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pitchsidestories · 2 days

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one kiss is all it takes II Laura Freigang x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1616

a/n: Hi, it's inspired by the request here, we hope you enjoy it. <3

Home games in Frankfurt were always something special to you.

But then again, you would never complain about away games either. You knew your traveling fans could make any stadium feel like you were playing at home. You liked that it gave you a few days to only focus on the upcoming game and leave your worries back in Frankfurt.

At least you would be focused, if someone would not point their camera at you once again…

You lifted both your hands, trying to shield your face from being photographed.

“Laura, stop it.“, you groaned. Why did she always have to have that stupid camera with her, even on the pre-game walk?

The young midfielder slowly dropped her analog camera and caught up with you: “Come on, it’s just a photo.“

“You always say that and then I see my face all over your instagram photo dumb account!“, you rolled her eyes at her.

Laura shrugged, a slight crease appearing between her eyebrows: “They always look good so I don’t know why you’re complaining.“

“Good? Sure, Freigang.“, you replied while you continued to walk.

“It’s true. Ask the others.“

You sighed reluctantly before turning to Sara Doorsoun who walked right behind you. Knowing her, she probably had been listening to the whole conversation, so you only asked: “Sara, what do you think?“

The German defender smirked slightly: “With the amount of pictures she is taking of you, I’d say Lau has a crush on you.“

You could not stop the involuntary laughter that came out of your mouth: “Good joke, Sara. She does that with Syd and Klara too.“

“Sure.“, Sara answered, unconvinced.

“It’s true. You don’t have to sure me.“, you warned her.

“I’ll sure you until you see it too.“ She gently bumped her shoulder against yours.

“The only thing I see is that Lau is the most annoying person on the team.“, you commented, your gaze fixed on Laura who was already a few steps in front of your again and back to taking photos of her other teammates.

Sara raised one eyebrow as she looked at you: “You think Lau is the most annoying person on the team?“

“Yes.“

The defender grimaced upon your answer: “I feel like you don’t hang out enough with the youngsters.“

“I agree!“, Shekiera Martinez’ voice piped up right next to you. “You’re always the first one to leave any party or team event.“

“That’s not even true!“, you protested.

Nicole Anyomi, looking effortlessly cool as always, gave Sara a look: “Right, maybe Sara is even quicker now that she’s seeing someone again.“

Saras cheeks turned slightly red: “Rude!“

“She’s got a point.“, you agreed with the young striker.

“Maybe.“, Sara slowly admitted.

You felt bad for your friend, so you casually distracted from her: “Also, that’s not the topic right now.“

“Right, this is about Laura and you.”, Sophia Kleinherne reminded your temmates with a mischievous smile on her lips.

“No, this is about Laura being annoying with her stupid photos.”, you rolled your eyes at her. You loved your teammates, but sometimes you wished they would care more about themselves than others, especially in this situation.

“You’d miss something if she would just stop.”, Lara Prašnikar threw in with an amused twinkle in her eyes.

You let out a frustrated groan. Was this so hard for them to comprehend why you didn’t like what the blonde hobby photographer was doing.

“Not really. I like to keep my social media presence private, but she keeps posting me.”, you tried to explain your thoughts to the fellow players.

“Because she can’t stop thinking about you.”, Sara remarked, through the words her romantic being shone through which annoyed you even more.

“That’s stupid, Sara.”, you scoffed at her. Despite your protest, the sentence of the defender would haunt you through the day. Even when you laid down in the hotel room during the break, before you all would travel to the stadium. Could there be some truth to the older woman’s observation? She was never that far off when it came to love, except when it was her own heart which was so breakable unlike yours.

pictogangg why are you hiding your face, pretty girl? @y/n'sinstagramaccount

“Hi, y/n, did you see Lauras post?”, you shrieked while Barbara Dunst asked you this, you haven’t heard or seen her come into the room you shared.

“Yes, I did, Baba.”

“Don’t murder her before the game, okay?”, the Austrian joked laughing.

“Okay, but she needs to stop posting me with such captions. I’m serious.”, you sighed, pressing a white pillow to your chest to underline your frustration with Laura.

“Oh, everyone knows it’s just a joke.”, Barabara reassured you in a warm tone.

“I don’t like when people make fun of me.”, your mouth was formed to a pout.

“She’s not making fun of you.”, she disagreed seriously.

“What do you mean?”, you looked at her in honest curiosity.

“It’s just teasing. She’s waiting for a reaction.”, the midfielder told you in a matter-of-factly voice.

“Isn’t me being annoyed reaction enough?”, you wanted to know from your teammate who was a good friend of the woman who loved taking photos of you whenever she could.

“You mean the one where you’re pouting and ignoring her? No.”, Barbara shook her head.

“Oh.”

“But that’s something for after the game. Want to go and grab a coffee from downstairs, before we go to the stadium.”, the Austrian changed the topic cheerfully.

“I do.”, you told her while she was already on the way to the door, leaving no further room to think about what Laura exactly was waiting for.

Frankfurt won their away game with a hard-fought 1:0. You were relieved that you got the three points because it meant that you secured your spot as the third in the league and in the Champions League qualification. From the way your teammates celebrated around you, you could tell they felt the same way.

As you watched on, Lauras face appeared in front of you. A few stray hairs had escaped her slicked back ponytail during the game.

“Y/n? Good game.”

“Thanks.”, you replied politely.

It was clear to you that the midfielder was not yet done talking, so you waited for her to continue.

Laura took a deep breath: “Also I deleted all the pictures of you on my instagram account as you didn't seem to enjoy them.”

This revelation took you by surprise: “All of them?”

“Yes, I thought that's what you wanted all along.”

“I did. But all of that seems a bit… drastic, don't you think?”, you asked, trying to put your confusion into words.

“No. See you, y/n.”, Laura replied and turned around to leave.

Surprised, you watched her for a moment before you called after her: “Laura.”

The midfielder stopped in her tracks, looking back at you: “What?”

You bridged the gap between the two of you. The things your teammates told you were circulating in your brain.

You gathered all your courage and said: “If you like me, just say that.”

Lauras eyes widened for a second before she admitted: “I wanted to kiss you the whole season… when I scored against Barca, at every team event, when we secured the third place today… but I guess I've to accept that you don't feel the same so deleting the pictures was the first step.”

You were taken aback by her reply. There were a million things you wanted to say but what came out first was: “You should have said something instead of taking these stupid photos.”

“I hoped that way you would notice the person behind the camera.” Laura bit her lip subconsciously.

“I only noticed how much I hate being photographed!”

Your teammate studied your face: “I don't get why. You're just so beautiful and interesting. I love capturing you on film.”

You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks: “Just don't, Laura.”

She nodded slowly: “Okay, I‘ll respect that in the future.”

For a moment, you did not know what to say. She looked beautiful, standing in front of you and apologizing.

“And maybe I'll make an exception for you sometimes. Maybe.”

“Wait, what?” Her eyes immediately brightened.

“I do like a few photos to be honest. They carry some memories.”, you admitted with a shrug.

“Do you have any favourites.”, Laura asked in a genuinely interested tone.

“Laura, I don’t want to talk about the stupid photos right now.”, you groaned, hiding the face in your hand.

“What do you want to talk about instead?”, the blonde responded.

“This is why I hate it. You’re always busy with photography and never focus on the moment.”, you told her frustrated, you never felt the gap between you both by two years, you’re being the older more than in this moment.

“I guess there’s a truth to your words, but when all is over, I want to remember everything and pictures help with that.”, she confessed passionately.

“Can you just shut up and kiss me already.”, you begged her, at this point your patience has been gone, leaving only the yearning for the younger player to touch you.

Much to your surprise Laura did stop talking immediately and pressed her lips on yours, giving you a heartfelt kiss making sure you both would never forget the first one. Little did you know that a lot of firsts would follow afterwards. For now, all you and her did was enjoying the moment.

The first kiss would be one of your favourite memories. In your mind it was like a framed picture, you’d come to love to look at especially on bad days.

pictures are from pinterest.

#laura freigang #laura freigang x reader #laura freigang imagine #woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso oneshot #woso one shot #eintracht frankfurt frauen #dfb frauen #gerwnt #sara doorsoun

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1starqi · 2 days

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Game Face

genre: fluff, established relationship, sports au

pairing: jay x reader

warnings: barely proofread, reader is referenced as being shorter, pet names, reader wears lipgloss, kisses on cheeks and heads

word count: ~800

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Now Playing: TFW

You finish sliding on the pitcher’s glove, “Do I look like a pitcher?” You ask the glove’s owner, your boyfriend, in his blue-and-white striped uniform with a matching blue hat. You push your hip out and rest a gloved hand on it as you pose. Your brief fashion high is over and you comment on the sensation of your hand inside, “This feels really gross.” You comment and scrunch up your nose and a laugh bubbles from within Jay. “It’s way too big and it feels really sweaty… The velcro is sticking to my hand.” You criticize, seeing the long strap of velcro, hooked onto the glove by just a hair, flop around as you twist your hand around within it.

“That’s because your hands are too small.” He points out as you slide off the glove. “You do look like a pitcher—a very cute pitcher.” He says.

Ignoring the flustering compliment, you continue your rant about the inside. “It’s still sweaty and gross…” You tell him, and it’s true. You can feel the buildup of sweat on the inside and you frown. “Do you even wash this thing?” You scold him and he laughs again. You swear that wearing his eye-black makes him ten times more attractive.

“Babe, you can’t,” He explains, “the leather would get all brittle and it would be ruined. It is kind of gross, though. I put spray deodorant in it sometimes,” he admits, “you asked to try it on though.”

“I didn’t know it was gross when I asked!” You quip and Jay’s phone sounds with a familiar ding.

He glances down at his phone and sees a message from one of his teammates appear on the home screen of you two. The picture is one taken of you two on the mound during a practice. “Heeseung says that I have five minutes until I have to start warm-ups.” He announces. You always like seeing him on the mound, but you’re secretly afraid that one day he’ll get hit, and so his game is a complex of emotions for you. On one hand you’re anxious for him, and on the other hand you love nothing more than seeing your person in his happiest place. He takes his blue, logo-ed hat off and puts it on your head. “For good luck.” He says.

“You need your hat, Jay. You can’t go around not having critical pieces of your uniform just because you love me.” You tease and adjust the hat on your head.

“What’s the problem? You don’t want to rep your boyfriend’s team?” He says and you open your mouth to respond, but he speaks first. “Don’t worry, love. I have others.” He assures you.

“Fine.” You give in and take the hat off to adjust the sizing on the back.

“I gotta go now, but I’ll see you in the stands, right?” He asks, knowing the answer but just hoping for your encouragement.

“You know it. I’ll be your biggest cheerleader. You could put me in the very back and I’d scream so loud you’ll be able to hear me all the way from the field.” You tell him, and he looks thoroughly content. Before he can turn to leave, you grab his face and pull it down towards you so that your lips are at the same level as his cheek. You give him a quick kiss on the cheek that leaves a faint, cherry pink stain from the lip-gloss you applied earlier that day. His eyes go wide and a smile breaks through his face. He tangles you in a hug and you can feel his baseball arms around you as he squeezes you tight, and you feel his lips press to your head. His eye black is just slightly smudged from the gesture.

When he lets you go, he breaks the terrible news. “I have to go now, love. I’ll be late otherwise.” You understand.

“I know.” You consider telling him about the slight stain on his cheek from your kiss. You decide it would be funnier to get teased by his teammates and have him complain about it to you later. With a smile that he doesn’t know is mischievous, you wish him good luck as he leaves the room. If they don’t point it out, you and the stands will get to see Jay with his fiercest game face and a kiss mark on his cheek. And with a wink, he’s gone. Gone off to the cheering field and off to the game. Just as fast, you rush out of the room to the fans' section, eager to catch sight of Jay again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ramble: this is my first time putting pictures (all from pinterest, credit to the orginal owners!) and it took me way too long to figure out how and im sure that there's a better way but whatever im having fun. i dont know why theyre so low quality though...

#jay #jay enha #jay enhypen #jay fluff #jay enha fluff #jay enhypen fluff #enha #enha fluff #enhypen fluff #jay enhypen x reader #jay x reader #enhypen x reader #baseball au #sports au

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kyletogaz · 2 days

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part one: the fall | cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of sex

summary: your situationship? with kyle leaves you suffering

masterlist

your day was going just fine until kyle showed up on your doorstep. you don’t know how long you stood at the door, unmoving, with your hand on the doorknob, while you try to decide if you should answer him or not.

go away, go away, go away, go the fuck away.

he doesn’t leave though. he knows you’re there, he always knows where you are. he could sniff you out like a goddamn dog if he wanted to. “open the door, sweetheart.” it’s the way he says it that makes you tense up. you know exactly what kyle means. open the door or i’ll open it for you.

with a scowl on your face, you unlock the door and yank it open. you’re surprised the shit doesn’t fly off the hinges with the amount of force you’ve used. “what the fuck do you want, kyle?”

kyle raises an eyebrow at your tone, before flashing you a smile that you wish to wipe from his face. “you don’t sound happy to see me, love.” the look of annoyance on your face doesn’t seem to bother him at all, he’s used to it by now.

you’re not happy to see him. he’s got you so worked up already, you have to supress the urge to slam the door in his face. and maybe you should have done just that, because before you can even get a word out, kyle is letting himself into your home. he brushes past you without a word, duffle on his shoulder, immediately making you regret opening the door for him in the first place.

“kyle, you can’t just—i don’t remember offering you an invitation to walk into my home,” you hiss at him angrily, before closing the door and locking it. when you turn to him, he’s standing there in your foyer with that stupid pretty face of his. “i’m gonna ask you again, and this time, i expect an answer. what do you want?”

as if you don’t already know what he wants.

kyle eyes the bare foot you tap impatiently against the floor for a second, before his eyes meets yours. “i needed to see you. i know you asked for space, but i’ve missed you, sweetheart,” he explains, while tugging his boots off and shedding his jacket, revealing those arms that have held you down while you got fucked six ways to sunday.

did you miss me or my pussy?

kyle’s words are as soft as his pretty brown eyes. it’s bullshit. you almost give in like you usually do, and that’s the problem. every time he tells you he misses you, you rip your chest open and carve out a piece of your heart for him to take. that’s all kyle ever does, is take. and you let him, because you love him, even when you know you deserve better than what he gives you.

“don’t call me that!” a deep frown settles on his face at your words, the harshness of your tone surprising him. you’ve never been this way with him before.

good, you think to yourself. he could act like everything was okay between the both of you if he wanted to. but you? you were done pretending. this arrangement was hurting you more than you cared to admit out loud. no labels. it was something you both agreed on. it was easy at first, with both of you coming and going as you please. and then it wasn’t. kyle started occupying your space longer than he should have, longer than you should have let him. it never bothered you, because you really enjoyed his company.

kyle was funny, pretty, sweet, a good soldier, and an amazing cook. whenever he was on leave, he would take you anywhere you wanted to go. he’d even introduced you to his sisters and the men he worked with. kyle was the type of man you’d take home to meet your family, with no hesitation. how could you not fall in love with someone like that?

but now, you really wish you hadn’t. you were almost at your breaking point, not knowing how much more of this you could take.

when kyle asks you what’s wrong, the words you should have spoken gets lodged in your throat. you just shake your head and shrug.

i can’t do this anymore. i’m in love with you and i want more than you’re willing to give. if i offer you another piece of my heart, i will be left with nothing.

“come here, darling.” your eyes fall shut at the sound of his voice because you can’t resist. you feel like a puppet on a fucking string when your body moves in his direction.

when you’re finally in kyle’s arms, your face buried in his chest, as you will the ache in your heart to go away, he strikes. kyle tips your head up and pulls you into a bruising kiss. you clutch at his forearms to keep yourself grounded while you moan into his mouth. he has every intention on making you forget why you’re mad at him. it isn’t until he’s got his tongue in your mouth, and his hands are gently squeezing your ass, that you jerk away from him with a shake of your head.

“i can’t—we need to talk about this, kyle.”

“i promise we’ll talk later. i need you right now,” he murmurs as he closes the distance between you two. you open your mouth to argue, but it’s no use. he tilts his head to the side as he studies you. “did you miss me?”

kyle’s been gone for almost a month and the calls between you two had been limited. anytime you tried to approach the subject of your relationship, or lack of one, you never accomplished anything. derailment was kyle’s favorite tactic. and when you couldn’t take it anymore, you gave him an excuse to get him off the phone, so he couldn’t hear you cry.

“no.” you hate how the lie spills from your lips and travels to kyle’s ears, because you wish it were true. you hate the way he laughs, low and soft, because he knows it’s a lie.

you hate the way his eyes darken as he drinks you in. “lying? i thought we promised each other we would always tell the truth.”

you’re glaring at kyle before you can even stop yourself. you’re about to open your mouth to tell him where he could shove his promises, when you see him turn away and head straight down the hallway. you stand there, helplessly, as kyle waits for you to follow. you should stand your ground. you’re better than that. but it feels like he’s tugging on an invisible cord that connects the both of you, so whether you want to or not, you follow him anyway.

and when you wake up the next morning, to kyle’s absence and an apology text, you come to the realization that you only have yourself to blame. kyle wasn’t yours to keep. you should have kept your word. you never should have broken the promise you made to yourself. and it’s too late, you can’t take anything back. you can’t erase the way kyle had you pressed into the mattress the night before, with your legs over his shoulders while he buried his tongue between your slick folds. or the way he drove his cock in and out of your pussy while your pleasure filled cries bounced off the walls of your bedroom.

the only thing you can do is weep as you sit on the edge of your bed, with your head bowed and shoulders slumped.

you should have known better.

a/n: i’m so sorry. also that line in the beginning about him always knowing where you are….yeah :)

get ready for kyle to suffer in part two hehe

thanks for reading! comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #i think this is more than 1.2k bc i edited it again 😭#kyletogazwrites

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yuri-is-online · 3 days

Note

I know you're not doing requests, but I love to Ramble Aceyuu thoughts with you (and just imagine me scattering aceyuu birdfeed for the lovelies to nibble on too)

But! For a few weeks now, Yuu's been, well, "harassed" probably isn't the right word, but there's a MobStudent from Pomefiore who just keeps on asking them out. Because the NRC guys are so quick to fight, Yuu's been trying to be gentle with their rejections, but c'mon man, gentle doesn't mean subtle! Take a hint!

Eventually PomMob gets frustrated and asks why Yuu won't date them, do they have a boyfriend already? Instantly Yuu snaps balcony with a "Yes, actually! I'm dating Ace Trappola!"

Yuu doesn't know why they had to say Ace's name (they do know, actually. But they'll die before telling Ace the reason his name was on their mind) and when telling Ace about this, they try and play it off as no big deal. "You swore off dating because it was a hassle, so it's not like I'm cockblocking you or anything!" (The Heartslaybul students watching this go down are all mentally going "Well no, but yes, actually" to eachother). Look, Ace helping you out, especially in warding off some guy who can't take a "no" was never in question. You both know you'd be the first to help the other. What is the question, however, is whatever Ace did that was so awful the Seven felt it was right to answer his wishes of Yuu asking him to be their boyfriend with the cruel twist of if being a fake relationship. He agrees, as much as part of him would love to see you squirm in trying to explain to PomMob about you lie, he's been trying to get the guys to agree to jumping PomMob with him for some time if he kept not getting the hint (and if this as close as he gets ro dating you? Well, Ace always takes an opportunity when he sees it).

Meanwhile, Yuu is just so happy that Ace held their hand to class and PomMob seems to be taking the hint now that they almost forgot they were faking it until Malleus asks if Ace is okay with their nightly walks or should he stop lest your paramour get the wrong idea and as Yuu explains the situation to Malleus do they realise they asked their crush to be their boyfriend, he said yes but only because its pretend. Malleus doesn't get why Yuu's so upset but tries to orchestrate a real love match for his bestie anyways.

Fast forward five years as Deuce walks into Aceyuu's apartment, seeing one on the others' lap cuddling and just goes "you know PomMob is like, engaged now, right? You can stop pretneding" (Honestly, Aceyuu forgot the pretend part like, 2 weeks into the plan and just never told anyone).

:D I already see you that way furu, I am always happy to receive your breadcrumbs. As should be the aceyuu stans! they are always very good everyone say "thank you" to furu ٩(๑`^´๑)۶

Fake dating isn't my favorite trope but... the idea of aceyuu just going out to get someone off yuu's back and then like. Not ever fake breaking up. It is the exact type of classic dumbassery they would participate in, Ace shifts from joking to how he doesn't have time to date because he's "taking care of you" to joking about how you can't break up because "who else will take care of you this good." And you know what? You agree. He's stuck with you now. And he isn't complaining.

Deuce is though you could have at least told him.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trapolla x reader #ace trapolla x yuu #aceyuu #talkin w a friend

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calaisreno · 1 day

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Three Women Perplex the British Government

1362 words / Prompt: Journey / A sequel to Sixth Sense. (Just in case you were wondering what Molly decided to do!)

---

He doesn’t recognise the woman standing before him. His mother trained him well, though, so he rises and gestures at the chair.

“Please.” He glances at Anthea, who is giving him an inscrutable look from the doorway. The one that says he’s offended her in some way that she will neither admit nor explain.

Anthea closes the door. Mycroft regards the woman, who is still standing.

“Please,” he repeats, giving her a generic smile.

His visitor is regarding him as well. Studying him. No smile. “I’d rather not.”

She’s a tiny woman, and he’s a tall man. If she would only sit down, he could sit as well, and it would not feel so much like he’s bullying her. That’s not his style, at least not with women. Small women, dressed in hand knit jumpers.

He has no idea what she wants, but is afraid that some persuasion might be necessary. Not the bullying he reserves for his brother, or even the subtle manipulation he aims at John Watson, a difficult man to intimidate.

“Miss…?” He feels like he ought to know her.

“Molly Hooper,” she says. “We haven’t met. I’m—”

“Yes, of course. Doctor Hooper. How can I help you?” He looks down at her, desperately wishing she’d take the chair. “I should thank you,” he remembers to say. “Your help was greatly appreciated. I hope my brother expressed that to you.”

“I’m here about John Watson.”

“Ah.” He narrows his eyes, anticipating the outburst of sentiment she will unleash. “I’m maintaining surveillance on him. You need not concern yourself about any retribution against him. He is safe.”

“It’s not that,” she replies, folding her arms across her chest and glaring. She’s about as intimidating as a kindergarten teacher, but she’s making him uneasy.

He should have anticipated this. Sherlock assured him that she would play her part well, and Mycroft himself managed the business about the body. But even a goldfish might have a conscience, especially if other goldfish are asking questions.

“Are you receiving any scrutiny over your part in the plan? That can be handled.”

“No, it’s fine. What I mean is, John isn’t coping well with Sherlock’s death.”

“Ah. My brother asked you to assist him in keeping Doctor Watson in the dark, and you’re feeling guilty that you know things which he does not. I assure you that we considered all possible scenarios, and none of them involved taking Doctor Watson into our confidence.”

“Why not?”

“Doctor Watson is a soldier. He is used to death and equipped to handle grief.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she says, glaring in earnest now. “It’s been months. Have you seen him?”

“My people are keeping a weather eye on him.”

“But you haven’t called on him?”

“He would not appreciate hearing from me, Doctor Hooper. I’m afraid my concern will not help him.”

She closes her eyes briefly, shaking her head. “You made a mistake. You and Sherlock.”

“There were not many options before us.”

“Was it you or Sherlock who decided not to tell him?”

“My brother has a great deal of sentiment for Doctor Watson. I’m afraid I had to dissuade him.”

Her voice raises. “Because he loves John?”

“Doctor Watson is not…” He considers how he should word it, decides that being forthright will end this conversation sooner. “My brother’s feelings are not returned. Cannot be returned. Sherlock is gay, and Doctor Watson is not.”

“How do you know?”

“He has stated this publicly several times. Sherlock knows as well. In order to undertake the task he set for himself, it was necessary to leave him behind. I have no doubt that the doctor will meet a lovely woman and be married before long.”

“I don’t care what label you put on him. He loved Sherlock, and it’s killing him that he’s dead. He has PTSD. When they met, he was suicidal. If anything happens to him—”

“Miss Hooper. If you are considering breaking your promise, I must warn you. This matter involves branches of our government whose existence is unknown to most people. I would hate to—”

“Don’t threaten me, Mr Holmes,” she says. “At this point, what is the harm in telling him? If there are still snipers trailing after him, you haven’t done a very good job, have you? And if there aren’t any snipers, there’s no reason not to tell him.”

He has erred. This woman is no goldfish.

And Anthea keeps asking him about Watson, suggesting that it’s time he knew.

And then there’s this other woman. Mary Morstan, she calls herself. A complication. She vexes him.

“Very well,” he says. “I will handle it.”

---

“Well, I’m back,” John says.

The headstone is silent, as it should be. John Watson does not look like a man who expects an answer from a block of marble. He squares his shoulders and stands at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back.

“I’m back again,” he repeats. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

He looks uneasy, Mycroft thinks. A confession, then.

“When you died, I thought I’d never… find myself again. I wasn’t good, not for a long time. Maybe that would surprise you.” He smiles grimly. “Well, you’re beyond surprise now, so I may as well say what I didn’t say the first time I came here. No, I’m not going to ask again. I know there’s not going to be any miracle. You’re not… coming back.”

He lowers his face into his hand. For a moment his shoulders shake. Mycroft waits.

Drawing a deep breath, he raises his head. “So, this is it. What I should have told you… when it might have made a difference. Maybe it wouldn’t have, but I wish I’d said, just in case… well. I love you. I always did.” Choking back a sob, he continues. “You didn’t do that, though. No sentiment. Caring’s not an advantage. Yeah. But I did. Love you.”

The sentiment is so thick, it’s almost nauseating. Mycroft desperately wants a cigarette. Reminding himself of what he’s here to do, he waits.

“Once, I asked you for a miracle. But there aren’t any miracles, at least not for us. And now…” John wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his jumper. “Now it’s time. I know I’ll never be over you, never forget what it was like… but I’m alive, and I think I have to do something to stay that way. Get on with it, try to have a life without you.” He clears his throat and sniffs. “I met somebody. She isn’t you, but I think you would have liked her, that she would’ve been the one who finally passed muster. I know she would’ve liked you. So, I’m giving it a go, asking her. To marry me, I mean.”

He makes a sound that might be a laugh, or maybe a sob. “I have to try,” he says. “I wish… well, it’s no use. I love you, but you’re not here. And I just can’t be alone forever. So.” He straightens his back, nods at the black marble. “This is goodbye, Sherlock.”

As he turns, Mycroft steps out. John’s eyes widen, then narrow with suspicion.

“Doctor Watson,” he says. “There are several things you need to know.”

—-

When he opens the door of his office, Anthea is waiting for him.

“Well?”

“You were right.” He sighs and meets her eyes. “Good call.”

The look on her face softens into a barely-detectable smile. “I’ve taken care of the Morstan woman. Extradition is underway.”

“She was…?”

“Yes. Different name, but she’d done several jobs for him. The Americans will be glad to have her back. She won’t be visiting us any time soon.”

He nods, suddenly weary, and sinks into his chair. Too much sentiment, too much emotion. It’s exhausting. “Now we only need to bring my brother home.”

“We’ve received word this morning that he’s on his way to to Serbia.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Intercept him. We’ll let Baynes and his team handle that. Sherlock needs to come home.”

Her smile broadens. “As you wish.”

The door closes behind her.

“Good journey, brother,” he whispers. “No more surprises.”

---

Read / comment on AO3

#mayprompts2024 #mycroft holmes #molly hooper #anthea #mary morstan

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the-offside-rule · 2 days

Text

Zhou Guanyu (Stake Sauber) - Oblivious

Requested: NO BUT WE NEED MORE ZHOU CONTENT

Warnings: y/n being a complete idiot

GIF from @jamesvowles

Zhou Guanyu adjusted his sunglasses as he stepped into the cozy little coffee shop nestled in the corner of their favorite street. The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wafted through the air, making him smile. He glanced around, quickly spotting Y/n at their usual corner table, engrossed in a book. "Hey, Y/n." He called out, walking over and taking a seat across from her. Y/n looked up, her face breaking into a bright smile. "Zhou! You're right on time."

"Wouldn't miss it." He replied, returning her smile. He waved at the barista, signaling their usual orders. "So, what's the book today?" He asked. "It's a mystery novel." She said, closing the book and setting it aside. "You know me, always trying to solve things before the characters do." He smiled. "Yeah, you always were the clever one," he said, leaning forward slightly. "So, any plans for the weekend?"

"Not really. Just the usual, maybe a movie marathon. What about you?" Y/n shrugged. "Actually, I was thinking-" Zhou began, choosing his words carefully, as Y/n looked up from her book in curiosity. "It would be nice to do something together. Maybe go for a walk in the park, or catch that new movie you've been talking about." Y/n set her book aside, beaming. "That sounds fun! I always enjoy hanging out with you." Zhou felt a flicker of disappointment at her casual tone but pressed on. "You know, Y/n, there's something special about spending time with you. It's like… you make everything better."

"Aww, thanks, Zhou. You're such a good friend." She said, patting his hand across the table. Zhou chuckled softly, trying to keep his frustration in check. "Of course, I am a good friend." He repeated. "But sometimes, I wish you could see me as more than that." Y/n tilted her head, a puzzled look crossing her face. "More than a friend? Like a best friend?" Zhou took a deep breath, deciding to be more direct. "Y/n, what if I told you that I like you? Like, really like you." Y/n blinked, clearly taken aback. "Wait, what?"

"I like you, Y/n." Zhou said, his voice steady but gentle. "More than just as a friend." For a moment, Y/n sat in stunned silence, processing his words. "You… like me? As in… you have feelings for me?" Zhou nodded, watching her intently. "Yes, exactly. I've been trying to drop hints, but I guess I wasn't clear enough." Y/n's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my gosh, Zhou, I had no idea! I thought you were just being your usual sweet self."

Zhou smiled, relieved to finally have everything out in the open. "I was being my sweet self because I care about you a lot. And I wanted to see if maybe you felt the same way." Y/n's expression softened, and she reached across the table to take his hand. "Guanyu, I… I'm surprised, but in a good way. I never realized… but now that I think about it, maybe I've been feeling the same way too." Zhou's heart soared at her words. "Really?"

Y/n nodded, a shy smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, really. I guess I just needed a little nudge to see it." Zhou laughed, his relief turning into joy. "Well, I'm glad I finally said something. So, what do you say we organise a date?" Y/n squeezed his hand, her eyes twinkling. "I'd like that, Guanyu. I'd like that a lot."

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #f1 x reader #zhou guanyu #zhou guanyu x reader #zhou guanyu x you #zhou guanyu x y/n #zhou guanyu imagine #zhou guanyu oneshot #guanyu zhou #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic

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sakuraspoke · 1 day

Text

crying is crucial // papa emeritus iv x gn!reader

summary: after trying to keep your emotions under control, you finally break down. copia finds you & tries to comfort you in your pain.

tags/details: sfw. 960 words. angst & emotional hurt/comfort, reader is depressed - their past hurt is alluded to but not detailed. it's basically just copia being a soft, loving angel & knowing exactly what to say.

full transparency - i wrote this during a recent low, after a conversation with a friend, as an attempt to express what i wish someone (namely copia) would say to me in a moment like this. hopefully it resonates in some way & brings some comfort if you need it 🖤

dedicated to sweetest one @conjuring-ghouls for being my ✨ test reader ✨ and really encouraging me. thank you for talking me out of my comfort zone, friend.

a big thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers & to @foxybouquet whose brilliant italian masterlist is incredibly informative & has taught me so many precious new words.

You hadn't cried like this in a long time.

It wasn't unusual for you to feel down. Depression was something you'd lived with for as long as you could remember, but for the most part you managed to keep it at arm's length and not let it rule your life.

Today, though... Today was different.

You don't know what triggered it exactly. All you know is that since you woke up this morning, you had been haunted by that familiar lump in your throat, that burning sensation behind your eyes, the telltale signs of lingering sadness ready to spill over, and just tried to stave it off long enough to get through the day. Until, curled in a ball on your bed that night, you let it happen. You let the sobs come and the tears fall, soaking the side of your face and the pillow underneath you.

And that's how he finds you.

"Darling," you hear Copia call from the hallway, "Where are you amo-"

Shit. You hadn't heard him come in.

He knew you struggled, he knew about the anxiety and the sadness that lived somewhere within you, but he'd never witnessed you in this state. And while everything in you is screaming to not let him see you so broken... you can't move. The sadness weighs you down like an anvil in your chest and you remain where you are, pulling your legs in tighter to yourself as if to become smaller. To disappear.

"Amore?" he says quietly as he steps into the room, softly gasping when he spots you, your body wracked by sobs. He's quickly at your side, trying to disguise the panic in his voice as he asks, "What is it?"

You can only sniffle in response. Your words evading you.

"Oh, amore..." he whispers. You feel his weight shift on the bed as he lays down beside you, brushing your hair from your face and gently encouraging you to look at him. "Please... Talk to me."

You take his gloved hand and hold it against your cheek, still silent, just focusing on the feeling of him while you gather yourself. You can't quite manage to look at him yet, but after a few quiet moments you speak.

"I've just been thinking about how... hard it's all been..." you tell him, your voice slightly hoarse.

"How hard what has been, tesoro?" Copia softly encourages, stroking your tear-stained cheek with his thumb.

"My... life," you say between shallow breaths. "Sometimes... sometimes I wonder why... why all these bad things have... happened and I just..."

Oh no. It's happening. What was left of any kind of composure is gone. Your chest heaves and you begin to choke on your sobs as you try to explain yourself.

"It feels like i-it should be... easy by n-ow. People tell me I'm so strong and... I a-am but... I don't want to... h-have to be... all the ti-ime..."

Copia just listens, offering a gentle shhhh when your tears overcome your words again, pulling your body closer to his and laying your head on his chest. You stay like that for a little while, with him gently stroking your face, your arms, your hair, as you try to follow the soft pattern of his breathing to calm your own.

"We all need to cry sometimes, amore mio," he offers gently, breaking the silence. "It's... You see, cuoricino, I could sit here for hours and tell you how strong you are, how capable and bright you are. I could tell you over and over again how well you're doing, or how I admire you... and all of these things are true, sì? But, sometimes..." he pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Sometimes what you really need to hear is, 'That's right. Those things weren't fair, and you are allowed to cry about it'. In fact, you need to cry about it. È cruciale!" he states, the sing-song inflection in his final word breaking through the fog and making you giggle.

But then you really take his words in, overwhelmed by the warmth with which he speaks to you and, as hard as you try to keep it together, you can't help but break down again.

With this Copia sits up slightly, and wordlessly guides your legs over his so he can cradle you properly. He feels your pain so acutely that it makes his heart ache, but he knows he needs to be steady for you right now.

"I'm here," he tells you, his voice shaking slightly, immediately betraying his intended steadiness. "I've got you... This is okay. You're okay... You're okay," he whispers, rocking you gently. "You are strong, amore. Of course you are strong... But you don't need to think about that right now. All you need to do is sit here with me, and let yourself feel what you feel."

So you do. Safe in the arms of your Papa, you let yourself feel. When another wave of sobs overwhelms you, Copia just holds you tighter and continues to rock you against his body. The voice in the back of your mind telling you that you don't deserve this love threatens to rear its ugly head but right now you're too far away to hear it. Not even the loudest, ugliest corners of your insecurity are a match for the peace you feel with him.

You're not sure how long you're there for, but Copia never stops holding you. The physical crash after such an intensely emotional episode hits you hard and you feel your body becoming heavier, imploring yourself to just go to sleep and draw a line under this day. Just as you are drifting off, you hear him quietly repeat himself.

"I've got you. You're okay."

#1 hour later: editing bc i messed up on ao3 and got the word count wrong :')#copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #fuck ok #DID IT #v nervous because i haven't posted any writing in YEARS #i used to post [redacted] ~oneshots~ all the time back in the day #alas i am now an Overthinker™#impulsively posted it on ao3 before i had the chance to chicken out #but that was enough putting myself out there for one week #papa emeritus iv #copia

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dahldahlbills · 6 months

Text

nano days 29 + 30

29- 856; 30- 722

Total word count: 36,770; 30,506 towards main wip!

*lies down on floor* i did it

#I mean. i reached my goal so there’s that #feelin more tired than accomplished #BUT I’m glad I’ve made as much progress as I have!#that’s 30k words more than i had last month!!#wrote 28/30 days so I’d say i did a p solid job #i wish i could say i would take a break from looking at this word doc for at least a week #but i left off in the middle of a scene so i need to get that done before taking a proper break lol #but at least I won’t feel bad abt not having high word counts moving forward #now accepting congratulatory hugs btw #dahl does nano 23

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ciaoteamo · 2 months

Text

Milk and Water Pt. II

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: the aftermath of letting him in

pt.I

(art credits: @yunonoaii)

warnings: 18+ content

“…what. the. fuck.” You mutter to yourself, watching the scene before you unfold.

“mmm, how about letting me in now? promise i won’t bite you too hard” His eyes were dangerously seductive.

Your desktop fan and the slight rustling sound of (what you could only assume was) him touching himself filled the eerie silence of your office space.

However, he could still tell that you were hesitant to let him in, especially considering what he just did to D.D.D.

“how about this, sweetheart we-“

“if i open this door.” You cut him off. He shuts up quickly and halts his movements with a blank stare. His eyes watching you intently.

“you come straight to me, or else i swear to fuck. it will not be a good time for you. you copy?” Your hands were firmly grasping the edge of the desk as you stared the man in his color changing eyes.

“i promise” He kisses the window and you give him one last short lived glare before unlocking the door for him.

BZZT!

He slowly turns away from you and walks toward the door and you felt relieved to hear a light knock a few seconds later before he let himself in.

“see? you can trust the milkman” He grins.

He was a mess. Between the torn clothing, the blood, and his unzipped slacks that displayed his black briefs holding back a huge bulge, he honestly looked like something out of a wet dream.

“this is quite a small space… you think i’ll be alright in here?” He closed the door behind himself and strides toward you.

“you don’t have any choice but to be alright” You retort and he chortles.

“i love this mouth of yours… i’ve never crossed paths with a human as bold as you…” He tilts his head, placing a hand under your chin to lift it a bit.

“unless you’re actually scared… and using this boldness as a tactic..?” His irises turn white once again and his grip on your chin tightened slightly.

Though you were enduring a near death experience right now, being that you were this close to a doppelgänger, you were unbelievably horny.

“tactics?” You start. You already knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to get out of his grip just by moving, so you used a more… inappropriate approach.

You took a step closer to him, closing in the 2 foot gap that sat between the two of you and you placed your palm over his hard-on.

His grip immediately loosened a bit and his fingers twitched against your skin. What a reaction that was…

You feel more confident, realizing that he’s just another horny good looking guy. “is there a reason i should be afraid of you?” You ask, hand squeezing around him and a finger rubbing his tip.

He shudders and his hand falls from your chin and rests around your throat. His forehead tapped against yours, and your eyes were fixed on each other. “…you really are something”

“wish i could say the same for you“ You start, breaking the eye contact to look at his lips and sharp canines. “you’re just a slutty and messy excuse of a monster” Your words would probably be venom to anyone else, but this only riled him up more.

You felt his throbbing under your palm and grin to yourself before being greedily pulled into a kiss. For a brief moment, you could taste a metallic bloody taste on his tongue.

You moaned at the warmth of his mouth and felt his hands rested on your hips, rubbing circles into the area.

You release yourself from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth and a smile. “desperate, are we?” You tease.

“painfully…” His eyes glistened. “what’ll it take to get those pretty lips to go a little lower?”

“show me what yours can do first and i’ll see about returning the favor” You challenge. His eyes go back and forth between yours before he kisses you again.

This time however, he started to undo your uniform. Groaning so deeply that you felt the rumble in your throat. His skilled hands loosened your belt and your slacks came down and off.

Next he lowered himself and lifted you a bit to get off your socks and shoes, making him get more sloppy and needy within the kiss.

At this point he was squatting and you were standing over him, holding both sides of his face. His hands travelled up and down your leg as he stayed in his position and this time, he’s the one to break the kiss.

You were both breathing heavily, and staring each other down. You almost forgot your resolve and let him fuck you right then and there.

But you had to stay strong, for both of you guys’ sake. You take a deep breath in and til your head.

“well, you gonna show me? or are just sit there and look delirious from a simple kiss?” You teased.

“…may i?” He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, gesturing toward your leg.

“go ahead”

“hold on to something right”

“why am i h- shit!” You would’ve fell right to the ground if it wasn’t for the shelf behind you that held last months documents. Albeit, they’re scattered over the floor now.

Your legs were snatched from underneath you and each one was hooked over the man’s shoulders. His warm breath against you felt sinister. It sent a slight chill up your spine.

His eyes stared down at your sex and he licked his lips, looking more excited than you did for this. “don’t let go” He says before using gis fingers to spread you sticky lips.

His tongue pressed hard into you and drug from your hole, up to your clit. You bit your lip at the warmth and felt your back arch against your will.

“ha~ this all you got? Thought you said you’d be bet- anghh~!” Your eyes widen and your mouth drops at the new feeling below.

“you were saying?” He mumbles into you. His tongue was longer with a pointy tip, and his lips were wrapped tightly around your clit.

The pleasure was almost overwhelming. You could definitely admit that he made you eat your words and replace them with loud endless moans.

As you felt yourself getting closer you began to grind your hips over his face, chasing after your high.

“don’t stop” You could barely get out the last word before the wave of immense overstimulating pleasure came over you.

You curse and take in a few deep breaths, calming yourself down a bit, and only then did he let your clit go with a ‘pop’, making your legs to twitch.

“that wasn’t fair” You jokingly glare at him, the sweat making your skin shine and chilly from the fan air.

“i told you i was better” He wipes his chin with his thumb and licks it clean without breaking the eye contact.

“you have to be some sort of… sex demon” You shake your head in disbelief.

“maybe i am?” He lets you tug him closer by his tie and give him another sloppy kiss. The change in size of his tongue being just below too much for you as it explored your mouth.

“well let’s see how long you can last then… hm?” You ask, beginning to leave a trail of light kisses on his next before a harsh bite.

You could feel him shudder and decided to have him sit in your office chair. “let me borrow this..” You say, undoing his tie while he sat.

You spin the chair around and bring both of his arms to the back and tie them to the chair. When you spin his back around, his had such a mischievous grin that you went ahead and addressed.

“yes, i know you could probably get out of that in a heartbeat” You start and roll your eyes. He chuckles, amused at your awareness. “but, will you?” It was your turn to put on the sly grin now. The second he managed to break free from his restraint, would be the moment you’d send him off.

“…” He read your face, bit knowing if he should say something sly or not.

“right, thought so” You smile and give him a few taps on the cheek.

You kneel between the man’s legs, finally addressing the large and throbbing penis before you.

“god you’re hard… you weren’t kidding when you said you needed help” You joke, rubbing his wet tip through his boxers with you finger.

He grunted a bit and readjusted himself in his seat. You look up at him before pressing harshly on it with your thumb.

“oh fuck you~” He throws his head back and you giggle.

You reach for the hem of his briefs and tug at them, signaling him to lift his hips. Once he’s exposed, you could really see the girth and length of him.

He was veiny, thick… bright pink tip, and god knows how long it was.

You put your hand around the base, it was warm and nearly pulsating. Your pace was moderate, giving him just enough to work with. You knew it was a nice steady pace when his hips slightly jerked up for more friction.

“needy boy wanting to fuck my hand? this wasn’t even the main event you asked for, love” You coo, strengthening the grip you had on him by a smidge.

“i can’t help that you know how to use those hands of yours so well” He remarks, still facing the ceiling.

You pump your fist higher up and use your own skilled tongue to drag along his vein.

“@$?!~” He moaned and immediately looked down at you with a snarl. An almost threatening one telling you that he wanted more.

And were you planning on giving it to him? Absolutely not.

You stare right back at him and smirk, using the same motion and occasionally sucking the pre cum from its leaky pink source.

“i’m gonna cum” Your eyes welled a bit at the large shaft triggering your gag reflex. But he was close so you would endure the slight pain.

His thrust his hips up a few times and you force your head as far as you could before completely stopping.

“fuck- why’d you stop” His voice was almost a whisper and suddenly thick white ropes shot into the air and landed on his thigh.

“oh i’m sorry, i’ll keep going” You reach for his most sensitive spots, overstimulating him into a nervous laughter as he begged you to stop.

It was fun watching him experience more than he could handle, but all good things come to an end.

He sighs in relief, sweaty, heaving, and dazed.

“can i be freed now?” He asks.

“sure, why not. looks like you’re done here anyway” You shrug.

“who’s done?” He stands up, simply snapping the tie apart.

“oh… you’ve still got more in you?”

“im the milkman, i never run out” He suddenly picks you up and sits on you on the desk. Jesus, these things are strong.

You wrap your hands around your neck, suddenly feeling the arousal for another round yourself.

His hands find your slick entrance, teasing the outside and slipping two cold slender fingers into you.

“mmm!” You mean into the kiss, holding onto his forearm as he fingered you at an inhumane pace. You break away and cat h your breath trying to slow him down a bit.

“i don’t want to cum from this, put it in” You say.

“yes ma’am” He lines himself up without your entrance and slowly pushes himself in with a moan. You could every centimeter of the stretch as he went deeper.

You tapped the back of your head onto the window behind you and felt him kissing on your neck and collarbone.

“fuck you’re big” Your voice slightly shook as you stated the obvious.

“and you’re so warm and wet inside, i ashamed to admit that i almost came putting it in” He chuckled before biting back another groan.

RIIIIING

You snap your head in the direction of the phone and see D.D.D. calling.

Shit.

“stop, i have to take this.” He halts his thrusts and you grab the phone. “hello?”

“agent number” A deep voice says over the phone.

“5 5 8 4 3 7” You state clearly.

“thank you agent (Y/N), we’re calling about a few M.I.A. cleaners? it says in our system that you were the last to call. is everything alright?”

“ye-es~” You feel something rubbing your g-spot and look over at Francis. ‘stop, now.’ You mouth silently. He just smirks and speeds up.

“are you sure? you sound like you’re being threatened” The man on the phone asks.

“mhm~, im fine sir, just a little shaky” You put your hand over the phone speaker and look at Francis.

“what the fuck is wrong with you??” You ask, interrupting yourself with a few moans.

“just a little thirsty for some water” He thrusts harder, causing him to hit your g-spot, and your clit back to back.

You cover your mouth with your shirt and moan into it, hearing the buzz of a voice on the phone. Honestly you should be scared, they could show any minute, but right now, you could care less.

“im gonna cum” You whisper, still being mindful of the potential listeners.

“yeah?” He grabs a young and stands straight up, slamming you down into his cock. You let out something just short of a scream into the crook of his neck and find yourself twitching and shaking in his grip.

You heard a splash and felt him fill you up with his seed. You both were a moaning, groaning mess, heavily breathing in place.

“(Y/N), do you copy?……. we’re on our way” The phone then hangs up and the low buzzy voice is replaced with a prominent beep.

“you have to go, they’re coming” You lazily try to leave his strong hold with a tired push against his chest.

“but first” He puts you back on the desk where you rest your back against the cold glass window. “a drink..” His tongue grows longer right infont of you, and cleans you from your ankles to your navel, and of course he ran it over the bundle of nerves he’s been abusing all night, making your body jolt.

“you’re so delicious… i wish i could always taste you” His tongue goes back to its normal size.

“well i’ll get going now… i’ll be seeing you again soon, love. i’ll try not to cause too much trouble next time…” He gives you a peppery kiss on the nose and leaves.

Well, that’s one way to end your day shift…

#ciaoteamo #x reader #imagine #smut #milkman smut #milkman x reader #milk the man #milkman #thats not my neighbor #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses

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yanderenightmare · 4 months

Text

TW: yandere, noncon, size/strength difference

gn reader

Thinking about breaking things off with your fuck friend 'cause you feel he's been catching feelings you have no intention of pitching...

“Why.” He asked, and the cross you’d made on your fingers in a wish to avoid the entire conversation untangled with a sigh.

“Please, don’t act dumb.” You groaned, exasperated and slightly irked. “You know why….”

“No. Tell me.” He argued, and you sighed again in regret of your own common decency – wishing you’d taken the entire break-off over text instead, or at the very least taken the time to think about what you would say or do if and when he got this way.

“You...”

You hesitated, taking a second to decide whether or not you really ought to voice it out loud – not because you had any doubts of it being true – but because the man in front of you was still very much a large brawny beefcake with temper issues no matter your sneaking suspicion that he saw you as something more than just a fuck friend.

“You’re getting too...” You continued, still scrambling for better words. Coming up short. “Clingy.”

He paused, his expression going from searching to a mix of offended and scrutinous.

“Clingy?” He repeated, forced disbelief a present factor in his tone. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who clings to me- screaming my name- begging me to cum inside you and-”

You cut his rant off with yet another sigh accompanied by a shake of your head. “That’s not what I mean by clingy. I’m sorry, I should have said emotional, and your comment just proved that.”

You folded your arms across your chest, watching him reel.

“Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. We’re done.”

You left him on the sofa to go put your shoes back on – admonishing yourself for coming inside in the first place when you could have just as quickly done this on the doorstep and walked away.

“You're not going anywhere until we talk this through.” He followed, his stronger hand latching onto your upper arm in a grip that was unnecessarily harsh.

You didn’t really mind, though – it was his lack of charm that had charmed you to begin with – you only wished he’d remained that same savage he was and not gone all lovey-dovey soft on you.

“There's nothing to discuss.” You felt as though you were repeating yourself, getting more annoyed by the fact. “It was fun; now it isn't.” You underlined, looking back into his eyes, cringing when seeing the gloss of something that you really hoped wouldn’t amount to tears while you were still there.

“I'm gonna need more than that.” He said, the grip on your arm still kept firm with no inclination of letting up.

You didn’t really want things to get more awkward by asking him to let you go – feeling as though maintaining the position of strength was important so he not mistake your resolution.

He had a nasty habit of never taking you seriously.

“You’re being childish.” You stated.

“Childish?!”

His grip tightened with his outburst, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have your heart jump to your throat.

"Let go of me." Your voice had significantly diminished.

"You think you can tease me like this and then tell me to piss off?” He seethed, your arm aching in the bruising grip he had on it as he pulled you close until your face was an inch from his. “Think again."

Your breath thinned under his glare, and you felt nearly too stiff to do anything except stare back up at him in wait.

“Calm down.” You tried, but it seemed choice words were too little too late to save you.

“I am calm.” He hissed back into your face before pulling you back to the sofa.

Throwing you down on your back – you didn’t even have the time to gasp before he was on top of you.

“Get off me-” You whined, your hands shooting forth – trying with all your might to heave him off, but ultimately amounting to nothing more than a slight annoyance to the much larger man on top.

“It's all about sex with you, right? You want to have fun, right?” He said in a craze, and you cringed while he leaned down to graze your chest with chin-stubble and lips, whispering at your peachfuzz until goosebumps rose. “So let's have some fun.”

“Stop it – I said I don't want to anymore – I’m being serious.” You tried, once again – appealing to his reason.

But it would seem he was beyond reason…

“Oh? You're being serious?” He mocked with a sneer and a laugh. “You don't look it. If you want me to stop so badly, then stop me. Come on~ try a little harder. Show me how serious you are.”

You’re not sure why you took him up on the challenge, as you’d long known of your differences in build – how you posed as much of a threat as a bug in a mason jar...

But even a bug will try to escape still after the lid has been sealed.

“Come on~ you're not even trying~” He grossly crooned, smiling at your pitiful attempt at twisting him off with the useless help of your silly hands – how your much smaller body writhed beneath his weight and tried wriggling free.

Laughing dryly, he took your hands by the wrists and pinned them to the cushion beneath you. Sagging over you, his breath fanned your lips.

“What was I to you, huh?” He asked in a murmur, his face blank but his eyes swirling. “Just a toy?”

You were afraid to breathe, only keeping your gaze terror-wide of what he might do – still grasping to fathom how he’d even felt possessed enough to do this much – confused as to how you’d missed the signs while having not a single clue what more he was capable of.

“Guess now you're my toy, huh...” He muttered coldly.

And you just couldn’t help the whimper that it tore from you – finally understanding exactly what position you were in.

The disorienting knowing of what was soon to happen dawned on you mercilessly – and you completely broke under the hefty weight it had.

“Oh? You’ gonna cry now?” He scoffed before hissing. “That's cute, seeing as I’m the one who’s had his heart stepped on.”

“S-stop it, get off me-” You cried, whole body shaking where you squirmed to no use nor end.

“Not so cold-hearted now, are yah, fuckin' bitch?” Was all he had to say while leaning into where thick streams of tears rapidly ran down your cheeks in stingy streaks. “You scared?” He whispered in licks at your ear. “Gonna start begging, hm?”

You only shook – eyes squeezed tightly to a close.

“Nah…” His tone scraped, similar to how the shaven stubble on his chin scratched lightly against your neck as he started placing small kisses there despite your whines. “'Cause you want this too. I know you do.” He insisted. “You're just scared I'll break your little heart at some point.”

You’re breath hitched as his hands parted with its twin – leaving it to keep your wrists pinned by itself as the other one traveled down between your bodies to undo your zipper.

You wanted to say something, but you were too scared to – listening to him and his lovesick speech – full of so many things you feared could trigger much sicker things.

“But I promise you that no one’s heart is gonna break here.” He vowed, still with his lips pressed wetly against your throat. “Not yours or mine.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Shinso, Kirishima

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo

HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Isagi

AOT – Eren

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere csm #yandere aot

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casiia · 5 months

Text

༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; newlyweds.

warnings .: x reader, smut, mdni 18+, afab! reader, v! penetration, heavily unedited

.: masterlist.

simon was not thrilled when you told him you didn’t want to sleep with him before the wedding, something about it being “bad luck”. at first he didn’t understand but he was willing to oblige, sleeping in the guest room didn’t sound too bad; although he didn’t like the idea of sleeping in a cold bed while you were just a room away — but fighting with you was never a battle he won.

except, when you clarified that you didn’t want to ‘fuck’ before your wedding, he was not having it. he couldn’t stop the baffled laugh that slipped from his lips. it didn’t make sense, you weren’t a virgin; he had the pleasure of stuffing you full of his cock many times while dating. to say he was confused was an understatement.

but, what the bride wants, the bride gets. so weeks go by where simon has to take care of his growing problem by himself; just to tease you, and hopefully make you regret your decision, he’ll get off in bed, right before you go to sleep.

simon will have you watch the way he tugs at his cock with need, his head tilted back with grunts and an uneven breath. his chest heaving as thick ropes of his cum spurt onto his exposed abdomen. he’ll give you a sly smirk before climbing out of bed, his boxers tugged up but hanging too low revealing his v-line.

it takes everything in you to stick to your word, watch every night as simon adds the lewd task into his daily routine. eventually, he’s the one that breaks, the way he stumbles into your shared bedroom and finds you with a hand between your thighs – his name spewing from your lips when you catch sight of him.

he wishes he could say ‘i told you so’ when you’re begging for him, needing to relieve the ache that’s been dwelling in your tummy for so long. he takes one look at your sopping cunt and wonders how long you’ve been trying to stuff your fingers inside of you knowing that they couldn’t reach that gummy spot only he could.

simon shakes his head with a chuckle, taking his time to settle himself between your legs. he kisses your knees, hiking them over his shoulder and winding his arms around your thighs to keep you still. with his thumbs, he’s spreading your folds – a teasing tut and tilt of the head are all you need from him to know that he’ll never let you hear the end of it.

he has to swallow a groan, hard eyes glued to your leaking hole. your juices dribbling from your cunt and dripping onto the bedsheets. “you sure you wanna keep up with your stupid idea? i can make you feel good, take care of you the way you need.” simon asks, almost begging for you to quit being stubborn this once and let him relieve you – to let him fuck you stupid so he can spill his cum deep inside of you instead of wasting it and wiping it off of his chest with a towel.

he just wants to feel your tight cunt wrapped around him, hear your moans as his fat tip nudges against that one spot that makes your walls flutter around his cock. simon’s rutting his hips into the mattress, too lost in his lewd thoughts to hear you reject his suggestion. when he does he’s dropping his head with a low growl.

he never thought he would hate your friends, but he could kill the person who told you about this stupid suspicion. simon is a good boyfriend, he’ll show you how good of a husband he will be too. reluctantly accommodating to your wishes, he stuffs his fingers inside of you instead of his throbbing cock.

oddly enough, he finds himself loving this more. the way your slick coats his hand – his engagement ring. simon is moaning at the sight, his simple soon-to-be wedding band glistening in the dim light as he finger fucks your tight hole.

“aw, honey. s’too much?” he coos, curling his fingers inside of you and pressing his thumb to your clit. he nips at the inside of your thigh and grins at the way your legs tremble, your back arched off the mattress. with his free hand he wraps it around your wrist, squeezing it lightly so you’d loosen your tight grip on the bedsheets below. intertwining your fingers with his, he works you up to another orgasm, talking you through it.

“just like that, baby.” “cum all over my fingers, soak this pretty lil’ ring.”

as much as he enjoys fingering you with his ring on, he loves it when you take a bit of control and take care of him the same way. rubbing over his clothed erection with your left hand, the big diamond on your engagement band looking small next to his sore, hard cock.

simon’s eyes flutter when you squeeze his shaft, precum leaking from his slit and slowly dribbling over your fingers – over your ring, coating the big diamond. he’ll guide your hand up and down his shaft urging you to go quicker, he loves the way your soft hands feel compared to his calloused ones.

he’s bucking his hips upwards into your hand, his head tilted back while he’s whining desperately. simon normally keeps his noises under control but he hasn’t felt your touch in so long.

“fuck, a-ah. can’t wait to marry you and fuck you right.”

his breath hitches when you squeeze his angry red tip, the cool metal of your ring rubbing against his slit. with a deep groan he’s cumming all over your hand; watching with wide eyes, the way your fingers play with his hot, sticky cum.

after your wedding ceremony, simon drags the both of you into the bathroom. shamelessly, he’s bending you over the sink, unzipping his trousers, and hiking your wedding dress up.

“si, we can’t. people are waiting for us.” you squeal when he snaps the garter against your thigh, his rough hands squeezing your hips and pulling your thong down. simon only rolls his eyes, leaning down and spitting on your exposed pussy. he rubs his cock between your folds, using his spit as a lubricant.

“they can wait, m’gonna take care of my wife first.”

how could you say no, especially to your husband?

AN: i know nothing about weddings or marriage, but i heart hubby si

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azullumi · 2 months

Text

"once more to see you" ; aventurine

summary — to him, love was like a religion waiting to be discovered and he’ll find god in the way the sun looks on your skin; alternatively, aventurine thinks he’s rotten work and tiring to take care of but not to you, not if it's him (please get the reference).

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship (but aventurine wants to de-establish it), somewhat fluff, slight angst with comfort, never proofread never what?!!, 1.3k ; ficlet

note — 2.1 broke me (the whole quest knocked at the door of my house, shook my hands, congratulated me, and invited itself into my home before pouring water on my face, slapping me, throwing me around, and left with the door open, all the while, my family watched). this is day 1 of writing for aventurine until i have him.

“you have a lot of moles.” his voice, despite a gentle whisper, tears through the silence of the night like a drop of water that ruptured and disturbed the surface of the pond. “especially here.” he gently taps on your skin; they seem like stars, he swallows the words back down.

you feel aventurine’s finger trace on the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulders, seemingly drawing—or connecting something. it was ticklish, the way he gently drags his hand and ghosts over your skin, a soft laugh slipping past your lips (you’ll capture his touch on your skin as if you were a sinner remembering how forgiveness tasted on your lips). there was something intimate that lingers in the air between you two as you lay in his bed with him, a fleeting moment that will be inked into your mind.

(the both of you leave your titles behind, mixed together with the scattered objects on the floor, laid on the cold ground to be picked up and worn later like a shiny medal even if you weren’t proud to have them.)

“they say it’s where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.” you stir in your position as you speak, coming to face him and meet his pretty jewel-like eyes—how alluring it was, painted with vivid colors yet it never shines. the sound of mirth laughter bubbles from his throat, a pleasant melody to your ears.

he asks, curiosity tracing the tone of his voice, “and from where did you even hear that?” and you shrug, bringing your form closer to him as you seek for more warmth, “i can’t recall. perhaps i heard it from topaz or maybe from one of the members of the ipc? they’re the only ones i often see and talk to.”

“the doctor?” he wraps his arm around your figure, his hand settling on the small of your back.

“that man will only scorn at that idea and call it stupid. he’ll most likely say that ‘only fools would believe such concepts.’” you mimic the way the esteemed doctor spoke, from the serious expression that he always don on his face to the deepening of his voice. your seemingly successful imitation earned a chuckle from the blonde-haired man before you.

“i’m sure he will.”

silence falls between you two and you took this time to adore each and every line of his being. a few strands of hair fall over his eyes—beautiful, captivating, mesmerizing, you could list out every word to describe his eyes but it would never be enough. you had always wondered why he would hide it until you witnessed the reason why he does so.

aventurine seems to study your expression at the same also, a soft look on his face as he did, and you can’t help but be curious. “what are you thinking about?” you ask him, breaking the silence that nurtured itself in the space between you and him.

you, he wishes to answer. how you look at this moment in his embrace: you were wearing one of his shirts, albeit, not exactly to your size but you insisted, saying that you liked it as it smelled like him. how gentle, loving, adoring, you were everything; he looks and thinks of you as if you were his everything (he doesn’t deserve you). but he doesn’t say it—the thought weighs too heavily on his mind, claws at his throat, and suffocates him—, instead he utters something entirely different that creates a shift in the air between you two.

“i don’t think i can do this.” he turns his head to look away from you, staring at the ceiling instead. it seems to extend itself far and far away from him.

the horrible part of being human is the tendency for destruction that lies in your bones. stained palms, calloused pads, despite the gentleness of your touch and the comfort of your caress. the desire to devour flesh and bones, to understand the underlying thoughts and meanings behind words and unexpressed feelings by consuming them. to submerge and drown in the depths of one's despair and desire (too close that the line blurs into one). the horrible part of being him was his tendency to destroy—hesitation and doubt lies in his being and aches at his chest, tugging on his heart’s strings, and settles on his throat—, it’s not like he doesn’t want to hold you, it’s just that he can’t.

“do what?”

“this.” you know exactly what he was referring to, know what he’s afraid of. he has laid himself bare and vulnerable in front of you countless of times that you have memorized the constellations that adorns his skin. you know him, you have known him enough to recognize the fear that tugs on his voice and see the walls that he tries to build up in front of you. you know him enough to know what thoughts are plaguing his mind.

“why do you think so?”

“don’t you think i’m too much to take care of?” he tries not to choke on his words and bite his tongue, careful not to let his voice crack lest he crumbles underneath your caress. i am undeserving of it. worthless. failure. selfish. discarded. coward. loser. nothing. you are bound to leave.

“not for me.” you caress his cheek and guide him to look at you—instead of the ceiling that seems to appear farther than it originally was in each passing second as the walls glean over him like a shadow—, to meet your gaze and see the sincerity that lurks deep within. “never will i get tired of you. so, let me carry your burden.”

he takes a few seconds to answer, uncertainty lingering in his tone: “it’s not yours to have.”

“it may not be.” you answer with no hesitation, “but it doesn’t mean that you must shoulder them alone.”

he opens his mouth to speak but unable to find the words to say, he closes them. there was a moment of stillness shared between you two. comfort, relief, assurance seeps into the ache of his bones and you say something too heavy even for this steady and silent night to hold, the words too much to be held—light spills in like a flood as if it was pouring out from the sun itself.

“i love you.”

“you utter such words as if it’s something easy for you.” as if loving him was just as simple as waking up in the morning and adoring the way the honey-light hugs your form as the dust settles in the corner of your room. when he’s stripped of everything and left with nothing, would you still love him the same? would you still kiss him as gently as you did? would you still hold the shards of his form even if it makes your hand bleed?

you spoke in a gentle yet firm croon, gaze unwavering, “because it is.”

you see the falter in his expression: his face, that once was crumpled, relaxed and so did his gaze soften. and you smile at him with only adoration in your eyes—like a devout follower to a divine being. “are you still afraid?”

“i don’t know.” he whispers.

“it’s alright. you have all the time in the world.” your hand weaves itself into his own, fingers lacing with one another, and you gently squeeze. it was a form of reassurance, a way of telling him that you’re here with him through all of it.

the warmth has settled in your being and you spill yourself into the cracks of his vulnerability. “i love you.” you say once more and you kiss the mark on his neck—lingering and soft as if you wish that it would take all his hurt away. the way he shudders underneath your touch, the hitch of his breath soon followed by a gentle sigh as he cradles you closer to him tells you everything that you wish to hear.

for once, he sleeps as if he had nothing to carry, nothing that shackles him to the stars that forsakes him.

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mellowwillowy · 4 months

Text

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Feat: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Lilia Bonus: Floyd, Jade, Jamil, Rook, Epel, Malleus

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle’s face was almost as red as his hair, not out of anger but rather…

[Oh my gooodddd, stomp those tiny feet again, Riddle! Give me that pout~]

Really… should he do it again? Out of nowhere? Well, let’s take a walk to where you clicked then…

[Yaahhh!! So cuteeee!!!]

Well at least you didn’t think him badly for being angry out of nowhere… whoops, he wasn’t supposed to idle like that.

Ahh, why are you moving on to another character? Cater? That good for nothing? The naughty ADeuce duo? He's almost turning from red to green in envy!

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was supposed to be ticked to the brim but definitely not with you. His ears are red from your nonstop rambling while you keep on poking his avatar right on his ear.

[I wonder how it feels like to play with his ears, ah, maybe I should help you clean it too?]

Don’t. Twitch. Ears. Else the player might notice this and question this one new idle.

[Thinking back, I kinda wanna try stepping on his tail like Yuu too~]

Don’t. Swish. Tail. What? Is he a masochist or what? Well, if it’s for you then he wouldn’t mind it.

Wait wait, why are you checking out Ruggie and Jack now? Hey, what do you mean Ruggie has cuter ears and Jack has a fluffier tail? Why do they look so proud? Are they asking to be minced?

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul might break out of the avatar restraint now. You’ve been talking about how you want to squeeze the kid him, round and plump, you quoted.

Why did you find his past appearance adorable?

[Honestly, I kinda want to lift him and his hiding spot and boil him as a takoyaki filling]

Now that made Floyd and Jade snickered. Azul was internally panicking but his avatar did not show him breaking a single sweat.

[Or maybe gather all his ink whenever he cries]

For your pen?

[But I do think squeezing his plump octomer form is the best~ Oh well, he had lost all those baby fats]

And back to how you ramble about his round self again. This was supposed to be disheartening but why was he blushing?

Wait wait, don't look away from him, no! Why are you going to Floyd? And Jade too? He knew Floyd won your heart but allow him to worm into your heart at the very least. Please let one of his three hearts rest in you!

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim was nodding non-stop at your ramblings, or should he say, wishes. He was really happy that you were taking him as your magic lamp!

[And then, I want you to lace my body with lots of glitters, made of gold!]

No hard task, he just had to grind all that gold into some sort of fairy dust for you!

[Oh! And I want to try swimming in a pool of golden coins like Uncle Scrooge! I wonder if it'll hurt and uncomfortable as I think...]

He was in the same boat with you. You'd have to be careful when diving into the pool! But you can try sleeping on it though you should be careful, just in case the coins swallow you whole!

[And a carpet ride every night~]

Roger that! Tell him more of your wish, will you?

Eh? Why do you stop wishing? No! He will guarantee you that he will make it all come true! Please do not doubt him! Ah... it's because you two are in a different dimension? Screw this barrier that separates you two then.

Vil Schoenheit

Yes, he knew he was unworthy of your praises but he couldn't help but enjoy bathing in it!

[Look at your hair... and that make-up! Wow... truly is the fairest one of all!]

Oh please, no matter how much you compliment him, he could never compete with you beauty-wise! You would always be the true fairest one of all!

[Aha! Look at those heels too, contribute a lot to your height, and make you look so pretty!]

Even a prominent actor like him can't cover his natural reaction which was the growing blush on his face!

Eh? Rook? What does he have to do with him? Too in love with his words more than the beauty in front of you right now? No no no, you must look at him only and no one else!

Idia Shroud

If anything, he was glad his hair did not turn pink! From the way you kept on poking his avatar and patting his head, it made his heart tickled. He was no longer stuttering because the system wanted him to, but because he himself was nervous!

[Oh, show me that one illustration... Kyaaa! Why must you be so cute biting on your sleeve??? It's so inviting!!!]

Ah? That one? He couldn't help but feel embarrassed as you zoomed into his face and examined his hair. Truly, this was too much for his heart!

[Oh oh, and your masquerade costume is so pretty! It makes you look so pretty ffs!]

Ah, it was pretty uncomfortable to wear but he's glad he didn't take it off, not like he can do that anyway. The system won't allow that after all.

Everything feels nice so why are you changing character now? Wait wait! Have you checked his other card? No no no, why is that little shortie fae here? Don't close on him, please! He might want to try hacking your phone soon!

Lilia Vanrouge

Oya? You'd like to dress him up? Kukuku, looks like green and pink would work well on him~

[And... I think we can try curling his long hair, can we change the hue from red to pink like a color wheel?]

...Curling his hair didn't sound bad. Maybe he should try it sometimes and see if it suited him.

[Oh! And I'm gonna hang him upside down like the bat he is! My cute little bat, let's fist-fight!]

You really are an enigma huh? One moment is a sweet and docile lamb then the next moment you are a bull. Hm? Malleus? Why talk about him so sudden? Didn't you say he is your number-one favorite from Diasomnia? So why are you looking at someone else now?

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒:

Floyd Leech

God of Shrimpy~ Keep on poking him, he loves it! Ah, you love his teeth? And his droopy eyes? And his laugh? Hehe, you really love everything about him huh?

So why do you even bother looking at the others? He's going to hug you tight for this silly!

Jade Leech

Ah, he is quite the gentleman, no? Hm? You'd like to keep him as your butler? Why that is quite the generous idea that you allow him to manage your daily life~

With a small dose of love potion in your daily tea every day, he's bound to have you in his arms soon, well, if he ever finds a way to pull you into this twisted wonderland.

Jamil Viper

It truly is an honor to be considered as someone reliable (from babysitting Kalim) and acknowledged as an attendant who could shield you from any danger, truly. He is ready to put his life in line for you so why?

Why are you saying that there's someone else who might fit the position as your attendant more than him? And that person being that slimy eel no less!

Rook Hunt

Ah! This is amazing! To be able to charm you with his words and let him worm into your heart is truly a blessing! Would you like him to write you a poem detailing your beauty?

No no, mon chèri, you shouldn't grace those who are unbefitting of it, don't you think it's a waste to spare the other your grace? Allow this hunter to save you from that trouble.

Epel Felmier

H-huh? You want to dress him up? Naturally, he hates being treated as a doll, a girl no less! But... the idea of you helping him dress and helping him with makeup... he can do this. It is your way of gracing him after all...

Huh? You want to dress Lilia up too? Why? Because he's cuter? Oh no, there's no way there's someone who is prettier than him, look at him, look at how pretty he is in this dress!

Malleus Draconia

If anything, he will always hear you compare him and Riddle to the 'Queen of Heart' and 'Maleficient' from your world. You will praise him for being able to stand on the same level as the actress' beauty which makes him feel giddy.

But boy is he sulking when you start rambling about Riddle and the big-headed Queen. You will dote on him and Riddle back and forth.

Can't you just dote on him?

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reidmotif · 7 days

Text

Dialing up for Trouble

Summary: Reader and Spencer were fuck-buddies, until Spencer cuts her off quite suddenly. A party and some risque images may be enough to get them back to their old routine.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: semi-public sex, sexting, mentions of nude images and descriptions of generic lingerie, masturbation (f!receiving), penetrative sex, semi-dom!spencer

Word Count: 3.5 k

Masterlist

Clichés bothered me. There was no other way to put it. I’d grown up hating the likes of love triangles, meet-cutes, chosen ones, and right now, I was being reminded more than ever of that hatred because, what the fuck?

“Too much of a good thing” was the reasoning Spencer had cited when he proposed we stop sleeping together casually, and return to our previous relationship of “just coworkers”. I’d let him know how ridiculous I found his sentiment, and attempted every possible method to continue our secret rendezvous, but he was absolutely dead-set on his decision, it seemed.

No more sex. No more late-night calls. None of it. It was all over. All because of a cliche.

We seemed to agree on one thing, and that was, yes. The sex was fantastic. It really was that good. While I’d never wish weariness on Spencer Reid, I couldn’t deny that in the aftermath of stress and frustration from whatever life had chosen for him, the way he’d deal with that was absolutely electrifying for me.

I’d find myself constantly breathless, pulled into hotel rooms, storage closets- anything resembling the barest hint of privacy, and allow him to use me as he saw fit. I gave him complete trust and control over my body, and in turn, he rewarded me with some incredibly life-changing orgasms. And for what it’s worth, he seemed to get an equal amount of satisfaction out of our hidden trysts, which only made his recent decision that more devastating.

It’d been roughly a month since we’d had sex, or anything resembling the sort, and I found myself absolutely deprived. When the FBI gave out invitations to its semi-annual gala, I imagined the festivities would be enough to distract me, but I was completely in error for assuming so. Amidst drinks and conversations, there was the occasional lull where I couldn’t help but absentmindedly imagine the feel of his hands over my skin, squeezing the fat of my hips. His lips trailing up and down my neck, focusing on spots only he knew about. The way his hair would tickle against my thighs when he’d bury his head-

“Hey.”

The voice breaks me out of my thoughts, and I have to remind myself not to choke on my beverage. There he was. The current subject of my thoughts, standing in front of me, live and in the flesh. Spencer Reid.

“Hey.” I mirror back, taking a sip of my drink, acting as lax as I could, given the circumstances. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, gesturing to the party in front of us, the general ambience.

“You know me.” He replies, pausing for a second, keeping his gaze trained on mine. “Not my scene but.. doable.”

I chuckle for a moment, understanding perfectly. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most social guy out there. I was honestly surprised he’d chosen to come to this thing at all in the first place.

“You look nice.” He says, suddenly. “Your dress. It’s nice.” He rushes out the words, as if he’s scared to say them in the first place.

I smooth down the fabric instinctively, nodding. I try not to let the compliment affect me so much, keeping my head down for a split second to hide the creeping heat emanating from my cheeks.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

I surprise myself with my own answer. The silence for that tick is horrible. I appreciate it? Jesus. I couldn’t think of the right words anymore. The correct and witty response that would allow this conversation to flow smoothly.

I truly wanted to fuck this man so bad, it made me look stupid.

And stupid I was, because yet again, I attempted to test the current parameters of our relationship he’d put us on. I swallow my pride, lifting my head to meet his eyes with mine.

“If you like it so much, you could- you know. Take it off.” I say, biting my lip. There’s a light tease in my voice, but it’s obvious I’m being as forthcoming as I possibly could. No games. No jokes. I didn’t want to dance around it, and I hoped my boldness would reward me as it did previously in the past.

But no, it seems that fortune does not favor the bold, because Spencer’s immediate response was to shake his head, lowering his voice. He pulled on my arm to decrease our proximity, to the point where it was ensured no passer-bys could possibly hear our conversation.

“Come on.” He pleads, almost looking desperate. “I told you we should stop- hasn’t that worked out? We can be coworkers. This works.”

I roll my eyes, letting my displeasure show plainly over my face. “This works?” I say, and the sarcasm is clear in my voice. “Sex worked too, you know.”

“I know it did!” He says, in a hushed whisper. “But- we can’t. No. It’s not right. Too much of a-”

“If you finish that sentence, I swear to god.” I say, my expression turning much more volatile. I forcibly shrug his arm off me. “This is stupid.” I continue, trying not to let my voice rise. “I see the way you look at me. I know it was good for both of us. I know you’re thinking about it just as much as I am, so why not!” There’s a hint of hurt in my voice as well. Underneath all the sex, I’d grown to miss the interactions after. The giggles under covers and the feel of his hair in my fingers. I missed him. All of him.

There’s a miserable pause on his end, and I hold my breath waiting for his next words. Spencer sputters, looking absolutely defeated. “Because- because we just can’t, okay?” He replies, helplessly, stepping back from me, as I’d done with him. “Look. I’m just going to enjoy the rest of the party, okay? Take care of yourself, yeah?”

Before I can get in another word, demanding a real explanation from the man, he leaves me alone, replaying the words of his confusing outburst in my mind.

I take a short time to myself, electing to go use the restroom and take a breather from the party, a bit on edge after our exchange. Was it possible he was completely fine with what the loss of our arrangement had done to us? Was I the only one absolutely losing my mind? Any attempt to diverge my attention from the topic proved futile, and I remained in the closed room, mindlessly adjusting myself in the mirror with no real rhyme or reason. There’s an eventual use of my phone, focusing the camera directly on my face to make sure nothing had smudged or looked off on my face in the time I’d last checked my makeup. In the use of the device, I remembered the pictures I’d taken before coming here.

The pictures weren’t meant to serve any true purpose. I��d bought new lingerie for this dress, as my previous bras weren’t suited to the cut and shape of the specific piece of clothing, and decided to take a few pictures for myself. It was lacy, and pretty, but nothing truly special. The bra had a slight push-up effect, and the panties were a bit cheekier than my normal, day-to-day undergarments. The actual lingerie was innocent- harmless, even. Looking at the images right now, though, a salacious idea creeped into my head.

Under the right circumstances, these could be exactly the catalyst to finally receiving what I wanted.

I open the messaging app on my phone, finding Spencer’s contact, and beginning to type out a simple message.

hey.

The response is immediate.

What’s up?

You good?

Where’d you go?

I laugh a little. I imagined him scanning the crowd for me, trying to figure out where I’d gone off to.

all good, don’t worry

so we’re still sticking to the no sex thing?

I see his typing bubble pop up, then pause. Then starts up again.

Yes.

Trust me, it’s for the better.

I groan internally. Of course he thinks that. Always thinks he knows what’s good for everyone.

trust me

if you knew what i had planned for us

you wouldn’t say that

I feel my phone vibrate in my hand, indicating he was now calling me? I hadn’t planned for this.

“Spencer?” I remark, waiting for his voice on the line.

“What do you mean?” He says, quickly. I can no longer hear the bustle of the party in the background, so it’s only reasonable to assume he’s moved somewhere quieter. Still, I ask.

“Are you around other people?” I murmur, keeping my voice low.

“No. Alone. What did you mean by your last message?” He repeats, quickly.

There’s my in. I respond, feigning an unmistakable innocence in my voice. “Mind if I show you?”

“Show me?” The confusion in his voice is palpable.

“Show you.” I reply, more definitively. “Check your messages.”

I bring my phone away from my ear, electing to send the first picture I saw in my camera roll, which prominently featured my breasts- a feature of mine I knew Spencer was quite interested in. I return to the call, my heart pounding wildly.

“Did you see?” I ask, hesitantly, when all I can hear is his breathing on the other line.

The response is a choked out, breathy mess of a sentence. “Yeah- I did. Jesus.”

“Want more?” I murmur, biting my lip as the realization dawned on me that this possibly had a chance of working.

There’s a delay in his words on the line, before I finally hear:

“Yes. God, yes.”

I grin ear-to-ear, beginning to send an assortment of pictures I’d taken previously in the day. Knowing this was having an effect on him, that somewhere in this party Spencer was sitting alone, his gaze trained on his phone intently, did something to me. He was behaving this way because of my body, because of what I could do to him.

It was hard not to get wet at the thought.

“You look so good.” He breathes out, and the desire in his voice is unmistakable.

“Yeah?” I mumble to the speaker. “You think so?”

“Mhm.” He murmurs. “You’re wearing this right now?” He asks, seemingly needing that confirmation at this moment.

“In all its glory.” I try not to giggle before murmuring teasingly, “What, you wanna see?”

“Where are you?” He asks, suddenly seeming very determined. I can hear the shuffling on the other line, indicating he was now starting to move from where he was currently situated. He was completely, and utterly serious about this.

“Bathroom, on the left corridor of the entrance.” I say, feeling exhilarated at the thought of him meeting me here. This was happening.

Finally.

“Stay.” He replies, and the call cuts.

There’s an impatient itch that creeps up on me during the two-minute wait for him, before I hear a solid knock on the door, and my name being whispered through the door, belonging to a voice I’d grown so accustomed to and fond of.

My fingers undo the lock, opening it just enough so that he could squeeze through without drawing too much attention to ourselves right now.

And as soon as he’s managed in, he’s practically on me, devouring me with a kiss with a passion I’d never felt from him before. My hands go to wrap around his neck, pressing our bodies flush against each other, every ragged breath of his shooting directly to my core, which was now throbbing with need.

“Fuck. Missed this so much.” He breathes out, gasping for air in between our kisses. I couldn’t so much as get a whimper out, before he’d dive right in again. It’s like he wanted to eat me alive.

And I’d let him.

I moan softly into his mouth, starved for more contact between us. It’s as if he can read my mind, because in an instant, he guides us from the center of the bathroom, towards a wall, slotting his thigh between my legs. He takes a momentary break from ravishing me with his lips, now adopting a slower, more sensual pace as he works down my neck, each soft kiss leaving me craving him even more.

His hands drift down to my hips, keeping me pinned against the wall as he murmured soft praises. My legs felt wobbly, absolutely taken aback by how quickly I could go weak for this man.

“You like this, mm?” He mumbles, letting his teeth nip over the lobe of my ear, before switching to a more neglected side of my neck. “Like me that much, mm?”

I don’t care about the cockiness in his tone. I don’t care how smug I render him. I just need him to continue this, for as long as I can have him.

“Yes.” I breathe out, my voice higher-pitched than it normally would be. “God. Love this so much.”

There’s a flash of hesitance from him, as he pulls his face away from my neck, staring at my eyes with his own. I can’t dwell on the pause, because for once, I’m finally seeing him. His hair was absolutely ruined, sticking up wildly in different directions. His cheeks were a light pink, serving to make his features even prettier and doe-like than before. But what got me were his eyes. His pupils were blown out, the normal honey-hazel I’d seen on a daily basis replaced with an absolute abyss of black. The darkness served to cause a surge within me, practically launching forward to meet his lips with mine.

There are no words required for what happens next, as I feel his hand creep up my back, pulling me away from the wall and towards the closest surface, which happened to be the sink. He guides me to bend over, and I do so with no resistance.

He could have me, whichever way he wanted, whenever he wanted. All I needed was his touch.

I can feel him crouch to his knees, slowly reaching under my dress to hook his fingers around my panties, slowly pulling them down. I can feel a string of my arousal clinging to the fabric, and it seems Spencer can too, because he practically moans as he drags the soiled piece of lingerie down my thighs. I step out of them quickly, and turn my head back, fast enough to see him stuff the proof of our debauchery down his suit pocket.

“Eyes ahead.” He whispers, leaning down close to my ear to nip at the sensitive flesh again.

“Okay.” I murmur, slipping into a more submissive version of myself that he seemed to bring out in me. There’s a sense of relaxation and excitement all at the same time, and I’m absolutely wracked with lust for him.

His fingers stroke my clit for a moment, applying pressure in just the right way. The movements are practiced, precise and guaranteed to hurl me off the edge if he continues this way.

“You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He murmurs, almost amazed, letting his fingers slip away. “All this for me?”

I can barely respond, whimpering and nodding. “Yes. Please- Spencer.” I beg, needily.

“I know, I know.” He replies, and I can hear how pleased he is. There’s a certain delight he derives from my submission, and while in any other circumstance, the smugness he displays would turn me off, right now it only served to further my hunger.

I can feel him start to work on his belt, sliding the coarse material of his dress pants just enough, so that his cock could spring free. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, his tip sliding through my folds, and I clench at the thought of him finally being inside of me.

Just when I believed his teasing to be done, there’s a knock at the door, and we both freeze. Spencer swallows, and quickly raises his voice. “Occupied!”

There’s silence, and that previous sense of lust and content drifts back into our bodies, Spencer’s fingers trace up to my face, and he lets his finger slip into my mouth. I can taste my arousal on his fingers, and there’s a genuine struggle on my end to stay upright. How could I, when the man behind me rendered me so indisposed?

He draws his fingers out of my mouth. “Good girl.” He whispers.

It seems the universe has other plans though, because yet again- a knock sounds at the door. I can hear Spencer’s groan, and watch through the mirror as he attempts to come up with a response that would give us the seclusion we required.

My patience however, had worn thin. His cock was right there, and I’d be damned if I was forced to wait any longer. I turn my head towards the door, complacency and submission gone from my voice.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to fuck him in here!” I say, snarking out the words.

There’s a silence, and a murmur of mortification on the other side of the door. Footsteps. And then at last, silence.

Spencer quickly leans down to kiss my cheek, mumbling out an “I love you.”

Before I can even comprehend the words, he’s guiding himself into me, sliding his cock through my walls, and I have to bite my lip to keep a scream in. He feels so fucking good inside of me, stretching me out in ways no man ever could. I can feel the underside of his cock hitting that spongy spot deep inside of me, and my breathing turns rapid in mere seconds.

“There we go, relax for me baby, yeah?” He mumbles. “Nice and slow.”

I moan out my affirmative, gripping onto the sink as I let my jaw drop, eyes squeezing in absolute ecstasy. “So good for me.” He murmurs. “So warm and wet, Jesus.”

And with that, he starts a pace that works for both of us. It’s hard and fast, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. The feel of his cock gliding through my puffy walls is intoxicating, and I can only wonder how I went so long without feeling it.

It seems Spencer’s having similar thoughts, because through my moans and his occasional groans, I can feel his grip on my hips get more bruising by the second, marking me as his own. I can hear occasional fragments of words through his noises.

“Never letting you go. Oh fuck. Fuck.” He mumbles, and despite the overwhelming amount of arousal shooting through me, my heart swells.

“Me too.” I whimper out, gripping the sink even harder. I can feel my wetness seeping all around us, splashing against my thighs with every movement he drives into me. “Need you so badly.”

“Rub your clit for me.” He demands, whispering out the words. “Need to see you come on my cock first, pretty girl.” The words are strained, and I can tell he’s doing everything to keep from spilling inside of me prematurely.

There’s no reason to temporize, and my fingers make their way down to the sensitive bundle of nerves, and the effect is almost immediate. It takes roughly a minute of my incessant rubbing and the feel of him inside me before I’m coming with a soft shout, growing limp against the sink as my muscles twitch and fill me with a deep sense of relief and satisfaction.

Spencer isn’t far behind me, humping into me a few more times before coming inside of me, the release signified with a loud moan and a sense of warmth flooding my deepest point. He slumps against my back, pressing a few, soft kisses to my neck.

As we both come down from our highs, I recall the words Spencer mumbled in my ear previously. I let out a self-satisfied giggle, which Spencer smiles at.

“Mm. What’s that about?” He murmurs.

“You love me?” I ask, softly.

A pause.

“A little.” He responds, voice equally as soft.

“Is that why you stopped having sex with me?” I mumble out, gently.

He presses another kiss to the nape of my neck. “Mhm. Please don’t be mad.”

I let out a soft chuckle. “Not mad. The opposite, really.”

He pulls me up, causing us both to look at each other. “You feel the same way?”

I nod, biting my lip. “We could try this out, I think. I want to, Spencer.”

I stop, and decide I do need to tease him a bit, especially after the sex-less agony he put me through for a month.

“Though, I do recall someone telling me too much of a good thing can go bad..”

His lips part in confusion, before he picks up the teasing nature of my words and leans in for a soft, simple kiss. He keeps his forehead on mind, his eyes staring into mine with a gentle reverence.

“Let’s indulge just this once.”

holy shit has it been a long time since i've written a fic!! i'm so sorry?! i've been dealing with life and other assorted things and writing sort of took a backseat in that period of time <3 i hope this was okay. as usual any feedback, likes, comments, reblogs are so so greatly appreciated. i love writing for spencer, and i hope you guys like that writing too <3 i'm sorry that the two previous fics i promised seem to be delayed, i swear i'm gonna write those next, but inspiration sort of just struck on my end f or this, and i hope it was good <3 but yeah!! thank you so much for reading and interacting with this in any way you choose!! i appreciate it greatly!!

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appocalipse · 5 months

Text

MAKE IT EASY : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2 ❥・3.8k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

requested by my beloved @stevebabey 🥺

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, and now, oh well...I had to split it into two parts. here we go.

・❥・

It was the epitome of a terrible idea.

And it had started that day.

The very moment Steve walked into the diner your family owned, you knew something was wrong. Not that it was uncommon for Steve to visit you at work — not at all. In fact, it was almost a weekly occurrence, the highlight of it, in fact, for you; the odd part was that Steve never showed up alone, without at least a few of the kids. On that Wednesday night, he was not only alone but also strangely nervous.

You rarely saw Steve get nervous. His confidence was as much a part of him as his signature perfect hair. But tonight, his hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, eyes darting around the diner as if searching for an escape route. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to leave.

Weird.

"Steve," you greeted him with a warm smile, hoping to ease his obvious tension a little bit as he approached the counter. "You look like you've seen a Demogorgon."

It was supposed to be a joke. You only felt comfortable saying that now because — luckily — things had been quiet at Hawkins. It had been a long time since you and your friends had to deal with one. But something about Steve's demeanor really made you wonder if there was more to this visit than just a friendly catch-up.

He tried for a convincing chuckle, but it came out tinged with a hint of sadness instead. "I wish," he said, and then quickly shook his head, "Actually no, of course not. I kinda…There's something I wanted to-"

You furrowed your brows, concern knitting your features together. At this point, Steve's tension seemed to be rubbing off on you.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, just…can we talk?"

"Of course."

He glanced around the diner, gaze briefly flitting over the empty tables and the neon glow of the jukebox. "Not here," he murmured, voice barely audible above the din of conversation and clinking dishes. It was a busy night, despite being Wednesday. "Can you, like, take a break?"

For Steve, of course you could.

Curiosity mingled with concern, and you followed his lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the pavement. You leaned against the side of the building, your eyes fixed on Steve, awaiting an explanation for his beyond unusual behavior.

He raked his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that seemed magnified in this moment. "Look," he began, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before, "I need a favor- a big one."

Oh, Jesus. "Steve," you placed a hand over your chest, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I thought you were going to say something terrible. A favor? C'mon, sure. What do you want me to do?"

Steve's eyes met yours, his gaze earnest and…vulnerable?

"I... I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend... Just for one night!" he quickly added, like he was afraid you might misinterpret his request, say no even before he could finish… but no, of course you wouldn't. Far from it.

Who wouldn't want to date Steve Harrington?

"But why would you-"

"My parents," Steve interjected, tone deeply tinged with unease, "they're in town."

"Oh." Steve rarely ever spoke about his parents, and their mere presence seemed to have stirred a sense of apprehension within him. "Are they still... difficult?"

You knew you were touching scars, deep scars. You made sure to be gentle.

Steve sighed, gaze fixed on the ground.

"Yeah, you could say that," a hint of frustration colored his voice, as if he were carrying on his shoulders the weight of every little judgemental glare they had ever sent his way. "Nothing I do is ever enough for them. They've always been focused on money and success. To them, that's the measure of worth. And because I don't fit their mold of the perfect, ambitious son, they treat me like…well, you know how they treat me."

Indeed, you knew.

Steve looked like he didn't know you were unable to say no to him.

And that's how you put yourself into one hell of a mess.

It's Saturday night and you're standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to zip up your stupid dress. Why anyone would put a zipper in the back of a dress, in the most difficult possible place for a person to reach on their own, is something you are unable to fathom.

But then again, maybe you're the stupid one in this story, you think bitterly, since it was you who chose the dress with the zipper in the back in the first place.

Why are you trying so hard, though?

"I'm not," you tell yourself out loud, stubbornly.

There is a big pile of discarded clothes on your bed that says otherwise.

With a feeling akin to fear bubbling in your stomach, you glance at the clock. It's almost seven. For fuck's sake.

You're late.

Steve will arrive soon, and you are apparently unable to close the damn zipper of your own dress, no matter in which awkward positions you try twisting yourself into…you just can't reach it.

The doorbell rings.

The world is truly a dark place, isn't it?

You freeze. It can only be Steve. Shit, shit, shit! For a moment, you consider the idea of simply not opening the door, turning off the lights and pretending you never agreed to take part in this madness that is dining with the Harringtons.

HA! As if you'd really be able to turn your back on Steve.

You take a deep breath, accepting the battle you just lost, and decide that your only and best option is to simply open the door and ask Steve for help — mortified or not. With no choice but to leave the dress with the zipper still open and your back somewhat exposed, you quickly walk to the door to open it.

"Sorry, I'm late," you say, a little out of breath. "I had a little problem with the dress and I... flowers?"

Flowers, for sure. Steve holds a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes run over the partly open dress and your exposed skin for a couple of seconds too long to be accidental. You swallow thickly.

"Yeah I..." he shakes his head, a little uncomfortable standing there, and then his eyes meet yours. "The flowers are for you. Do you want me to...?" he mimics the motion of closing a zipper.

You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there is no choice but to accept. You look at him, a mix of gratitude and nervousness in your eyes.

"Yeah, that would be great," you reply, stumbling over the words.

If he notices, he doesn't say anything.

Steve comes closer and hands you the bouquet, your fingers briefly touching his. You catch a whiff of his cologne — citrusy fruit and wood notes — as you turn around, brushing your hair away from your neck.

For a moment, Steve does nothing, and you wonder if he is just figuring out the best way to close the zipper…or something else entirely.

His touch ghosts down your bare back before his hand finally, finally finds the zipper. Slowly, he pulls it up, inch by inch, and you hold your breath for a moment, lost in a feeling your best friend is definitely not supposed to evoke in you. You feel the dress tighten, fabric adjusting to your body, his fingers inevitably brushing your skin and sending unexpected tingles up your spine. You try to ignore the trail of electricity left by the tip of his fingers as you turn to face him, eyes finding his.

"There you go", he murmurs, taking his hands off you and taking a small step back. "You look very... girlfriend."

You laugh.

"Thank you", you say softly, your heart beating faster. "You also look very boyfriend."

A small smile plays on Steve's lips, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Or maybe it's just the cold night breeze coming through the open door...

Steve's gaze drifts to your lips and lingers there for way too long to be accidental. He is so close that he starts crushing the bouquet between the two of you…

Something clicks inside of you. Common sense, perhaps.

"Thank you... for the flowers."

The spell breaks; he moves away so fast that you almost drop the flowers on the floor.

"Yeah, uh, no problem," he says quickly, regaining his composure. "Ready to go?"

Disappointment stabs at you, but you try to hide it. Maybe you imagined too much, read signs where there were none.

"Sure. I'll just put the flowers in a vase."

It's an excuse to catch your breath. You walk to the kitchen, put water in the first clean container you find and put the flowers in it. Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Your heart is racing and yet nothing has happened. It's just dinner, you tell yourself, I've had dinner with Steve and the others before. It's just dinner.

So why did you try so hard to look beautiful? insists the other voice in your mind. You decide it's best not to answer.

"You okay?"

Steve is at the kitchen door, all concern and soft brown eyes. You must have taken too long.

"Yes, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile to calm your own anxiety. "I was just taking care of the flowers. Ready to go?"

Steve nods. A gentleman, he opens the car door for you to get in. It's a short drive to the Harrington house, and you take the opportunity to try to calm your nerves. Looking out the window, you watch the city lights blinking as you approach your destination.

You look at him. You have the impression that Steve is driving slightly slower than necessary.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, unsure.

Steve briefly glances at you before returning his attention to the road, looking so stiff you're under the impression he might break his back at any moment.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I mean, I understand the part about your parents…but why didn't you bring someone you're actually dating or something?"

There's a brief moment of silence before Steve responds, his voice a bit softer.

"Actually, I'm not really dating anyone at the moment," he admits. "And when my parents mentioned the dinner, I kind of panicked. I didn't want to show up alone and face more questions about my life, you know?"

"I know," you respond, understandingly. "And why did you choose me specifically?"

He looks away for a moment before answering.

"Because you're perfect," he says, finally looking back at you. Then quickly, as if he only just realized the words slipped out on their own, he adds, nervously staring back at the road, "I mean, my parents, they... you're perfect for them. They're going to love you."

You feel a mix of surprise, satisfaction, and confusion with Steve's response. You try not to read any deeper meaning behind the words, telling yourself not to notice how he quickly tries to disguise them.

"I see," you reply, although you don't really understand anything. Steve seems to say one thing when he means another. "Well, I hope I can do well. I mean, I'm not very convincing when I lie."

Steve smiles briefly and nods.

"I'm sure you'll be great. Just... be yourself."

You appreciate Steve's vote of confidence and focus on staying calm as the car approaches the Harringtons' house. Although there's still a lingering questioning in your mind about Steve's earlier response, you decide to set it aside for now and focus on the immediate task.

Steve parks the car, and you both step out together. Nervousness returns as you approach the front door. You exchange a quick glance with Steve, seeking mutual encouragement.

As you walk toward the house's entrance, Steve's hand finds yours. He gently squeezes it, and you're not sure if he's trying to convey or seek comfort himself. You don't mind anyway.

The door opens, revealing Steve's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. As you prepare to enter their house, they cast evaluative glances your way, as you had expected. Mrs. Harrington's smile seems a bit forced, while Mr. Harrington maintains a serious expression you can't even begin to try to read.

It's not like you expected anything different.

"Mom," says Steve in lieu of a greeting. "Dad."

"Steve, you finally made it," says Mrs. Harrington, her tone somehow a mix of relief and disapproval. "And this must be your... girlfriend."

Steve maintains his composure as he introduces you, although you can sense a slight tension in his shoulders. It's only when he says your last name that Steve's parents' gazes turn into something completely different, almost a scientific interest.

Hawkins is a small place. Your parents' business is respected enough in town.

All eyes turn to you, and you try not to show the insecurity you feel inside. Mr. Harrington studies you for a moment, his penetrating gaze seeming to assess your suitability for his son.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Harrington," he finally says, extending an unusually large hand for a formal greeting.

You shake his hand firmly, trying to convey a confidence you're not quite sure you feel. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for the invitation."

Mrs. Harrington still seems a bit unsettled but composes herself as she invites you inside. You're making your way toward the dining room when you feel Steve's hand intertwine with yours again, and when your gaze meets his, he's smiling.

Thank you, he mouths.

You smile back.

During dinner, you make an effort to be as pleasant and interesting as you can possibly be in the eyes of Steve's parents, responding politely and trying to find points of common interest. In turn, Steve makes an effort to showcase his worth, defending his accomplishments, however small and sharing his plans for the future, painting an image of maturity that, you can tell by the look in his parents' eyes, they were not expecting.

Throughout the evening, you realize that although Steve's parents are demanding and neglectful in many aspects, they also seem to have their own insecurities and concerns. They want the best for Steve, even if their way of expressing it is at least…unusual.

As the night progresses, you find yourself navigating this strange family dynamic better and better, to the point where Steve's parents' attention is fully on you, and it doesn't even feel that uncomfortable anymore. You even laugh at one point.

By the end of the dinner, as you two prepare to leave, you notice a very similar expression of relief on the faces of Steve's parents. They seem to have found some kind of approval in the way you both behaved together during the evening.

As you say goodbye, Mr. Harrington extends his hand again, but this time, his handshake is warmer, less formal, and Mrs. Harrington's smile almost seems genuine. Almost.

"It was a pleasure having you here," she says. "You should bring her more often, Steve."

You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Had you somehow managed to create a connection with his parents?

As you walk away from the Harringtons' house, Steve's hand finds yours for the third time that night, and an optimistic part of you registers the fact that there's no one else here to see. He gently squeezes it, his brown eyes filled with gratitude when they meet yours.

"You were amazing," he says, genuinely smiling.

In the car, during the ride back, you both talk animatedly about the night and his parents' reactions. The tension from dinner seems to have diminished, leaving you both more relaxed and confident.

When you arrive in front of your house, Steve turns off the car and gets out to accompany you to the front door, even after you— out of politeness, mind you — said it's really not necessary.

"You know, I didn't expect everything to go so well tonight," says Steve, with a playful smile. "I can't believe I'm saying this about a dinner with my parents, but thanks to you, it was even fun."

You laugh. "I kinda had fun too. I think we did better than we thought possible."

"You're amazing," he says again, and this time his voice carries a softer, more intimate tone. His eyes meet yours, shining, and you see admiration there…maybe, you dare to think, something even deeper.

The silence grows tense. Your heart races. There's something special happening between you, you know there is; this goes beyond mere friendship or pretending to be a couple for one night…doesn't it?

Are you imagining this?

"Steve..."

You can't finish before he's leaning in slowly, and you're almost certain his eyes are fixed on your lips. For a feverish moment, you think Steve is going to kiss you.

He tilts his head last second. You feel the softness of his lips brushing against your cheek a moment later, a light and brief kiss, mouth almost uncertain against your warm skin….and then it's over.

Steve pulls back slowly.

"Goodnight," he says, eyes soft, smile softer. "Thank you…for today."

"You're welcome."

It's only when you enter the house that the dress dilemma comes to mind.

Well…shit.

The zipper at the back is still unreachable for you, and you can't undo it yourself unless you use scissors — which, considering the price you paid for it, you really don't want to do.

With few options and too much embarrassment, you decide to call Steve back while you still can.

"Steve?" you practically shout, your embarrassment immediately doubling. He's about to open the door of his trusted BMW when he turns to you, confused and unfairly handsome under the street light.

Suddenly using the scissors on the dress doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Well, too late.

"Could you, you know... " you ask, gesturing to the back of your dress, "help me with the zipper?"

His initial surprise quickly gives way to a nervous smile.

"Sure. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't help?"

"I'm sure that's one of the many job duties."

"Definitely. And I strive to be a top-notch fake boyfriend."

He steps in. With the door closed behind the two of you, the atmosphere takes on a sense of intimacy and anticipation.

"I really can't reach the zipper," you feel the need to explain, even more flustered by his silence.

"No problem," Steve says with that gentle tone that makes your heart do funny things inside your chest. "Turn around."

You turn so that he can reach the dress' zipper, and now you're facing the large oval mirror in the hallway, with Steve standing right behind you.

He reaches out gently, his fingers lightly brushing the back of your dress.

Breathe in.

The temperature around you seems to rise a few degrees.

Breath out.

You feel the gentle pressure of his fingers as he starts to slide the zipper down. He touches your skin and you tell yourself that this is inevitable, that he didn't mean to…but he lingers. Lingers just enough for you to tense up and let out a breathless sigh you certainly didn't intend to.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, his voice soft, filled with concern. You know he's looking at you through the mirror and that's precisely why you keep your gaze on the floor. "Are my fingers cold?"

"No, your fingers..." your voice sounds hoarse. You clear your throat. "...it's fine, I'm okay."

I'm great. I'm more than okay. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.

However, when the zipper seems to momentarily get stuck — because of course it had to — the two of you exchange equally panicked looks through the mirror, though perhaps for different reasons. An uncomfortable silence fills the air as Steve tries to fix the issue.

"I'm... it's just... sorry, it seems to be stuck."

There's a moment of awkward silence as he tries to figure out a way to open the zipper. You can feel the tension in the air as he struggles to handle the situation.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" you joke, desperately trying to ease the tension.

Steve lets out a low laugh, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.

"Absolutely," he replies, his voice slightly husky. Then, probably without so much as noticing, he adds, "I've taken off many dresses before."

Oh.

"Steve-"

Steve doesn't give up. With skilled fingers, he adjusts the position of the zipper and makes another attempt. It moves.

"We're almost there," he murmurs softly, his voice close to your ear.

Finally, with a smooth motion, the zipper gives way, sliding all the way down. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you turn around to face Steve, finding his eyes filled with excitement.

"I did it!"

His enthusiastic smile soon gives way to something else as he realizes how close — and technically partly undressed — you are.

And close you are, so very close. Close enough that you and Steve are somehow breathing the same air now.

Close enough, you realize, that a slight tilt of the head and...you'd be kissing.

Kissing.

Did he notice that too?

You hold your dress up over your chest to make sure it doesn't fall because, well…no matter how distracted you are, it's not enough that you'd risk a wardrobe malfunction that'll leave you standing there naked in front of Steve Harrington.

"...thanks," you manage a whisper, lips a hair's breadth away from his. You do know that Steve has no reason not to go now that dinner is over and everything went (surprisingly) well, but a part of you wonders if maybe…

Steve's hands hover around your waist as if unsure of what to do next.

So close...

You hold still.

In that breathless silence, you're under the impression that Steve leans closer, even if just the slightest bit, maybe without even noticing.

"Steve…" you slowly tilt your head to the side.

Steve's heart is pounding in his chest as he feels the warmth of your breath against his lips. Stop, he thinks. His eyes flutter closed, and Steve can't help but lean in just a little bit more.

He raises his arm as if to touch you, wanting to touch you, to hold your face, to bring you closer…but he stops with one of his hands hovering near your cheek.

He pulls away with a gasp, his hands flying up to his face in shock. "I should-" he stammers. "I need to go."

Bam.

Door closed.

And just like that, he's out of the house before you can even open your eyes properly.

He just…pulled away.

What the hell was that?

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