Matt told you quietly. You teared up at his last words and put your hand over your mouth.

“I'm so sorry I scared you like that. But at the same time…I'm glad I got dared to call you. If it's alright with you, I'd like to keep an eye on you. Check in on you over the next couple of days as you heal.”

“Even if we don't work things out?” The tip of Matt's mouth curled up and you laughed.

“Even if things don't work out. But I have a feeling.”

“You have a feeling?”

“Yep. I have a feeling that everything's going to start getting better from here.” You smiled up at Matt, who finally moved to sit down next to you on the couch. He left plenty of room between the two of you and a part of you longed to close that distance but you let him have it for now.

“Wow. So you're psychic now?” Matt teased. You laughed and settled back into the couch, turning to face Matt.

“Totally. That's how I really knew to call you. My new psychic abilities.” That caused you both to laugh though it was cut short when Matt gasped in pain and clutched his side. You immediately sobered watching him flinch in pain.

“When was the last time you took anything for pain?”

“It's been a bit. Probably due for something.” You immediately stood up and headed to his kitchen, opening the cabinet he kept his cups in and pouring him a glass of water. You returned to the couch and took the painkiller bottle off the coffee table. You knocked out enough pills for a dose and then handed them and the water to Matt. He softly thanked you and took them. It was quiet for a few minutes before Matt finally spoke.

“I missed this.”

“What? You, writhing on the couch in pain? Masochist.” Matt smiled and shook his head.

“No. Having you here. Being able to hear your heartbeat and know I'm not alone.” He admitted quietly.

“You're not alone, Matt. You've got Claire, Foggy, and Karen to keep you company.”

“Yeah, but they're not you.” You suck in a sharp breath at his words. It never really occurred to you that Matt would miss you so much. You'd thought he would just keep himself busy and be fine. You realize now it was selfish of you to think of him like that. You hesitantly reach out and grab his hand.

“Do you want to try this again? I'm willing to give it a shot if you are.” You tell him and the smile that lights up his face has your heart skipping a beat. You'd almost forgotten just how handsome Matt could be.

“I'd love to try this again. I promise I'll try to be better. I don't ever want you to feel like you don't matter to me. Because you do. So much.”

“You matter to me too. And don't change too much, okay? I love you for you, Matt.”

“Say it again.” He whispered.

“Which part?”

“That you love me.”

“I love you, Matt Murdock.”

“I love you too.”

And so the two of you spent the next couple hours catching up. You told him everything that had happened in your life since the two of you split and he did the same. It wasn't until you realized it was almost 2 am that you realized you should probably leave. You told Matt as much and he frowned.

“Don't go. Please? It's not safe out there this late. You can stay here.”

“Is that a good idea?” You asked him.

“I'll stay on the couch if it makes you feel better. Just don't try to walk home this late.” He was serious and you could tell the idea of you leaving really made him anxious.

“Alright, I'll stay. But you're staying in your bed, mister. You are too hurt to be sleeping on this couch.”

“But-”

“Those are my conditions, Matt. I won't have you hurting yourself more for me.”

“Okay.” He sulked. But he stood up and pulled a blanket and an extra pillow from the closet, handing them to you.

“Thank you. Goodnight, Matt. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

He shuffled his way over to his room and carefully laid down. You noticed he kept his rolling door open and smiled.

“If you want clothes to change into, you know where to find them.” Matt called out. You nodded and quietly padded over to his room and pulled out an old shirt and some pants. You then disappeared into his bathroom. Once changed and ready for bed, you laid down on the couch and pulled the blanket over you. You noticed Matt was breathing evenly and were glad he was already asleep. You settled down and let yourself drift off.

Only to be woken an hour later by Matt's quiet shouts. You immediately shot up and ran over. Realizing he was having a nightmare, you gently carded your fingers through his hair and cooed softly.

“It's okay, Matt. You're safe. You're just dreaming. Wake up, baby. It's okay.” You just kept whispering sweet nothings to him until he finally lurched awake, eyes darting everywhere in his panic. Once he seemed to realize where he was, he settled. He swallowed thickly.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“Okay.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Will you… will you please stay with me? I don't think I can go back to sleep on my own.” You nodded slowly then rounded the bed and crawled in beside him. There was a tense silence for several minutes before you finally sighed.

“Come here, Matt.”

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You're not going to. I know you're not going to go back to sleep unless we're touching, so come here.”

Matt didn't say anything at first, he just laid there. For a second you were worried you had made him uncomfortable but then he sighed and carefully rolled over. Your heart broke for him and how badly he seemed to hurt. Before you could second guess yourself, you opened your arms to him.

“Come here, Matt. I've got you.”

Matt's breath hitched and then he was moving. He crawled into your arms and settled himself on top of you, laying between your legs with his head on your chest. You heard him inhale as if to say something but before he could, you settled your arms around him. He immediately relaxed into you, a soft rumble coming from his chest. You ran your fingers through his hair and gently rubbed at his back. Before long, you felt your shirt start to get wet and you felt your own eyes tear up.

“I missed you so much, sweetheart.” Matt said brokenly. “Please don't leave again. I'll do anything just don't l-”

“Shh, Matt. Calm down, I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm here and I've got you.” Like a dam breaking, Matt fell apart right there in your arms and all you could do was hold him through it. The sobs that wracked his body had to hurt but it didn't stop them from happening. You did your best to soothe him, assuring him quietly. Slowly the sobs began to fade and his breathing finally slowed as he calmed down. The odd tear still fell from his eyes but he relaxed and let himself sink into your arms.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize, Matt. Everything has clearly been hard on you and you finally let it out. That's okay. I'd rather you let it out then bottle it up.”

“Thank you. For holding me and for being so understanding.”

“I'll always hold you and I'll always try to be understanding.”

Matt smiled and dug his head down into your neck, taking slow deep breaths.

There, wrapped in each others arms, the two of you slowly felt the broken pieces of your hearts start to heal.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #Matt murdock x you #exes to lovers #my writing

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scealaiscoite · 2 months

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exes to lovers prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍊 ꒱

-ˏˋ. dialogue ˊˎ-

¹⁾ “there probably isn’t a worse possible time in the world for me to bring this up, but i wanted to tell you how sorry i am for how things ended.”

²⁾ “i miss us. is that weird to say?”

³⁾ “they’re not good for you.” “and what would you, of all people, know about being good for me?!”

⁴⁾ “it’s hard to not fall back into old habits. everything just feels so familiar with them, y’know? it feels like going home after a long day and finally feeling safe again.”

⁵⁾ “i want to try again.”

⁶⁾ “i think we’re always going to end up finding our way back to each other.” “that’s what i’m afraid of.”

⁷⁾ “i can’t help but find it terribly funny that you think you’re in any position to give me dating advice.”

⁸⁾ “we used to live together. are you telling me that staying the night in the same place is too close a proximity for us to share?”

⁹⁾ “we’ve both changed so much. i can’t help but wonder what we’d be like together now.”

¹⁰⁾ “maybe the fact we have such a hard time staying away from one another says something.”

-ˏˋ actions / scenarios ˊˎ-

¹⁾ running into each other at a place they used to frequent together as a couple

²⁾ slipping up and calling them by a nickname/petname in conversation

³⁾ hearing of their new partner, and feeling inexplicably sad

⁴⁾ neither of them having an s/o to spend the following holiday with, so they resolve to just spend the day together

⁵⁾ giving their new partner advice on how to treat them, and it resulting in a row when the other person finds out

⁶⁾ finding out that the other has kept an item of clothing belonging to them, by accidentally running into them whilst they’re wearing it

⁷⁾ their friends and family taking bets on how long it’ll be before they get back together

⁸⁾ both getting set up on blind dates - only to arrive, and realise they’ve been paired with one another

⁹⁾ one character being given advice by a friend about moving on, and accidentally being overheard by their ex who was trying to build up the courage to make amends

¹⁰⁾ gravitating towards each other when in need of comfort after a stressful/traumatic experience

#i have been ambling on about these for a month but ! better late than never <3 #prompts #exes to lovers #exes to lovers prompts #exes to lovers writing #otp prompts #imagine youre otp #prompt list #writing prompts #fluff prompts #dialogue prompts #rp meme #imagine your otp #otp writing #otp rp meme #angst prompts #reconciliation prompts

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bonbonbee · 15 days

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second times the charm - exes to lovers

prompt list by @bonbonbee

"you look.. different."

"i still think about you sometimes. who am i kidding? i think about you all the time."

finding their hoodie/item they thought they lost in your closet.

"y'know what? let's start fresh. hi, i'm _____. and you are?"

"are you flirting or starting another fight? i'm equipped for both."

"did we.. kiss last night?" "yup. worth the wait."

"you're not okay. stop telling me that you're okay! i'm ready to take responsibility. so let me."

when seeing your smile again after breaking up, their heart skipped a beat.

"i missed you, i missed this. & us."

"no matter how much you'd like to deny it _____, you're my person. you always were and always will be."

understanding each other completely without words, like a sixth sense.

"gosh, i missed you.. so so much."

"i want to treat you how i should've before."

getting them something they used to adore.

^ "you remembered." "of course i did, c'mon at least give me a little credit."

"i miss us. is that weird to think?" "not at all."

"i hate you. but i want you too?? it's complicated, okay?" "feelings mutual, princess."

#bonbonbee #dialogue prompts #prompt list #prompts #writing prompts #fluff prompts #cute prompts #love prompts #romance prompts #exes to lovers #exes #first love #first love prompts #exes prompts #exes to lovers prompts #writing

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daechwitatamic · 1 year

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All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t || MYG

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t

WC: 11k

Genre: exes to lovers, the babiest angst straight to fluffy smut (they’ve got shit to work out, but they get there!!)

Summary: You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

Rating: NSFW - minors DNI

Warnings: manbun!yoongi YES THAT IS A WARNING, drinking, language, kissing, breast play/nip stim, fingering, unprotected sex with bc (be safer than this!!!), multiple orgasms (f), penetrative sex, soft idiots in love

A/N: Merry Christmas, Kelly!!!! @here4btsfics I was soooooo excited to pull your name for @bangtansecretsanta because it gave me such a good opportunity to get to know you better and start talking to you! I really, really hope you love this little Christmas fic!

I know you said no angst so just a lil disclaimer, a synopsis I messaged my beta was "it hurts for a hot minute but then they kiss about it and everyone is fine" so I think you'll be okay!!!

Huge thank you to @kookstempo @moonleeai and @cherrysoulth for beta-ing and to @itaeewon for the gorgeous banner!

“Anything new with you? How’s work?”

You plaster on what you hope is a friendly smile and not a sarcastic one. Seokjin’s girlfriend is super nice, you remember her from a party over the summer, but you do not want to talk about work right now. You want to drown yourself in another cinnamon toast crunch cocktail and double-fist those iced, reindeer-shaped brown-sugar cookies.

You admit to being a little bit on edge.

You’ve attended Taehyung’s annual Christmas party every year since you left for college. It’s tradition, and it’s one of the only times each year that the whole group is back together again after you all went your separate ways in the world.

Except, for the last five years, Yoongi hadn’t attended. You never thought too much about why - too busy, other plans, just the fact that he’s an absolute Grinch… or maybe it’s your presence that keeps him away. You didn’t waste too much time thinking about it. You’re just always happy he isn’t there.

Until this year.

No one even had the decency to shoot you a warning text. Hey, heads up, your ex is here, very unexpectedly.

You knock back the rest of your drink and head to make yourself a new one.

You normally attach yourself to Jimin at these, but he’s betrayed you this year by bringing an absolutely gorgeous date. They’re currently hogging the doorway with mistletoe above it. You make a mental note to remind him tomorrow that the PDA thing stops being cute after a while.

“Work’s good,” you say, finally answering the question. “Nothing new. How about you and Jin? All good?”

“Nothing new to report!” she grins. Then, the smile slips off her face a little as she glances at her phone. She notices you watching and grimaces. “Sorry,” she says, “I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just keeping an eye on the radar. The storm tonight is supposed to get nasty.”

“Hey! What’s the rule tonight?” a voice bellows from the living room. It’s Taehyung, perched against the back of one of his couches, and he points an accusatory finger at the girl you’re talking to.

She must know something you don’t, because while you’re baffled, she looks chagrined. “Don’t talk about the blizzard,” she recites by rote.

“Don’t talk about the blizzard,” he repeats. “Have another drink. It’s Christmas Eve, we welcome the snow.”

“You’re the only person I know who’s optimistic enough to try to throw a party on a night they’re calling for the storm of the century,” Seokjin tells him, making his way into the kitchen - probably to protect his girlfriend from Taehyung’s scoldings.

“They say that every time,” Taehyung scoffs, waving a hand. Then he’s up and moving, heading towards the dining room, where a spread of food is laid out.

There must be more people in there, you think, because the kitchen and the living room are definitely looking a little less crowded than they were an hour ago. Yoongi and Hoseok are on the couch, glasses in hand, talking quietly. The tv, mounted high on the wall, plays a classic Christmas film in black and white. You stop before the balcony doors, peering out into the night. The lamps that line the parking lot glow orange, and you can see in the lamplight that snow is falling steadily, and it’s starting to accumulate a little on the pavement below.

Jimin comes up beside you. His date’s lipstick is still smudged in the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a hot mess,” you tell him affectionately.

“I think we’re gonna head out,” he tells you, ignoring the jab.

You shake your head, your earrings glittering in your reflection in the glass. “It’s not even nine,” you point out.

“The roads are going to get slick,” he tells you, suddenly serious. “You should think about getting an Uber before too long, too.”

“You’re going to break Taehyung’s heart,” you inform him. “I think he’s starting to catch on that people are leaving.”

“He should have rescheduled the party!” Jimin says hotly; he and Taehyung had argued about this passionately all week, ever since the forecast picked up on the storm coming through. “We could have done this yesterday, no blizzard, everyone would have stayed all night!”

Jimin’s date slinks over and presses her hand to his upper back. “Ready?” she asks, voice like silk.

“Bye,” you tell him sulkily. In the reflection, you watch him pause to tell Yoongi and Hoseok goodbye. They each stand, reaching in one at a time to give him a quick one-armed hug goodbye.

You keep watching the reflection in the glass as Hoseok takes advantage of already being up and heads for the dining room.

You knew it would happen at some point tonight - you’re alone in the living room with Yoongi. You’d just hoped it would happen after you were a lot drunker.

He meanders over. You glance at the drink in his hand - whiskey, neat. You could have guessed that on a gameshow and earned some money.

He’s dressed in all black - down to the chelsea boots. His hair is half-up in a bun that sits just behind the crown of his head. The rest brushes the tops of his shoulders, curling slightly at the ends.

He’d never had long hair like this before. It’s a crime how fucking good it looks.

Your gameplan tonight has been simple: avoid, avoid, avoid. But Yoongi stands close enough to reach out and touch you, sips at his whiskey, and murmurs, “It’s been a while.”

Five years. But who’s counting?

“It has,” you allow. You hate confrontation, you don’t want this to be a thing. You’re determined to be polite, play nice, and hopefully get out of here unscathed. “How have you been? Are you enjoying yourself?”

He wiggles his head. “Eh. You know I’m not into all that holly, jolly shit.”

“It’s a Christmas party,” you point out flatly. “Holly, jolly is kind of the point.”

He shrugs. “The point for me is just to see the guys, catch up with everyone. It’s been a long time since we were all together.”

He means we the guys, not we you and him. But your heart still speeds up at the word, the traitor.

You nod, turning away from him to look outside again. But your eyes stay on his reflection, both of you standing with your backs to the party. He looks down at his drink, swirls the amber liquid around the bottom of the glass.

“You always did hate the holidays,” you observe absently.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” he says, so gently that it shocks you into turning to look at him.

“Do what?”

“Rehash everything,” he says with a shrug. “Talk about everything we remember. Talk at all.”

“If you don’t want to talk to me, then don’t,” you snap, suddenly defensive and heated. “You came over here, not the other way around.” So much for polite and non-confrontational. But damn, he has some audacity.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, a little quickly, holding up his one empty hand like he’s surrendering. “I just meant… don’t feel like you have to, if you don’t want to. Don’t do it for my sake.”

Your temper settles, but you still feel a little… disgruntled, unsettled. “If I didn’t want to talk to you, I wouldn’t be,” you grumble.

He smiles at this. “That’s right. You never do anything you don’t want to do.”

Maybe that used to be the case.

The liquor takes over your mouth. “I didn’t want to break up,” you say pointedly, “so I guess that’s not true.”

He huffs out a single laugh, shaking his head at your audacity. “You always just say shit,” he murmurs. “To hell with the consequences.”

“What consequences?” you demand, turning to face him fully. “Are you going to dump me more? I fail to see how I could make things worse for us after five years of not speaking.”

He licks his lips, eyes on his glass again. That was the thing about you and Yoongi - he’s right, you did just say shit. And he always just handled it. He always heard you, processed it, and dealt with it productively. He never took the bait and got mad back, never yelled - even when you’d wished he’d yell.

“It’s because,” he’d told you, sometime around seven years ago, when you were together, “when you say absolutely wild shit like that, you always mean something else. And I just happen to be very good at translating you.”

Now, he meets your eyes again, having processed. Having translated. “What I’m hearing you say,” he says slowly, “is that you’re still mad at me.”

That’s all it takes to take the wind out of your sails - that’s always how it worked with you and Yoongi. You blustered and got worked up, and he defused you easily - just by meeting your gaze, just by assuring you that you were heard.

“I think I’m mad at our circumstances,” you correct quietly. “And I think I’ve had too many of these.” You eye the cocktail in your hand with narrowed, accusatory eyes.

He gives you the barest sliver of a smile. “Don’t blame the drinks,” he says, shaking his head. “You never could lie to me - it has nothing to do with alcohol.”

He’s right. For all your faults, for all the negatives you can take credit for, you always told him the truth.

Namjoon appears in the living room, a beer in hand, still in the bottle.

“I’m trying to decide which one of you needs to be rescued from the other,” he admits, looking between you, “and I honestly can’t tell.”

“Rescue him from me,” you say. “He’s been nice and I’ve been prickly.”

“You?” Namjoon says in mock surprise. “Prickly? No way.”

You flip him off, smiling.

Seokjin comes up behind Namjoon, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think we’re going,” he says, looking past you to the snow outside. “I don’t want to drive once the roads are slick.”

Namjoon sighs, following his gaze. “I was having fun,” he says sadly. “But I’m probably not too far behind you.”

“Nooo,” Taehyung whines from the dining room. “Everyone stop leaving! It’s just a little snow!”

Seokjin’s girlfriend finds him, joining your little circle, her phone still in her hand. “We’re supposed to have almost three inches by midnight,” she says in a whisper, clearly not wanting Taehyung to come after her. “We need to get moving.”

When Seokjin and his girlfriend leave, you float back towards the dining room. Namjoon and Yoongi stay behind, talking quietly. Probably, Namjoon is checking to make sure you weren’t too mean to him. Which… that’s fair.

The truth is, you aren’t mad at Yoongi. How could you be? When he ended things, he hadn’t been cruel, or unfair. His decision had been made logically. You understood exactly why he felt he needed to do it.

That’s where the hurt came from, you figured. You were always led by your emotions - quick to anger, but quick to laugh. Yoongi was always more even-tempered, logical. While you were packing up your life to move away from home for university, he’d laid out the reasons you shouldn’t stay together like they were a grocery list.

Like it didn’t hurt him at all.

None of his reasons were wrong. But would it have killed him to act like he cared? You’d been together three years - and you felt like they should count more, since they were such formative ones. Like dog years - each one should have counted for seven. It had broken your heart to let him walk away - shouldn’t he have felt something, too?

You’d dated plenty in college, a few of those relationships getting serious enough to last a few months. But at the end of the day, nobody compared to your first love. How could they? How could anyone?

No one understood you like Yoongi. No one could translate you like Yoongi. No one knew - or learned - how to settle you down like Yoongi. No one had that mental encyclopedia of useless knowledge like Yoongi. No one else had that perfect blend of dry and earnest like Yoongi. No one else fit to your body like a puzzle piece like Yoongi.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter then, and it doesn’t matter now. Yoongi had left, Yoongi had taken the decision right out of your hands and walked away with it. You weren’t mad at him, but you definitely resented that.

You’d had years to get over it, to forgive him, to come to terms with the fact that he was right about every single thing. But forgiveness and understanding are one thing. Letting go - of him, of loving him - is something else entirely, and you’re starting to think that even a lifetime of years won’t be enough for that.

That’s enough of that, you think, giving yourself a rough mental shake. You set down your drink glass and head for the bathroom, but it’s occupied. You lean against the wall outside, counting your breaths, trying to get yourself back into that holly, jolly headspace.

The door opens and Jungkook emerges, singing under his breath, “Pah-rum-pum-pum-pum!”

“Hi, JayKay,” you say, moving to slide past him into the bathroom.

“Oh, hey!” he says brightly. “I was just about to leave. You have a way to get home, right? It’s getting worse out there.”

“I was just going to Uber,” you tell him.

“Better do it soon,” he warns. “Soon the drivers aren’t going to want to be on the roads.”

“Good point,” you say, and wave a quick goodbye before shutting the bathroom door. You give yourself a stern look in the mirror.

Get it together, please, you think firmly. Seeing your ex - this ex, too, not just a casual one - for the first time in five years earns you a little wallowing, you think, and you fully intend to. At home. Later. Not here, in front of everyone.

Not here, in front of him.

Back in the kitchen, the party has really dwindled down to the last few people. Outside, snow falls as steadily as Taehyung’s guest list.

The peer pressure gets to you, and you pull out your phone and open a ride-share app. It takes a while before a driver connects, but you’re persistent. Once you have a driver, you watch the little image of their car start to head in your direction on the map.

From the dining room, you hear Yoongi make a tch of frustration. “No one is picking up for me,” he grumbles, seemingly to himself.

“Good,” Taehyung says seriously. “Don’t leave me.”

You go find your coat, slipping your arms into the sleeves and doing up each button. When you return to the dining room, Yoongi and Taehyung are the only ones left. Taehyung is fully, blatantly, sulking, his arms crossed on the table and his chin resting dejectedly atop them.

“Better luck next time, bud,” you tell him kindly.

Yoongi is still squinting at his phone screen, frowning.

You feel a twinge of concern, of the need to make it better for him the way you used to on a regular basis. “Still nothing?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t even see anyone on the map.”

You check your phone again - your car is just up the road. “I have one,” you tell him. “Join mine - we’ll just request the extra stop.”

Yoongi meets your eyes, holds your gaze for a minute. Then, he says, so seriously, “Are you sure?”

You know he means it. You know if you give any indication that you don’t want him in a car with you, he won’t push it.

“Yeah,” you say. “Of course. I’m not going to leave you stranded here.”

“Why not?” Taehyung whines, kicking his feet a little in protest.

“My car’s just here though,” you warn, eyes on your screen, both of you absolutely ignoring the host of the party.

“I’ll grab my coat,” Yoongi says, and heads for the hallway.

“Sorry, Taehyung,” you say sympathetically. “I know you’re sad.”

He refuses to look at you.

After giving over-the-top goodbye hugs to try and un-sulk the whiny baby, you and Yoongi head down the stairs and outside. You don’t look behind you to check that Yoongi is following. The car idles by the curb, and you double-check the license plate against the app.

In the backseat of the car, you slide over to make room for Yoongi. As soon as he closes his door and the car lurches into motion, the vibe changes. You sit stiffly, ramrod straight, eyes on the windshield. Yoongi’s not sitting quite as straight as you, but there’s a tightness to his shoulders, like he’s holding himself carefully so he doesn’t touch you by accident with the car’s inertia.

You had put in your parent’s address when you requested the ride, since that’s where you’re staying until New Years’ Day. You and Yoongi sit in blasting, blaring silence as the car crosses the middle of the town you’d both grown up in, that you’d run around in together as teenagers in love. But, past town, towards the quiet neighborhood where your parents’ house is, the car slows to a stop.

“I can’t go through this way, Miss,” your driver says, peering at you through the rearview mirror. “There’s a powerline down up there.”

“Oh shit,” you say, which is probably not very polite of you. You lean forward to look at the same time Yoongi does, your shoulders bumping. You both recoil quickly.

“I think you can get to the development from the other side,” you muse, “but we’d have to backtrack and go around the lake on the other side…”

“Let’s just go to my place,” Yoongi interjects. “The roads are getting worse, and it’s close.”

You frown. Yoongi’s parents’ house - which you’d been to plenty of times as a younger person - is on the other side of town. Not close by your standards, but you aren’t here to argue.

Or maybe you are.

“I don’t know, Yoongi,” you say, uncertainty creeping into your voice. “How will I get home from there?”

“You might have to stay,” he admits, leaning down to better look at the road through the front windshield. The driver sits, watching you debate, waiting for a directive.

You give Yoongi a silent look like, okay, and so you see my problem?

He scoffs at you. “It’s fine. We can handle one night.”

You want to ask, how sure are you about that? Instead, you start to tell the driver Yoongi’s parents’ address.

“Wait,” Yoongi says, putting a hand gently on your arm to stop you. You both freeze, looking at the point of contact. Yoongi shakes himself out of it first, and tells the driver a different address.

The car shifts back into drive and you look at Yoongi quizzically.

“Did your family move?” you ask finally.

Here’s the thing. You know Yoongi, you get Yoongi; five years apart hasn’t changed that at all. So when he licks his lips, shifts his gaze to his feet, and starts rubbing the back of his neck, you know it’s guilt.

“Yoongi?” you prod, suspicious.

He mumbles something, still not looking at you.

“What?” you snap. “You what?”

“I sort of moved back last month…” he repeats to the floor.

“You live here?” you repeat, dumbfounded. “You live in town again?”

“Currently, yeah,” he says, and there’s something in that currently that you’d really like to examine, but you’re still fucking floored.

Yoongi had gone to university in the city - hours away. The distance thing was reasons one through four of his Why We Need to Break Up list. It had made sense, logistically. It made sense when you went abroad for university, and he stayed here. It made sense when you returned and got an internship and then a full-time job in a different city, hours in the opposite direction. It made sense when you managed to go five entire years without being in the same place.

But now he was here. Reasons one through four, moot.

Reasons five to whatever largely revolved around being young and needing to experience the world and figure out what you want in life, that kind of shit. Now it’s five years later and you’ve both experienced plenty of bullshit.

Reasons five through whatever, moot.

You wonder, wordlessly, heart pounding again, if Yoongi knows or cares that every reason he gave you to validate walking away no longer applies.

“You live here,” you repeat. You’re stuck on it, you can’t move on. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah,” he says guiltily. “I know you didn’t. I… was honestly fighting with myself about if I should reach out or not. I guess I ultimately decided not… since you’re in the city, and you have your whole life and everything…”

What life? You wonder.

The car pulls into a small, understated neighborhood. You’ve been here before; your chemistry partner from tenth grade lived in this development, you’d come to do homework more than once.

It’s always so weird to come back to this town, where everywhere you go has memories, secondary definitions. It’s not just a library, it’s the library where Yoongi had kissed you for the first time. It’s not just a park, it’s the park where you’d had your first fight, where you’d screamed at him in front of God and the ducks and all the moms pushing strollers. It’s not just a diner, it’s the diner where Yoongi had told you that it made no sense to try and stay together from different time zones.

Everything came back to him. It always had. It always does. In a lot of ways, you felt like you were fated to be tied to him this way - and you usually didn’t believe in shit like that.

You always break your own rules for him.

The place is small, and not very Yoongi-ish, but you keep your thoughts to yourself as Yoongi slides out of the car and waits for you.

“Get home safe,” you tell the driver before closing the door. Yoongi’s got his house keys in his hand, and he leads you up the walkway. It’s slick, and you try to step only in the footprints he leaves in the inch of snow coating the ground.

Inside, the light over the sink illuminates a small, mostly empty kitchen. That’s not very Yoongi-ish either, you think. You remember him cooking all the time - appliances everywhere, cutting boards hanging, pots and pans stored on hooks.

He passes the kitchen and enters what looks like the living room, reaching to click on a few dim lamps. They cast a yellow glow to the room.

You set down your purse and fold your coat up on top of it. Yoongi waits for you in the living room, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the window, watching the snow. His jawline from the side nearly takes your breath away. He’s so damn beautiful it makes you sick.

And he’s back, Yoongi is back.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks, finally looking at you.

“Whatever you’re having would be great,” you tell him. You settle gingerly on one end of the couch as he busies himself in the kitchen. You shoot your parents a quick text that the roads were too bad and you weren’t going to make it back to their place so they wouldn’t worry.

Yoongi returns with two glasses of red wine. He hands you one wordlessly and sits opposite you on the couch.

“So,” you say. The awkward, hyper-polite vibe from the car is back. Like you’re strangers. Like you didn’t know each other inside and out, once. “You’ve been here a month?”

“Just shy of it,” Yoongi corrects politely. “I signed a two month lease, so… I’ve got a few weeks to figure out my next move.”

“You don’t think you’ll stay?” you ask, then sip at the wine. It’s good - of course it’s good, he’s got great taste. You love and hate that about him.

He shrugs, drinks from his own glass. “Doubt it.”

He doesn’t give you any more information than that - why he’s back, what’s next for him, why he’s here for such a short time.

You don’t press it. He’ll tell you if he wants to.

Instead, you both drink in silence. Outside, the snow seems to redouble its efforts, the wind picking up until it seems to be snowing sideways for minutes at a time before calming into a normal downward fall again.

“I think we made the right choice,” Yoongi murmurs, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the weather and Taehyung’s party, not about your past.

“Mhm,” you nod, as you come back into the present. That’s a problem you have - you’re always looking back. “Imagine if we were just leaving now? What a mess. Thanks for taking me in, I guess.”

“You guess,” he repeats, rolling his eyes, but there’s no ire in it.

You drink in silence a little longer, and then Yoongi rises with a sigh. “I’ll go put clean sheets on the bed,” he says, sort of absently, like he’s both talking to you and also just thinking out loud. “And then I’ll show you how to work the tv in there if you –”

“I’m not sleeping in your bed, Yoongi,” you tell him flatly.

He balks. “I didn’t mean with me, I meant by yourself!”

“No, I know that,” you reassure him. “But I’m not letting you sleep on your own couch because of me. I’ll sleep out here. It’s fine.”

“Absolutely not,” he says, shaking his head vehemently. That long hair swishes. “You’re a guest. I’m not putting you on the couch.”

“Yoongi,” you say sternly. “If I know you’re out here on the couch and I’m in there with your whole friggin bed, I will simply not sleep because I will feel too guilty about it! And I would like to sleep. So, please, put your chivalry and hospitality aside, and let me sleep. Out here.”

He considers this, because he knows you, and he knows you’re telling the truth. “Fine,” he concedes, and disappears into what must be his bedroom.

When he returns, he’s carrying a stack of what looks like linens. He sets down the pile and you spy blankets and pillows. He pushes the pillows aside gently and picks up something else, turning to hold it out to you, an offering.

It’s gym shorts and a large tshirt, and you reach to take them without thinking. Once they’re in your hand, they feel suddenly heavy with meaning. You used to wear his clothes all the time - you might have one or two of his hoodies in the back of your closet at home because you love them and don’t want to get rid of them, even though you feel too weird to actually wear them. You’re not sure how you feel about wearing his clothes again, now that it means nothing. The alternatives are pretty undesirable, though, so you’ll have to grin and bear it.

“There’s a half-bath on the other side, through the kitchen,” he says, nodding towards the bathroom in question. “So you don’t have to feel weird walking through my room to the full bath if you don’t want to. Though... do you need to shower? I can get you towels and stuff –”

“Maybe in the morning?” you say, eyeing the clock on the wall. “Just… could I borrow face-soap? And toothpaste?”

You’ll have to make do without your make-up remover and an actual toothbrush. Finger-brushing it is.

When you emerge from the bathroom, teeth freshly finger-brushed, wearing Yoongi’s clothes, he’s standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing out the wine glasses you’d used.

You brush past him silently, and start setting up the couch how you want it. You hear the sink turn off, the click of the lightswitch as he shuts off the lights behind him. He comes back through the room and pauses in his doorway.

“Do you need anything?” he asks.

“No,” you say, feeling small in his baggy shirt, feeling small in the face of all the feelings you’re swimming in right now. “I’m all good.”

He looks at you for a long minute, searching. “Okay,” he says, finally. “Sleep well.”

He turns into his room, and you watch his skinny wrist turn as he reaches to shut the door.

“Yoongi,” you say, the word out of your mouth before you really know what will follow it. He pauses, peeks his head back into view, raises an eyebrow at you. “Thanks,” you say, meekly.

He nods, silent, then reaches to close his door, gently and effectively shutting you out.

You get comfortable on the couch, bunching the blanket up around your head how you like it. It takes almost no time at all to fall asleep, and when you do, you don’t dream.

You’re awakened sometime later by a noise, and you sit up, your brain scrambling to catch up to the present and figure out where you are.

A couch, it processes. It comes back to you a little at a time. Yoongi’s couch. Yoongi’s house. Yoongi’s house in town.

The noise that woke you must have been his bedroom door opening, because as you slowly get your bearings, you become aware of him staring at you from his doorway.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says apologetically, then moves across the room towards the kitchen. “I just needed water.” Then, from the kitchen, as an afterthought, he asks, “Do you want one?”

“Please,” you say immediately, mentally cataloging all the effects of dehydration you can feel. Cottony mouth, ringing ears, the tingling beginnings of a headache…

He returns to the living room and stops near the couch. You stretch to turn on one of the dim lamps, casting a quiet yellow on the room. He stands there in too-big pajamas and holds out a water bottle silently.

It’s definitely still the middle of the night. You can’t have slept more than a few hours. Everything feels different, somehow. It was so awkward before; you’d felt the need to be cautious and hyper-polite. Now everything feels blurred, fuzzy with sleep, softer. You’re sitting up, the blanket you’d been sleeping under still over your lap. You reach over and lift the other side, holding it up like a question.

Yoongi pads over and sits on the far side of the couch, but he curls his legs up and slips his bare feet under the blanket. You let it fall, covering him from the shin down.

He taps on his phone and grimaces at the time. “Hey,” he says, a little wry, “Merry Christmas.”

You smile. “Merry Christmas, Yoongi.”

He taps at his screen again and a speaker near his tv comes to life, playing what has to be a Coffee Shop Christmas playlist, pre-curated. You lean your head against the back of the couch, listening to the strum of acoustic guitar and the gentle snare of a drum meander through a mellow, lethargic version of It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.

“Christmas music, huh?” you tease, eyes closed. “That’s very holly, jolly of you.”

“I don’t hate Christmas,” he protests. “I’m not, like, a Grinch. It’s just… another day. So is tomorrow. Why all the fuss?”

You bump his foot with your knee beneath the blanket. “Scrooge.”

Ignoring your teasing, he looks sideways at you, something baleful on his face. “Y/N? I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

You’re surprised into silence, looking back at him across the couch. “What? What for?”

He grimaces, like the answer is too big, like he’s got an annotated list of every fault he’s mentally cataloged. “For all of it, I guess.”

You’re not letting him off the hook; this is too important to skirt around. “What are you sorry for, Yoongi?” you ask seriously.

He laughs once, quietly, incredulously, like he can’t believe you. “You really want to go there?”

“You know I do.”

He thinks before he speaks - one of your favorite things about him. “Because for the last five years, I hated myself for leaving you behind. And I wondered every day if you hated me for it, too.”

You sit in silence, feeling frozen. Yoongi lets you - Yoongi waits. Is he admitting regret? Does that mean he’d do it differently, given the chance?

Because here you are - being given the chance, in a way.

“I was never mad at you for going,” you tell him, because you know he needs to know. Yoongi doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean, which means he really did wonder if you hated him. You don’t owe him much, but you figure you owe him this truth. Then you admit, “But I was mad at myself for… letting you. Did you… I mean, should I have argued? When you left?”

You’d always wondered. What would have happened if you’d fought just a little harder for him to stay?

He scoots a little closer, tugging the blanket closer to his knees, thinking about your question. “I think part of me had hoped you would… but it wouldn’t have changed my mind,” he tells you honestly. “Just would’ve made it hurt more. The way things happened, I could lie and tell myself you were fine with letting me go.”

You exhale on a note of indignation. “Fine? That was you. You were so… okay with walking away.”

He shakes his head. He must have taken the bun out when he went to bed, and his hair swishes around his shoulders, loose and beautiful. “I wasn’t okay. I didn’t go a single day and not wonder… how you were. I didn’t go a single day sure that I made the right choice.”

You feel, weirdly, kind of pissed. “What am I supposed to do with that, Yoongi? Seriously?”

He opens his mouth to answer this rhetorical question, but you don’t let him. The words pour out of you, unleashed after five years of being held back.

“This is just… unfair. Because normally, in the movies, when you get this moment - the post-mortem - with someone from your past… they always ask why, right? Why’d you leave? But I don’t need to ask why - I know the why, I understood why. I want to know… I want to know if you regret it. If you’d take it back.”

“That’s two different questions,” he says solemnly, “with two different answers.”

You cut your eyes at him. It’s the middle of the night and your brain is mostly mush. You need him to just be forthcoming, just say things plainly.

He knows.

“Of course I regret it,” he whispers finally, as if the words hold too much weight to utter any louder. “I regretted it while I was still saying it. I hated being away from you, I hated not talking to you, I hated not knowing how you were or what you were doing or if you… still cared about me at all.” He pauses, inhales slowly, rubs a hand down his tired face, then exhales with a whoosh. “But would I take it back? I don’t know.”

You exhale, eyeing the ceiling. Who’s the one just saying shit now? God. “You can’t just say things like that, Yoongi,” you tell him, eyes trained on the shitty, popcorn ceiling above you.

He says your name, still so soft, so quiet.

“What?”

“Don’t cry.”

It’s so stupid. You hadn’t cried then, not in front of him. You wipe hastily under your eyes. “Sorry,” you say hastily, trying to save face. “It’s the lack of sleep.”

“I’m not sure I would take it back,” he repeats carefully, and you realize he hadn’t been done before - you’d interrupted his thought, “because when I left… I knew the whole time that it didn’t make anything better. But if I hadn’t… I think I’d still be wondering if I should, if we’d be better apart. I wouldn’t know, so the question would still be hanging over me.”

You think he’s saying something without saying it, but it’s like four in the morning and you just aren’t sure.

“But now?” you prod.

He shrugs, like it’s so simple. “Now I know the answer.”

You want to shake him. You’ve never had a conversation go in circles like this in your life, and you need to get to the center of it. “Yoongi,” you say, your voice tight like a warning.

He knows.

He always knows. He cuts to the chase. “I have a job lined up in the city.”

You almost drop your water bottle. “My city?”

“Your city.”

“Yoongi,” you say again, pleading. “Just say what you mean.” Please.

He smiles your favorite of his smiles - only one half of his mouth lifts at first, cocky, until it spreads the rest of the way and shows his gums in all their glory. “Just thinking about that whole list of reasons we shouldn’t be together… null and void now, don’t you think?”

You feel like you can’t breathe. You’ve both been circling it like predators, and now you’re closing in.

“So what does that mean? For you?” Do you dare to ask it? You do. “For us?”

Someone else, you think, would probably have asked you, what do you want it to mean?

But it’s Yoongi - and Yoongi knows the answer already.

He’s pushing the blanket off of his legs - and yours - and coming to hover over you. Your body responds, laying back against the pillow you’d been sleeping on, making room for him like it remembers exactly how you fit. Your fingers find his jaw like they’re magnetically drawn, your thumb sliding against his cheek.

His hair falls around your faces like a curtain, blocking out the dim lamplight, as his mouth finds yours.

Kissing him again is everything. It’s absolutely everything. He’s home, he’s wilderness, he’s calm, he’s the whole damn storm, he’s undoing every seam you have, he’s stitching you back together, he’s beautiful beautiful beautiful.

His lips are soft but sure against yours, his jaw moving under the press of your fingers. You feel like you’re flying, falling, maybe both, as your eyelids flutter. He’s bracing himself with his hands on either side of you, holding himself over you. You were resting your free hand against his side, his ribs like piano keys beneath your palm, and you find yourself bunching his shirt into your fist, trying to pull yourself up, closer, closer.

You have to will yourself not to babble against his mouth, I missed you, I missed you, I missed you. You could say it six hundred times and it still wouldn’t get it all out of you. You pour it into the kiss instead, straining up to meet him, beating words away from your mouth as you toy with his bottom lip.

He drops his lower body carefully, pinning your hips beneath his own, shifting to hold himself up on elbows instead of hands. The weight of him is welcome; something needs to keep you tethered to this planet.

He licks into your mouth, tongue sliding against yours, and you inhale sharply against his mouth.

“Yoongi,” you murmur against his lips, and he turns his head to kiss your palm where it’s been resting against his face. There’s something so tender about it that tears spring to your eyes, and you blink them away quickly.

Then he’s leaning down to capture your mouth again, humming a low, happy note against you. You go for the hem of his shirt, pulling until it gets tangled against his armpits. He sits back on his haunches, helping you pull it over his head and tossing it somewhere behind you. Your eyes trace him, over and over, trying to remember every shade and every line, trying to find every difference from five years ago. He’s beautiful, flushing dark across the chest, eyes positively predatory in their focus on you.

“You, too,” he says, sounding a little breathless, and you scoot back and sit up. He goes for your hem before you can, tugging it up and over your head. The cold air assaults you and you shiver. Yoongi makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl in appreciation, lowering himself over you again. His kiss is insistent this time, one hand coming up to cup a breast, fingers deftly rolling your nipple, sending electricity skittering down your spine. You whine, deep in your throat, and you feel his lips quirk into a smile.

“Would you kick my ass if I said ‘I’ve missed your tits’ right now?” he asks, chest quaking as he tries to rein in laughter.

“Yes,” you grumble, reaching to weave your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. You tug him back so you can kiss him again, and he lets out a quiet, breathy moan as you do.

“Okay,” he says, in between kisses, “but I did.” Then he puts his money where his mouth is - or maybe vice-versa - to prove it, lowering his head and taking the other nipple in his mouth, flicking it lightly with his tongue. Your whole body reacts, feet stretching, back arching to push against his body, fingers tightening in his hair as you moan out loud. Each little motion of his mouth ignites sparks that reach every part of you - the pit of your stomach, the base of your spine, clear down to your toes.

It’s honestly embarrassing how turned on you get as he continues, working one side until you’re writhing beneath him, thighs rubbing together desperately, then switching to continue his onslaught on the other side.

“Yoongi,” you gasp, and some absent part of your brain is aware that his name is the only coherent word you’ve said in a while. “Please, you’re torturing me.”

He releases you with a wet pop, grinning up at you deviously. “So pretty when you beg like that,” he remarks, like he’s observing the weather - which is still a fucking blizzard, by the way. Then he’s coming up to kiss you again, deep and slow this time. His hand slides along your bare stomach, around and under your back, and you arch your back partly to make room for his arm underneath you, and partly because you can’t not, as his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Please, what?” he murmurs, lips close to your neck, his fingers tracing the edge of the shorts you’re wearing - his shorts. “What do you want?”

“Anything - whatever you’ll give me,” you manage. All you can focus on is his fingers, their circular path along your lower stomach, toying with your waistband.

It must be the right answer, because he slips his hand into your shorts, fingers pressing along your slit, your underwear clinging to you already. He slides his fingers along the slickened fabric, eyes on your face, listening to the tiny moans that escape when you exhale.

He shifts to his side, between you and the back of the couch, and you loop an arm around his neck - half to hold yourself up on the couch, and half because you need to be holding him. You can feel how hard he is now, as his body presses against your legs. He distracts you with a kiss, and slips your panties aside, wasting no time in sheathing his middle finger up to the last knuckle.

You hiss his name, your head lolling back against the couch in pleasure, your neck bared to him. He gives it a quick nip and then a kiss as he adds a second finger, pumping in and out of you slowly. You groan, the sound rumbling from your chest. You could let him do this all night if you had the patience - just this simple act feels so good you think you might come undone.

And if you remember anything about sex with Yoongi, he’s just getting started.

He slips his fingers out of you and brings them up to your clit, circling once, then twice, before going back to where he started, the pad of his middle finger circling your entrance, careful to stay just outside.

Your whole body turns to jelly, everything quivering from head to toe at the sensation. You grip the couch with both hands, digging your fingers in. “Ohhh my god,” you manage, something accusatory in your tone, like you’re asking him how the fuck are you doing that?

He smiles against you, middle finger still running in lazy circles through the wetness collecting there. “That’s right, I know what you like,” he murmurs, smug, his lips tickling your neck, before plunging both fingers back into your heat without warning. He repeats the cycle - in, out, up, down, around, around, in again - until you’re dizzy from it, your fingers clutching the fabric of the couch so hard that you’re sure you’ll rip it.

You have one single moment of clarity that sends you reaching down to where you can feel him hot and hard against your leg, but he shifts away, tutting.

“You first,” he says. “I want to see you make that face you make. It’s been literal years.”

“Oh my god,” you say, feeling yourself flush. “Yoongi! Seriously?”

He laughs, shoulders shaking. “What? I love to watch you lose your shit. What a fucking ego boost.” He punctuates these words with a quick change of wrist direction, suddenly pistoning against your front wall in a way that has your comeback melting right out of your brain.

He’d had you close before, and the sudden switch-up does the trick - you feel everything tighten from your shoulders to your toes, your eyes screwing shut. Yoongi shifts his weight to hold your leg in place so you can’t try to close them on him and redoubles his efforts, humming in pleasure as you squeeze around his fingers like a vice.

You let out a series of wordless cries as the pleasure builds to the point you want to shy away from it, and then Yoongi presses his thumb to your clit just so and you’re spiraling over the edge, your ears filled with a buzzing white noise, your toes curling, your desperate hands leaving the couch and clutching Yoongi instead, trusting him to guide you to the other side.

When you come down, heart hammering in your chest, you bat his hand away, breaths heaving.

“Take those off,” you pant, tugging on the bit of his pants you can reach, and shimmying your own bottoms the rest of the way off and dumping them onto the floor.

“Bossy,” Yoongi remarks, smirking sideways at you as he obeys.

You resituate yourself against the arm of the couch as he comes to kneel near your feet, stroking himself languidly. You both freeze with the same thought at the same time.

“Do I…” he says hesitantly, “do you want me to wear -?”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, mind racing for an answer. You’re tempted to just tell him it’s fine, because surely having a how many people have you been with in the five years since we broke up conversation will absolutely kill the mood right now. But that’s not really safe.

“Maybe you’d better?” you venture. “Have you -? I mean, we don’t need to talk about this right now. But I haven’t been with anyone without… you know.”

“Same here, and I got tested after… the last one. Just in case,” he admits, eyes on yours, and the moment feels heavy. Do you trust Yoongi to tell you the truth?

Of course you do.

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” you tell him. “No pressure.”

“You’re still on -?” he checks, and you nod.

“In that case,” he says, and leans over you to kiss you again. You can feel him, rubbing along the messy slickness, and it occurs to you that you haven’t even touched him yet.

You whine, twisting your shoulders to try and reach him with a hand, but he’s too impatient, lining himself up and starting to sink into you. You groan at the stretch - it’s been a while since your last fling - but the sound that tears through Yoongi’s throat is more like a growl, guttural and animalistic.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growls through gritted teeth, as he slowly rocks into you until he bottoms out, his hips tight against yours.

He’s everywhere - caging you in, hovering above you, holding you down, filling you up. He’s everywhere, and he feels both so familiar it makes you want to cry again, and also - somehow - brand-fucking-new, like you’ve never felt him before.

You can feel every ridge of him, every twitch, as he sets a slow but even pace, letting you adjust.

“God,” you gasp when he hits a spot just right. His head had been hanging above you, his eyes watching the place where he disappeared inside you, all that long hair loose, but he smirks up at you at this.

“Good,” he coos, and picks up the pace, hips smacking yours, filling the room with the lewd sounds of skin on skin, his grunts and your whines.

You’re gasping a little at each stroke, that tight feeling bubbling at the pit of your stomach growing stronger with each thrust. “God,” you growl, fingertips pressing into his shoulder blade as you hang on for dear life. “Yoongi, fuck!”

He slows on purpose, straightening up, forcing you to release your hold on his back. He grins at you, that shit-eating, one-sided grin, and then grabs your ankles, maneuvering them both to rest against his right shoulder. He leans forward against your legs and hammers into you, breathing hard, and you swear to god you see stars for a second.

“Ohmygod, yes, there,” you gasp, hands going to the backs of your own thighs to help alleviate the stretch. You need to start doing yoga or something.

The build-up is slower this time, the feeling pulsing through you in waves that strengthen and ebb again. Yoongi can tell when it’s real by the change in your voice - wordless whines rising in pitch, by the arch of your back, by the way you clamp around him so hard that he almost loses it right there.

“Yeah?” he asks, the word more like a gasp for air. “Close?”

“Please,” you beg, the sensation of pure light racing up your legs to your toes, the pulsing starting slow and determined in your core.

“I’ve got you,” he promises, brows furrowed with concentration as he works to keep a steady pace. He grips one of your ankles and switches it to his other shoulder, creating space to reach down and rub gentle figure-eights around your clit.

The wave takes you over, and there’s a long moment where you’re completely devoid of your senses - no sight, no sound, nothing but how tight tight tight everything has gone, too tight to even breathe - and then it breaks and you can hear yourself wailing, eyes shut against the onslaught of sensations. You clench around Yoongi hard, the aftershocks rolling through you, so hard that he hisses and drops his forehead to yours, his pace slowing significantly as he fucks you through it.

You go boneless as it leaves you, and Yoongi pushes all the way inside you and stills, pressing his lips to your temple.

“You good?” he murmurs, so sweet for someone who just had you experiencing the multiverse.

“Mhm,” you manage to respond, so spent and tired that you can barely form the word.

“C’mere,” he grunts, slipping out of you, and he grips the back of your neck, hauling you upright and falling backwards in the same motion, pulling you over top of him. You loop your arms around his neck, feeling floaty, and he wraps his around your middle. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, his breath loud next to your ear.

“Can you keep going?” he checks. “I know you’re tired. I’m almost there, I promise.”

“M’good,” you assure him against his collarbone, and he gives you one quick squeeze before reaching down to adjust himself. He pushes in and you cry out, the sound muffled as you press your face into him. You’re so sensitive now, the sensation is entirely different.

“You can take it,” he whispers, sliding a hand down your spine. Then, with a grunt of “shit,” he grabs you and jackhammers up into you, his fingers furrowing into the meat of your ass, so tight you think you’ll have five little bruises on each side when this is over.

You feel so close to him - your cheek presses up against his, your arms wrapped tight around him, his hands securing you in place, his heart beating wildly against yours where your chests press together.

You gasp for breath into the crook of his neck, holding on for dear life, just trying to take what he gives you. You can hear his breathing change as he gets close, his pace quickening but his thrusts starting to come less evenly, his grip on your ass tightening just a bit further as he pulls your hips down to meet his every few thrusts.

“Is inside okay?” he asks, the words sounding like they’re torn from him.

“Yes,” you tell him, but it comes out more like a moan.

“God,” he grunts in response to this, and the word tears, ending on a strangled moan as he empties himself deep inside you.

You lay there, gasping for breath, for a long minute. Then Yoongi gives you an affectionate pat on the ass, indicating that it’s safe to move.

“Go get in the shower,” he suggests. “I’ll grab you a towel and meet you in there.”

“I don’t know if I can get there,” you say, joking, but your legs feel like jelly. You grab your phone and make your way, wobbly, through the living room and into his bedroom.

You hadn’t come in here before. It’s clean, but sparse. It’s devoid of anything that makes it feel homey. It’s devoid of anything that makes it feel like Yoongi.

You keep going, padding through his room and towards the attached bathroom, fumbling for the lightswitch. You place your phone next to the sink and fiddle with the shower’s knobs until you get a steady stream of hot water going.

It feels heavenly to step under the hot water, your aching muscles relaxing in the steam. But it feels even better when Yoongi wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing his lips to the side of your neck.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” you giggle. You might still be riding a little bit of a post-orgasm high.

You both rinse off in silence, and then Yoongi places his hand on the knob, looking at you to make sure you’re ready to get out. You nod, but he hesitates.

“Will you sleep with me?” he asks, a little unsure, leagues different from the cocky man you’d been tangled up with mere minutes before. “Don’t go back to the couch.”

You give him a soft smile, and he turns off the water, reaching for the towels hanging just outside.

“Of course I will,” you tell him before wrapping yourself up in the soft, gray terry-cloth.

You crawl into his bed once you’re dry, and he joins you after making a quick pass through the living room to turn the lights back off and gather up the clothes you’d both tossed around. When he clicks off his bedside lamp and rolls to face you, you feel a fluttering of nerves in your stomach.

You’re not sure where you go from here.

You lay facing each other in the darkness; it’s just too dark to really see much, but you can tell he’s looking at you.

You’re laying there, letting your thoughts spool around you, the what-if’s and what-now’s laying themselves out in your mind, when you realize you’ve reached out without meaning to, your fingers tangling in his long hair, rolling strands between them. You keep playing with it, cautiously, practically holding your breath, waiting to see if he objects.

Instead, you feel him relax under your hand, letting out a long breath. “That feels nice,” he admits, voice breathy with almost-sleep and barely audible.

You fall asleep without any answers, with your fingers curled up in Yoongi’s hair.

You wake up to a warm body behind you, not quite touching. You shift your cold toes a little closer to the warmth you find, smiling when you hear him whine about it. The light outside is white, that abnormal shade of light that comes from sunlight bouncing off of snow and ice. You’re about to close your eyes again when you realize that the warm body behind you isn’t sleeping, because you can hear the incriminating clicking and clacking of a keyboard.

“Are you seriously working right now?” you ask him, rolling a little to look at him over your shoulder. He peers back at you guiltily, his glasses low on his nose, fingers frozen in the air above the keys.

“I just wanted to answer a few -”

“It’s Christmas morning!” you scold.

“I’m aware of that,” he answers dryly.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Turn it off, Yoongi. It’s Christmas and you are in bed with someone. My God.”

He shoots you a defensive look, but finishes whatever he was doing and clicks the laptop closed, leaning over to place it on his nightstand.

“You haven’t changed at all,” you say, a little fondly, sitting up a little next to him.

“Neither have you,” he says pointedly. It’s less fond when he says it.

You consider this. “You want to know something stupid?” you ask. Yoongi doesn’t answer out loud, just meets your eyes and waits. “You’re right. I haven’t changed. I think… I think I’ve been afraid to.”

He turns to face you, sensing how serious you are about this. “What do you mean?” he presses.

You stop to think, the way you learned to after spending years watching him, knowing he did this better than you. “I guess… some little part of me always wondered what would happen if we crossed paths again. If I changed too much… what if I stopped being someone you’d want? What if I became someone so different that your heart didn’t know mine anymore?”

It sounds so corny coming out of your mouth, but the truth behind it is so heavy you can’t hold it up anymore. It was a fear you’d secretly harbored for half a decade - what if fate put Yoongi in your life again, and he still didn’t want you?

And Yoongi does what he’s always done - hears you, understands you, answers you in your own language.

“Impossible,” he says softly, leaning closer to you, eyes combing your face. His voice is like a layer of snow, smooth and clear, full of something unnamable. Or maybe you don’t want to name it. You turn your head, as if that will get you further away. “That’s impossible. My heart will always know yours.”

You look at your hands, feeling a little choked up. Your heart stutters and jumps in your chest. The question you’re holding back churns in a little ball behind your ribs.

“Hey,” he says, softly but intently. You manage to look up at him. “Let’s make breakfast?” He says it like a question.

“Yeah,” you say, able to speak again. “That sounds good.”

Yoongi lends you sweatpants, since it’s too chilly to roam around the house in basketball shorts, and busies himself in the kitchen while you get changed. When you finally join him, he’s plated something for each of you, and he pushes a glass of iced coffee towards you.

You can’t help but smile. “You remember,” you accuse, and he avoids your eyes, cheeks flushing.

“You get a girl ninety-thousand iced coffees, it stays with you,” he defends.

“Ninety-thousand,” you scoff, but you’re pleased. As you eat, you look out the kitchen window. It’s bright outside, but it’s still snowing - tiny, wispy flakes floating leisurely down to join you. The road clearly hasn’t been plowed yet; the snow outside is untouched, unbothered, a perfect sheet of white. You can’t even tell where the road is, except for the mailbox poking up out of the feet of snow on the ground already.

Yoongi follows your gaze. “Looks like you’re trapped here for a while,” he observes.

“A shame,” you deadpan, and he kicks at you playfully beneath the table.

“Well,” he says, thinking out loud, “since you won’t let me get any work done… do you want to put on a movie?”

“A Christmas movie?” you ask, perking up.

He rolls his eyes, but he’s fighting a little smile. “I guess that’d make sense,” he agrees.

He leads you back to the couch, which you eye sideways, remembering clearly what this couch witnessed about three hours ago. Yoongi seems unphased, slouching sideways against some pillows and looking at you expectantly. You join him gingerly, leaning against him, and he drapes a blanket over your legs.

“Pick something,” he asks, passing you the remote - another old Yoongi trick that you remember well.

You take the offered remote, clicking through the holiday options for something that you don’t think will make Yoongi gag. As you scroll, brows furrowed in concentration, he clears his throat beside you.

“So, uh,” he says, and you stop scrolling, because he sounds nervous. “Next weekend I’m supposed to go look at some apartments. Do you… would you want to keep me company?”

You look at him, eyes wide, the remote forgotten in your hand, still aloft and pointed at the tv.

“Why?” you whisper once you find your voice.

He shrugs, wets his lips. “You know the city well,” he says. “You can offer your brilliant opinions - tell me if the neighborhood’s okay… if there’s good take-away… where the transit stops are, that kind of shit.”

“Hm,” you say, a little tightly.

He shoots you a sheepish grin. “I’ll take you to dinner after?”

You give him a look. “Say what you mean, Yoongi.”

He purses his lips a little, disgruntled at being called out. Then, busted, he sighs and tries again. “Can I take you to dinner next weekend? Preferably in the city, and preferably after you help me make some choices about my living situation?”

You grin, unable to hold it back. “Yeah,” you say, trying hard to fight back the smile, to play it even a little bit cool. “Yeah, I’d really like that.” Trying to save your dignity, you turn back to the tv and go back to scrolling until you find a movie that seems like it’s not too over-the-top.

Yoongi reaches an arm around your shoulders, and this time you settle against him comfortably. You can feel him breathing beneath you, can smell that Yoongi smell - clean and alluring, can hear the shouts of some neighborhood kids running around outside. From the tv, tinkling bells and happy strings play a medley of Christmas songs as the opening credits run.

Part of you is already thinking about when the roads are plowed and you have to go home, shower off the scent of him, update your best friend about all of this, miss Yoongi in a much more real way than you’ve had to in about three years. But at least you have the promise that you’ll see him again next weekend. You close your eyes, content, happy to just be right now.

Yoongi feels it too, obviously. He gives your shoulders a squeeze, looks down at you fondly, and murmurs, “You know what? All this holly, jolly shit isn’t so bad.”

“God bless us, every one,” you deadpan. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

He grins at you, gums showing, and you smile back before leaning your head against his chest as on the TV a little girl watches out her window for signs of Santa.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!! My full masterlist can be found here :)

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