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#i feel bad that we're always dipping lol

fairyysoup · 11 months

Text

i can see you

♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: The secret history of your long and arduous relationship with Steve Harrington.

aka: the 5 times you pined over each other, and the time you actually did something about it

words: 17.6k (we're NOT gonna talk about it lol)

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, flirting, making out, heavy petting, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fingering, marking, biting, steve harrington has a big dick, themes of infidelity/cheating (sort of), skipping out on dates, bad dates, steve steal-your-girl harrington, almost-kisses, jealous!steve, jealous!reader, possessive behavior, smoking, alcohol consumption, allusions to marriage but it's never actually mentioned, canon compliant, reader and steve are the same age, 5+1 things, songfic, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, pining, mutual crush, slow burn one shot, mild twist ending, begins in season two (1984) and ends in the 90s, high school, scoops ahoy era, family video era, waiter!steve, steve harrington (the eras tour), vignette, one instance of billy hargrove slander, original characters created for plot, inspired by i can see you by taylor swift, other taylor song inspo throughout bc i'm insane like miss swift

a/n: hi and welcome to ✨rose's mental breakdown✨ yes this song will be my number one on spotify wrapped bc i listened to it on a loop for five days straight while writing this. idk. anyways this is So Much and i'm tired of looking at it so if there are any mistakes i apologize. anyways whoever can point out the most taylor song references aside from the obvious titular one gets a doubloon

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

You brush past me in the hallway, and you don’t think I can see you, do you? I’ve been watchin’ you for ages, and I spend my time trying not to feel it…

Hawkins High, September 1984

He’s so pretty sometimes that it’s disgusting.

That’s really the only thing you think when you watch Steve Harrington sneak up on his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and swoop her off the ground in front of her locker. From across the hall, your locker hangs open, your body turned halfway toward them so that you can pretend that you’re not staring.

You stare a lot.

It’s not exactly the hair, you think- everyone shits a brick about his hair, for some reason that you don’t understand. Yeah, it’s nice… but you like everything else about him, too. You like how sweet he looks when he laughs. You like the way that he holds himself and the way that he looks when he puts his hands on his hips and stands around like he’s directing the traffic around him. You like how much of a prince charming he is, really. It would surprise you if he doesn’t win prom king at the end of the year. They already call him King Steve, it’s not too far of a stretch.

You close your locker just as Steve kisses Nancy, in front of god and everybody in the C Corridor hallway. Steve’s arms wrap around Nancy’s petite frame and he dips her, like they’re in some sort of George Peck and Audrey Hepburn movie. Not that the place is much of a cinematic setting, though. Down the hall, the science rooms are doing their dissection units, so the whole place smells like formaldehyde and disinfectant, and you sort of feel like curling up into one of those dissection pans and dying, yourself.

That should be me, your brain screams. Me!!

It’s always been like this. You’ve had a crush on Steve since freshman year- the fact that he’s dating Nancy, who’s a year younger than him, doesn’t escape your jealous mind. You’ve been in classes with him for four years, you’ve admired him quietly, you’ve hoped and prayed that he somehow noticed you noticing him.

You don’t think he knows you exist. Four years- and now you’re both seniors, about to graduate, and he still doesn’t notice you. You should really stop caring, or stop trying, or stop… pining. Or something.

You hike your bag up onto your shoulder and juggle your books in your arms. The bell rings, and quite suddenly the entire hallway erupts into pandemonium (predictable, sure, considering everyone loiters around instead of actually getting to class on time). Kids fly around you in all directions to get to their next classroom. Nancy Wheeler ducks away from Steve Harrington, avoiding yet another kiss.

God, you wish you could kiss him.

Someone slams into your shoulder from behind, muscling past you to get to science lab 5, rat central. Your binder slips out of the stack of books in your arms and clatters loudly to the ground, just as someone walks past and kicks it across the floor.

“Fuck,” you spit, chasing after it. The back of your neck feels hot. For the first time in four years, you hope to god that Steve Harrington doesn’t notice you.

You duck around people’s legs, trying to grab at your binder, while not trying to drop any more of the books in your arms. Loose papers are starting to fall out of the binder as it skitters across the floor, and this is becoming more and more of a comedy of errors by the minute.

Your fingers just brush the corner of it before someone kicks it again.

“Do you mind?” you snap as they walk away, not even looking in your direction. Crouched close to the floor, you don’t matter. Maybe you could count that as a blessing, considering you don’t want to be perceived right now.

You finally just throw away all dignity and crawl across the tile floor- disgusting and dirty and covered in sandy grit, as though it hasn’t been cleaned all year- to get to your binder.

And you come face to face with a pair of white Nike’s. Ones that you know way too well, because you’ve stared at them every time they’ve passed you in the hallway.

Nonononono- You clench your jaw and then look up, way up, to find Steve Harrington towering over you.

He looks like he was about to just step around you, but then he notices you gazing up at him from all fours, and his hazel eyes lock on yours. You blink at each other for a second before he flushes, a pink blush breaking out on his cheeks and crawling up his neck, and he looks away quickly, but crouches down to grab your binder before your hand can land on it.

“Sorry,” Steve says quietly, gathering up the couple papers that had started to slide out of the folders inside. You sit back on your heels, your blood rushing in your ears, mortified. His big hands gently poke the papers back into the folder as they should be before he hands it to you. “Looks like you’re gonna be late to class.”

You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”

Steve’s eyes find yours again, and he’s finally so close to you that you can admire the little bit of green in them. You’ve never been close enough to notice before.

He cracks a lopsided smile, one that he uses to charm people, you know- you’ve seen him use it on teachers and cute girls alike. “I’m always late to the party. But I get there, eventually.”

“I hope so.” He cocks his head at you. He doesn’t know the real meaning to your words- or, at least, you don’t think he does.

I hope you don’t stay oblivious forever, Steve Harrington. I hope you get there, eventually.

You take your binder from him, but you pull your eyes away from his a bit later than you properly should. “Thanks, Steve.”

You get up and take off toward your next class, walking quickly so that you don’t come off like you’re lingering too long. But, halfway down the hall, you look over your shoulder at him.

Steve hasn’t moved, still crouched down close to the floor, with his head bent like he’s deep in thought. With his back to you, you can still see the pink flush on the back of his neck, peeking out above his collared shirt.

‘Cause I can see you, waiting down the hall from me, and I can see you up against the wall with me. What would you do? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you…

Hawkins High, April 1985

Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will.

Maybe it was your fault for hoping that Logan Sawyer, popular prick extraordinaire, was serious about wanting to take you to prom. He seemed serious enough, stopping by your locker during passing period and leaning over you as he asked you, his mega-watt smile making you blush. You’d counted yourself lucky- you didn’t think anyone was going to ask you, and people aren’t allowed to go to prom stag.

It took Logan two weeks to find a prettier girl to go with, though. You don’t know why it hurts so much. Maybe it’s because you wanted to believe that you were someone’s first choice, but it never quite seems to turn out that way.

You wipe your tears in the mirror, scowling at your puffy, bloodshot eyes. The bathroom next to the girls’ locker room in the sports wing is completely deserted at this time- the boys’ gym class is in session now, and you’re cutting into your lunch time, but you really don’t want to have to go and cry at a lunch table, in front of a bunch of your bitchy peers, who will inevitably make fun of you for it.

Sniffling, but slightly more composed, you head out of the bathroom. The sports wing is ridiculously bigger than any other wing of the school (typical of American public schools, to prioritize sports over every other department). The wing boasts weight training rooms, dance rooms, three separate gymnasiums, and a door directly to the football field, with the locker rooms on the farthest end to allow for easy access to the field. Connecting all of these rooms is the longest corridor in the building, which seems to run for half a fucking mile.

You’ll have to walk that half mile, because in order to get to the cafeteria, you’re gonna have to traverse the entire building. You might not get to eat much today, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. Maybe Mrs. Marshall will be kind enough to let you snack on a granola bar in your next class period.

Halfway down the long hallway, you feel the angry sting of tears behind your eyes again, and your face screws up in frustration. You stop, turning halfway back toward the girls’ bathroom, wondering if you should just go back in and allow yourself to cry some more.

Suck it up, you think to yourself, smacking at your tear stained cheeks. He’s not the guy you really want to ask you to prom, anyways.

You press your fingertips into your eyes to relieve the sting of tears, taking a deep breath. Being in high school is driving you crazy. At this point in the year, the teachers have given up teaching, the students have given up learning, and you’re basically just biding your time in a glorified babysitting service until you can inevitably grab your diploma and get out of here. You can’t wait for that time to arrive.

A door opens further down the hallway, in the direction of the cafeteria. You wipe your nose once and keep moving in the direction you were going, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, standing in the middle of the hallway having a breakdown.

Moving forwards, you keep your eyes on the ground. Once you hear the door that had been opened slam shut again, you figure that whoever it was has moved on down the hallway, and you lift your eyes again.

They have not, in fact, moved on. And you suddenly have the urge to turn and fucking run back into the girls’ bathroom, because Steve Harrington is bent over at the drinking fountain, directly outside the boys’ weight room.

What the fuck, what the fuck. You suck on your teeth, trying not to falter in your stride. Maybe he hasn’t seen you, and you can just pass him up. It’s fine, he hasn’t seen you crying.

Your mind backtracks to the beginning of the year, you fumbling your binder all the way across the hallway and ending up right in front of him, crawling toward him. Looking up at him and probably, most definitely, making him really uncomfortable.

You have English class together, where you sit at the desk closest to the door. He comes in late almost every day, so he passes by you every time. Some days he looks at your desk. On good days, he meets your eye. But he hasn’t spoken to you since that day in September, and you really shouldn’t hold out hope that he will.

You definitely don’t want him to notice you when you’ve been crying, your face is a mess, your hair is limp and you look bedraggled. You just want to fade into the background of your next class with whatever snack you can get from the cafeteria snuck into your bag, so you can stress eat it without any guff from a teacher (like you aren’t 18 and capable of deciding when you are and aren’t allowed to eat).

You keep your eyes down. If you don’t look at him, he doesn’t exist.

Except, Steve Harrington always exists, in the back of your mind, and in your periphery. He is impossible not to notice, as per usual. He really just draws the eye like a magnet. Try as you might, your eyes keep flicking up to take stock of him.

He’s wearing a uniform gray P.E. shirt and gym shorts that don’t leave a lot to the imagination, and you fixate on his thighs more than you should. He has sweat dripping down his neck, wetting his hair on the sides of his face and the seam of his shirt. It shouldn’t be attractive. He shouldn’t be attractive. With his face a mess. And his hair limp, and looking bedraggled. Truly, you make a priceless pair, being the only two people in the hallway.

We’re perfect for each other, a voice says in your head. And you manage, for the first time in an hour, to crack a smile down at your shoes.

He finishes getting his drink at the fountain, and you figure that he’ll just go back into the weight room and not see you. But, of course, luck is not on your side.

Steve Harrington looks at you. And you look away, quickly, acting like you hadn’t been staring at him. And in your periphery, again, you see him stretch his arms over his head, and then turn and lean against the cinderblock wall beside the door to the weight room, with his hands on his knees as though he’s catching his breath.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

He does it so casually, and with the way he’s sweating and his face is flushed, you’re sure that he probably does just want to take a break before going in and lifting more weights. But something in the back of your mind says that the maneuver was too purposeful, immediately after he laid eyes on you.

It could just be wishful thinking on your part. You heard through the grapevine that Steve and Nancy Wheeler broke up in a nasty way just before winter break, and it doesn’t seem like he’s been interested in anyone since. He hasn’t dated anyone, hasn’t flirted with any girls or showed up at any parties. Nancy must have really broken his heart.

You know too well what that feels like, right now.

Nearing where he leans against the wall, you keep your head down and you plan on just passing by without any acknowledgement from him, same as it ever was. If he’s still carrying a torch for Nancy, you’re sure that he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’ve nearly convinced yourself of it.

But then you hear your name called quietly, and it nearly makes you jump. You look over at him, thinking you’re just hearing things, but you look directly into a pair of hazel eyes again, and you feel yourself rocketing back in time to September.

You didn’t even think he knew your name.

You slow to a stop. It would be rude not to stop, right? “Uh… hi, Steve. You good?”

Steve Harrington looks you up and down, while he leans against the wall and breathes a bit heavily, like he’s out of breath. He peers at you through long eyelashes, looking impossibly inviting despite everything; the setting, your appearances, the way that you feel like dissolving into a puddle right in front of him. “Yeah, great. You?”

He’s scrutinizing your face now. You shrug, since he’s already seen you, and there’s no way to pretend you weren’t crying thirty seconds ago. “I’m fine. Just being dramatic, don’t worry about me.”

“When people say not to worry about them, it usually means that you should,” Steve muses. He looks coy, like he’s speaking from experience.

You sigh, stepping forward to get your own drink from the drinking fountain. “Logan Sawyer called off our date for prom.”

“Oh.” Steve pauses for a few seconds, watching as you bend down and take your drink, more silent than he usually is. “I mean… that really sucks. I’m sorry. But… Logan Sawyer?”

“Yeah.” You wipe your mouth, and then wet the ends of your fingers and use the cool water to rub at your stinging eyes again. When you’re done, you lean up against the wall beside him, letting your back settle into the cinderblock.

“The guy’s a fucking douche.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, I mean it, I think it’s a good thing you’re not going to prom with him. He’s really shitty to girls.” You look up at Steve, who’s watching you with his arms crossed, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “I mean, the only guy worse than Logan is probably… I dunno…”

“Billy Hargrove?”

Steve laughs. Actually laughs. You’ve wanted to make him laugh like that for four years. His cheeks turn crimson and he grins down at his shoes, snickering like there’s way more to the joke he’s laughing at than you even know about. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s gotta be the worst.”

You chuckle, albeit with a sadder tone than he has. “Well, I’m not going to prom with either of them. So, I can count my blessings. I guess.”

Steve frowns, and he looks like he’s going to say something else, but you’re already turning away, not wanting to continue the depressing conversation about your lack of dates. Especially not from the one guy who you desperately want to go on a date with.

You get a few steps away before he takes a step after you, saying, “Wait. You, uh-”

You stop, and look back at him. He looks dumbfounded, his arm outstretched like he was going to try to grab you if you didn’t listen to him. When you frown, he steps back against the wall, bringing his hand up to run through his hair.

Oh . That’s a nervous tick. You know it, because you’ve watched him do it more than once in English, in front of the class during a presentation.

Steve looks down at his shoes, his brow scrunched in thought. He looks like he’s really trying to find the right words to say. In your head, a hopeful part of you imagines what those words could be. ‘Will you go to prom with me?’

Finally, he looks up at you resolutely. “You’ll find someone to take you to prom. I’m sure of it.” He nods a little, like he’s reassuring himself that he said the right thing.

You can’t help the smile that springs onto your face. It’s incredulous, of course, but he can’t know that. Keep trying, baby. You’ll get there, eventually.

“Thanks, Steve.” It’s the second time you thank him in the course of the year.

But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

Prom Night, May 1985

The dress you’re wearing is sleek and a lot simpler than some of the more popular styles on the dance floor, but you like it more than you care to admit. You’d just grabbed it off the rack at Macy’s, and beyond that you didn’t want to go all-out for prom. It turns out that your lab partner, Gavin Connelly, needed a date, too. So, you’re here with him, because you knew that if you missed prom, you would probably regret it.

Except, well.

Gavin, stoned out of his fucking mind, is sitting at one of the tables, nursing a cup of punch, looking like he’s two seconds from falling asleep. You’ve taken to making the rounds and saying hi to anyone you can call a ‘friend,’ because you’re tired of just loitering next to him. Something tells you he didn’t want to even be here.

The speakers are playing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ and couples are swaying on the dance floor in a Bonnie Tyler-induced haze. At a loss for people to bother, you wander back over to your date to find his head plastered to the white table cloth.

You glance to the guy sitting next to him, a kid with glasses who you don’t recognize but who seems to know your date, because he’s just patting Gavin’s back. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, no, he’s dying.” The kid shoots you a sarcastic smile.

You nod, pressing your tongue hard to the roof of your mouth. “Well, if he wakes up, tell him I’m getting some air.”

Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.

Your heels, which are killing your feet already, click loudly on the tile hallway floor as you exit the gym. The table where you can check your bag and coat are located at the other end of the hall, where everyone is supposed to enter through the door to the football field.

You can hear voices from the far end of the hall, and Bonnie Tyler’s voice fading out the further you get from the gym. You might never be able to hear that song again without thinking of your ruined slow dance opportunity.

As you pass by, someone coughs off to the left and you turn your head to see Steve Harrington, black tie and all, loitering in the shadows. You stop a few feet from him and squint into the dark.

You can’t believe it. He always seems to show up at the worst times. “What are you doing, skulking around?”

“I’m not sulking.”

You snort, stepping into the shadows with him. “No, skulk- like, sneaking around?”

“Well, I didn’t mean to sneak-” he looks over his shoulder at the gym entrance. “I’m just getting some air.”

“Funny,” you murmur. “I was just about to do the same thing.”

He eyes you, a lot like he did a few weeks ago in this same hallway, further up toward the other end of it. He takes in your hair, styled painstakingly to ‘perfection,’ or as close as you could approximate it, and your off-the-rack department store dress. You suddenly feel like you aren’t as pretty as you thought you were at the beginning of the night.

But then he meets your eye, and all those insecurities fade into the back of your mind. He’s smiling at you, and that can only be a good thing.

“So, uh…” Steve leans back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, “You found someone to take you?”

You press your lips into a tight line. You don’t really want to think about your date right now, but- “Gavin Connelly.”

“Who?”

You laugh, kicking the heel of your shoe against the ground with a soft clack. “Yeah. God, I wish I didn’t know him right now.”

“Why, what’d he do?” Steve sounds perturbed. You look up to find him scowling already.

“Oh, he just ate a pot brownie before he picked me up and passed out at one of the tables.” You finish with a tired giggle, shrugging at Steve as he peers at you with an annoyed expression. “Who did you bring?”

“Kelly Palmer.”

You know Kelly. She doesn’t say much, but she’s gotten a scholarship to a big art school. “Do you like her?”

“Yeah, she’s nice,” he says mildly. Unconvincingly.

You can understand the subtext. She’s not Nancy. When you look at his face, he seems tortured in the low light coming from down the hall.

“Guess I’m oh-for-two,” Steve adds after a pause. “Last year’s prom, Nance and I didn’t have such a good time, either.”

You nod. It seems like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry,” you offer. You don’t know the ins-and-outs of Steve and Nancy’s relationship, aside from watching them suck face in the hallway five paces from you for a year and a half. “Prom sucks. High school sucks. These can’t be the best years of our lives, trust me.”

“Yeah, I hope not.”

“I just can’t wait to get out of here, you know,” you grumble, allowing your sour mood to come out a little more than normal. It seems like Steve is just really good at getting you to let your guard down. “I’m planning to go to Chicago for college. This is all just… you know, it’s just the starting point. What about you, any big plans?”

“Dunno. I didn’t get accepted to any schools, so I’ll just be getting a job here in town until something better comes along.” Steve shifts, his heel hitting the wall behind him. He looks disappointed when he says, “I think I made too many mistakes.”

You frown, chewing on your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gives you a heavy look, like he’s gearing up to say something important, something game changing- and then his gaze softens.

“You’ve got an eyelash.” He gestures to his own eye, like it’ll make you understand exactly where the loose one is on your face.

“Oh.” You falter, lifting your manicured hands and wiping at your undereyes. “Did I get it?”

“No, uh- here, I can-” Steve tentatively reaches forward, and you step toward him to let him touch your face.

Steve Harrington is touching your face.

His fingertip brushes your cheekbone, so featherlight you would barely feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of everything that he said or did. His touch glides across your cheek and toward your temple, and then he seems to keep it there, his hand hovering just over your skin.

Reflexively, your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder. You’re inches from Steve’s face, your eyes falling to his lips.

You could kiss him. You could live your fantasy, right now.

Steve’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, and then he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. He doesn’t say that you look beautiful. He doesn’t say it conditionally, like it’s just for tonight. You are beautiful. Even when you’re crawling on all fours after your binder. Even when you’re crying, and your hair is limp, and you look bedraggled.

“Steve…” you whisper, inching closer to him.

“STEVE??!”

You jump away from him like he’s burned you, and peek around the hall corner to see Kelly Palmer standing outside the gym looking up and down the hall, searching for him. She looks lost, and sad, like he must have ditched.

She looks an awful lot like you just did, coming out of that gym.

You feel Steve’s hand where it had fallen to your wrist, dragging your attention gently back to him. You take his hand and squeeze it once, giving him a tight smile.

“You brought her here for a good time,” you say with your bravest smile. “Just don’t pass out at one of the tables on her, okay?”

Don’t be a douche. Don’t be like Logan Sawyer.

Steve swallows, and gives you a short nod. You think he finally got there.

You give a soft pat to the lapel of his suit jacket. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

He touches your arm one final time before he slips around the corner, just as Kelly turns to go back into the gym. You watch him walk away, and you think to yourself, That’s the last time I chase after Steve Harrington.

Wherever there is, it’s not with you.

Steve loops his arms around Kelly’s waist and lifts her, earning a thrilled squeal as the silver taffeta of her dress glints blue in the light from the gym. You wait until they’ve disappeared back into it before you turn and high-tail it toward the coat check table.

And we kept everything professional, but something’s changed, it’s something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it’s best if we move fast and keep quiet…

Starcourt Mall, June 1985

“Come on, it’s ridiculously hot outside,” your best friend, Shelly, groans as she pulls you along by the wrist. “I can’t believe they only have one ice cream place here.”

“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”

“Ice. Cream.” You know better than to argue with her.

Scoops Ahoy has a novelty nautical theme that makes you want to both laugh and break down in tears when you see it. The PA is playing a cutesy rendition of Drunken Sailor on accordion, and you think that if you keep looking at the striped wallpaper behind the counter, you might get literally seasick. In the mall. In landlocked Indiana.

Or… is it landlocked if it fronts Lake Michigan? It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in Chicago in two days, anyways.

You let Shelly drag you along until you look towards the front counter, and you see something that nearly makes you trip and face plant into Shelly’s fresh perm.

Even Shelly pauses. “Is that who I think it is?”

It’s something about the stupid little sailor’s cap and shorts, and that he’s so, so pretty in it, you think. It’s also something about how you have the perfect vantage point to watch him try and fail to flirt with the girl that approaches the counter to order. You’re enamored with him. There’s no other way to describe it.

You have half a mind to run away, after what you promised yourself on prom night over a month ago. You’d done good, you didn’t search for him in the halls, you ignored him in your last couple of class periods with him. You’d even been in the bathroom when his name was called at graduation.

But, here he is. Steve Harrington, absolutely obliterating his chances of getting a date with the girl ordering a sundae ahead of you.

Honestly, you don’t know what you’re waiting for. Maybe an invitation? A sign from god that today’s the day that you’ll make a move? Or maybe this is just a test of will.

You stop resisting Shelly’s attempts to drag you along, and straighten your spine. You can do this. Four years’ worth of pining won’t make a difference in whether or not you order a strawberry ice cream cone.

He’s even prettier up close, his rosy cheeks framed by sunkissed, wavy hair. When he sees you he stalls, going a bit wide-eyed and then seeming to realize he’s supposed to do his job. He leans heavily against the counter. “Ahoy, ladies! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain, Steve Harrington.”

“Uh-huh.” You stare at each other for a long moment. “How much do they pay you to recite that script?”

“Absolutely nothing, I do this for pure enjoyment.” You’re almost sure that he doesn’t. He pauses, a hand poised on his hip. “Too much?”

“I’d dial it back just a smidge. Maybe keep the ahoy and the captain thing and toss the rest.”

“Noted.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on you. “I thought you were going to Chicago?”

“I leave the day after tomorrow,” you shrug. “Still time for me to burn the place down, you know.”

“Well, I’m glad you stopped by,” Steve chuckles. “I could show you where the gas line is, then we’d all be in trouble.”

“Oookay.” Shelly gives you a curious side-eye, and then turns back to Steve. “Well, I’ll have a U.S.S. Butterscotch with a chocolate dipped waffle bowl, if you don’t mind.”

Steve tears his eyes away from you long enough to grin at Shelly. “Coming right up. And for you?”

You freeze, glancing up at the menu. It’s written in an infuriatingly cutesy code-language that you have to decipher. “Um. I’m still deciding.”

“All right, then. Just let me know, when you’re ready.”

Steve slips away to make Shelly her sundae, a heaping pile of ice cream and butterscotch syrup that looks like the fast track to a heart attack. You alternate between trying to comprehend the menu and being distracted by Steve in that stupid sailor’s uniform.

The script on the menu may as well be written in a foreign language. Blackbeard’s Delight. Treasure Island Turtle. U.S.S. Sherbet. The sizes are even harder to understand. Fathom. League. Nautical Mile. You don’t have the capacity to decipher it- your eyes are seeing the words, but your mind is traveling back to prom night, and feeling Steve’s finger on your cheek as you gear up to kiss him.

“Are you ready?”

“Mhm…” It takes you a second to zone back into the present moment, where Steve is standing in front of you, on the other side of the counter, waiting to take your order. He waits, with a patient smile on his face, while you blink dumbly at him.

What did you say? What did he say?

“I… um.” You’re sure you look completely out of it. Your eyes flick nervously up at the menu, that you still can’t fucking read. Shelly’s already gone to sit down with her sundae, the traitor.

“It’s kind of hard to understand, isn’t it?” Steve says quietly after a moment, dropping the phony customer service charade. “I hate it. I think we should just be able to say what our favorite ice cream flavor is and be done with it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still squinting up at the menu. Blackbeard’s Delight: blackberry swirl with blueberry syrup and a gold doubloon. “The fuck is a doubloon?”

Steve snorts, and reaches under the counter before bringing back a handful of gold foil-covered chocolate coins, which he dumps into your outstretched hand. “You want more? We get them wholesale.”

“I’m good,” you giggle, juggling the chocolate coins before they go cascading to the floor. “I think… I don’t… I don’t understand a thing on that menu.”

“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” He leans forward to ask you, like it's a secret. Just between the two of you. His head bent a little to peer at you closely, so close that you can count the freckles on his skin.

You glance over your shoulder. Shelly is seated by the far wall, under a painting of a kraken, giving you an indignant look. When she notices you looking, she mouths an emphatic, ‘LET’S GO!’

“Don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, and Steve affects his gravest expression as he nods. “Strawberry.”

“A classic,” he grins. “Fan of sprinkles?”

“I can dig a few sprinkles.”

“Perfect. I think we have something up your alley.” He grabs a scooper out of the bin and twirls it once, just to show off. “Sex on the Beach.”

“What?” You don’t remember seeing anything about that on the menu.

He glances up to smirk at you before shrugging. “It’s strawberry ice cream with peach syrup. You’ll see.”

You keep an eye on his hands behind the glass partition, watching them put two scoops of strawberry into a medium sized carton. Completely unable to rein in your thoughts before they get away from you, you’re thinking about how good they would feel under your shirt. You follow a treasure map of freckles trailing up his arms, disappearing under the blue sailor’s shirt he wears. You want to kiss every single one of them.

You finally reply, “I guess I have to put my faith in your professional ice cream slinging abilities.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Steve mutters sardonically as he squirts peach syrup across the two scoops of ice cream, giving it a golden sheen. “I’m the king of cream.”

You purse your lips as it takes Steve a second to realize what he just said. When he does, he snaps his head up to meet your eye in horror.

He opens his mouth to take it back, but you shake your head, holding back laughter. “Don’t ruin it.”

“I think it’s pretty much ruined already.” He turns crimson, blushing down at the half-made sundae as he rapidly shakes yellow sprinkles onto it. “I was doing so good, too.”

“Who says you aren’t still?” You give him a cute smile when he looks up through his lashes at you, still arranging toppings on the sundae. You’re not sure what happened between prom and now to change him so much, but it’s almost as if he’s… goofy. He’s less concerned with appearances, he’s more laid back and willing to make fun of himself.

You like it a lot.

You watch him plop two maraschinos onto one ice cream mound, and wedge a candied orange slice into the other, inverted, to look like a setting sun. As he passes it over the counter to you, he says, “Here you go, one Sex on the Beach. On the house.”

“What? No, I couldn’t-”

“I mean it. For overlooking my stupidity,” Steve insists. He gives you a meaningful look when he adds, “A million times over.”

“I’m not overlooking anything when it comes to you, Steve,” you tell him fondly, and drop one of the doubloons into the tip jar. It’s gaudy, gleaming artificially gold in the middle of the crumpled up dollar bills. “Hang onto that. You might be able to cash it in for a kiss someday.”

Steve blinks rapidly, leaning across the counter as you walk away. “After you come back from Chicago, right?”

You look over your shoulder, and you wink at him.

When you finally stop in front of Shelly, and you use your plastic spoon to dig into the adorable sundae that Steve crafted for you, you remember that you’d gone up to the counter with every intention of ignoring Steve and acting like you didn’t even know him.

You winked at Steve Harrington. You said you’d kiss him. You think back to the girl who was so afraid of Steve even noticing her, almost a year ago, and wonder where she went.

You look down at Shelly. She’d graduated a year before you, so she wasn’t there to witness every blunderous interaction you’d had with Steve in school. You never told her how in love you were with him.

Now, she looks up at you coyly. “So. Steve Harrington, huh?”

“Shut up,” you grunt, looking up and out at the food court outside of the Scoops Ahoy storefront. “As if you know everything.”

“Are you gonna try to make something out of that…” she gestures vaguely with her spoon toward the counter, “before school starts?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say honestly, still poking at your sundae. “Anyways, I leave too soon for anything to really happen. What- I screw him tomorrow and then fuck off forever? It’s just wishful thinking, probably.” You finally take a bite of the ice cream, just to punctuate your sentence.

“Hm. Probably. How is that?” Shelly nods at the ice cream in your hand. “Looks pretty.”

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You’re being honest. Something about the peach syrup with the strawberry base literally evokes the flavor of a sunset. “They should give him a raise.”

Humming, Shelly stands and takes her half-eaten sundae. She nudges you in the direction of the door. “C’mon. We’ve gotta eat these before the next showing of The Breakfast Club.”

Steve watches you and your friend leave, with the wistful gaze of someone who just watched their greatest opportunity walk away from them. He never knew that it was possible to hate an entire geographic location, but he really wishes Chicago would get blown off the map in the next 24 hours.

The wooden partition doors slam open, and Robin’s head appears in the window to the kitchen. “The cream king? Do you want me to actually hurl?”

“I said, ‘the king of cream,’” he groans, digging his knuckles into his eye sockets. “Kill me, Robin. Load me into the freezer. Bury me at the fairground.”

“You think you’re valuable enough to displace that much ice cream?” Robin rolls her eyes, and with another loud thwack, her white board appears in the space behind her. “We don’t make anything called Sex on the Beach. This is a family establishment.”

“I made it up.”

Robin coos, “Aww. Be still my heart. You love her to the point of invention.”

Steve whirls around. “Love? Who said anything about love?”

“I did.” Robin uncaps her dry-erase marker and draws a tally mark under the side that reads, you rule.

“Uh, Robin,” Steve snaps, pointing at the board condescendingly. “I think you put that on the wrong side. I fucked it up.”

“Dingus. Please. As much as it makes me gag- and you know I gain immense pleasure from counting how often you screw up- I could practically hear her heart eyes.” She sets the white board down, begrudgingly. “I think you found the only girl alive who’ll find all this-” she waves her hand at him, “endearing. Who was she? Some ex of yours?”

“If only,” Steve sighs, shaking his head. When he turns back to the counter, his eyes land on the single chocolate coin glinting in the tip jar.

He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.

You won’t believe half the things I see inside my head. Wait ‘til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet…

Family Video, March 1986

The air conditioning nearly blasts you backwards into the parking lot. You don’t know why they need it blasting so hard at 7pm, in the middle of March. It’s not like it’s the height of summer- your spring break takes place earlier than the local school’s, but it just means that you get to beat the crowds when you come home to visit your family.

Of course, they love to send you to run errands. You end up picking up the groceries, and the housewares, and, on this occasion, the choices for family movie night.

This Family Video’s selection isn’t necessarily as extensive as the ones in Chicago, but it’s good enough. You enter the store, and it dumps you directly in front of a cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates about to flash you. Family friendly entertainment, and all.

The TV in the corner is running the final scene of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly- Ennio Morricone’s score plays dramatically into the empty store. There’s no one behind the counter currently, so you pull the list of videos your extended family members had all requested. The Breakfast Club. Camelot. The Birds. Pretty general selections for your family, but it seems like you’ll have to hunt them up on your own.

You’re wandering down the romance aisle, since The Breakfast Club was nowhere on the new releases or comedy shelves, when someone finally emerges from the back room. You see a flash of a head moving toward the front counter from over the top of a rack, and you take it as your chance to ask for help.

“Excuse me? Do you guys have any copies of The Breakfast Club, or-”

You stop short, choking on your words. Steve Harrington turns around to look at you, carrying a stack of VHS tapes perched under his chin, and holding a folded up piece of paper between his teeth.

You stare each other down for a second, before Steve gracefully spits the paper over his shoulder and onto the counter. “Hey, um… long time, no see?”

“I’d say.” You tilt your head. Funny how quickly your eyes will hone in on his lips, like searching for a target every time. “We always seem to run into each other like this. What happened to the ice cream gig?”

“Starcourt burned down,” Steve says, plopping the stack of VHS tapes down on the counter beside the paper he spit out. “Right around the Fourth of July, last summer.”

“So, right after I last saw you?”

Steve smirks to himself before he turns back to you. “Yeah. Like, a week or so after. Did you manage to burn the place down, after all?”

“I wish.”

You pause, taking the time to size him up. It’s amazing what the better part of a year will do to someone, inside and out. With a striped shirt and green vest, he looks much more relaxed and casual than he had at Scoops Ahoy. His hair’s a little longer, his eyes a little darker as they rake over you, in return.

You’re a little bit desperate to see what’s going on in his head, if it’s anything like what’s happening in yours.

You wish you could say that you tried to seek him out when you got back to town- a year ago, maybe you would have. But you’d pretty much given up on the idea of him, moving up to dating college boys who don’t string you along, who don’t wait until the last minute to finally try their hand at flirting with you. If he ever passed through your mind, it was with the attached hope that he’d found greener pastures than Hawkins, Indiana. Foolishly, you hoped that as long as you told yourself that he’d moved on, it would be true. And then maybe what could have been wouldn’t matter anymore.

You’d stepped back into Hawkins after half a year of college, the graveyard of all hope in your happily ever after, and you hadn’t even thought of Steve Harrington. Except, seeing him now, everything comes flooding back. All the days spent pining over him. All the close brushes you’d had with finally getting the ending you wanted.

You have to be honest. “You look good, Steve. You always do.”

Steve chuckles, tilting his chin down as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his light wash jeans. “Better without the sailor costume, right?”

“Aww, I liked the sailor costume.” You step closer so you can whisper, “I thought it was sexy.”

Steve peers down his nose at you, drawing himself up to tower above you at his full height. He tries to look unaffected, but you can see his ears glowing pink beneath wisps of golden highlights. “Watch it. You’re gonna give me an ego.”

“We don’t want that, do we?” You unfold the list of movies you’re here to collect, holding it up to him between two fingers. “Got any of these movies?”

Steve reads the short list, and nods to himself. “I know we have Camelot, but I’m not sure about The Breakfast Club. Let me check in the back?”

“I’ll be here.”

“All right- don’t get up to any trouble, though. I’ve got my eye on you.” He points at you coolly, feigning an authoritative expression. He tries to hide his smile, but the creases around his eyes give him away.

“I hope you do.” You try to appear casual as you breeze past him, but you have to fiddle with your jacket collar to hide their shaking. Still, you feel the sweep of his gaze on you like rays of sun on your skin. It frightens you how easily you can fall back into the old back-and-forth routine you established in high school- how he gets you to say things you never meant to voice, but that live in your head effortlessly.

Steve watches you disappear down the drama aisle before he takes in a huge breath of air and bolts toward the back room. Any and all coolness he was performing disappears like so much smoke. Slamming open the door, he nearly shouts, “Do you have a doubloon?!”

Robin startles, swinging around in her seat, looking away from her computer screen. “A what? Why are you yelling?”

“A doubloon, a f-fucking-” Steve looks quickly over his shoulder, out the door, and starts hunching over as he whispers, “a chocolate coin. Like one of those ones we had at Scoops, remember?”

“Why do you want a chocolate coin?” Robin squints at him. “Stop crouching like that, you look like Nosferatu.”

Steve hisses through his teeth, and he’s got a frantic edge to his expression that Robin doesn’t like. “Okay- remember that girl, the one who showed up at Scoops that time, and you gave me my one and only ‘You Rule’ tally?”

“No.”

“Great. Well, she’s here, and she told me if I gave her one of those chocolate coins she’d kiss me.” Steve shoves his hands through his hair, mussing up the already disheveled style. “Please, Rob, I can’t let her get away again. I’ve done it, like, a thousand times already.”

“Okay, Romeo,” Robin humors him, turning around in her seat. “So you’re saying this babe, who I very much don’t remember because you always struck out while we worked at Scoops, told you that if you bribed her with chocolate she’d kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t think she was maybe joking?”

Steve opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Truthfully, he hadn’t. He’d overlooked the idea that, after everything that had happened between you, you might just be joking about kissing him.

“You know you could use your actual charm to get a girl to kiss you?” Robin dips her chin, shaking her head like it’s obvious.

Steve frowns. As if he hasn’t already tried that. “Do you have any chocolate coins or not?”

Robin sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those things since we worked at Scoops. Sorry, bud. You’re out of luck.”

“FUCK!” Steve’s hand smacks the door as he heads out of the back room, making Robin scowl after him. She shakes her head as she turns back to her work.

Back out on the sales floor, the credits to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly have finished, and white noise fills the empty space. Steve turns in a circle by the checkout counter, searching for you among the aisles.

Where did you disappear to, this time? A part of him dreads the answer. He was the one who fucked everything up- he shouldn’t have chickened out when he had the chance. He should have asked you to that fucking prom, but he was too scared to commit after what happened with Nancy.

If this is his last chance, he needs to make it count.

He coughs into the dead air, and says, “Looks like we’re all out of The Breakfast Club.” There’s a disconcerting amount of silence that leaves him cold, almost certain that you’ve left already, for the last time.

Then, you appear from behind the red curtain to the adult videos section.

Oh.

“Everything okay?” you ask sweetly as you approach, holding a couple tapes that you must have picked up while you shopped around. “I heard some yelling back there.”

“Oh, yeah. Just, uh… shelving issues.” Steve backs his way behind the counter. He repeats, “Sorry, I couldn’t find the movie for you.”

“I heard. I’m not worried about it.” You plop the tapes that you did find on the counter. “It was nice of you to look for me. Thanks, Steve.”

“Always.” Steve starts scanning your tapes; it looks like you managed to find the other films on your list, along with one for yourself. From the adult section.

You watch in amusement as you can see the cogs visibly turning in Steve’s head, while he stares at the front of the porn video you picked. Spring Break Sex Party II. Not that you’d ever seen the first one, but the cover of this one was suggestive enough- a bunch of drunk people naked on a beach, lying in a great big pile. Looks like fun, in your opinion.

You always love seeing Steve blush. The prettiest shade of pink colors his cheeks before he glances up at you. “Should I ask…?”

“It’s the closest thing to getting a Sex on the Beach, here.”

Steve chokes, and he scrambles for a response to that. “I- I was gonna ask for an I.D.”

“You know we’re the same age,” you deadpan.

“Y-yeah. I, uh- I know… I know that.” He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly shut.

You wonder if this is what you looked like to him, that time in the hallway when he loitered by the fountain to talk to you. “Breathe, Steve.”

A blast of laughter leaves his mouth before he can swallow it. If only you knew how hard it actually is, to act like he’s not just fucking melting right in front of you. When he hangs on every word you say, and every other thought he has is about how badly he wants to tell Robin to get lost and take you in the back room. You don’t know how much he’s fixating on your curves and how they’d feel against him, how much he wants to taste every inch of your body. He’s practically vibrating in place with all his pent up frustration, and you’re here buying porn, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Steve clears his throat, shakes his head. Christ. “Okay, well. You know that this is a sale item, it’s not for rent. You can return it within 10 days as long as the packaging hasn’t been opened.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” He’s still nodding as he puts it into the bag with the rest of your rentals.

“Are you always this affected by people buying from the adult section?” you ask mildly.

“Nah, usually I don’t care,” he replies without thinking.

“Good to know that you care about my taste in pornography,” you tell him with the most shit eating grin on your face, taking the bag from him. “I’m flattered.”

He makes a clumsy noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. He’s right back to working at Scoops Ahoy, fumbling every attempt at flirting, losing his cool at the sight of a pretty girl. It’s… humbling.

He’s sure Robin would say that he can always use more humility.

“It was good to see you again, Steve.” And just like that, you’re sand slipping through the cracks in his fingers.

Desperately, he tries to block the flow, closing his fingers around you in an attempt to keep you in his grasp. “Do you- uh-” He lurches forward, white-knuckling the counter like his life depends on it. You turn back towards him, an eyebrow raised at his sudden outburst.

You’re back in the school hallway, senior year. Crying over Logan Sawyer. Harrington is up against the wall by the drinking fountain. You want him to just say the words and ask you to prom.

“I mean… if you have the time, while you’re in town… do you want to go for a cup of coffee? With me?”

“Oh, Steve.” You sigh, and it’s the most heartbreaking noise he’s ever heard in his life. Soft sand, falling through his fingers, disappearing back the way you came. He already dreads your answer before it comes. “I wish… you know, if I had come in here and met you about a week ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I have to catch the train back to Chicago tomorrow. My break’s almost up.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I’m just glad that you didn’t completely miss me, at least.”

“Right, of course.” Steve smiles back at you, feeling more like an idiot the longer this drags on. He’s like Sisyphus rolling that rock up the fucking hill. “I… I’m glad I got to see you, too. Maybe next time.”

Oh, it hurts. It hurts way more than you thought it would, to have to turn Steve down- after all the years pining for him through high school, after the time you turned him away when he would have kissed you. You think about kissing him, now. He would let you do it- he’s asking you out, and he looks so sad that you’re saying no.

You could. But wouldn’t it make saying goodbye this time even harder than it already is?

“Yeah. Maybe next time,” you tell him. You don’t want this to hurt more than it does. You truly hope there’s a next time, another year down the line when you run into him over winter break. Maybe you’ll find him at the Radio Shack.

Steve watches you leave, once again. Fumbling his chance, again. When the door swings shut behind you, Steve bends at the waist and drops his head against the countertop.

Typical Harrington. Late to the party, miss the girl.

“Well. That was… really painful to listen to.” Robin emerges from behind one of the shelves, crossing her arms. Gently, she adds, “On the bright side, I don’t think the chocolate coin would have mattered.”

Steve picks his head up, and he thwacks his forehead back down onto the counter.

And again.

And I can see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission. Hide away, and I will start behaving myself…

Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991

You shake your umbrella out as you step into the warm foyer of, quite possibly, the most upscale restaurant you’ve ever set foot in. The carpet is deep, blood red, the walls a dark chestnut wood. The white covered tables are each spotlit within the otherwise dark dining room, and the atmosphere is flavored by soft piano and the quiet din of hushed voices.

You had been hesitant to accept Theo’s invitation to dinner- he seemed too stuck up for your taste, but when Shelly introduced you to him, you had to admit that the name of the restaurant piqued your interest. Sur La Table. Chicago’s premiere Michelin Star restaurant.

As you hand your umbrella over to the coat check clerk, you’re greeted by a smiling hostess. “What’s the name for the reservation?”

“Um… Theo Bowman. I believe he’s already here?”

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.”

Theo stands as you’re shown to the table. Tall, with dark hair and a wide smile, he reminds you of someone you knew once, but you just can’t seem to place it. Then, when he towers over you to shake your hand, standing far closer than necessary, you’re able to pick it out from the recesses of your mind.

Logan Sawyer.

“You look nice,” Theo says pleasantly, and you chalk up your initial comparison to nerves, on your part. You don’t often let friends set you up on dates, so you’re a little bit out of your element as it is.

As you go to sit down, you admit, “I was so glad when you picked this place, I’ve always wanted to eat here, since I moved to Chicago.”

“It’s not the nicest place I’ve been,” Theo shrugs, taking the seat across from you.

Your smile falters, for a second. “Oh, no?” The water has already been brought to the table, you guess while he was waiting for you. You take a long drink.

“Nah, I’ve been to Le Bernardin, in New York. That’s fine dining.” Theo waves his hand at the upscale dining room. “This is… okay.”

“I see.” You lift your menu, hoping that he’ll do the same.

“Yeah, New York is so much nicer than Chicago, in my opinion,” Theo continues, fiddling with his napkin as he talks. “There’s a lot more to do. Have you ever been?”

You hope this is just his nerves talking. “No.”

Theo keeps talking as you stare at the menu in front of you, at a loss. It’s an a la carte menu, clearly, but extensive and all in french. Salade de poires pochées. Coquilles Saint-Jacques Gratineés. Filet au poivre vert. You’re scrutinizing the fine print of what all the dishes include when your waiter steps up to the table. You know when it happens, because Theo finally stops blathering about New York.

You break your eyes away from the menu to glance at the server’s waistline, at eye level with you. He wears a crisply pressed suit and tie, his hands clasped in front of his belt.

“Good evening sir, ma’am,” the server says in a hushed tone, to keep the volume of the dining room down. “Welcome to Sur La Table. I’m Steven, I’ll be serving you this evening. Before we begin, are there any questions about the menu?”

You peer up into the darkness to try to see Steven’s face. He’s standing just outside of the spotlight over the table, only able to be dimly lit from the indirect light reflecting from the tablecloth. Once your eyes adjust, they lock onto a pair of familiar hazel ones.

Oh my fucking god.

It’s got to be fate, or kismet, or some force of nature that keeps bringing you together like this. Steve Harrington’s face hasn’t changed in five years. Maybe he looks just slightly older, a little more filled out in his suit and tie. His hair is a bit shorter at the back but still that same shade of golden brown, neatly groomed and tidy for the formal atmosphere- but you can see it being tousled on his off days, still flopping across his eyes in waves. And those are the same lips you dreamt about kissing, the same eyes you admired in the school hallway, the same nose that you always wanted to grind o-

“No, I think we’re ready to order,” Theo announces, louder than necessary. You throw your gaze at him, your eyebrows raising despite your best efforts to remain calm.

Is he really going to order for you? Just like that?

“Well, I was going to ask-” you begin, wanting to get a little more specification on how the filet is made, when Theo cuts you off.

“It’s okay, I speak French,” he insists. Not that it makes a difference to what your question was.

You press your lips together in irritation and glance at Steve, who looks back at you stoically. You wonder if he recognizes you like you do him- it’s been long enough, and you’re sure that you look a bit different than you did the last time you saw him. And then you notice the creases around his eyes.

He’s playing it off well enough, sure. But Steve is doing that same look that he did there in the Family Video five years ago, trying to pretend that he’s not affected by you, swallowing back his smile. He sends you a knowing look that says, What a fucking douchebag, am I right?

Suddenly, this date just got way more entertaining. You give Steve a minute roll of your eyes, only enough for him to notice. Tell me about it.

“We’ll start with the Bordeaux,” Theo is already reciting to Steve as you settle back in your seat. Steve pulls a little notepad out of his jacket pocket and begins writing. “For an appetizer, the coquilles. Then for the main, I’ll have the canard montmorency, and she’ll have the mignons de veau.”

You watch Steve’s hand pause as he’s writing, and he looks to you. He raises his eyebrow, saying everything he needs to with the one gesture. Is that what you really want? “The veal?”

“No,” you say, digging your thumbnail into your palm, where it rests on your lap. “Actually, I wanted to ask about the filet. What brandy is the sauce made with?”

Steve smiles, leaning a little bit closer to you. “We use Courvoisier.”

“Great. I’ll have that, please.”

Steve nods encouragingly at you. As he jots down the order, he says, “Wonderful. I’ll get this to the kitchen for you, but before I can bring you the wine, I’ll just need to see the lady’s I.D.”

“Are you serious?” Theo snaps.

“It’s all right,” you murmur, hiding your face as you dip your head to fish your I.D. out of your clutch. “He’s just doing his job. Right, Steven?”

Steve meets your eye as he takes the card from your hand. “You can never be too careful.” You watch him smirk as he looks over your I.D., his eyes lingering on your name for a second before he hands it back to you. If there was any doubt in his mind that you are who he thought, it’s gone now. “Interesting. We’re the same age.”

You laugh. Probably a little louder than is respectable, but you can’t help it. Leave it to Steve Harrington to remind you of the time you bought porn from him, while you’re on a date.

You watch Steve write something else on his notepad, and rip the page out before folding it up. He tucks his notepad into his pocket as he says, “I’ll get this started for you. I hope you enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, Steven,” you offer just as he starts to walk away.

Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your chest as you turn back to your date. Theo looks disgruntled, but he just lifts his water to his lips.

“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”

“Marketing manager,” Theo says, with a click of his tongue. “For Bowman Wine & Spirits.”

“Oh,” you nod. “No relation, I suppose?”

“My father owns the company.”

“Right.” God, help me.

Across the dining room, Steve watches you over his shoulder. His jaw sets as he sees you, the girl of his literal dreams, sitting across from some idiot who doesn’t even know that you don’t order for your date without asking her what she wants first, you fucking weasel.

That’s all right. You seem to have the situation under control, for now. Steve watches you calmly sip your water, staring at your date but not listening to a thing he’s saying.

Steve sighs. He’s never been much of a schemer, but he’ll just make sure that you won’t leave with this guy if you don’t want to.

His fingers brush the note in his pocket, and he pinches it just as he passes the front of house manager, Taryn. Without breaking stride, he slips the note into her hand, heading toward the back hallway and down to the wine cellar.

As Steve passes by, Taryn unfolds the note he slips her, and raises one eyebrow at the request he’s written.

I can see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note saying, “Meet me tonight.” Then we kissed and you know I won’t ever tell…

Overall, you enjoy Sur La Table immensely. The restaurant itself, anyways. The wine is wonderful. The atmosphere is great. The food is exquisite.

You’re about to jump the waiter’s bones.

Theo got his second wind sometime after the scallops arrived, and you think he hasn’t paused for breath since. You’ve been calmly eating your food, while Theo tells you literally everything about himself. It’s the best case scenario you can see happening on this date. You enjoy the food, mumble a non-committal acknowledgement now and then, and Theo entertains himself with his own voice the rest of the time.

You’re gonna kill Shelly for setting you up with him, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.

Right now, you’re focused on finishing your glass of wine while he talks about camping, of all things.

“So we got up into the Rockies,” he’s telling you, gesturing with his hands like it’ll make you more engaged. “We ended up freezing our keisters off. No joke, I have frostbite scars.”

“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”

“No, are you listening? I mean, it was terrible. We couldn’t move for, like, two days. And when the snow stopped we were so tired and cold, we almost died.”

You knock back the rest of your wine with one gulp, and say with a sticky voice, “Wow. A near death experience must have been really scary, I’m sorry.”

Theo frowns. “No- I mean… It wasn’t… it wasn’t near death-”

“You just said-”

“It was more like a serious inconvenience, you know. But we pulled through. I wasn’t scared. A little snow isn’t gonna kill me,” he laughs incredulously. “It was just-”

Theo stops as Steve approaches the table. You catch him giving the back of Theo’s head the most murderous look imaginable before slowing to a stop and plastering an easy customer service smile in its place. “How did you find everything this evening?”

“It was fine.”

“The food was wonderful,” you tell Steve reassuringly. Your date, on the other hand…

“Yeeeah, could we get the check, please?” Theo asks, finally looking up at Steve.

You watch Steve’s brow twitch, such a small movement you could have imagined it. “Certainly. But first-” from behind his back, he reveals two white gift boxes and places them on the table in front of you and your date, respectively. “We like to give each of our customers a signature chocolate truffle, as a token of our appreciation.”

Everything in you aches. “Oh, that’s nice. Thank you so much.” You look down at the box in adoration, thinking for a second that it might be the only time in your life that Steve Harrington gives you something similar to a ring box.

“I’ll be sure to have our hostess come through with the check,” Steve adds delicately, making a gracious exit. His finger just slightly brushes your arm as he passes by- a dangerous move, but one that nearly electrifies your entire body at the single touch. You shiver as he says, “Have a lovely night.”

You watch Steve walk away from you, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You want to chase after him. The 18 year old you, who almost kissed him on prom night, is trying to claw its way out of your skin and bolt after him.

When Steve disappears from view, you have nowhere to look but at your date. Theo opens the white box in front of him and pops a neapolitan colored truffle into his mouth. “Well, that was underwhelming.”

You don’t want to watch him chewing anymore, like a cow gnawing on grass. You sigh, running a frustrated hand across your forehead, and flip open the box in front of you. The top of it rears up like a clam shell, and you freeze, your fingertips suddenly sticking to the sweat beading on your brow.

You don’t have a neapolitan truffle- you have a single golden chocolate coin. You stare at it in shock for a second before you even notice the note pasted to the lid of the box.

Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms.

“Aren’t you gonna eat yours?” Theo asks suddenly, as the hostess approaches holding the check.

Your eyes snap up just as your heart shoots back up into your chest. “I think I’m gonna save it for later.” You flash him a smile as you close the box swiftly and shove it into your clutch. “Do you mind if I hit the bathroom real quick?”

“No, go ahead. I’ve got it.” Honestly, it’s the kindest thing he’s done for you all night. You might have to thank him some day.

Once you’re out of your seat, you chase after Steve like a shot. Around a block of tables and into a tiled corridor, you walk past the kitchen doorway just as another server comes backing out, carrying a tray of dishes.

There’s a door at the end of the hall, labeled exit. You never actually thought you’d be escaping a bad date through the back door; the notion was too clichéed, you thought that sort of thing only happened in movies. But you find yourself nearly running past the men’s and women’s bathrooms, until your hands slam down on the bar of the back door and thrust it open into the wind.

The rain has picked up, more of a downpour than a light drizzle now. In your haste, you’d left your umbrella and coat with the coat check. Not that it would have been at all discrete if you’d gone to collect it before running towards the bathrooms.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you gaze around in the dark. The alley behind the restaurant is only partially lit by a yellow street lamp, making it even more difficult to find him than it was in the dining room. “Steve?”

You catch movement in the corner of your eye, and turn in the direction of the street lamp. Steve stands up from where he’d been sitting on an overturned crate- apparently the only accommodations the restaurant staff gets during a smoke break. The rain has already soaked into his hair, messing up the tidy style and turning it stringy, falling across his forehead, shining gold in the yellow light. He takes one last puff of the cigarette in his mouth before tossing it into the gutter, and he looks at you.

He sees you. And it’s all you’ve wanted since the day he first walked into your geography class, freshman year of high school. There’s been some kind of a magnetic pull between you two for years. Something keeps bringing you together, it’s just never been the right time. Until now.

Finally, you’re running towards him, and Steve’s arms finally come around you, pulling you against his body. Your hands find the back of his neck just in time for his lips to crash against yours.

You had lost count of the amount of times you watched him kiss other girls in the hallway in high school- not just Nancy, but any and every girl he attached himself to (for a while, it seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind who he was dating at any given moment). All you knew was that it was never you, and you wanted it to be so desperately that it consumed your mind half the time. He looked like a good kisser, and you fantasized about going up to him and testing that theory for yourself.

But you never expected that his lips would slide over yours with an urgency that you could feel through to your very core, probably even more desperate for your kiss than you are for his. Steve’s fingertips press into your body through the thin fabric of your dress, holding you firmly to him like he’s afraid you might disappear on him again if he doesn’t absorb you completely. Your mouth opens with a soft gasp, and Steve’s tongue against yours tastes like tobacco.

It happens so fast that you can’t even think- and you don’t really want to. You’re tired of thinking everything through, finding reasons upon reasons why it’s not a good time, why it’s a bad idea, why it won’t work. He moans into you, grabbing the side of your face as he stumbles with you to the wall, pressing you up against the side of the brick building.

You meet his moan with a whimper of your own as his hand slides down over the curve of your ass, and he hikes up the skirt of your dress to grab at your skin with abandon. There’s a ferocity in Steve’s kiss that you don’t know what to do with, like he’s trying to stake a claim to you right there in the rain, with no one around to see it happen but the moths in the street light overhead. Not that he needs to- he’s already got you. You already chose him.

Steve gives you room to breathe with a soft sigh, his forehead resting against yours. “Been wanting to do that since high school,” he admits, just loud enough for you to hear, before pressing a featherlight kiss just beside your mouth, and again to your cheek.

“Y-you fffucking-?” you gasp when he latches his lips around a sweet spot on your neck and sucks. “I had such a huge crush on you, Steve.”

“I know. I- I should have- I should…” Steve drops his head against your shoulder and groans when your nails rake against his scalp. “Fuck.”

He grinds his hips up against yours, biting your lip as the hard length of his cock presses up against your core. “Gonna fuck me in this alleyway, Harrington?”

“I’m seriously considering it,” he growls into your ear. His lips find yours again with a passion, his hand holding your jaw still. A hot breath escapes him, pouring over your skin and making you shiver. You’re lightheaded, so close to just letting him do it, too, when the back door of the restaurant swings open.

Steve still takes a second to pull away, a little too absorbed in kissing you to really care who sees him do it. If he had his way, he’d have everyone see that you’re his- that you belong with him, and have for a long time. He finally glances over his shoulder to see one of the cooks, Liam, walking off in the direction of the employee parking lot.

“Where did you get the fucking doubloon?” you whisper into his ear, sounding so fucking adorable that Steve can’t help the lovesick look he gives you.

He brushes his nose against yours. “I sent my manager on a treasure hunt.” You giggle, pressing your forehead up against his, and he can’t help but chuckle along with you. “I wanted to give you one at Family Video, that time.”

“I know,” you say, and he pulls back to look at your face. “I heard you yelling at your coworker in the back room.”

Steve snickers and turns red with embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his rain-soaked hair, a content smile on your face as you feel him grin against your skin and shake with laughter. “Take me home, Steve.”

You don’t have to ask him twice.

What would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you make me want you even more…

The drive to Steve’s apartment downtown is made with light conversation and the heavy, heavy weight of his hand on your thigh, creeping up further with each mile. But aside from the implication of sex hanging in the air, it’s as easy as breathing, chatting about the night with him. Shitting on Theo.

“Did you notice the way he said coquilles,” Steve murmurs to you at a red light. “I thought he was gagging on something. He was just trying to impress you, you know.”

You grunt. Could’ve tried a little harder. “He didn’t even like them. He said he didn’t like shellfish,” you laugh in return as you lace your fingers through Steve’s. “Why the fuck would you order scallops, then?”

“The price.”

It’s sweet, talking to him all the way to his apartment building, just catching up like old friends. He tells you that he’s going to culinary school now, and he’s been working at the restaurant for a little over a year, just to pay the bills.

“Culinary school? Really?” you say, with a note of awe in your voice.

“Turns out I’m really fucking good at cooking,” Steve chuckles. “Who’d have thought? Maybe someday I’ll stop waiting tables and work back there in the kitchen.”

“I can see it,” you tell him softly. “I can see you being the world’s best chef. Three stars and everything.”

He scoffs, but a pink blush creeps up the back of his neck. “You have too much faith in me.”

“Those are fighting words, Harrington.” You wag your finger at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”

“You just want me to cook you something,” Steve tuts.

“Absolutely, I do.” You consider him for a moment, in the passing light of a streetlamp. “Am I that transparent?”

Steve tilts his head to eye you meaningfully, and he smirks. “Always have been, honey.” His thumb rubs a little circle on your thigh that has you squirming in your seat.

The first thing you see of Steve’s apartment is the kitchen, and beyond that the dormant living room, but you don’t get that far before you’re sidetracked. Steve throws his keys onto a drop station by the door, and pins you up against the refrigerator before you can even think to ask where to put your shoes.

Your clothes are still damp, your hair still pasted to your clammy skin. Steve’s lips are attacking yours and his hands are grabbing at everything he can touch, but it’s still not enough. He’s not able to feel all of you at once, and it’s driving him insane with every passing moment.

Steve roughly yanks his suit jacket off, throwing it onto the tile floor beside the kitchen island. “Lay down.”

“What?” you whisper to him as he kisses your neck, guiding you away from the side of the fridge. “Here?”

“Right here,” Steve states, not joking in the slightest. You wobble on your feet as you kick off your heels, but his hands on your hips keep you steady. “Been waiting too long for this- can’t wait anymore.”

“I- wwhuh-?” you gasp as Steve kneels in front of you, and your knees buckle involuntarily as he lays you down across his discarded jacket. Your hands grab his shoulders as you tumble backward, taking him with you.

He face-plants into your stomach with a noisy, “Oof.” Cackling, you run your fingers through his damp hair, as he laughs and shoves his blushing face further against your torso. Steve litters your stomach with kisses, giggling against you with a note of nervous energy. He’s adorable.

You pet your fingers down the side of his face and he leans into the touch. “Can’t even wait long enough to take me to the bedroom?”

“Well, I would have fucked you in the alley,” Steve points out as his fingers breach the hem of your skirt and find your panties. He tugs as he says, “Be thankful I even got you home.”

Your cheeks burn hot. You fidget, trying to press your thighs together to abate the throbbing ache between them. “Careful, baby. You’re starting to sound desperate.”

Steve pauses, his hazel eyes lighting up when they lock on yours. “Call me that again,” he requests, pressing a kiss to your ankle as he pulls your panties off your feet. He tosses them over his shoulder, but you don’t see where they land as he continues peppering kisses down your calf.

You hold his gaze. “Baby?” His eyes flutter, his lips parting as they drag up toward your knee. “You like when I call you that?”

“I like when you call me anything,” Steve admits. “But as long as you call me that, it means I’m yours.”

Your breath stutters in your chest. Steve Harrington is yours. It doesn’t matter if it’s just for tonight- what matters is that you have him now, and he wants you just as badly.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he murmurs quietly against your skin, his voice crackling with brimming need. He’s flushed, his cheeks pink and his hair drying in tousled waves over his forehead the longer he drags this out.

Nodding your head, you reach down to lace your fingers through his, where they’re bunching your skirt up around your hips. “Yes, Steve.” Always have been.

He turns his head and sucks a spot on your calf, just below your knee, resting your ankle over his shoulder. Still, despite your desperation, you nervously keep your thighs pinched together.

Steve tuts, “C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta spread your legs for me. You wanna let me see that pretty pussy, right?”

Still clammy and cold with rain, the air on your exposed skin makes you shiver almost as much as his sweeping hands do when they gently part your thighs. You let go, let him take control as you still and keep your eyes focused on his face, because looking anywhere else would remind you that this is real, and not a dream.

Steve sighs, “There she is. Y’gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” He bats his pretty eyes at you in a way that makes your heart stop dead in your chest. He can’t keep his mouth off of you, even for a moment, his lips and slight stubble dragging across your skin as he says, “Been wanting to forever, you won’t even believe-”

“Please, Steve,” you start to beg before he even finishes his sentence. “Please, my god, I- I just- I just want you so much-”

“Sh-sh-sh-shh.” His tongue licks wet and hot against your inner thigh before he whispers, “I’ve got you, baby. M’not going anywhere, I’m staying right here ‘til you cum.”

You’re instantly hot all over, your blood fucking boiling beneath your skin and your wet dinner dress. Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he yanks you toward his face, the fabric of his jacket beneath you audibly zipping along the kitchen floor.

Steve dips his head, and his mouth closes over your cunt right at the same moment that yours falls open with a moan that won’t come out, because you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. The noise stalls right at the beginning- your lungs stop working and you can’t seem to get them to start again, because Steve’s tongue is everywhere, dripping wet and gentle on skin that’s way too sensitive to handle it right now. Your hips try to jerk away from him in resistance, but he slams his hand down on them, holding you hard and still against the tile floor, his shoulders pushed up against the backs of your thighs to keep them open.

Steve takes a break just long enough to grin evilly up at you, because he’s been waiting for five years to tell you to, “Breathe, sweetheart.”

“Fffffuck,” you manage to spit out finally, your voice cracking on the word like it didn’t even really want to put in the work to make it happen. Your breath comes back into your lungs all at once, rapid firing with a dozen moans for punctuation. Steve’s lips quirk against you, and he rumbles a noise of satisfaction against your pussy that makes you jolt in his hold again. “Steve…”

He pulls off of you with a slow, slow stroke of his tongue over your clit, making you whimper high and tight in your throat. “That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers, his breath fanning across your slick cunt, his left hand leaving your hip so that he can drag his knuckles teasingly through your swollen folds. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so right.”

Two long fingers sink into you with ease, stirring the need in you to have him just simply destroy you. You moan loud, your hand shooting out and wrapping around the leg of a bar stool for the kitchen island beside you.

“Poor thing’s just so sensitive, huh?” Your head arches backwards against the floor, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as he curves them with practiced accuracy. Steve’s voice is a deep murmur, distant thunder rolling over your nerves, “Relax for me, honey. You’ve waited long enough, just let it happen. Let me give you what you want.”

His lips shine when you look down at him, your hand reaching to run through his hair. Stifling a whine that threatens to come out when he kisses your clit and bends his fingers within you, you stutter out, “J-just want… I- ha-ah! Just want you.”

Steve purrs. “I know.” The crisp white fabric of his shirt scrapes against your thighs, almost rough in comparison to his tongue flat on your pussy. You can hear the wet, salacious sound of his fingers pumping into you, pulling you toward the edge of oblivion. He hisses through his teeth, shaking his head slightly. “God, I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Y-you-?” you manage a laugh, scraping your nails along his scalp lightly. “You’re lucky? You have n-no… fffucking idea-” You cut off with a sob when Steve wraps his lips around your clit, sucking long and hard enough that your leg twitches, your heel dragging up the back of his pristine white blouse. Your breathing picks up just as all your muscles lock down tight. “Jesus Christ-”

“There you go,” Steve praises as your orgasm shakes your body, your hand gripping his hair so hard that he groans softly into your damp skin. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, lewd wet noises picking up and echoing through the quiet kitchen. “That’s a good girl. Mmm , felt so nice to let go, didn’t it?”

You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that- you’re still twitching, coming down from your high as he pulls his fingers from your spasming cunt and sucks them into his mouth. The pause gives you a gentle reprieve, sinking back onto his suit jacket beneath you. Then, his mouth finds your pussy again, his tongue delving deep into your entrance and laving up to your sensitive clit.

You gasp, throwing your hands down into his hair. “Steve-?!”

He moans in response. “Just needed to taste you some more, honey. Taste so fuckin’ sweet, I can’t get enough.” Steve relents, crawling up your body to hover his face over yours. “Still wanna see the bedroom?”

You nod excitedly, your hands finding his smiling face and stroking the hair away from his eyes. With a gentle kiss of his wet lips to yours, Steve gathers your still-wrecked body into his arms and carries you into his bedroom.

He’s struck by how blissful you are as he sets you down on his bed, so soft and inviting. He encourages your arms up, his hands finding the zipper of your wet dress and finally, finally, pulling it over your head so that he can see you. All your curves and edges on display for him, after all this time imagining what he couldn’t see with the naked eye.

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve repeats what he told you all those years ago at prom- he meant it then, and he means it now. Maybe even more this time, now that he’s not a stupid teenager, now that he finally has his head on his shoulders.

You shiver against him when he unclips your bra- black lace that matches the underwear sitting in his entryway. A possessive part of him rears up, knowing that you’d worn them to a date with some asshole who couldn’t treat you right, even for one hour of the guy’s miserable life. Steve dips his head and kisses your breast, so much softer now than he was before, feeling your heartbeat against his lips.

“Hey.” You gently tug him by his tie, loosening it and his collar. You look into his eyes, and his heart melts. “Where’d you go just now, sailor?”

Steve blushes, his eyes flicking down as you remove his tie and start unbuttoning his blouse. “Just thinking...” he trails off, eyeing you thoughtfully. “Just thinking I could have missed you again if I wasn’t careful.”

“Mmm,” you hum, your hands smoothing up his chest and over his shoulders to get his shirt off of him. It drops to the floor with a whisper. “I don’t think so. I think this was meant to happen, eventually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You scrunch your nose cutely, in a way that makes Steve’s pants tighten even more uncomfortably across his hips. “We’ve run into each other too many fuckin’ times, baby. Karma’s on our side.”

He laughs. “Karma.” He shakes his head as he undoes his belt.

You quirk your brow at him as your hands fiddle with the fly of his suit pants. “Don’t believe me?”

Steve grunts, shifting to lean over you. “I’ll believe anything you say when you’re taking my pants off, honey. I’m easy that way.”

Your nails rake through the hair on his chest- you can’t keep your hands off of him now that they’ve got him. You trace over two blotchy scars, one on either side of his torso that mirror each other. “What happened here?”

He blows a puff of air out of his mouth, rounding his cheeks as he shrugs. “Some… animals decided I looked really tasty, at one point. I know, they aren’t very pretty.”

Steve’s brushing over it like it’s nothing. You search his face, and you decide to do the same. “Actually, I think it’s kind of hot.” You drag your hand up to lay flat over his chest. You whisper conspiratorially, “Plus, I think you look really tasty, too.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Y’gonna bite me about it?”

“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”

Your gaze falls indiscreetly to his cock, hard and flushed, glistening with precum and curving up toward his stomach. Girls talk, especially when they’re all trying to one-up each other; you knew that he was big. You’d heard the rumors. You’d seen him wearing those tight fucking jeans all the time, and you didn’t have to have much of an imagination to figure it out.

Still. It’s… a little overwhelming. You reach out a tentative hand, lightly wrapping your fingers around his base. They barely meet. Jesus Christ.

He groans, and kisses you until you can’t speak, resting his weight on top of you until you sink gleefully into the mattress. There’s a smile on your lips that transfers onto his, happiness and ease still flowing between you even as he grinds his hips up against yours.

“Ready?” Steve murmurs softly into your mouth, stealing your breath when you feel his cock slide through your folds, hot and fat.

“Dunno,” you tell him teasingly, but there’s an edge of reason to your words. Your hips squirm and you feel him even worse, slippery with your arousal. You whine. “I think you might kill me with that thing, Harrington.”

“I’ll go slow,” he whispers, hoarse in the back of his throat, his voice already shaking. “I’ll make sure you feel every bit of it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree as you reach to line him up properly. “I’m all yours.”

Steve gives a relieved sigh as he slides into you, his head falling heavily to your shoulder. His cock aches, his torso shaking as he tries to steady himself. “Oh my god.”

“Baby,” you coo, choking on a moan when he bottoms out. He’s so thick- your nails dig into his shoulder blades as you try to remember how to breathe. It’s certainly a big stretch to try to fit him, but you can’t help wanting more just as soon as he comes to a stop. You can feel him trying to hold steady, holding himself back as though it’s the hardest thing in the world for him to do.

Because it is. You can’t see it, the way that his brow is furrowed in concentration, his eyes screwed shut. He didn’t know it would be like this- that he’d be in danger of blowing it just as soon as he started.

Your heel digs into his ass, and he doesn’t know if you do it purposefully, but he almost whimpers.

You take a shuddering breath. “Please- please move, Steve, I can’t take it.”

Oh, you can’t take it? “You know what,” Steve says with a hint of strain in his voice, picking his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours, “I think you like me.”

You snort, and kiss him lightly. “What gave you that impression?”

“Y’so fucking cute.” Steve hums and sloooowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock through your walls so deliciously that your toes curl. “Could be all those times you stared at me in class-” He watches your face as he pushes forward, until his hips are flush with yours and your head arches backwards against his sheets. “Could be when you nearly let me kiss you at prom-” Out. In. Steve runs his tongue up the length of your throat, and bites at your earlobe. He whispers, “Could be that you came on my tongue ten minutes ago.”

He picks up his pace, just a bit. Just enough to have the bed creaking under you with the rhythm, to have you moaning in tandem with him- needy and high pitched, leaping from your throat into the hot, sex-charged air.

Steve’s lips latch onto your neck, and he sucks hard. He eases up after just a couple seconds, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot, but you know what he’s just done- he’s marked you, right where you won’t be able to hide it in the morning.

You want him to do it all over your body.

Your jaw goes slack and you’re losing all integrity. He’s even better than you imagined- sleepless nights wanting, hoping endlessly that you’d find yourself here, under him, couldn’t have prepared you for how perfect it feels. His hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning it to the mattress beside your head, squeezing with every slow and purposeful thrust of his hips.

Steve’s cock finds your g-spot like it’s nothing, like he’s known your body for ages. He barely even has to try before you’re whimpering, raking your nails up his back and leaving long red trails behind.

Your teeth latch onto his shoulder and you bite, probably harder than you should, but you just can’t refuse the urge to mark him the way that he’s left his mark on you. He moans, a deep and boyish sound in your ear, as you drag your tongue along his shoulder, soothing the bite, tasting his sweat. The salt and the sweetness of his skin, mixed with the heady smell of sex in the room, have you losing yourself in him.

“Biter.” You hear him chuckle dangerously, rumbling along your skin while his nose skirts your jawline.

“You’re so good, Stevie-” you whine, hot pleasure rearing up in you like a tidal wave. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, I love- love how you feel inside me.”

Steve groans loudly into your shoulder, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You think he has a mind to bite you back- maybe he’d do it harder. You can see Steve drawing blood, when the mood suits him.

But his hand squeezes yours, his other sweeping broadly up your thigh and hitching your leg up further over his hip. “Yeah?” His voice is rough, bordering on a growl, “What’d’ya say we stay like this forever, huh? Just like this?”

His pelvis grinds up against yours, his pubes crushing against your clit making you gasp. Everything’s wet- your skin, his skin, the sheets. Sweaty bodies sticking and sliding against each other, your hips meeting his in the middle.

“Like this?” you gasp, your head reeling. His forehead presses against yours, and it’s just about the only thing bringing you back into focus. Steve doesn’t falter, keeping the same pace and rhythm while he watches you try to form a coherent reply. “Mm- I- I, hhuh-”

“C’mon, babygirl,” he breathes against your damp skin, “you can do better than that. You love my cock so much, you wanna keep it warm all the time? Wanna stay in bed with me forever, is that it?”

You nod fervently, your hands grabbing at his neck, his hair, his shoulder- anywhere you can touch. “Yes, yes. God, Steve, I- you’re gonna make me cum, shit-”

“I know it,” Steve murmurs, tugging your lip between his teeth and making you whine again. Your cunt pulses around him, and he hisses, his hand slipping on your thigh. “Love seein’ you all drunk on my cock- shit, you’re so gorgeous like this.” He pauses to kiss you, making you lightheaded, making you tug at his hair. “Y’look so pretty under me, baby. Pussy feels so good, I wanna stay here, too. I can see us doin’ this for the rest of our lives, huh? How’s that sound?”

How does it sound? You and Steve Harrington, together forever? Intertwined, knotted up with no way to lose each other, no disappearing and then reappearing years down the line?

“S’that a challenge?” you whimper shakily at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”

“I don’t think I could let you go, now,” Steve tells you firmly, his hand leaving your thigh so that he can grab your jaw possessively, his tongue darting out to trace gently across your bottom lip. “I’m never gonna let you go, baby.”

You wrap your legs around his waist. “I don’t want you to.”

“I hope so,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours.

Steve kisses you long and slow when you cum. You swallow his moans when he does.

What would you? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you, oh, I can see you…

You almost think it’s a dream. When you rouse in the morning, you feel like you imagined it. But you’re surrounded by the scent of Steve, of musky cologne and sweat and sex, and maybe just a little bit of hair gel stuck to his pillows.

You flop over and stare at the ceiling. You’re alone in a king size bed, fitted with gray sheets and a few too many pillows. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your paramour is nowhere to be found. His bedroom is fairly stark, with a few little things arranged on the dresser top and clothes thrown around the floor. It doesn’t feel like a room he spends much time in, aside from sleeping and dressing in the morning.

You immediately think about what this all means for you. Whether he really meant what he said in the heat of the moment, if he really wants this to be a long-term thing or if it was just pillow talk. It doesn’t take you long to determine which one you want it to be.

There’s commotion on the other side of the closed door. You lean over the side of the bed, searching for something to put on before you just waltz out there naked. Ultimately, you pull on his blouse from last night.

You emerge from the bedroom squinting against the light in the room. The blinds in the living room are open, casting bright sunlight across the room and into the kitchen. You find Steve in front of the stove.

“Hey, there she is!” he announces happily. “Just in time for breakfast.”

Steve looks so comfortable in the kitchen, moving around quickly and efficiently, whereas you tend to blunder about. When you wander over to the island, you notice he’s already picked up his suit jacket, and laid it across the bar stool next to the one you choose.

Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.

You grin at his back, plopping down onto the bar stool. The metal is cold against your bare ass, nearly making you squeal and jump back up. “Is it a Sex on the Beach?”

He laughs gleefully. “Nah, if only. How was that, by the way?”

“The ice cream, or the porn?”

He turns to grin at you over his shoulder. “Both.”

He’s wearing glasses. Round wire frames that complement his face perfectly, making him look distinguished in his gray sweats and black t-shirt. Just like that, you’re spiraling. Suddenly, you’re picturing yourself being here, with him cooking breakfast in his glasses and PJ’s every morning, on and on into the future. Doing domestic shit, grocery shopping, dancing around in the kitchen at 3 am, kissing in the rain- well, you’ve already done that one.

But you can see it. That future, with him by your side, it’s right there. You just don’t know if it’s the one that he wants. You don’t really know how deep this runs for him.

Funny what just an accessory can do to your train of thought.

“Um.” You swallow. What was the question? “The ice cream was great. Still the best sundae I’ve ever had, by the way. The porn was bullshit, I didn’t get through twenty minutes. I just wanted to make you blush.”

“Brat.” He spins around, and plates an omelet right in front of you. You watch his face, tracing the easy smile he wears. “I hope you like it- but if you don’t, you better not say anything. I don’t think I could handle the pain of your rejection.” He looks up at you, hazel eyes shining gold in the sunlight. “You’re staring.”

“I-” you blink at him. You don’t fucking say. You open your mouth to ask- you want to ask what this is, what he feels, did he mean it. Do you want to do this again? Is this serious for you? Because it is for me, if you want it. You just don’t get that far.

“You’ve been staring since we were fourteen,” he chuckles, sliding you a fork.

That startles you. “Well,” you click your tongue. “I didn’t realize you were looking so closely.”

“Oh,” Steve shrugs, turning to place the pan in the sink. “Just since freshman year. When you read Juliet’s monologue in English class. Remember?”

You tilt your head. Vaguely. It was just a class project, where each person had to choose a Shakespearean monologue to recite in front of the class. You thought he only even became aware of you senior year.

Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee, Take all myself.

“Are you telling me,” you say, palms flat on the counter as you peer at him incredulously, “you’ve liked me just as long as I’ve liked you?”

“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”

Your brain refuses to compute. You stare at his back, his tousled hair, and want to yank him toward you and squeeze him like one of those fucking squeaky toys that you get at the pet store. The ones the eyes pop out of.

Steve turns to you with a smirk, leaning across the counter to mirror you. He reaches forward to trace the mark he made on your neck, still tender, while mocking your pout back at you. His eyes crease at the corners, like they always do when he’s trying to be coy.

“Eat your breakfast, baby. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

(I see you, I see you, baby.)

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #roses*

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privitivium · 2 months

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masochist!sensitive!himbo, mean!male!reader - lovely thoughts! bad dom reader,,,,

ur huge best bro, who's very much prone to sobbing in the crook of your neck when you're "making love" to him in his bed,,,, he's too touchy... way too touchy. often - wanting to fucking hold hands and seing them back n forth like ur some kinda fucking couple??? sick.

hmm... he's your best friend! much bigger than you... a gentle giant... kindhearted - pure of heart. fucking not - good lord. there was nothing pure about him. hand dipping in-between your legs, sitting behind you. playing with your cock... before he was kneeling in-between ur thighs, mouth finding the tip of your dick and his tongue circling your leaky bulbous cockhead while you're on the game; distracted by both winning and getting head by your silly companion who often liked to give you such attention!!! is he doing good?

he must be - if you, who generally hates touching him affectionately, are shoving ur fingers in his mouth!!! pumping lewdly into his lips as though you rre fingering his ass,,, makin him taste ur remnants of cum. fingers rubbing on the flat of his tongue, making him gag and its so very obvious that you enjoy the sight with how you surge your hips deeper - is he being whorish enough for you? mmh he can - he can be even more of a whore, he promises!! constricting around ur cock, slobbering and tonguing - sucking on your digits and moaning so pitifully,,, you must like it since you havent pulled away just yet!!!

his huge hands gripping your waist, tugging you deeper into him - feeling the mess of saliva, tears, and snot on your neck. clenching your jaw as you nearly feel overstimulated at the sense - causing you to get aggressive,,,,, he always causes you to grimace in disgust in one way or another. always causing you to you push away from him, physically and emotionally; hands finding and gripping his defined shoulders, forcing him downward to lay against the bed instead of nuzzling into your neck. not wanting to make him cry harder with the command of "don't fucking touch me" - you settle for gentle teasing.

jeez, does it feel that good? you really are sensitive. grumpily enunciating as he mewls for affection, it's kinda annoying. ㅡ is it? m' m- sorryy!!! and sobbing harder while constricting around your cock and milking load after load because he just feels that good... your best bro! feels so good!!!!

you're,,,,, best friends with benefits,,,, but he calls you his boyfriend when introducing you to his gymbros when you aren't there to correct him. moron getting all fluttery and trembling with excitement as you hangout with him... calling him your best fucking bro with a tight hole you can fuck into happily. freeuse, even? like - what? you got an erection out in public and ur embarrassed? hey, it's okay, i can help make it go away lol. please? please? please? let me help, lol. please?

idiot getting hard, trained, when you call him a stupid fucking idiot in public after he drops something on accident. something you do out of affection - insults not matching your loving touches and soothing caresses. see? you can still be loving... no need to be so sensitive, man. don't fucking cry, we're in public. all because you were showing him love - true love by touching him... you didnt like to do that... you were totally coming out of ur shell!!!

#x male reader #top male reader #x top male reader #dom male reader #x dom male reader #yandere himbo maybe #posting / finishing my original drafts lolllll!!!!!!

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atinylittlepain · 8 months

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Only Lovers Left Alive

cowboy!vampire!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

warnings 18+ smut, blood, murder, studio 54, this bad boy has gawt it allllll honey

a/n | this one is from the VAULT lol. i wrote this back in june and never posted it, and now it's spooky season, so here you go, my beloved vamps. it's camp okay? we're going for camp here. ALSO, bonus points if you can guess what song vampaw (joel) is talking about hehehe

...........................................

“Wake up, baby.”

“Mmph.”

“The sun is almost down and I’m thirsty. Come on, Joel.” When he still doesn’t stir, only letting out another petulant huff, the kisses she had been leaving along his bare shoulder blades halt, teeth sinking into skin, her jaw closing just enough to make him grumble.

“Not very nice, darlin. Was having a good dream. We were back in California. You were wearing one of those sweet dresses you always had on.” He cranes his head over his shoulder, cheek still smushed into his silk pillowcase, one eye crinkling open, seeking out a kiss that she is happy to provide.

“Those sweet dresses are about sixty years out of style, my love. Are you saying you don’t like the way I dress now?” With another grumble, he finally twists around to sit up in bed, squinting in the dim light as his eyes roam over her body, sequined and slinking.

“I like you all the time. You know that, huh?” Even after all this time, his palm slipping along her cheek can still set her stomach flipping, the only one he softens his snarl for.

“I know. So get dressed for me. While the night is still young and the people haven’t flooded themselves with too much liquor yet.”

If ever there was a decade for her man, she’d think it’d be the seventies with how good he wears it. Cream-colored suit and a black silk shirt that could hardly be called a button-up with the way he wears it, dripping gold chains laid pretty and perfect over the tan plains of his chest. Faded orange aviators to dull the sting of all the Manhattan neon when they step out into the night, his arm slung heavy around her waist as they throng through the sweltering summer crowds.

That’s the other thing, as the years have passed by it seems that people have started showing more and more skin. Bare shoulders and sternums, shimmering with sweat in the close, hot night. It’s enough to make a girl’s mouth water. But they aren’t the kind to dine out, at least not these days, not when it’s so much more fun to do it like this.

She can feel the bass in her hips all the way down the block, eyes drooping in pure pleasure when she catches sight of the familiar flickering sign of Studio 54. A dance they have down by now, slinking right past the line of people waiting to get in, a quick bat of her lashes loosening that velvet rope for both of them to step inside the pulsing rhythm and light of the club.

Already a little bounce in her heels, bobbing her head side to side, her lips pulling back in a sharp grin, she presses her palm in the middle of Joel’s chest, though he’s unmoving, unimpressed in the close crowd, sunglasses sliding down his nose to look at her.

“Please, Joel.”

“You go on. Gonna get a drink first.” Whiskey neat. Beneath it all, still her cowboy.

“Oh fine, you’re no fun though. What’re you in the mood for tonight, baby?”

“Something lean. Swear I could taste the heart attack on that one last night.” Teeth, all teeth, technicolor in the flashing lights. A quick slip, his tongue licking into her mouth just once before he’s shouldering off toward the bar, leaving her to it.

She wastes no time, slipping through the crowd to the middle of the dancefloor, the pumping beat rolling her shoulders back, swaying her hips in an easy spin as she stretches out. She knows all the beats to hit by now. Arching her neck just so, one arm extending out before slipping her palm from her sternum down to her pelvis, her hips dipping back in time with the thrumming music. Side to side, eyes fluttered shut, she can already feel the pull of someone coming closer. Brunette, tall, all sharp lines and glittery eye makeup.

Early in their time here, they had to set some ground rules. Never anyone famous, not after she nearly drained Elton John before Joel stopped her when he realized who the man was. Low profile. The nobodies, the hanger-ons, the ones they could slip out with and not a soul would notice. And this girl sliding up behind her fits the bill perfectly.

Cherry red nails splay along her hips and she leans into it, tossing her head back on the girl’s shoulder, smiling big and bright. She doesn’t ask for her name because she doesn’t care, simply slipping her hand through the girl’s hair to guide her lips to hers. A quick flicker of her tongue, just a taste to see what she’s working with. Sweet, sweet, sweet.

No words, not over the rolling bass and dizzying lights, just her hips molding and moving with this girl’s, spinning around to slip her arms over her bare shoulders. She catches his eyes through the crowd over the rims of those damn sunglasses of his, shooting him a slanted grin and a small nod, an invitation that she knows he won’t take just yet. Joel likes to watch, something else she’s learned over the years. Nursing a glittering glass of something dark and strong as she continues to sway and dip against the girl. But the moment the dizzying synth of I Feel Love starts flooding through the club, she knows it’ll be time for dinner real soon. Because for as much as he rails against disco music and its sugary-sweetness, Joel Miller has to admit that Donna Summer makes a mean record.

She feels him before she sees him, a wide palm slinking around her waist to splay over her stomach, pressing up behind her even as she keeps her arms slung behind the girl’s neck.

“Is he with you?” Barely heard over the driving music, she just smiles and nods, leaning in to let her lips graze her ear.

“Do you wanna come have some more fun with us? Somewhere a little more private?” It’s almost too easy. She’d be bored with it if she wasn’t so thirsty, smacking her lips as they trail out of the club, her arm slung around the girl’s waist, her other hand held in Joel’s as they traipse through the swirling, blinking city streets.

“He doesn’t talk much, does he?”

“Don’t worry about him, baby. I promise he’s lots of fun, you’ll see.”

Their other ground rule. No alleys, no backs of bars or cars, never in public, always at home, wherever that might be. Easier, simpler, cleaner. The world has gotten more complicated, and they’ve had to change with it.

She lets Joel lead them up the two flights to their apartment, all the while stumbling in between stolen kisses and squeezes with the girl whose name she still doesn’t know, and probably won’t ever know. Another lesson learned, while fear tastes good, whatever this is, this want, this lust, goes down even sweeter.

Joel doesn’t like to touch though, instead sitting down in the leather armchair facing the bed, legs splayed wide and a palm rubbing at his scruff as she and the girl crawl onto the mattress, the slip of silk against skin, swallowing down her sighs. She kneels behind her, her hand skating up her front to curl around her throat, holding her spine in a perfect arch, on display for her lover.

“What do you think?” The tilt of his head, elbows coming to rest on his thighs, gold chains dangling and dazzling on his neck. And teeth, all teeth.

“This’ll do just fine, darlin.”

“Are you guys tripping out or something?” A little tug, just a touch unkind to the girl’s hair, lips to her ear, shushing her.

“Shh, baby. You wanna feel good, don’t you?” A kiss to her temple, just behind her ear, down over that dizzying pump just below her jaw, so much of it rushing all at once she feels herself get a little lightheaded when her tongue flickers out over that pulse. Her one hand still tangled up in her hair, holding her neck long and taut, her other palm gripping the swell of one of the girl’s breasts, feeling the rise and fall of her ribs between her fingers. That fluttering thing, that thing she can break and burst between her teeth.

Her eyes don’t leave his, steady and still as she mouths along the girl’s neck, finding that soft, trembling spot that makes her jaw ache. A broken gasp, the only sound the girl makes when her teeth finally sink in before that fluttering fizzles out.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“Thank you, darlin. Always do so good for me.” Finally sliding his sunglasses off, he kneels down on the end of the bed, the body held between them as they both start to drink. Every last drop. Her mind swims in the sate, warmth rushing beneath her skin as she lets out a long sigh, already slumping back into the sheets while Joel hoists the body over his shoulder. She doesn’t know what he does with them, just that by the time he gets back with a soft click of their front door, a different need has settled in her bones.

“All good?” His hand slips along her ankle, kneading at the curve of her calf as he kneels at the end of the bed, eyes dragging along her body.

“Taken care of. Don’t worry yourself about it. You already handle the hard part.” The beaded material of her dress slips back, bunching around her hips as she spreads her legs for him to settle between her thighs, his slow crawl onto the bed ending with a kiss dropped to her lips.

“Hmm, I’m not worried. But I do need something else from you, baby.”

“Think I might know what you need.” He’s already slipping back down her body, tugging the straps of her dress off to let his teeth graze over her nipples. But before he can set her mind into a perfect haze, she reaches over to the nightstand to flick the needle of the record player into place. A chuckle thrums against her stomach where his mouth is resting when that familiar snare riff starts to crackle and pop.

“Don’t deny it. I know you like this song.” He hums low in his throat, his chin resting over her pelvis as his eyes glint up at her.

“Best invention in a while has to be the twelve inch. Can just let it play, don’t have to worry about catching the needle for a little while longer, and this song was made for it.” When she rolls her eyes at him, his teeth bite down over the jut of her hip, a quick pinch of pain that makes her huff.

“If you like it so much how come you never dance with me?”

“I like watching you too much. Watching everyone else watching you, knowing you’re all mine, even when you get all fresh with them.”

“Fresh, huh? Someone learned a new slang word it seems.” Another bite to the soft curve of her stomach, hard enough to make her yelp, though he’s quick to soothe the skin with his tongue.

“Just keeping up with the times, darlin. But if you really want a dance with me so bad, I suppose I could indulge you one of these nights.” That crooked grin of his makes her huff. He’s promised her a dance a few times now, and has yet to fulfill that wish. But before she can tell him off he’s already settling the heat of his mouth over her cunt, his tongue dragging a salacious stripe up before settling over her clit in a lazily circle.

He knows her body like his own at this point, coaxing pleasure out of her the way he knows she likes, a low hum in his throat as he dips his tongue down to fuck up into her, fingers digging into the swell of her ass to press her hips up closer to his mouth.

They don’t even have to speak, not anymore, just long mewling sighs rolling through her chest, her heel digging between his shoulder blades while he continues to lap at her cunt. But it never gets old, the way she furls up around him, that pleasure contracting and contracting until it all blows out and bursts, white hot and heaving. Only her fingers hooking in the chains around his neck finally drag his face away from her cunt, up and up until she can taste herself on his tongue.

“Always so sweet for me, huh? My angel gets sweeter every day.” She runs her fingers through his hair, taking a beat just to look at each other, the same man she fell for all those decades ago, that same sweetness in his eyes.

“You and me, Joel. Forever.”

“That’s right, darlin. Forever.” Another kiss, slower and more desperate as she shrugs his suit jacket off, fingers running quick through the few buttons of his shirt that are actually done up before she gets to work on his belt. But she doesn’t get far in her efforts when the catch of the needle startles both of them, Joel grabbing her wrist before she can reach to set it back to spin.

“We don’t need it, huh? Give that Summer woman a run for her money with the moans coming out of you.” He swallows up her laugh, his tongue twining with hers as he finally shrugs his pants down his legs. She’s only a little surprised to see he isn’t wearing underwear, a habit he picked up somewhere in Italy in the 30s.

“How does this damn dress come off?” He grumbles it out, hands grasping at her waist where the fabric has all bunched up and she has to laugh at the furrowed frustration in his face.

“There’s a zipper, here.” Joel huffs as she deftly undoes the zipper running up the side of her dress, pressing his face between her breasts and sighing.

“Fucking zippers. You know what I liked? Those corsets you used to wear with all the laces. That was easy to figure out.” She tugs at his hair, coaxing his face up so she can quirk her brow at him.

“Spoken like someone who never had to wear one.” He just grins, shimmying her dress down until she can toe it off and lay tangled up in each other’s bareness. His cock rests against her thigh, flushed and heavy, the weight of it sending a pang of want up her spine.

“Do you want me, darlin? You still all mine?” It startles her sometimes, how sweet he can be, those dark brown eyes of his looking up at her through his lashes, glinting in the dim lamplight. Her man, the beast that lays down at her feet. She brings her palm to his cheek, lightly scratching at his stubble, his eyes fluttering shut with the sensation.

“You know I am. I always want you.” That sweetness snaps into a snarl when she coaxes him down for a kiss, her tongue slipping into his mouth and lapping up the last taste of their dinner, just a tinge left on his bottom lip.

Languid and smooth, he guides the tip of his cock through her aching cunt, both of them sighing when he starts to spread her open around him. Perfect pain simmering just beneath that shake of pleasure, his hips settling against hers, stuttering into stillness as they both settle into the stretch. His palm slides down the outside of her thigh, hooking behind her knee to draw her open for him, her calf resting in the crook of his elbow as he finally pulls back before rolling his hips forward in a languorous stroke that sends them rucking up the sheets. Push and pull, he moves them into a slow, strong rhythm, each thrust making her gasp as she drags her nails down his back.

“Always so perfect like this, ain’t you? Mine from the moment I met you.”

“Fuck yes. Make me feel so good. Yours, all yours.” It all slurs together, praise and pleas mingling with the slick sound of flesh meeting over and over again. Their mouths rest over each other’s, just close graze, open and receiving what the other provides, swallowing up sighs and moans and preening cries of each other’s names. Just like this, her favorite way to have him, blanketed by the broadness of his shoulders and those blown-out eyes of his, unwavering, a heady weight on her even when she scrunches her eyes shut. Though Joel doesn’t let that last long, a snarl with the sweet when his hand comes to her jaw, fingers pressing into her cheeks to get her to refocus.

“Eyes on me, darlin. That’s it. Fuck, you’re good, huh? So good for me.” His words come out a bit breathless, though his eyes stay steady on her, even as he sits back on his haunches, palms slipping under her ass to pull her hips up into his lap, fucking into her deeper, more desperate. It’s just over the edge of too much, her spine arching off the bed until only the wings of her shoulder blades are pressed into the mattress. Every muscle in her body snares taut and tight, her cunt spasming around him as she unravels, going sick with the pleasure as he settles his hips into a close grind. He’s never far behind, ready and willing to freefall alongside her, muscle curling until he’s hunched over her, his forehead pressed to her sternum as he snaps with a groan of her name.

He goes slack, slumping down against her, the solid weight of him making her sigh as she runs her nails up and down his back, both of them still coming down.

“You know, baby, we’ve still got a few hours before the sun comes up.”

“Mmph, not thirsty.”

“Not what I meant.” He lifts his head from where his cheek had been smushed against her sternum at that, brow furrowing at her.

“You owe me a dance. And I intend to get it before we have to leave this city.”

While she’s certainly all his, she knows that he’s all hers just the same, and that he couldn’t possibly say no to her, ever. And though it’s not without a few grumbles on his part, he’s back in his suit and sunglasses in no time, palms grabbing at the barely-there fabric of her dress as they slip back into the club. Except this time, she keeps her fingers circled around his wrist, tugging him out into the center of the pulsing dancefloor.

“Move pretty good for your age, baby.” He rolls his eyes, biting back a smile she can see twitching at the corners of his lips. But he’s quick to hide it, throwing her into a tight spin that makes her laugh, his arm snaking around her waist to pull her back against his chest, his lips pressed to the curve of her ear.

“Guess I better remind you just how good I can move, huh?”

He does, until they absolutely have to leave before the sun starts to creep out from behind the skyscrapers, slinking home in the haze of dawn and collapsing in a heap of tired limbs on their mattress.

Meanwhile, across town, a young woman is taking the subway with a sinking, sickening feeling in her stomach. She’s on her way to the police station. Her roommate said she was going to Studio 54 last night, and never came home, even though she knows she had an early morning shift at Macy’s. Maybe she’s overreacting, she thinks to herself. But the string of disappearances tied back to the club are hard to ignore, and something cold snickers up her spine when she thinks about her roommate stepping behind that velvet rope.

The officer she talks to is kind, taking the time to listen to her story, though he regretfully informs her that they don’t have a single lead on the disappearances, taking the picture of her roommate from her hands and tacking it onto a cork board alongside at least a dozen other faces.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, we’ll do our best to get to the bottom of it. Though I’ll admit this one has us scratching our heads. But in the meantime, my advice to you is to stay far away from that club. Whoever, or whatever is doing this, it seems like pure evil to me.”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine

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chweverni · 8 months

Text

Bucket List

pairing : bff!vernon x reader

synopsis : hansol vernon chwe, the only friend you've had since kindergarten, is the only one who you love spending time with. why? because he's your best friend, right?

word count : 1.03k

author's note : domestic vernon is what i need rn. i would recommend listening to "Freudian" by Daniel Caesar (yes the whole album), while reading this, bc i wanted this short drabble to scream freudian LOL

"i've always wanted to try one thing," vernon, your best friend since kindergarten suddenly voices, out of the blue, while whisking the cake batter manually with all his might.

"that would be..?", you ask, greasing the cake pan.

"this.", vernon advanced to you, booping your nose with his index finger, previously dipped in the cake batter. "a nice addition to your awfully focused face. loosen up a little! its fine if the cake tastes nothing like one, i swear i have some money left to just buy one already!", he ends this with a smile. your heart aches a bit, knowing that you'd probably never see this smile if you speak your mind to him right now. how his flour dusted face looked oh so adorable, his unruly hair from the constant nudging while whisking that damn batter.

while you were zoning out on how you'd potentially have to move countries, change names and identities if you'd confess to your best friend, he stares at you, with his dark brown eyes. "earth to y/n? wake up, the heck?"

he grabs your shoulders, which makes you flinch, and in just the blink of an eye, you hear something metallic fall. you wince in pain, as your eyes widen at the realization. your hands hit the bowl, where all that precious batter was whisked perfectly by your perfect boyfriend best friend.

you slowly descended, your knees meeting the kitchen floor, as you start sobbing. vernon at first, is shocked. the poor boy couldn't even comprehend what happened, and just a moment later, you found yourselves in front of a confectionery. you were still recovering from that heart attack. if you could hide in a hole forever, you would. totally.

while walking to the confectionery, you tried everything, i mean everything to ignore that big, ball of cuteness accompanying you. but of course, that smartass had to detect it later.

you stared at the different cakes from the glass of the insanely pretty display case. your eyes glimmered at each and every one, but would you really ask for something from your best friend, right after shattering his efforts into a gazillion pieces? of course not! "how long are you planning to avoid me? if you don't ask, i won't buy anything for you. so, speak up, right now!", vernon bent to your height, staring you down with his sweet eyes, which caused your heart to race faster than usain bolt.

you cleared your throat and looked away, pointing to that one cake in the display case, still not voicing your thoughts. "you do know i can hear right?", he reminded you again, this time pointing to his ears. all you could do was stare blankly at him. he sighed, "look, you don't have to feel bad about earlier. it's literally called the past for a reason. and, to make you feel even better, i think we added corn flour instead of just flour, so we're actually fine." he patted your head, and then your shoulders.

what are we? you thought to yourself. whatever the heck he said right now, would he do it for anyone else?

"uhm, i'd like the marshmallow chocolate one please! and i am so sorry about earlier i don't know how my hand just went whoop and boom, it hit your perfect batter which fell onto the ground and then-" vernon held your hand, giving it a light, reassuring pump; "stop being such a worrywart, it's totally fine y/n."

excuse me? how dare he be this smooth? does he even know what he's doing to you right now? unfair!

back at your shared apartment, you and vernon sat on the floor, at opposite sides of the table, with drinks and the cake laid out. vernon fixed the music speaker, as it played daniel caesar's get you. the sound was faint, but it added to the cozy feeling of the situation. his eyes bored into your face, as you took a bite of that soft cake. you felt his eyes staring, to which your body responded by sending all the blood to your cheeks.

"are you.. not going to eat right now?"

"later, you look really adorable right now."

"oh okay-", you replied, picking up the soda can to drink up, until you brain processed what he just said right now. you choked on your own spit, coughing a bazillion times. great way to respond to a complement, y/n, really.

"be so real right now." you said, blinking twice, while vernon on the other hand was having the time of his life, laughing away half his soul at you nearly dying. "you got really flustered; do you like it when i complement you, y/n?"

what's gotten into him today? why is he so damn bold today? what the fuck?

his eyes were on you, while you settled for his. gosh do you feel this right now? you breathed out, as both your bodies inched closer to one another. during that intense stare-down, you whispered; " i really need to pee right now."

silence filled the room. and both of you broke out in a fit of laughter.

"what the heck was that?", his eyes resembled crescent moons as his sweet laugh echoed in your hears.

"i don't know, i was nervous, haha, i guess?" you replied, clearly shivering out of embarrassment. "do you really have to pee though?", he asked. you shook your head, too early, excited for what was about to happen.

he smiled, resting his head on the table on his arms, as he softly asked, "did you know that i have a huge crush on you?" "shit, you beat me to it!" "y/l/n y/n, will you go out with me?" you collected some frosting from the cake, as you painted on the paper plate, Y-E-S, accompanied with a disheveled smiley face at the end.

"typical you", he smiled, flaring his gums to you. embarrassment crept up your cheeks as you buried your head on the table. he got up and sat next to you, as you turned to look at him.

he crept closer to kiss your forehead.

"that's another thing i wanted to try this year"

HOPE YALL LIKED THIS ONE ;DD please show some support ehe

cr: chweverni on tumblr only! <3 (2023)

#seventeen #vernon #vernon x reader #vernon fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #caratsland

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impish-lion · 8 months

Text

Tag ppl you wanna know betteeer

Tagged by: @dudettastone & @bluemouseblackpad (I'm so popular 😎)

Last song: My earworm of the day was "Up Jumped the Devil" by Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, a comically evil song perfect for Halloween. Favorite new discovery today was "Sin In My Heart" by Siouxsie and the Banshees, it fucking rules!! I've slept on Siouxsie for way too long and I'm finally realizing she's one of the post punk greats

Favorite Color: deep forest greens are comforting beyond words.

Currently Watching: Just finished rewatching The Righteous Gemstones with my partner (it was their first time watching!), also very slowly burning through Eastbound and Down with one of my friends (hi @bluemouseblackpad , I promise I wanna get back to it). What can I say, I'm a simple man, Danny McBride makes a TV show, I love it.

Last Movie: Oh man, for the first time in a while I've actually been watching a good amount of movies again! I've been dipping into Criterion's Pre-Code Horror selection, which has been absolutely delightful. So far I've watched Murders in the Zoo and Murders in the Rue Morgue, both of which were genuinely shocking! Something about seeing a film that is so visibly a 1930s studio production, yet feels actually transgressive is so unnerving. Tonight I hosted a film club at the library I work at where we showed Wolf of Snow Hollow. I liked Thunder Road and I find Jim Cummings to be a fascinating (if sometimes grating) performer and his portrayals of tightly wound, self destructive men to be pretty raw. Here, he certainly brought a good performance, but man, is he ill equipped to wade into the Twin Peaks-y territory he ends up in here. It's still a pretty good movie, but it's always a little sad to watch a skilled director reach their limits. Also watched the new VHS with my partner, there were some good bits in there! Also one absolute dogshit one lmao

Currently Reading: I have started and stopped so many novels, it's genuinely embarrassing. What I have been actually reading though is the original Stan Lee/Steve Ditko run of Spider-Man lol. It's really fun! Peter is an over dramatic asshole who sucks at life and honestly? That's an amazing protagonist! Lee's writing is very "gee whiz" but he's unexpectedly very good at writing Peter's personal drama. Ditko's art is simultaneously amazing and totally bizarre! My favorite thing is that he keeps drawing Aunt May looking older and older, she's looking like cryptkeeper by issue 15.

Sweet/spicy/savory: hmmmmmm. Going with savory, but let it be known that spicy is within the margin of error

Relationship status: partnered up with a lovely person! We're coming up on our nine month! ❤️

Current Obsessions: Not extremely current, but Vampire Survivors took over all of my free time for a good while and I've only recently escaped its clutches lmao. I'm such a sucker for games like that, perfectly addictive formula!

Last googled: the cover for Throbbing Gristle's 20 Jazz Funk Greats (in the running for funniest ever cover)

Currently working on: freelance work for a very annoying client lol. Thinking I should do another project for myself soon and have some fun with an AMV. Oh, also looking into getting my master's?? Never thought I'd be doing that, but I can get it for free, so why not?

@criticalrolo I choose you

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hekateinhell · 2 years

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Hi! I would love to know which of your VC fics you're the most proud of, and can you tell us a little bit about the thought process behind it!!!! Like the DIRECTORS CUT if you will.

KACYYY omg hiiiiiiii 🖤

Oh man, here’s where I get to be more self-indulgent and self-absorbed than usual. Brace yourselves. Alright, let’s roll! For the sake of this ask, I'm going to eliminate AUs simply because they take the vampire out of VC lol.

I want to preface all this with a quote from AR I remember as a young teen (had to dig it up). She was reading from TVA, and she said that book, more than any other, was a metaphor for the vampire as, “A creature who thought he was damned and lost and still had a vision of the world as a beautiful place.” It just speaks to me, both as the person behind the screen writing and as something I try to keep in mind re: my characterizations at this point in the fic process.

Anne also got a lot of credit for being the one to humanize the vampire in the 70s and 80s which, I want to point out, isn’t the same thing as taking the monster out of the vampire and making them human—especially in the moral sense. Just another note re: my personal characterizations.

And now to fics! We get mature under the cut. :)

I couldn't decide between these two, so you get both! Lol or you can stop reading after one! In no particular order:

Shake The Disease (previously Bijoux Box)︱Armand/Daniel ︱Rated: E (more out of caution atm, but she'll soon earn it!)

This isn't even a proper fic lol this is my prompt collection. And I absolutely love it because it's my tiny tribute to the pairing that hooked its claws into my brain fifteen years ago and never really let go. It took about six months of writing fic to get to where I thought that maybe ?? I could ?? do them justice ??

My first time writing human!Daniel and Armand, outside of little flashback scenes in other fics. Given how little material we have to work with (consider the Devil's Minion chapter compared to the rest of the Chronicles), it takes Great Depression era creativity and dedication to get the absolute mileage out of it that this fandom has. And it's tricky, because while I want to nail the cadence and dynamic of canon, I have to acknowledge that my take on D/A will be different in its own way. How we all individually process and analyze lit is such a unique thing, no two takes can (or should be!) identical. So finding a balance is my goal.

Additionally, it's been really nice to actually give something back to the fandom through prompt requests (I didn't even specify Armand/Daniel when I posted the prompt list, but my sweet, wonderful, perfect moots know me ❤️).

Closer ︱Armand/Lestat︱Rated: E ︱this one required the Consensual Sex tag, lord help me.

My third (I think?) fic ever, and imo it kind of shows, but it's special to me because here’s where I started feeling comfortable enough to venture into darker themes. I’ve always enjoyed exploring power dynamics and play.

There's a good dose of D&S (dominance and submission) themes, and something I enjoy with this pairing (just like with human!Daniel/Armand) is the vampiric mindreading ability that can be used to confirm consent. Now, obviously, this is a fictional adaption of already fictional characters, but a reminder for anyone reading since we're on topic—if it's not consensual, it is not BDSM and it is not sex.

Armand and Lestat are just fun to work with because they’re very similar in a lot of ways (abusive childhoods/adolescences, this obsessiveness/neediness in their relationships, a tendency to deflect/unholy tempers, underdeveloped prefrontal cortexes, Mutual Marius Issues, etc.) and there's a lot of good and bad history. Sequel coming very soon, bless my heart.

My fingers have run out of breath, but I did want to share this I posted a while back, half-jokingly, but hopefully marginally helpful for anyone wanting to dip their toes into fic-writing (and if anyone wants an cleaner, updated version lmao I will do it): Hekate’s Tips & Tricks for Not Wanting to Capri Sun a Rat & Sob All Over Your Keyboard

Thank you so much for this Kacy, it was really fun and interesting (for me!) to actually take a beat and think about my own creative process. Rip.

#this counts as my writing for the day #fic #vc #the vampire chronicles #you ask and hekate answers

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septembersghost · 10 months

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I know you've become a celebrity news blog kind of against your will lol so you don't have to answer this, but I was thinking about the main pop girl stories this year & how it's escalated and it putting TS' situation into perspective helpfully. Because it's like: woman loses the man she thought she'd marry, acts petty, has a lil menty b, dates hideous rebound for four weeks, dips. MH's disgusting comments and behaviour aren't her fault, and they're fling is over now, she's distances herself. Her history of being a lovely human being is so long that a bad choice with a nasty man is forgivable. Then AG's affair. It's gross and distasteful, horrible for his wife and child, she and the sponge should be mocked until the end of time, but you mentioned how it's not that unusual. It's shitty but people do this, and Hollywood has a ton of these stories. It didn't ruin Angelina, and everyone involved in that was WAY more famous. Why is it our business who everybody's sleeping with if we're here for the art? Maybe it's because I don't care that much about AG, but she has the bad relationship track record that people think TS has. This isn't that off brand for her and doesn't really change my opinion. Wicked will be good or bad separate from them. But then there's Lizzo. Building a brand on acceptance and lifting ppl up only to be exposed as emotionally manipulative, abusive, literal sexual harassment (or is it assault?), mistreating people who work for you. That's low and despicable. That I can't forgive because that speaks to the heart of the art itself as hollow. All three of them earned their careers but I don't fuck w someone who shames and traumatises others. You know? Personal mistakes with fuckboys and causing harm to your workers are hugely different topics but sometimes online stans don't seem to get that.

Thanks for listening, I think you get alot of these messages because you don't answer them as only snarky gossip, so it's good to vent to someone who'll understand ❤

remember when my asks were mostly fictional character meta, but then i was unhappy with how the stories unfolded and for various reasons had to distance myself from the respective fandoms, and now we're here. 😳 i opened the door to discussion though, it's okay! if/when i'm not comfortable with something, i don't feel pressured about it anymore, i answer what i can.

so there's a lot to unpack here, and i'm not even sure where to begin with the layers of it, but want to preface this by saying anything i reply is not directed at *you*, but rather a general sort of observation.

these stories are all very different and require different responses, so it's a little tricky that they're being compared at all, even though i get it because they all involve very famous women in music. i think one of the first issues to reflect on here is, in fact, the way we approach and discuss things involving successful women and the almost ravenous hunger to take them down a peg the moment they show a flaw or make a bad choice. while i don't condone the things that man has said and done, it's curious to me how quickly it turned into a conversation of taylor being tainted by him forever, an odd melding of shaming and blaming that went beyond the careful concern regarding awareness and accountability. it was upsetting for many fans, myself included, but thankfully brief, and the intentional distancing made moving on the healthier choice. with ariana, infidelity is terrible and the story has several "juicy" angles that are easy to glom onto and laugh about, and the situation is ongoing, but ultimately is it our business? it's not a positive reflection on her character, but is it something that changes her overall abilities? obviously i am far more familiar with taylor's person and history than i am with ariana (or lizzo, but we'll get there), so i know how taylor is always reported to have treated people, to have shown her character, and her consistent graciousness has the most weight to me. i don't know exactly what ari's overall reputation is in that sense. but the concept of...forgivableness...regarding private mistakes or bad choices is difficult to parse. i've talked about the necessity for willingness to extend grace and allow for growth a lot, but of course everyone decides individually where/when/how they can offer that, especially to artists they admire but don't know. i feel like romantic missteps are less our purview than open bigotry or criminal actions, if that makes sense. one scandal doesn't equal another. do fans have the right to expect an apology? with ari, is that even fair to ask when the only person/people who really deserves that is his wife (and his child) and possibly her husband? where is that line between the personal and the public?

you mentioned angelina, and i've seen others bring up the debbie reynolds/eddie fisher/elizabeth taylor affair, but there are a lot of differences there considering in both of those cases, all the people involved were very famous. lilly is not a public figure, and ethan was not particularly known before this (even as a broadway fan, i'd somehow never heard of him). and yet, despite debbie being america's sweetheart, and elizabeth's reputation with lovers, neither of them were colored by that forever (though carrie worked it hilariously into her writing and show), debbie even forgave liz later in life and they made up, which was her choice. i never associate liz with her scandalous accounts because she was so much greater than that alone, but i've mentioned before that unfortunately i couldn't be a fan of anyone from old hollywood if messy romantic entanglements were deal breakers, so, again, that's in however one individually chooses to approach it.

then there's lizzo. i liked her, but only casually knew a little about her. the allegations are horrendous, and i'm not going to sugarcoat that, but at the same time, the idea of it being unforgivable and permanently destroying gives me pause only because of the tone of the conversation. granted, they've never done anything abusive like this, but taylor and ariana are both thin white women from privileged backgrounds (upper middle class and very upper class respectively). there's a little too much glee from some in canceling a plus size black woman who represented a lot of positivity for many in her audience, and for people who are underrepresented, in reveling in the fact that she's been "revealed" as nasty. the concept of what's "unforgivable" concerns me slightly. it's disappointing (and disturbing) behavior, no doubt. yet so many far worse people, especially men, have gotten total passes for heinous actions. it doesn't mean she should be given free reign to mistreat people with impunity, she absolutely should not. i fully support her dancers in speaking out, and anyone who's been mistreated working for her, it's awful, and they deserve better and were right to file the suit. i hope they get reparation and support through this. but do we destroy and write off lizzo forever, or do we hope there's some room for her to learn and change? when men guilty of criminal abuse are still thriving? is there a way for her to even make amends? what does it mean if there isn't? and i truly don't know the answers.

this is all rhetorical, but i do...stop and wonder if sometimes online commentary is fervent for comeuppance aimed at successful women, and even if the discussion is deserved and begins reasonably, it gets taken really far - it starts casting them as permanently stained, sinful [insert slur here], divas, armchair diagnosing them with personality disorders (i have seen malignant narcissism and BPD invoked way too often, and not only is that crossing a line, it also increases stigma against people really dealing with those diagnoses), shaming their bodies, their sexuality, their writing, their fundamental existences beyond what the core of the story is, and i feel like some caution is warranted in that regard.

all that said, i totally get where you're coming from on seeing the levels of seriousness here. and there are markedly disparate personalities, circumstances, behaviors, and reactions involved in each of these stories, and different levels of upset and emotion too. maybe amends can be made and maybe they can't, and sometimes we can healthily move on, and sometimes something is too serious and requires further consequence. harmful bigotry/isms and abuse deserve whatever vitriol they get, like criminal actions require adjudication, but do poor choices about bedfellows? we certainly can't solve any of it, our only power is in response, and the one thing i try my best to do is remember that we're talking about real human beings, and however that can be handled appropriately and within reason for each individual.

sorry this is so long and rambly, but i appreciate you all being willing to discuss with and trust me. <3

#it's just all complicated and different in what we're discussing and why people were/are upset #but i feel conflicted at deciding what's “worthy” of forgiveness sometimes #idek what i'm saying #anonymous #letterbox #long post

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jackiebrackettt · 2 years

Note

23 for the ask game >:)

Ain’t No Crying by Derivakat - mostly put in here because of prime defenders and william and vyncent’s current disillusionment with the hero system! I think it fits surprisingly well for a song that is specifically about another story

putting lyric “analysis” under cut

Ask Game: send me a number between 1-35 (inclusive) and I will tell you the corresponding song on my jrwi playlist and why I put it there

“What am I fighting for? / Whose side am I on / Lost everything in the crossfire / Witness the wreckage at dawn” -> in my mind this is Very much like.. when they first dip into “moral greyness” by working with Mark rather than going to the heroes + the losing everything and wreckage to do with their base being blown up lol

“Say it enough and you start believing / They can tell you that it's righteous / Keep your chin up in the crisis / Say it enough and you start believing / In the glory, in the justice / They will drill it into your head” -> the idea that the heroes are Right Always Without Question - I’m not entirely sure how much They believe this but this is definitely how william and vyncent feel about the whole thing in my mind. also the “keep your chin up in the crisis” very much kind of gives the vibes of them being Thrown into this, which they all kinda were

“Ain't no crying 'til the war's done / Ain't no crying 'cause the fighting's just begun / No crying 'til the sun comes / 'Til the sun comes up, 'til the sun comes up” -> chorus is very obvious. gotta repress ur feelings and remain professional during the fight or else bad things could happen

“In the division, make your decision / Every shoulder you've leaned on is the one you will turn on / Burn it to ashes, watch as it crashes / Nobody left to forgive or forget” -> welll they’ve made their decision to go against the system! they used to lean on the heroes and now they’re “turning” on them. burning the system to the ground and whatnot B] I think the last line is perhaps too dramatic in this scenario but you never know! if they fuck up badly enough in their System Reform…

“What am I fighting for? / What have I done? / What am I dying for? / What have we all become? / Make you live through the pressure / Make you live through the pain / Sacrifice you for nothing / We're still dying in vain” -> yeah just very “disillusionment with the current system and the heroes” vibes. “sacrifice you for nothing / we’re still dying in vain” is about ashe

Anyway Yeah! there we go :] not going to go This in depth with a lot of them but this was a lot easier to line up the lyrics 1:1 so I wanted to ^_^

#ask game #asks #anon

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redwinterroses · 2 years

Note

Honestly I'm very conflicted on the hermatrix plot because on the one hand I Fucking Love Lore and storytelling and shit but also like. Hermitcraft not having Hard Canon is kinda part of why I love it? Like in a world of dsmps and the like, hermitcraft has always been, for me at least, a kinda turn your brain off nothing matters kinda deal. Like if I was too overwhelmed by Lore Shit I could just flip on something from one of the other hermits that just didn't live in the vicinity of the Hermit doing Plot and I could just vibe with them. Though to be fair I'll still have TFC for that he doesn't strike me as the type to actually. Engage in Lore™ in any kinda meaningful way, similar to Zedaph. Heck Zed literally only acknowledged Moon's Big one time lol

Idk I guess I just needed somewhere to talk through these thoughts?

Valid, I suppose? I'm a storyteller at heart and my absolute favorite genre of anything is "light and silly on the surface but incredibly nuts once you dip below" (Gravity Falls my absolute beloved.) So for me, this is JUST the thing I needed to take me from "I really love Hermitcraft" to "Oh my gosh Hermitcraft is the best freaking thing on the planet."

It's totally fine for people to have different opinions on this stuff. You like what you like and dislike what you don't. That's cool.

My one irritation with this fandom right now -- or at least the tumblr side of it -- is that there's this vibe of "The Hermatrix thing was bad" (either because Hermitcraft Isn't Supposed to Have Lore or because of the unreality aspect of it) "And if you like it, you're wrong."

Like. LOL. Chill out, y'all. This is the Hermits we're talking about -- it's not like this will likely have hugely lasting influences on anyone's series except maybe Ren and Doc, and I say maybe because they act like it's coming back but Stargazer ended on a bit of a cliffhanger too and Ren barely even mentioned any of that this season so... It's no big, ya know?

As for the two criticisms I keep seeing -- Look. The Hermits can do deep storytelling if they want. This is THIER game, their story, their server. We're just privileged to get to enjoy it as an audience. If they want to do Big Story Stuff then that's 100% their prerogative. And at the risk of sounding very callous, which I do not intend: folks who don't enjoy that don't need to force themselves to watch it. Don't choke down content you don't enjoy. Life's too short for that.

And the unreality stuff... Like, I'm very sympathetic to folks who struggle with that. I understand that it's got to be hard and I in no way judge or criticize anyone for curating their media intake to avoid things that will trigger them. That's responsible story consumption. Keep doing that.

But as I said in the notes on another post: someone else's need to avoid something: a) doesn't make it a BAD thing in and of itself, and b) has no bearing on whether or not I'm allowed to enjoy it.

Like, for me personally? I really have to avoid content that has a lot of gore. It makes me physically sick and I can't handle it. But does that mean I should stand over here and say something is bad because it triggers my anxiety? Or criticize the creators of said thing for not having my particular needs in mind? Nah, fam. I just... ya know. Don't consume content with gore.

All of this is a long and hopefully firm-but-polite way of saying: it's great if you dislike something about this last season of Hermitcraft or want to avoid aspects of the story or even just toss it out the window of your particular headcanons.

But maybe don't come into the inbox of people who blatantly and loudly LOVE this content just to criticize or complain about it?

And, anon, please understand that I'm putting this on your ask because of the six or eight asks that were far less measured than yours that I've simply deleted. Because I don't feel like there's any point to me answering asks that are all "I hated this. Thought it was dumb. Refuse to acknowledge it" when I've made no bones about the fact that I LOVE the Hermatrix plotline.

So to all those anons who's asks I deleted... that's nice. Please leave me to enjoy the things I like in peace. And to this anon in particular: thanks for your input, man. I hope you can continue to enjoy Hermitcraft in the future -- especially as I expect that next season will very much go back to the more "normal" flavor of everything. <3 See you in s9!

#sorry if any of this sounded harsh #not taking it out on you in particular anon #just using your ask to talk about it because it was a bit less angry than some of the other ones I got that weren't worth replying to #what is with some people who think #''aha. i hate this thing so i'm going to go rant about how much i hate it to someone i know really LIKED it''#what did they hope to accomplish? several of them were VERY vitriolic #did they hope to change my mind or something? just... enjoy what you enjoy and let other people do the same my dudes #redwinteranswers #red got a little worked up on this sorry #it's been an ask or three every day since the season ended and i'm just kinda DoneTM lol

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natswritingz · 3 years

Text

Sexting next door / Sam x Reader

Note : This is my first fic in I don’t know how long, I tried my hardest so I really hope at least someone can enjoy this lol, also might be typos!

Words : 2.4k

Warnings : Sexting, exchanging pictures, dirty dirty talking, talk of oral/penetration/dry humping, swearing, lots of stuff.

The last week had been occupied with a hunt which ended with the three of you searching the woods for an old cemetery, laying all the buried souls to rest. Working with the Winchesters made the gigs easier. You found some joy in their presence, especially around Sammy.

You guys obviously had crushed on eachother, Sammy made the most moves while you took them as innocent jokes. You just didn't want to complicate anything for anyone.

You all had just got back to the motel, while the brothers shared a room like always, you got your own right next door. Your phone sat next to you as you pried off your dirt caked boots, hidden graveyards were something else. The device chimed with Sams assigned ringtone, you grabbed it in eagerness.

"You get settled in?"

You smiled at the text, he knew how to make you feel special even if it's a simple check in. You struggled with a response that sounded natural, typing then deleting, you finally wrote one and went with it.

"Yeah, just got the boots off lol"

"Are you getting anything good on the tv?"

"Nope, nothing"

That was a lie, you haven't even looked at the tv yet, but he didn't know that. You began unbuttoning your grimy top, feeling the cool air nip at your skin while the material still hung on your shoulders. You bit your lip as you typed another text to follow your previous one.

"Finally getting out of these clothes too"

You locked your phone quickly with embarrassment, you couldn't believe what you just sent. He was your friend, but the entire day he had been constantly flirting which made the temptation even harder to resist. The phone chimed after what felt like ages.

"Me too, I was able to get the shower first"

You read the text through squinted eyes, terrified to read his response with fully opened eyes. Your mind trailed to the image of him without anything on, the warm water running down his toned body, it made your heart race.

"Just about to get in"

You nervously pulled at your lip while intently watching the screen.

"Maybe I should hop in too, hot water sounds amazing right now"

"Do it, I'll keep you company ;)"

The wink confirmed it. He was leaving an opening for you to accept or decline before pursuing anything more.

"I'm taking off my clothes right now, what are you doing?"

"Turning the shower on, already undressed"

"I wish I could see that"

He opened it and hasn't responded in a while, you completely fucked it up. You cursed at yourself before seeing the tiny text bubble come up and disappear a few times until one finally came in.

"I wish I could see you take off those jeans, I could not stop staring at your ass today. All I wanted to do was pounce on you, you've been all I could think of."

You gulped at his message, this was would be your first time sexting, you were already loving it. You felt yourself getting excited at his message, reading it over and over. You pulled your shirt off the rest of the way.

"You were looking? That's very unprofessional of you, Sammy. If only I knew, I would've been 'accidentally' grinding against you all day."

Both of your tones suddenly changed, it wasn't the laid back no-period texts you normally exchanged, it was dirty and intriguing. You couldn't wait for him to respond.

"If you had done that, I don't think I would've been able to control myself."

"What would you have done? I would've loved to feel you press against my ass, I'm clenching my thighs just thinking about it."

"I would've pulled you into the nearest room and commanded you to grind against me until you came in your pretty panties."

You groaned at the thought, Sammy made dry humping sound hot, he could probably make any sexual act sound compelling.

"How do you know what panties I wear?"

You found yourself completely wrapped in texting back and forth you forgot about your plans to shower. Deciding to get comfortable, you leaned back onto the comforter. You were invested in where this was going, a shower could wait, unlike this.

"I've done your laundry and seen you in your undergarments before. I think I pretty much know everything about you, Y/N."

"I'm imaging my lace covered pussy grinding against your bulge covered by your boxers. It would feel so good to have you rub against me. I'd be soaking through my panties you could definitely see it dampening both our cloths."

You wanted to get dirtier so you tested the water, you wrote the first thing you thought of. It may have been a little too forward but your lust clouded all rational thinking.

"Jesus. My imagination might not be doing this scenario justice, I think we'd have to try it out next time we see eachother."

The elation in you grew with each suggestion.

"And when will that be?"

"If you keep it up, soon. Have you stripped yet?"

Sam was a great dom, he wanted everything to be in his control and you couldn't help but like it. You could trust him with control.

"I've been so busy with our little daydreams, I forgot I was even going to shower. Laying in bed still partially clothed."

"Take your pants off now, then give your ass a nice spank for me. Make it sting."

You followed his orders, placing the phone to your side as you lifted your hips to remove the jeans. You held the phone again as you flipped, now laying on your stomach, you used your free hand to rub on your cheek before giving it a sharp smack.

"Both are done, I'm thinking this might leave a mark?"

You raised your phone in a rush of confidence, snapping a photo of your ass and the handprint that reddened with time, attaching it to your message, and sending it without any hesitation. The mark was not as big as Sam could do and you dearly wished it was his hand instead.

"Fucking hell Y/N, I was not expecting that. You're making me want to come over right now to fuck you senseless."

"What do I do next? Still have my panties and bra on."

"Take your bra off baby girl, play with your nipples till they're both hard. Pinch them, flick them, be rough with it."

It was easy for you to follow his words, you found yourself loving his demands and dominance, you could keep following them for hours. You held yourself up with an elbow, you pinched the tip hard between your fingertips, rolling them slightly for more stimulation. You moaned with each uncoordinated flick.

"They're feeling so sensitive now."

You attached another picture, your tits in frame with your now erect and red nipples. After his reaction with the last one, you wanted to get more from him.

"So so perfect. Picture I'm there, sucking and biting on them. My warm breath fanning your soft skin. I want to make you feel good."

"You're making me feel good right now, I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"We can stop whenever you get uncomfortable, I want you to be good with all of this."

His message made you smile through the lust, he really did care about you. It wasn't the most ideal timing, but you could easily get worked back up again with his skills.

"Sorry, never wanna stop this <3"

You shook your head with a small laugh as you flirted.

"Good, me neither. You still have your panties on like a good girl?"

"Haven't taken them off yet, you haven't told me to."

"Sounds like someone's enjoying being bossed around, huh? What if I told you to suck me off, would you do it?"

"I'd let you throat fuck me. I want to gasp for my breath when you finally pull from my mouth."

"Your lips look perfect for my cock, I want to see them wrapped around me as I thrust into your mouth."

"I want you to be as rough as you can, Sammy."

You flipped over to your back once again, your hand dipping into your undies, rubbing soft circles over your clit as you awaited another message. You wanted to invite him over that instant but you had to resist the urge, sexting was fun and a good first step for the two of you.

"I've finally entered the shower, I'm stroking myself to the pictures you sent me. Kinda hard keeping the phone dry."

You laughed a little to yourself at the end of his message.

"Your turn?"

Not that your heart hadn't been pounding the entire time, your recent text made it even faster. You bit your lip in anticipation, you couldn't lie to yourself, you've always wondered what he was packing. And just like that, you revived a picture. Your jaw clenched at his size and width, you weren't entirely sure you'd be able to fit him if you ever got to doing this stuff in person. It was hot and impressive.

"How am I going to fit all of you? I don't think any amount of wetness would prepare me for you."

"We'll make it fit princess, I wanna see your warm pussy stretch around me. Fuuuck, I want you so bad Y/N."

"I want you bad too, maybe our next session can be face to face. I can't imagine how you'll make me feel when I have your hands on me instead of my own."

"You touching yourself right now? I don't remember telling you to stop playing with your tits."

"I couldn't take it anymore, I was aching for some relief."

That was true, your pussy throbbed for attention to the point it hurt to not touch yourself. No one else had this affect over you, making you soak through your lace like nothing.

"Fine, you can touch yourself as long as you don't cum until I allow you, and take it easy, I want you to enjoy this."

"Yes, Sammy."

You slowed down, rubbing slow circles on your aroused clit. Everything was heightened and sensitive, what was he doing to you?

"I'm touching myself, paced instead of rushed. I wish this was your hand. Not gonna lie, I constantly think of how good your large hands would feel on my body."

"Where?"

His response was immediate after he quickly read your message, considering what he told you just a little ago, you knew he was getting off to your little conversation.

"On my ass, in my pussy, around my throat. Even you holding my hands above my head or behind my back sounds like a pleasure. I want you to touch and explore every part of me."

The typing bubble appeared just as it did when he responded to every other text, this time you cut off his response with another one of your own, you wanted to get him really worked up.

"For future reference, I'd probably cum instantly with your tongue on my clit and your fingers in me as deep as they'd go."

You weren't a newbie when it came to sex, you knew what you wanted in the bedroom. Being a hunter and constantly hopping town to town, you had your occasional one night stand to release the stress that came with your job.

"Oh really? You want me buried in you while tasting you all at once? I can do that for you princess, I've been wanting to taste you. I'd eat you out till you came on my tongue then I'd make you kiss me, deep."

"You already know I'd return the favor."

You referred back to your message you sent not long ago about going down on him.

"We haven't even talked about getting to the main act and you've got me almost cumming. I had to slow my pace in order to not finish."

You smirked at his reply, biting your lip with a small groan as you still touched yourself. You were hoping you had the same effect on him that he had on you.

"Let's get onto the main act then. How'd you want to fuck me?"

"I can think of a few ways... But I most definitely want to see myself slide in and out of you. I want to enjoy every bit."

"Maybe my hands holding onto the back of my thighs while laying on my back? Everything would be on display."

"I could put your legs up on my shoulders and get really deep in you. Wouldn't that feel good?"

"I'd be seeing stars. And I would not be able to walk afterwards. Feeling you brush against my cervix repeatedly with your big cock, you're gonna fill me so good."

"Y/N you're gonna make me cum. Speed up."

With his permission, you started to rub faster. You moaned loudly, forgetting about anyone else in the seedy motel.

"Fuck, keep moaning."

You blushed in embarrassment, he could hear you from their rooms bathroom which definitely meant Dean could hear you, the strangers on the opposite side didn't concern you. You allowed yourself to moan with each lap, not holding back the cries. You went on for a minute before diverting your attention back to the phone.

"Imagine how much louder I'd be with you inside me."

"I've been thinking about all the noises you'd be making the entire time. You sound so hot. Are you close?"

"Yeah Sammy, I'm almost there."

Your breathing pattern became rapid and harsh, small wines escaping your lips as you played yourself to perfection.

"Beg for permission to cum."

You groaned at his response.

"Please let me cum, please Sam, I'm not sure I can hold it."

It was hard enough holding back your release but even harder to beg with one hand.

"You can cum baby, just cause you've been so good."

Your body released the tension, the relief rolling in as you came in your panties, finally. It hit you hard, your hips shaking as you moaned louder than earlier. You couldn't deny it, you never orgasmed like that when you were doing it solo.

"I couldn't help but finish to your moans"

His response was like his usual ones, not so formal and more playful. You could get used to seeing both sides regularly.

"We should do this more often, or try it in person, either one"

"I am 100% on board with that"

If for some reason you wanna be notified when I post a new fic, leave a comment to be tagged and your username will go here!

#supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fic #supernatural imagine #supernatural smut #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural fanfiction #spn

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amazonworrier · 2 years

Note

So um controversial but would you agree that some of the brittana kisses weren't that great not just because rib and fox hate lesbians (it was mostly because of that though), but also because Naya didn't seem like that great of a kisser? 🙈 I'm not crazy about the pre-wedding kiss, it was a bit of a weird one looong smooch, who does that like that. The vday party one was so much better, thanks Heather, you're a trooper

Disagree. I watched Naya in Step Up High Water and she was just fine at kissing. Girl knew exactly how to pull off a hot scene when the situation allowed.

The issue with some of Brittana's kisses was about way more than just one actress being bad at kissing. Naya talked about how they had to make Fox think they were only "dipping a toe in the gay pool" and I think that's reflected in the level of intimacy Santana got to show with any of her partners vs. what we saw for any of the straight couples, or even Klaine.

The reality is that straight couples, and to an extent gay men, in mainstream media have traditionally been given more rope than lesbians. It makes absolutely zero sense and is probably less obvious to the younger generations because we're finally making some forward progress now, but back when Brittana were around, lesbian kissing scenes were considered more inherently sexual and generally attracted a higher rating, which affected when a program could be aired and what kind of advertising it would attract. For a show like Glee, on a network like Fox, they were dancing a very thin line with this already because it's traditionally been a slightly more conservative network than others like NBC or Showtime. So once you add in RIBs outward lesbophobia to that equation, Santana really didn't stand a chance. I always saw the argument Santana has with Figgins about her and Brittany vs. Finchel kissing in 'Heart' as the show's way of poking fun at this a little bit. Because it's as stupid as Santana laments it being. How many times did we see other couples go at it in Glee? Why not Santana and her girlfriend? Why did her and Brittany's 'makeout' scene in Duets only involve neck kissing, when Bartie were allowed to get hot and heavy in that very same episode? How come Brittany spent more time getting intimate scenes with both halves of Klaine than she did with her own wife?

Because those were the times we were living in, and they sucked!

If the pre-wedding kiss feels awkward in any way, I'd say it's because Naya and Hemo were told to "go for it" on a show that refused to let its only (canon) lesbian character display any semblance of overt sexual intimacy with anyone other than Finn Hudson throughout its entire six year run. So no, when it comes to Brittana kisses I don't think Naya was the problem at all. Society was the problem, and Brittana are the reason more shows are getting to push that barrier for us now. We should honestly all be thanking Naya for being the driving force behind that, not going after her kissing techniques lol. Heya did their best with the scraps they were given.

#anon #brittana #naya rivera #santana lopez #hemo

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hwangsies · 3 years

Text

just the two of us

pairing: idol!lee minho × idol!f reader

warnings: smut as in, masturbation (f), softdom!minho (?), choking, thigh riding, somewhat denied orgasm i guess lol, swearing and bad descriptions of dancing

wc: idk maybe 2k?

enjoy <3

"hi guys, im on my way to the jyp building right now" you speak into the vlogging camera.

"...where i'm meeting stray kids lee know sunbaenim to study a choreography for us to perform at the upcoming awardshow" you smile into the camera, holding a thumbs up as you try to conceal your nervousness.

You know that the vlog isnt going to be released until after the show so you dont have to worry about spoiling anything.

"I'll see you guys later" you wave into the camera before handing it back to your manager who lets you know that you'll be there in about 10 minutes.

The only thing you're worried about is meeting a certain very handsome main dancer you may or may not have been biasing since his debut, which was about six months before your group had theirs.

So naturally, when your group grew big with you as their maindancer, and the organizers of the awardshow suggested that you and minho get together for a collaboration stage, you freaked.

Once you pull up to the jyp building, you can make out dispatch paparazzi and roll your eyes.

Your manager just reminds you to ignore them before getting out and opening the door for you.

Quickly you grab your bag and pull your jackets hood over your head.

They start calling your name but you and your team are quick to be inside of the building.

The nice woman behind the front desk gives your manager acsess cards as you look around to see the young camera woman on your team is already pointing the vlog camera on you so you wave into the camera.

Outside you see a crowd of fans also waving and pointing their phones at you through the large glass windows so you also wave back at them; laughing when one of them sends you a flying kiss, so you send one back.

"lets go y/n" your manager speaks to you, and you nod, waving goodbye to the fans before disappearing from their eyes as you step into an elevator.

Inside the elevator you check yourself out in the large mirror, pulling back your hood and smoothing out your hair.

"how do i look?" You ask your manager at which she grins "you look good, relax"

You sigh and nod, clearing your throat as to avoid a voice crack later.

When the elevator doors open, you see the famous dance practice rooms, that are named after big musicians on each side of the hall.

The door to the Madonna room is open and your manager leads the way.

Once you walk in you see another camera pointed at you, minho is standing in the middle of the room.

He as well has a camera pointed at him, he smiles when you lock eyes and bows.

You bow back when he walks towards you; extending his hand, you shake it.

"I'm Minho, nice to meet you" he smiles, he looks even better in person you think.

He's wearing light makeup but you can see that his skin is smooth underneath and his eyes seem even bigger and spraklier in person.

"Y/n, hi, nice to meet you" you bow again, partly to hide your blushing face.

After a minute of somewhat awkward smalltalk you hand your jacket and bag to your manager and the choreographer positions the two of you.

You had already memorized your part of the dance from the video he sent you and minho (you're assuming), now you just had to practice it together.

He makes you stretch to warm up before starting the music to see how much the two of you know of the dance.

Everything goes smoothly and the choreographer praises the both of you.

"lets go ahead and try the lift, im assuming you didnt practice that yet?" He asks.

"no" minho shakes his head, you do as well.

"okay minho, you hold her here" he takes minhos hand and places it on your waist.

"and on the inner thigh so you can spin her better" he explains, your mind starts running though.

What if he feels your inner thigh fat, or even worse, what if you sweat excessively and he slips and drops you.

Your thoughts get disrupted when minho carefully wraps his arm around you to grap onto your thigh.

"is that okay?" He asks from behind you, the little hairs on your neck rising.

"yea" you nod.

"okay, on my count" the choreographer speaks up "one, two..three and up!"

You tense your body when you feel him lifting you, your arms raise on their own accord, legs stiffening to create an aesthetic sillouette.

"very nice" the choreographer claps after minho lets you back down.

"lets take a break" one of the jyp staff members announces.

"you were great" you feel minhos hand graze your arm, your head whips around.

"oh, thank you" you smile sheepishly "so were you" earning a grin from him.

"thanks" he nods, grabbing a bottle of water before giving you one as well.

"thanks" you say, opening it and taking a few sips.

He watches you for a second before doing the same.

"hey, you guys" a young jyp staff woman comes up to you "we're gonna do a little sit down q&a moment, to give the fans some more interaction alright?" she explains, leading you guys to sitdown on the large sofa in the back of the room.

She moves back behind the cameras "so we're gonna be really casual okay? Im gonna throw in some questions and you just answer them"

You and minho nod, looking at each other before looking back at her.

"okay, so have you ever met before?"

"uh- well" you look at minho, he nods, encouraging you to talk "we've seen eachother at music shows, when we were with our members but we never talked" you say.

Minho nods.

"What did you think when you heard of this collaboration?"

Minho starts "i was excited because i think y/n has great stage presence and is a very talented dancer, so i think i could learn a thing or two from her"

"oh, thank you" you huff, surpressing a giggle as you bow slightly.

"What about you, y/n?"

"Uhm- well i was a little scared to be honest because he's really talented himself" you look over at him, so see he's smiling onto the ground "but also because i've been a fan of his since skz debuted so..."

"really?"

After coming back to the dorm and your members pressing you for every detail of what it was like to meet him and dance with him, you hop straight in the shower.

The warm water prickles at your face before you turn around, letting it run down your back.

You cant stop thinking about the feeling of his hands on your body, they were so strong and warm.

Or the one part of the chorepgraphy where you grind back into him and feel his muscular thighs flexed against the back of your own.

Not to mention his pretty smile and plump rosy lips, you would bet everything that he's a phenomenal kisser.

Your hand is trailing down your body as you imagine it was his, gently running over your mound before dipping into your folds.

A whimper slips past your lips out of frustration, its been way to long since someone had his way with you.

The idol life doesnt always leave time for that, but you can imagine what it would be like if you let minho have his way with you.

Your fingers start rubbing cirlces into your clit as you imagine him being the one to do it to you; kissing down your neck with his plump lips before toying at your nipples with his tongue.

You feel the way your belly tightens when you tink about how he would talk dirty; you dont know what would turn you on more, him calling you a good girl or a filthy little slut.

Would he let you cum right now or drag it out so your could cum around his cock? Damn you bet he has a gorgeous cock, everything on that man has got to be perfect.

And the way his dancer hips would snap into you would definetly be the thing to push you over the edge.

Your head rolls back and you bite your lip as to not let out a sound when your orgasm finally hits.

Your legs quiver a little when you ride out your high.

It wasnt the most earthshattering orgasm you've ever experienced but it did its job in satisfying you a little.

Clean and dry again, you let yourself fall onto your bed, sighing before you climb underneath your sheets.

Grabbing your phone from your nighstand, you see a message from an unknown number pop up.

unknown number : hey y/n -received at 9:56 pm

unknown number : its minho :) -received at 9:57 pm

Your heart skips a beat when the second one pops up, slowly you slide the message and land in the chat.

Whats a cool way to say hi back? hey?....no

sup? oh hell no

hiii....definetly not.

you: hi :) -sent at 9:58 pm

Good one, y/n.

you: how did you get my number? -sent at 9:58 pm

minho : my manager pulled a few strings lol, how are u? -received at 10:00 pm

you : im fine, a little tired ,hbu? -sent at 10:00 pm

Shit, yea go ahed y/n be the driest texter in the world no biggie, its not like this is lee minho.

minho: aww practice was to hard? lol im feeling fine -received at 10:01 pm

minho: jkjk lol the real reason im texting you is to ask if you want to meet up again -received at 10:02

Excuse me?

minho: yk, to practice but without all the cameras and people -received at 10:02

Okay, y/n calm down, dont answer yet. Dont make him think you're desperate to meet him again even though you are.

you: yea, sure. when are you free? -sent at 10:05

Very chill, nice job.

minho: im actually off the day after tomorrow, hbu? -received at 10:06 pm

you: i can make that work in the evening -sent at 10:06 pm

And there goes not looking desperate.

minho: nice, meet me here around 6 then? -received at 10:08 pm

minho has shared a location

minho: its an old dance studio, i know the owner :) -recieved at 10:08 pm

you: alright, see you then :) -sent at 10:09 pm

minho: good night y/n :) -sent at 10:09 pm

Do you send a good night back?...no, that would be too much...right?

You sigh and drop your phone next to you on your bed, your fists rubbing at your eyes.

There is no way you'll be able to sleep the next two nights.

It has been getting warmer recently, so you are surprised when the weather turns its back on you and suddenly blows icy wind against your face.

And you thought you had chosen wisely when only putting on a hoodie over your shirt.

You check your phone to see that you arrived at minhos sent location, yet there is no dance studio in sight.

Shivering, you turn around to search for signs on doors when you hear the door behind you opening.

"hey, in here" minho grins when you stumble around.

You look up at the building and look down at him.

"hi" you smile, somewhaþ confusedly.

"come in" he holds the door open for you.

"this building looks like its gonna get torn down soon" you say, still shivering a little as you look at minho, who's only sporting grey sweatpants and a black tshirt.

"it is" minho nods, looking around "sadly, i love coming here" he adds before looking back at you.

"still cold?" he asks, approaching you before rubbing over your arms with his hands.

"ye-huh" you interrupt yourself, gulping harshly when his cologne creeps up your nose.

He grins "better?" You nod, forcing a smile "yea, thanks"

An hour later, you are deeply immersed in the dance when you stumble at the same spot again, for the nth time.

"fuck" you aggrevatedly run your hand through your hair, angry at yourself for not getting this turn down the way it should look.

"I'm sorry, im usually not this bad i j-"

"you're not bad y/n" minho giggles, shaking his head "its alright, sometimes a move just doesnt work at first"

You huff out some air "im just nervous" you shake your head "i've never done a stage like this and i dont want to disappoint people"

"its normal to be nervous" minho stops the music before coming up behind you "just dont let it overpower the fun part"

He moves some hair from your shoulder "plus its just the two of us right now, and you cant disappoint me" he smiles softly, heat rushing to your cheeks.

"try positioning your hips..." he places his hands on your hips before gently rotating them to the left "... more like this before turning" he explains ,eyes locking in the mirror.

For a second, the only thing you can hear is your own heartbeat as his hands move up a little and linger on the exposed skin of your waist.

"okay" you breathe "lets try it from the top"

"yea?"

"yea" you nod.

The music starts again and your body takes over for you, you kick and jump and turn.

Minho lifts you like its nothing and before you know it, you do the turn exactly like you're supposed to.

The music stops and your breathing fills the silence before the euphoria of getting every single step down perfectly reaches your brain.

You squeal excitedly and clap before falling into minhos arms.

He stiffens at your touch and you immediately let go "i- i'm sorry- i dont know why-"

Suddenly, he lounges forwards and presses his plush lips against yours.

It takes you a second to register whats happening, but when his hands encase your waist, you sling your arms around his neck to pull him even closer.

An approving moan tears from minhos throat before he backs you up untill you feel the cold mirror pressed against your back.

You part your lips and let his tongue roll against yours , his hands roaming over your body.

Everything his happening so fast you cant track where they're going, first they're at your ass then one of them squeezes at your boob; and now it trails up your neck and wraps itself around it as he kisses down the other side.

You feel like your nerve endings are on fire everywhere his hands and lips wander, your eyes fluttering shut as you moan out his name.

He nips at your collarbone before coming back to your lips "i've wanted to do this since the second i saw you" his hand around your neck tightens protectively and you feel yourself clench.

"me too" you whisper before he crashes his lips to yours again, your hand tightening in his thick brown hair as the other clings to his shoulder.

A firm thigh lodges itself between your legs and you feel brave so you roll your hips into it. The ache thats building up in your clit, getting released a little.

Shamelessly you whimper against his lips.

He sucks your bottom lip inbetween his before breaking the kiss again, looking down at your ministrations.

"dirty girl" he grins, releasing your neck and placing both hands on your hips and helping you grind against his thigh.

Your head falls back against the mirror when the fabric of your cotton thong gets rubbed against your clit in just the right way. An almost pornographic moan leaves your lips, "fuck" you whine, locking eyes with minho again.

"god i wanna do so many bad things to you" he grunts, at which you swear you gushed a little more into your panties.

You see his cock straining through the flattering grey sweat material, your hand wandering towards it but he catches it.

"cum on my thigh and you'll get it" he promises, grinning when another high pitched moan spills from your pretty lips.

A sudden loud ringing makes you flinch, and minhos head whips around before removing himself from you.

"wha-?" you mumble confusedly.

He takes his phone and answers the incoming call.

"Hi, hyung" he speaks, turning around "i went for a run, yea-sorry...yea okay...okay bye" he hangs up.

"Who-?" you attempt to speak but your mind is still fuzzy as he throws his backpack over his shoulder and grabs his sweater before coming back to you.

"My manager" he says, taking your hand "i have to go"

"Oh-"

"I'm sorry" he kisses your lips "you want me to take you to your dorm?"

"No- no i dont want you to get in trouble" you shake your head.

"Sure?" He tilts his head.

"Yea, of course, im good" you nod, a smile tugging at your lips because he looks really cute with his messed up hair and puffy lips.

"Here" he gives you his sweater "im sure its colder now"

"you'll get cold though" you hold it up.

"nah, i'm hot blooded" he quips, leaning down to lock lips again.

More lingering this time, you feel you stomach churn with butterflies when he moves to your cheek.

"i'm not finished with you" he whispers into your ear, winking before walking out the door.

a/n: ik im supposed to be writing zephyr but this popped in my head and wrote itself so easily i was like👁👄👁 anyways hope u liked it🥰 not proofread so i just know there are thousands of spelling errors in there😍😍

#skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz hard hours #stray kids #lee minho smut #lee know smut #skz minho smut #skz minho #minho smut #idk more tags lol

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years

Text

The Winter Soldier - Part 15

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn’t and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: swearing, gun violence.

W/c: 2.9k

A/n: I’m double posting for @kalesrebellion because she called me out. So here you go babe. Also, I did an embarassing amount of research trying to come up with the basics for the serum. But I concluded that this is fiction and it doesnt really matter. But if you’re ur a science major and this doesnt make sense please dont come for me lol

There are moments in your life that define you. Moments you look back on after everything and wonder, if you had listened to your gut, maybe it would be different. This was one of those moments. Bucky’s world shattered around him as Natasha’s words rang through his comm.

“We’ve been compromised, Buck. I’ve been hit. They got Y/n.” Her voice, broken and solemn.

No.

Dammit, NO.

This isn't how this was supposed to happen. This was an easy job. Only a few Hydra agents resided in this compound. The whole thing felt like a dream. One he was completely and utterly unprepared to handle. How could he let this happen. He should have been there.

“Dammit. What's your location? I'm coming to you.” He shouted. His blood began to boil and he heard your heavy breathing on the other side. You were running. “Y/n, please come in. Please, doll. Where are you?” Bucky hated how broken he sounded. He knew the rest of the team could hear his begging, but he didnt care. He couldn't. He just needed to get to you.

“You always were a fighter. Right till the bitter end.” A man’s muffled voice came through his comm. He didn't recognize it as anyone he knew, but there was something familiar about it. A distant memory he couldn't quite piece together. Before he could speak, your voice broke though, a small whisper shattering his heart and sending him into a blind rage.

“Bucky” You breathed, choking on a cough.

“Y/n. I’m coming to you, doll. Don't worry, I've got you. I’m going to get you out of this. Don't worry, I’m coming.” He pleaded, but was only met with static, and then finally silence. The rest of the team kept quiet, waiting for any kind of sign of life from you. When none came, Nat spoke up.

“Guys, we gotta get out of here. They've set off a security alert, this place is going to blow in three minutes.” Her voice was now back to its usual tone, but Bucky knew better. She was scared, he could hear it. “ There’s no sign of her out here. She’s just… gone.” He could hear that she was running now.

“Bucky, we gotta go.” Steve spoke from beside him. Bucky’s head snapped to his friend, eyes wide and body still frozen.

“We can't leave. Not without her.” He all but begged.

“You heard Natasha, she’s on her way.” He paused, “Nat, you got the files?” He spoke into his earpiece, motioning Bucky to follow him to the entrance they had come through.

“Yeah, I have them. Thanks for asking by the way. I’m great, two more bullet holes in my gut, but yeah, files are more important.” She scoffed, causing Steve to roll his eyes. “I’m headed to the entrance right now.”

“No, I’m not leaving without Y/n!” Bucky tried to pull away from Steve, but he was stronger. A fact he would never admit to the guy, his head was already big enough.

“She’s not here Buck. They wouldn't blow the compound with her in it.” He persisted.

Sam’s voice interjected, “Jet’s fired up, you guys better get the fuck outta there. We have less than a minute.”

Bucky and Steve ran through the dark hallways together until they almost slammed into Nat’s small frame. He gasped when she appeared in the hollow moonlight. Her face was contorted in pain, something he was all too familiar with. Guilt.

“I lost her. I’m so sorry, it was my job to-” She broke off into a sob. Bucky wanted to agree. Yell that if she was a better agent- a better person his girl would be coming home with them. But he couldn't... This was on him. He knew it was a bad idea to bring you on the mission. He deserved all the blame.

“She’s not dead. Not yet anyways. But we will be if we don't get out of here.” Steve yelled over the alarms blaring in the hallway.

Bucky and Nat both nodded, and followed Steve across the field. Before they could reach the jet, the warehouse behind them rumbled before letting out an earth shattering explosion, sending the two of them flying into the ground. Without hesitation, Bucky grabbed Natasha's hand and pulled her from the ground. He wrapped her arm around his shoulder and all but dragged her body onto the jet.

“Vision’s been alerted we need medical. He’s been staying at a safe house in Munich. We can be there in thirty minutes.” Steve spoke urgently, rifling through the cabinets of the jet looking for the first aid kit.

“Seriously guys, it's a flesh wound. I’m- Ah!” Nat screamed in pain as the jet hit a spout of turbulence.

“Like you were saying.” Wanda smirked, placing her hands carefully on Nats' wound. Her hands glowed a deep red as she tried to relieve the pain. The spy’s face relaxed, but only for a moment before she was back to worried.

“He’s alive, Buck.” Nat spoke, and when she did, he could hear the fear in her words.

“Who?” Steve demanded, but Nat’s eyes stayed put on Bucky’s.

“Tommy. She said his name in the hallway. It was him, Buck. He’s not dead. He’s the one that shot me, the one that took her.” Nat flinched in pain as Wanda's hands fell from her side.

“That’s not possible.” Bucky shook his head. “Steve found my mission file. I killed him. I remembered it. You just don't walk away from that.”

“Well, clearly you do.” Nat spoke sarcastically, pointing to the gushing holes in the body.

“So Tommy’s alive? And he’s Hydra now?” Wanda asked, suddenly realising her hands were not on Nat’s wounds anymore. She placed them back silently apologising.

“And he’s got Y/n.” Bucky added, his jaw clenched in anger.

“We’ll get her back.” Steve spoke. He placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder which he quickly shrugged off, pacing back and forth through the small aircraft.

“I know we will. And i’m going to finish the fucking job and tear that prick in two.” He seethed, mostly to himself.

He tried to focus on the task at hand. Desperately brainstorming how to get to you, but his mind was spirling. How could he just leave you? How could he have been so stupid? The sound of his name leaving your lips echoed around him, only fuling his growing rage.

“All our tactical suits have hidden trackers in the sleeves. We will hear it go off, but until then we wait. They cant have gotten far.” Steve started as the jet began its descent. “We're almost at the safe house. We’ll track her from there. In the morning, we’ll head out.”

“Morning? That's too long. She could be-'' Bucky cut himself off, too broken at the thought to finish that sentence. “I’ll find her myself tonight.” He grumbled.

“Oh no you don’t. We’re a team, Buck. We do this together. Vision will be able to enable her tracker. But we need to work together. We can't lose anybody else to impulse decisions.” Steve scolded.

He knew his friend was right but it didn't make it any easier to agree. All Bucky wanted to go but get you back. Keep you safe and never let anyone touch you again. He tried to keep his distance before, he really did, but that was out the window now. There wasn't a chance in hell he was leaving your side after this. As for the man that ripped you from his grasp, oh boy… He tried not to make a habit out of fantasizing murder, mostly as it resulted in the Winter Soldier coming out of the shadows, but if that was the case with Tommy, so be it. Only when Bucky stood in a pile or carnage and gore and blood would he finally feel peace again...

“We're coming up on the safe house. Y'all ready to bail?” Sam's voice tore Bucky out of his thoughts, and thankfully so. He was sure it was leading to a very destructive path.

“Buck, help us get Nat inside. Wanda and Sam - sweep the area, make sure no one has followed us. I’ll fill Vision in on what's happened and see if he can turn on Y/n’s tracker now.” Steve commanded as he hopped out of the jet.

“Can you stand?” Bucky asked, dipping down to tuck Nats arm around his shoulder, helping her up. She nodded reluctantly, wincing in pain as she moved.

The safe house was a small cabin in the middle nowhere. Munich was only a few minutes down the road but the thick coverage of trees that surrounded the cabin made it feel secluded and hard to be spotted from above. If they weren't followed, no one would ever know they were here.

Bucky helped Nat inside, letting Steve and Wanda take over once they were through the door. Before he could enter, he stopped, taking a moment to gaze upon the sun rising over the mountains. In a few hours, he’d be with you again. He just had to make it until then, and pray to whatever god would still have him, that you were alive.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Продолжай копать. Нам надо её найти.” Keep digging. We have to find it. The voice rang in your mind, waking you from the recurring nightmare. Visions of Tommy and that boyish smile that once brought so much happiness.. His voice, the way it used to say your name, now only causing you ache.

“Wait, rewind there! Вернись. That’s it.” The voice spoke again, echoing around the room. You opened your eyes slowly, taking in your surroundings, but all you were met with was darkness. You could feel movement around you, but the blindfold tied around your eyes masked their faces.

“I’m positive she told me what was in that serum.” His voice caused your heart to just about leap from your chest. You knew that voice anywhere.

“You better be right. You're as good as dead to me otherwise.” Another man spoke.

“No I’m sure. Wait! Right there. Replay that part.” Tommy asserted.

Suddenly a headache burned through your temples, scorching the inside of your eyes. You screamed in pain as it coarsed though your body until an image appeared in your mind. It replayed over and over, making you dizzy.

“Whatcha doing?” Tommy cooed, taking a seat on your desk.

“Just trying to find the right components.” You spoke, not taking your eyes microscope as you examined the petri dish below.

“Cummon, baby. You've been at this for hours. Come eat something.” You looked up, Tommy stood there with that big goofy smile you loved so much.

“I’ve almost got it. Just a little longer.” You reassured him, rolling in your chair and picking up another sample and analysing it.

“What exactly is, it?” he asked, emphasizing the word.

“If I mix the steroid with-”

Another shrieking jolt of pain seared through you as the memory disappeared, leaving you trembling.

“Go back, we almost had it!” Someone yelled from beside you.

You tried to scream, to beg them to stop, but it was no use. Before you could try again, the same horrible pain erupted through your body, ripping you back to the distant memory.

“If I mix the steroid with human blood, it does as it's designed. But taking into account the theory of nuclear transmutation, we can assume given the right element we can use the serum to absorb its surroundings, right?” You spoke, like it was common sense.

“Sure…” Tommy chuckled.

“So, strip down the original serum, add radiation to its compound, now it needs the ability to absorb energy… What element do we know has that power?” it wasn't a question, nor did you think Tommy would know the answer so you continued, “Water, and our bodies are basically made of that. So in turn, if we can create the original serum mixed with high levels of radiation, inject the person, granted you're not killed by that high levels of toxicity, we're looking at a new type of Super Soldier. One that could, in theory, mutate around the serum and absorb its surroundings!” You finally finished.

“I have no idea what any of that means… But it sounds cool. Now put the vile down, and eat something.” He laughed, grabbing the sample out of your hands and carefully placing it on the table next to you.

“Thats it!” Someone shouted. “Of course, why didn't we think of this. Call the commander, tell him we found it.”

You felt your body twist in agony, but soon the memory left, leaving you back in the dark with disembodied voices echoing around you.

“What do you want me to do with her?” a man asked.

“I don't care. убить её?” Kill her? You froze at his words. Even if you could move, your hands were tied down to the chair. Gentally you wiggle your fingers, careful not to draw any attention to yourself. Not that you would be able to tell. The ring that Shuri had made you was still there. If you timed in right, and you still had Wanda’s borrowed power, you could use it to untie yourself and hopefully get the fuck out of this hell hole.

“Kill her?” Tommy choked. “You didn't say anything about killin’ her?”

“You should be thankful. The girl’s been sharing a bed with the same man who killed you once before. In fact, I’m so pleased with your work developing this memory decoder that I’ll give you the honour.” The man spoke, shuffling around the room. “Here, tell me when you're done having your fun.” A few heavy footsteps later, and you finally heard the door close. The silence was deafening, but eventually, Tommy let out a deep breath and took a step towards you, ripping your blind fold off.

You squinted as you tried to acclimate your eyes to the lighting of the room. It was small and dark, but a few dim lights hung above you illuminating Tommy's features. Once upon a time you would have described them as strong and rugged. Now they seemed to loom over you, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Are you okay?” He asked, softer than you expected. You quickly clocked the pistol in his left hand and tried to suppress a scoff.

“Am I okay?” You gawked at him. “You just dug through my head like a sand pit. No- no I’m not okay you shit head!” You screamed.

Tommy chuckled, using the gun to scratch the back of his neck. “Touché…” He spoke, pulling up a stool and plopping himself down on it infront of you. “I missed that attitude baby. Really, these past couple years have been hell without you. These guys are really scary, but I told em- I said, my girl will know what to do. And you did, baby. I never doubted you.” His voice was like honey. Thick and sickenly sweet.

“What are you talking about?! I thought you were dead!? I mourned you, asshole. And you've been alive this whole time, working against me?” You couldn't believe how cavalier he was being about this. Tommy only shrugged, fuling the rage inside you.

“Nah, it's not like that. I was dead, really I was. But then Hydra came and BOOM I was back. They promised me that they’d keep me safe, as long as I could help em get that serum you were always talkin’ bout. Said they wanted to give it time in your system, make sure it didn't kill ya.” He started, narrowing his eyes slowly, “You grieved me? That's a funny way of putting it. Cause from what I saw in that head of yours, you were pretty chummy with that Soldier.”

You couldn't stifle the scoff that erupted in your mouth. “You're kidding right? Jesus, Tom. They brainwashed me. And I don't need to explain myself. You're sick, you know that? How could you do this? Do you have any idea what they're going to use that serum for?” You fired the questions off like explosives into his chest, but he didn't even flinch.

“I don't really care. They told me if I gave em’ your little recipe, they’d let me go.” He shrugged.

“And so what? Now you're going to kill me?”

“No… Maybe. I haven't really decided yet.” He looked down at the pistol like it was the first time he really noticed it was there. Contemplating your death like he was deciding between his morning coffee.

“I would get going on that if I were you.” You lifted your hands, wiggling your wingers playfully “Really, Tommy, you're not cut out for this line of work.” You spat, jumping from your seat and landing a hard kick to his gut, sending him flying back. The gun ricocheted off the ground and hit the wall, but before he could react, you grabbed it. In one swift move you turned the safety off and placed your finger on the trigger.

“Cummon baby, let's talk about this.” He raised his hands in surrender. “You wouldn't shoot me.”

You cocked a brow, “You sound really confident in that statement. Especially for a boy who was debating my death a moment ago.” You argued.

“Dont take it personally, baby. Anything you can do, I can do better. Remember?” You smirked.

................................................................................................................................

A/n: Another Cliff hanger? Yes. Do I know how to wrote anything else? No... My bad lol. I hope your enjoyed this one as much as I did writing it! As always, @cutie1365 is the bomb dot com for editing this for me. Tommy sucks, we both agree. I hope he gets whats coming to him... please leave some love and reblog if you read it!

@kalesrebellion

@projectcampbell

@calwitch

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ahkaahshi · 4 years

Note

Dear Fran, I have come with my option a request. I hope you will accept with an open heart 😃 hear me out ok #4 ♥️ scenario with Atsumu + Osamu, I'm their lil sister rooming with them (IS THIS ALLOWED, IF NOT IT'S OK, I just want to be called Wan-chan and call them Tsumu and Samu nii-chan 🥺) anyway it's a weekend night so,, COCKTAIL PARTY IN THE LIVING ROOM!! So as we're chilling and getting drunker by the minute on drinks mixed by ourselves for each other, I started rambling about [1/2]

prompt: ♥︎ #4 -> make your own fluffy friendship scenario

roomies: the miya twins + ushijima wakatoshi as the non-roomie love interest

genre: fluff, specific reader insert

warning(s): swearing, alcohol usage

my note to you: dear wan, of course I will hear you out forever and always 😂 a cocktail party with the siblings sounds so fun lol I'm over here an only child 😭 this whole thing sounds so funny to me 😂 y-you think I have a big brain?? ty bb but it’s only bc u lend me your big brain energy ❤️

getting drunk with the miya twins and venting about your bf ushijima [scenario]

y’all do these roomie/sibling cocktail parties at least once a week just to let off some steam. you n samu have learned thru experience not to let tsumu play bartender tho bc the man’s tolerance is thru the roof and his drinks are STRONG

like he’s got that heavy “two shots of vodka” *cookie monster falling in the background* pour

anyway, this evening ends up taking a more serious turn bc you start crying to them about how your relationship with ushijima has been a lil rocky lately

your big bros are your ride or dies and of course they wanna comfort you, but in their drunken state, their problem solving skills are a bit... less reasonable than usual (and that’s scary bc when are they're already shaky to begin with???)

seeing you cry over ushijima is making them kinda heated low key so next thing you know, they’re calling an uber and grabbing silly string that you didn’t even know you owned

“Can ya take us here?” Atsumu asks as he slides into the passenger seat of your chariot for the night in the form of a blue sedan and holds your phone towards the driver. The man nods and puts the address into his own phone before pulling away from the curb.

In the backseat, you let your head flop against the headrest while Osamu holds the cans of silly string securely. “’Tsumu nii-chan...” you groan with indignation when he plops your phone back into your palm, “This is such a stupid--” you interrupt yourself with a hiccup--“idea.”

“Ah, chill out, Wan-chan!” Atsumu complains, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Quit bein’ such a party pooper.”

“’Sides,” Osamu pipes up from where he’s sitting beside you, “ya don’t even hafta do shit. Jus’ sit tight ‘nd let yer better thirds take care of it.”

You reach for his arm in the back of the dark car so you can smack him before doing the same to the back of Atsumu’s head when he laughs at his brother’s smart comment. “’Samu nii-chan! Usually you’re the voice of reason.”

With a small chuckle, he reaches into the pocket of his sweater and retrieves a small flask that you don’t even remember seeing him fill up. “Nah, that responsibility’s all yours, right now, Wan-chan.” You grumble with defeat as he takes a long swig of its contents before handing it over to you. In spite of being less than enthusiastic about the whole situation, you take a long drink and pass the container back, intentionally skipping over Atsumu’s outstretched hand since you both know he’ll finish it in one go.

When the apartment complex where your boyfriend resides appears in your view, you bargain, “At least lemme talk to ‘im first.”

“If you must,” Atsumu sighs.

Osamu requests that the driver waits for you all to return--which he agrees to after he shows him Atsumu’s card and offers double the fare for his troubles--before the three of you pile out of the car. Your brothers follow you as you take the familiar path to Ushijima’s front door, but hide behind a bush when you shoo them away and give it a knock.

The door slowly opening a few moments later brings you face to face with your boyfriend and makes your head spin from more than just the alcohol. “Wakatoshi...” you utter softly, (e/c) eyes finding his slightly shocked, olive gaze.

“Wan?” he murmurs, “What are you doing here?” His nose twitches at the smell of alcohol lingering on you from the drink Atsumu spilled on the sleeve of your sweater earlier. “Are you drunk?”

You wave away all of his questions and respond with an increasingly noticeable slur, “I’m here to stop my brothers from covering... yer apartment in shilly shtring.”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, but his face quickly drains of all emotion when you see his eyes shift to something behind you. Sure enough, your troublesome siblings have emerged from their hiding place and are now standing a few feet away, silly string cans raised in a way that you can only assume is meant to be threatening.

“Wan-chan’s real broken up over these arguments ya’ve been havin’,” Atsumu pipes up. You heave a long sigh and put your hand over your face out of the embarrassment you feel towards the whole situation. As if just showing up unaccounted for hadn’t been bad enough, you were drunk, and so were your two older brothers about to turn vandals that had accompanied you.

Ushijima clicks his tongue before speaking again in that usual, authoritative tone of his. “I understand. You can go. I’ll take care of Wan and make sure they get back home safely tomorrow.” With that said, he wraps an arm around your shoulders, bringing you close to him as he allows you inside his apartment so you can sober up and talk. He sends a nod in Atsumu and Osamu’s direction before closing the door.

There’s a long moment of silence as your siblings come to terms with what’s just happened. In an instant, Atsumu lunges towards the door, finger pressed against the nozzle of the silly string can, and Osamu wraps his arms around his torso to restrain him. “Fuckin’ quit!” he grunts, trying to reach for the can, “’S gonna be fine!”

“Jus’ lemme tag the motherfucker so he knows not to mess with us.” Osamu grumbles but relinquishes his grip around Atsumu so he can go to the doorstep and paint what he knows is meant to resemble a dick on the wall in silly string. Once he’s satisfied with his work, he says, “Aight, let’s dip.”

#fran writes hq!!#haikyuu!!#miya atsumu #miya osamu #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu x reader #x reader #reader insert #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #hq!!#anime #manga #funny #fran's 600 milestone event!!#fran writes requests!!

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ladyaceofspades · 3 years

Text

The recent drama:

So I dropped one of my good friends. We had dated when I was 18 for a few weeks and I dumped him because he wouldn't get on the phone to talk to me, so I dipped. In the years that followed, he would come back every so often, try to woo me away from Matt, then eventually get angry and leave. He left and came back like 3 times. We've gone through spells where we would be super buddy buddy, or we wouldn't talk for months. He was my game buddy, although he would drive me insane because he would just do every mission and just drag me along for the fun of it.

While I was with Matt, T was very helpful. He would let me vent to him and he would validate my feelings, and when I was happy, he would remind me of all the awful things Matt did so I would stay strong against him. His line was "you're unhappy" and it worked because I was at the time. Even then, though, I knew he had feelings for me and he would tell me how much he loved me. When Matt and I broke up, I got into a relationship with my husband, Benjas, and T got into a relationship with Amber.

T came around again, spouting the same thing. He loves me, will always love me, wants to be with me, but will respect my relationship...even though his fiancé, Amber had started living with him then. Our friendship did the cycle again, until he overstepped on a FB post of mine, and I put him in his place. I blocked him on FB, he confronted me about it, and I told him why it had to happen: that what he said was totally inappropriate, it made Benjas angry and me angry, and his or my family could've seen it and it caused problems for us. T's comeback was "in all the years I've known you, you've never let a man tell you what to do". I did not stand for that and had to explain 3 times why what he said was bad and why it wasn't acceptable. He finally understood and asked that I text every so often so he knows I'm ok.

I didn't text for a few months. Recently, he tried to reach out through text, and email (forgot he had my email so that was a surprise). When that didn't work, he had his friend Gabe message me, and Amber friended me on FB (she had had me blocked on and off for years). By then, I was hella creeped out. Apparently, T had "a bad feeling" that something bad had happened to me and he had a dream something happened to me, and broke down to Amber and told her he missed me so, according to him, she added me out of jealousy and to see what he and I said to each other on FB (we weren't friends on there so she would've see nothing). Anyway, his actions and him getting his people to reach out to me made me rethink some things, and it also made me listen to my intuition harder, which said that he was full of it and lying. I started to wonder if what he was telling me was true, so I chatted with Amber about it and it was like we were getting two different stories. For example, Amber was moving out because she needed assisted living help and T was telling me that if she moved out, they would probably break up (it went from probably to definitely break up) and he would cut the ties completely, whereas Amber was under the impression that T would still be there for her and that they might break up but it was a low chance. Other things like he was blaming my husband for why I wasn't talking to him, and when I told Amber about it, she got angry about it (understandably).

When I talked to him and told him that I can't trust him when my intuition is telling me that he's lying and it's been proven so we should takea break from being friends, he told me that he wouldn't be coming back or be there for me anymore. I said that that was fine, as if the person going back to someone wasn't him coming back to me every time.

Anyway, I creeped his FB page one more time and he posted

Which essentially is him taking some of the accountability for everything but he's putting a lot of it on me, when I wanted nothing to do with him at all for awhile and I TRIED with the super quick responses or no responses at all. He says he's been used, but he wouldn't respect my marriage even though I told him he needed to and he said he would. I kept saying "I love you like a friend" but he wouldn't listen. How is that my fault? I'm really angry that I'm being blamed for shit I didn't do because he can't face that part of himself.

Not to mention, he has GREATLY overestimated his place in my life (or as my friend Leighann says, his market value). He was needed at some point, but after the FB thing, it became incredibly apparent that he never respected me as a person or as anything else other than a possible future lover, that he put me on a pedestal, and he never considered that I moved on in my emotions. I mean, I got MARRIED to the love of my life and this POS was still trying to chase me, and recently had gone back to telling me how unhappy I was, when I'm not. It was surreal to be told "you're unhappy" multiple times in a short period of time and my brain went "what? No we're not". Whatever mind game he tried to run on me again didn't work this time.

Anyway, here's the shit Amber texted me when I asked her why she friended me again:

Versus what he texted me about everything:

So....why the gap in stories? I confronted him about what his friends said to her too, and he complained that you can't control your friends so I couldn't hold that against him. Well, in reality, you set the standard for how your friends act around you, and you set the boundaries about your SO, so his friends shouldn't have been telling her that she looked like me or anything. He also told me not to trust her, but I felt like she didn't have an agenda with me, until the end. Now I find that they're staying together, or else why would he be apologizing to her publicly in multiple posts? Guess she bought his bullshit, and he doesn't want to be alone again. Lol whatever, let them be toxic together. Unfortunately, if he's done this once, he'll do it again (he did with another woman too apparently - an ex of a friend of his, he asked for pics of her and according to him he said "no nudes" but according to Amber, the woman said "no nudes"), so it'll only be a matter of time until he either tries to come after me again, or he finds someone else in his town to go after. I've blocked him on almost everything, blocked her as well, so neither of them can come back in my life. I'm just a little worried about those old nudes of mine he still has...I don't think he'd do anything but I almost told Amber about them so she would get him to delete them. I guess, worst case is I could always sue if he puts them on a p0rn site...

Sorry I needed to get this shit off my chest. I know people's opinions shouldn't matter to me, but they do, especially when I'm being blamed for everything and the person who ACTUALLY set everything in motion is refusing to take responsibility for it.

I'll do a cord cutting spell or a binding or something after we move to the new apartment so they don't come back.

#me #cutting out toxicity #wishing them the best

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