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sanguineterrain · 1 year

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i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing.

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard.

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say.

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted.

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it.

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?"

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again.

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks.

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face.

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly.

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone.

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you.

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you.

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.”

You nod and lay back on the floaty.

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks.

“Just us?”

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you.

Whoops. Right. You're still at work.

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing.

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink.

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it?

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar.

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?”

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort.

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you.

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.”

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add.

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway.

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight.

“You’re awesome, Y/N!"

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?”

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot.

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again."

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young.

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town.

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered."

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family.

"Who do I ask for?"

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck.

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says.

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?"

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler.

She nods in realization.

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince.

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit.

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say.

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree.

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand.

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod.

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest.

"How come?" she asks.

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically.

"They're jerks," she says.

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore.

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans.

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from.

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass.

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on.

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures.

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter.

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font.

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles.

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye.

"No," you manage.

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?"

He doesn't remember you.

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you.

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve.

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say.

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin.

Her brows rise.

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away.

Only there do you stop to catch your breath.

And then you cry.

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?"

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table.

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah."

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it.

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute."

"I guess so," you say.

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase.

"Shit, here. Take mine."

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?"

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before.

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now.

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple.

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?"

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention.

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched.

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words."

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack.

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says.

You nearly swallow your tongue.

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do.

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair.

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back.

"Just us?" you check.

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together.

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?"

You check your watch and close your book.

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later."

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.)

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends.

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?"

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs.

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though.

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses.

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look.

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile.

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation.

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile.

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always.

You lean your elbows on the countertop.

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes.

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument.

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that.

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking.

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say.

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?"

Lucas nods.

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey.

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you.

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains.

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone.

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie.

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort.

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared.

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector."

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly.

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that.

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?"

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change.

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty.

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business."

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional.

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew.

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool.

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy.

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy.

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason.

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.”

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little.

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck.

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.”

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning.

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area.

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share.

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!”

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm.

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying.

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded.

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror.

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket.

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you.

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it.

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again.

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting.

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth.

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese.

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?"

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too.

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava.

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none.

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head.

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile.

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble.

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met."

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot.

"This town is so shit," you say.

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?"

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle.

You look at the tape in your hand.

"Does Steve like John Hughes?"

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved.

"I did want to watch this one," you say.

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises.

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on.

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap.

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't.

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself.

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been.

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie.

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not.

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy.

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life.

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault.

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him.

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital.

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it.

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you.

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck.

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships.

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that.

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it.

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand.

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open.

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine.

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you.

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask.

“Always.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers

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1andrys · 4 months

Text

invisible string | ethan landry

“all along there was an invisible string tying you to me.”

non gf! ethan x reader

𓏲࣪⋆| warnings: none :)

𓏲࣪⋆| summary: Ethan was a bookshop employee in hopes to gain some cash as a broke college student, it wasn’t the best job but here he was. The only thing keeping him a little motivated was the cute bookshop regular roaming around the store every thursday and friday. As a hopeless romantic, he thought it was fate. (ib: invisible string by taylor swift)

𓏲࣪⋆| a/n: this is my first one on this acc, i hope ygs enjoy. if you are interest in more please add yourself to the taglist

“THAT will be 15.48,” Ethan’s voice spoke as he clicked on the old cash register that should be repaired soon for any other inconveniences in the small bookshop called “Bookmarked.” Ethan always thought the name was corny but here he was, wearing the ugly brown apron over his green knitted sweater and jeans with the name tag in his crappy handwriting. It was just as corny as the name. As a college student, it wasn’t easy to just be stable and independent, so Ethan was working at the bookshop for some cash. At least he ended up getting some employee discount for books.

“I thought there was a 50% discount,” The customer chirped and eyed Ethan while they looked at the stack of books in the check out.

Ethan sighed, this was the third time this afternoon that somebody tried correcting him, “There is, but only if it’s the books with a green sticker.” He explained as he pointed to the poster with the symbols and words saying, GET 50% OFF ON SELECTED BOOKS (LOOK FOR THE GREEN STICKER.)

It ultimately led to an annoyed customer paying full price for the books, unsatisfied. Ethan let out a groan before he went back to the shelves and fix the new arrivals stack. The fresh smell of books infiltrated his senses while he scooted into the thick wooden shelves. He liked color coordinating the books to his satisfaction. One by one, he placed the new books into the shelf. Finally. He looked behind him at the cart full of books he needed to reorganize because people loved to misplace books. Instead, his eyes widened to see one of the bookstore regulars looking through the cart of books, the same pretty face he liked to see walk in every Thursday and Friday. Your face.

He couldn’t help but stand in place and admire the way your eyes moved to read the back of books as a preview. Eventually, those same eyes locked onto his, you gave him a gentle smile. “Hey, I was wondering where the new arrivals were.”

An awkward silence filled the air, Ethan was zoning out and then snapped out of it, his pale cheeks forming a shade of pink, “Oh right! Yeah yeah, they’re right here.” He stepped to the side and showed the display of the shelf. He had this stupid grin that he couldn’t wipe, he took note of the nice sweater you had on. “I like your sweater.”

You seemed pretty busy and just gave him a nod, “Thanks.” You noticed the same grin the bookstore employee had, your instincts couldn’t help but blush at his words. It wasn’t anything that happened everyday. This was your favorite book store for a reason.

In the fall, you began studying at Blackmore University and discovered the variety of shops near the campus. You came across the dimly lit, cozy book shop in August and have been shopping at “Bookmarked” ever since. Time would go by and you’d notice the cute bookstore employee, the same one with the curly brown hair and big brown eyes. He almost stuck out like a sore thumb in the shop due to his height, he always looked quiet so you always refrained from speaking to him. But it was like there was something always leading you to talk to him.

You walked past him to check out the new arrivals, and you felt the employee’s eyes on you, you spun around and held up a book, “Do you have any recommendations?”

“Not really,” Ethan mumbled in embarrassment. He tried to come up with something niche to pique your interest, but failed to do so.

You gave him a subtle smile, “Well you’re one hell of an employee.” You immediately regretted it, damn, you couldn’t flirt for shit. You almost prayed he wouldn’t take offense.

“Oh,” Ethan cleared his throat out of embarrassment, “Well, I guess I could suggest you this,” He picked up a book right above your head that sent you into a flustered state. It was “Betting On You,” a romance book.

“Cheesy,” Was all you could say. You ended up taking the book, Ethan followed you back to the register to ring up your book without saying a word.

“That will be, 6.53,” Ethan said when he looked over at you and your wallet. Sometimes he despised how awkward he was when it came to girls, he wish it came easy like his best friend Chad, a smooth talker.

Your eyes met Ethan’s and your eyebrows furrowed, “Wait a minute, why is it cheaper? Isn’t the book around 14 bucks?”

“Erm, we’re having a sale.”

“And I thought it was only for selected books,” You pointed behind him at the poster with the same words, GET 50% OFF ON SELECTED BOOKS (LOOK FOR THE GREEN STICKER.) “There’s no green sticker.”

“Right..” Ethan was a little flushed, he was just trying to make a kind gesture, but you guessed it was a form of flirting, “Well, I noticed you were a regular employee so, it wouldn’t hurt giving a discount.”

“Right..” You trailed off, almost mocking his words. “I appreciate it.”

—————————————————————————

WEEKS went by since that last interaction and Ethan was in the clouds, he couldn’t help but remember the way you spoke to him and joked with him. Was it flirting? Ethan wouldn’t know. Thursdays and Fridays were the same, your presence was always a welcome to him and he was always so relieved to see you. It would be some light conversations and recommendations, maybe you did like him. Maybe it was fate. He was always one for some corny romance and maybe this was his chance.

If only things were good for him.

It was a normal Thursday night, he was almost counting down for you to come by for your regular visit, only to find out you came way later than usual. 7 pm. Not only that, but you had a guy following you around the bookshop as you spoke to him. Ethan couldn’t help but assume the worst, a boyfriend. Jealously bubbled in Ethan as he stood by the register and watched you with the guy who was tall, blonde, and very good looking.

You roamed around the bookstore with your date, who you just met a week ago and agreed to a small date. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the best, snarky comments here and there about your literature choices.

“I mean who in the world would read this shit?” Your date spoke to you as you roamed around the romance section, “Have you not read actual good literature? Like American Psycho or something?”

A frown formed on your face once your date said that. Of course, he would judge your sense of taste. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you just wanted this to be over. After a while, your date and you went up to the register, you couldn’t help but give Ethan a small wave as he rang up the books from your date. Ethan just smiled back, covering his heartbreak. Of course you dated a good looking guy, who apparently didn’t have a great taste in books.

“That will be 17.80” Ethan muttered as your date paid him the money. Ethan noticed the disinterest in your face as you watched your date grab his books and walk out with you. You looked back to see Ethan with a weak smile, you felt bad.

A small feeling lingered in your heart, this date was a bad idea and now the cute employee felt like he lost his chance. As you and your date exited the bookstore into the cold air, you stopped your date. “You know what? I think let’s just call it a night, I have a few things to care of,” you explained before your date handed you a book and you just parted ways.

You rushed inside the bookstore, that same cute employee was no longer at the register. You skimmed through the bookstore for him until you saw him fixing bookshelves.

“Hey,” You said with a nervous smile as you approached him.

Ethan’s eyes shifted to meet yours and a confused expression was plastered on his face, “Hello. Quite a date huh?”

“Not really, is there any way I can exchange this book for some store credit?” You asked him with a small smile as you held up the book in your hands.

His brown eyes concentrated on the book, bringing a small laugh to his mouth, “Seriously? Diary of An Oxygen Thief?”

“I know! That’s the biggest red flag,” You shook your head as Ethan waved his hand around for you to follow him. Obediently, you followed him back to the register.

“Here, just give me the book and pick something else out,” Ethan said as you handed him the book which he put to the side. For some reason, this conversation was easier for him to talk in. Maybe there was a chance. Luckily, you went ahead and grabbed a book you really wanted. The Secret History. You came back to see Ethan waiting for you. “Good choice. You know, sometimes we should like talk about books.”

You noticed how nervous he looked like, his fingernails tapping on the wooden table and his eyes drifting away from yours.

“Over coffee?” You added on, giving him a small grin. You knew what he was doing and he was doing it in the most nervous way possible. Sure, your date might have been a pretty bad decision, but it led to something better.

All Ethan could do was nod with a wide smile, his heart was jumping in excitement. Finally, in his mind, all he could think about was fate, an invisible string that was probably tying to the two of you. Maybe it was destiny in his head. And he couldn’t help but wait for that date he was going to have with you.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion imagine #1andrys

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maeby-cursed · 6 months

Text

COFFEE CUPS AND THE EFFECTS OF FALLING IN LOVE | K. NANAMI

a/n: okay, this was supposed to be a quick drabble but i have an essay due tomorrow and decided to write eight hundred words of pure nanami fluff instead. (also, nanami is yuji's legal guardian in this because yolo).

✧ synopsis: nanami doesn’t fall in love. until a new coworker shows up on his office floor and turns his world upside down.

✧ pairings: kento nanami x f!reader

✧ wc: 890

✧ rating: pure self indulgent fluff !

Kento Nanami swears he doesn’t fall in love.

Falling in love is irrational, illogical. It’s a silly, whimsical infatuation experienced by childish people; like his work colleague – and constant annoyance – Satoru Gojo. People like him cannot control their feelings and always act upon instinct, that’s their problem.

But Kento Nanami doesn’t fall in love, he doesn’t smile sheepishly or giggle like a schoolboy, he doesn’t have time for such nonsense. He’s got taxes to do.

He doesn’t fall in love even when you come into the office that first day of August, with a pretty bag and shiny heels and a kind smile that stabs him in the stomach; the place where he keeps all things soft and unknown.

He doesn’t fall in love, yet when you come into his life, weird things start to happen.

He begins making extra coffee in the mornings, and he tells himself that it’s because his work days keep getting longer, but if he were honest to himself, he’d admit that he just packs it to offer it to you.

“I made extra but I don’t want it. I assure you.” Is what he says to you the first time you talk, stopping you on the way to the coffee machine.

He begins to feel excited about work, even if it’s just to see you walk by his desk on the way to the elevators twice a day, and he hides his smile poorly when you do so.

He combs his hair and shaves carefully and irons his ties. He pays attention to the idles chitchat his coworkers make, hoping to hear anything about his lovely new colleague.

He comes home and checks his emails, scouring them in search of your name.

He spends an entire evening researching a recipe he heard you mention during lunch and when he finally realizes what he’s doing – five hours deep into it – he cannot convince himself to care. Instead he tries to find out if you like wine the next day. And carnations. And men with blonde hair who never fall in love.

Five months go by since Kento Nanami meets you and of course he’s not in love.

Yet Gojo seems a little smugger nowadays, always leaning against your desk with his stare set on him. And Geto always seems to need to vacate the room whenever you enter, leaving you two alone. And Yuji begins to ask for you when he comes home late at night.

Does he really talk about you that much?

Eventually, you realize how strange his behavior is with you.

He glares at Gojo when he makes a harmless tease about you and Kento looking good together. He runs after Geto when you’re in the breakroom alone with him. He hides Yuji in his office whenever he drops by.

Does he really dislike you that much?

Eight months go by since Kento Nanami meets you and he begins trying to stay away from you, acting like it’s not a struggle.

You’re not used to people avoiding you for no reason, and his change of heart doesn’t go unnoticed, especially with how nice he was those first few weeks.

So when late February rolls around, cold and bitter, you knock on his office door.

“Mr. Nanami?” You call, shyly, from the outside of the room. You feel weird calling him mister, he’s barely older than you, but you don’t want to anger him any further.

“Come in.” He says, starting to panic. Why are you here? God, did you notice how weird he is around you? Did you catch him looking at your employee access card’s picture again? Did you figure out why you are the only one who finds a cup of coffee on her desk every morning?

“Uhm, I’m sorry to bother you so late, sir,” you say, your voice quiet and your gaze soft. It is late. About to be 10pm and he’s yet to pack his things; he was waiting for you.

He’s not in love.

“But I was just wondering… uhm, have I done anything to upset you?” His mouth falls slightly agape at your words and a frown settles deep between his eyebrows. It doesn’t suit him at all. You try to rectify. “I mean, it’s just… you seem a little odd lately! Not odd odd, just…” You groan and sigh. “I just feel like you’ve been avoiding me for the last few weeks and I’d like to know if I’ve done something, if I could fix it… sir.” You add with a small smile.

He looks at you dumbfounded, the first pure emotion you’ve seen on his face since you’ve met. His eyes find yours in a desperate attempt to crack you.

You think he’s angry? You think he’s bothered by you?

He’s infatuated, he’s smiling and giggling like a fool whenever you walk by, whenever you smile, whenever you drink his coffee and look into his eyes. Did you never catch him gazing at you? Don’t you know?

His resolve breaks at the confusion present in your face.

The whole world has centered into that kind smile you have and he cannot fight it any longer. He’s not a stupid man, he knows when he’s lost, and when he’s about to win.

Kento Nanami is in love – with you. And it’s about time you know.

(reblogs are appreciated !!)

#🎐 𓂃 mae’s typing !#jjk fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader

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bunnakit · 4 months

Text

last twilight ep 7 thoughts, feelings, etc

ALRIGHT i ran my errands, caught up on pit babe and playboyy to relax, and now i'm doing my speedwatch. i took some notes while watching the first time and they're a fucking MESS but hopefully they help me remember everything i want to comment on because without fail i always forget something.

you'll all be glad to know this week's meta bullshit from me is far, far less romantic and wistful than last weeks. you've all been spared by my adhd brain not being able to piece together a single poetic thought.

i kind of knew from this moment the trajectory the episode would take. Day is clearly nervous but not defensive - this isn't out of the realm of something Mhok would do for him but with recent context it probably feels fairly intimate. i think this was a really good indicator of what we're in for.

there's a collection of sunflowers in Day's room, tucked away in the corner, not unlike Mhok tucking away his feelings for Day's comfort. the poor things are shrouded in shadow, away from the light. the pain is unending and forever.

Day's flashback to the kiss has me curious. his eyes are closed so he's not even thinking back to seeing what he can of Mhok up close. as he reminisces about this kiss is he simply remembering the sensation of Mhok's lips on his own? how his hands curled into Mhok's jacket? and i'm sure we've all seen the post but - was he thinking of the way Mhok tasted like cigarettes? this isn't to romanticize his disability, i'm just genuinely wondering what exactly he's drawing on here in this moment, because it's clearly something significant to him.

Porjai just keeps getting prettier every episode and it's making me insane. i just think i should be allowed to take care of her.

"I'm jealous of Day's ability to make you smile."

this makes me think Mhok's smiles have been few and far between, and maybe Porjai has been looking to bring out that smile for a long time. does she ever worry that maybe someday Mhok could end up like Rung? does she worry about finding him too?

oh i so very badly want the context for this, i want to know everything. but also, it's really not that surprising. not when we've seen the things Mhok has done for Day. Mhok lives his life in extremes; anger, kindness, protectiveness, his work, etc. everything Mhok does he puts his whole self into it and it's nice to see his love is no different, because why would it be?

i'm once again in awe of what P'Aof has done with Mhok and Porjai, though. they live together so easily and naturally. there's nothing strange or awkward about it, just two people surviving life together. it's such a breath of fresh air.

Day just cannot catch a break when it comes to August. this has to hurt so fucking badly, the pity has to feel amplified by 1000. not only was August trying to force himself to like Day back because he's blind, but also because he was thinking of leaving. Day is a stronger man than me because i would be frothing at the mouth pissed.

but once again, Mhok doesn't let Day stew in his fish tank. he encourages him to go out and resolve his feelings, even if that means screaming at August and letting out all his hurt and frustration. he's seen what happens when Day lets his hurt fester and he won't let it happen again, not while he's around.

"He's a lot stronger than I thought. It's me who's so weak that I let him down."

as much as August pisses me off, i do think this is him realizing his pity was misplaced, and he failed Day in that way, so he gets some redemption points here. (still think he's a stinky bastard man tho)

the immediate distance Mhok puts between himself and the group never fails to hurt my heart. i get it, he's there for a job, but their relationship has progressed past that - now even moreso, and i cant help but wonder if this is his attempt at keeping a distance, curbing his expectations, reminding himself that while his role is to be by Day's side it's only in a professional capacity.

i love that Gee acknowledges him with a little head nod, occasionally looks in Mhok's direction as if to include him, she's just - ugh - i love all the women in this show so fucking much. i just wish someone would invite Mhok over sometime, encourage him to join the conversation (like they did back at the party.)

sometimes Mhok really is the embodiment of a shadow - both of Day and of his former self (for good or bad.)

(he looks so fucking sexy leaning like that with his shirt tucked into his pants tho, whew.)

Gee also becomes one of my favorite people for asking Day to take the photo of all of them. she just gets it, she includes him, she doesn't act like he can't do things, she even insists he can, she's just !!! the women of all time in this show i swear!!! I LOVE WOMEN!!!!

also the "you don't drink coffee, girl spill the tea" from Gee is just so good. she knows a diversion tactic when she sees one.

i want this expression framed, she's so cute, HELP.

i wish i had the time and energy today to make gifs for this week but ugh. the journey Mhok's face went on here to end up at quiet resignation. because he did figure. someone like Day? with someone like him? because we know Mhok's opinion of himself isn't great, largely influenced by his incarceration and reintegration into society, i'm sure, along with his guilt. but there had been that little bud of hope, a little sunflower seed that had bloomed just a little too far, reached for the sun a little too much. it must feel like a weed in his chest.

the way Day says 'here' so softly, with so much vulnerability made me feel like screaming. he doesn't know what his feelings are for Mhok yet (you can't tell me he doesn't feel anything) but he knows he doesn't want to lose Mhok and the sudden idea of it is terrifying. Mhok is the only person that really understands him, one of the only people he's comfortable around anymore, and he can't lose that. he doesn't want to go back to the dirty fish tank.

i also think this was an indicator to Mhok that maybe Day doesn't know how he feels, and maybe he can get away with flirting in tiny, subtle ways because from here on his secret flirting game is in full effect and it's so fucking cute. he's careful not to completely push past Day boundaries, but to test them in gentle ways.

THE SHOES MY BELOVEDS. we all know what i feel about these shoes after last week and i'm so glad to see all of my stupid babbling confirmed here. i love that Mhok constantly mends things instead of throwing them away. the sentimentality of items means something to Mhok and we love him for that.

we also got a proper 'sweet dreams' this episode, finally!! thank you subbers!

so many shots of feet this ep tho and lemme tell you as someone that HATES feet, this was rough.

oh you are so smitten. Day realizing Mhok is warm, warm in his own way, warm in such a gentle and understated way. UGH. you would've thought he knew after everything they've been through but sometimes people need a reminder and maybe something to drive them to pay closer attention. our boy is BESOTTED. kicking his feet and giggling. i think this is the happiest we've ever seen him.

so here's where i'm probably going to wax poetic the most. Mhok is finally opening up to Day in such an incredible way. he brings Day to his home with no fear of pity or judgement. he brings him into this sanctuary created by him, his sister, and Porjai and he cooks for him and cares for him and in letting him in Day sees even more how impossibly warm Mhok is.

what's even greater is there isn't a single moment where Day is jealous or questions Porjai being there. Mhok has told him she's expecting and he's never weird about it, just kind and understanding and it's all so normalized, it's fucking beautiful. Day even takes the time to encourage Porjai, to share about his mom, and about the strength it takes to be a single mom. P'Aof i adore you.

Mhok has planted jasmine simply because he knows Day likes it, and maybe now he likes it too. and he brings Last Twilight home to practice reading (i'd always wondered how he managed to read without stumbling over himself lmao) and he's done it so much that now Porjai wants to name their child Mee, wants to create this connection to Day forever.

and once prompted, once Day knows enough to ask, Mhok opens up about Rung, talks about her more. Day comments on the warmth of the house, something started by Rung and cultivated by Mhok. it would be so easy for the house to feel cold and clinical, especially knowing what happened here, but Mhok has kept it a home - warm, inviting, comforting - all the things Mhok has been to Day.

the noises took me by fuckin' surprise tho, i genuinely looked around my house like who the fuck is making all that noise and then i was like OH THOSE ARE-- OKAY--

and I know people are like haha P'Aof has a scent kink but like. idk. maybe it's just me but scents are something i'm drawn to. i remember the way someone smelled more than i remember their face. i recently took a shirt out of my closet and immediately started crying. it smelled like face powder and perfume. it smelled like my grandma. the leather jacket pushed to the side smells like cigarettes and horses, like my dad always did.

scent is such an ingrained memory, something that is so hard for our brains to let go of. every time i get a familiar smell it knocks me on my ass, and i'm so glad to see some of this represented in these shows.

this absolutely warmed my heart. whatever is going on with Night and Day is clearly more on Day's side than anything else. Night clearly loves his brother and i'm just fucking DYING to know what is going on that is causing Day to drive a wedge between them. sure, Night hasn't been perfect, but there's love there and that counts for so much.

and what exactly are you doing here??? this is a charity run for blindness - does he know someone that is blind other than Day? did meeting Day inspire him to participate? has he spent time talking to Mhok about Day and maybe the difficulties of his blindness? i am filled with questions but i love this character so much, he's just so kind.

Day's hesitation to cross the finish line was also something i found so interesting. it felt long, possibly too drawn out, but Day needed to think, needed time to understand that if he crosses that finish line, if he accepts Mhok's request to be his boyfriend, their lives will never go back to how they were. things between them will change forever, whether the relationship is a success or otherwise. it's an incredibly mature thing of Day to do, even if it felt a little lengthy for us, the audience.

i strongly believe that in addition to Mhok Porjai is going to be a big driving force in Night and Day's reconciliation. i would love to see Porjai gain Night's side of the story, Mhok gain Day's side of the story, and the two of them working together to see how they can reunite these brothers.

also if i had a nickle for every time P'Aof paired Mark with a pregnant woman in his shows i'd have two nickles, which isn't a lot but it's interesting it has happened twice.

while i, like everyone else, hope the mock proposal is a parallel we get to see later i want to focus more on this moment.

i forget who said it, it's long gone to the depths of my dash by now, but someone commented that disabilities do not stop for love, and fuck is that so true. i love Mhok's concern, his immediate reaction to soothe, and the way he seems to feel Day's fear as his own. and poor Day, he can't even enjoy this moment of bliss with Mhok because of course, of course something like this had to happen. it's so fucking real in the way Last Twilight has been this entire time.

the constant excellent representation of disabled living has been incredible to see, i've seen so much of myself in this show (even though my disability is so very different) and it's been like a warm blanket put over very single comment: you're too young to be disabled, you aren't THAT disabled, you're being dramatic, etc.

from the bottom of my heart, thank you P'Aof and team.

tag loves: @benkaaoi @callipigio @infinitelyprecious (as always tell me if you want to be added {for LT only or all meta} or removed!)

#bunn meta #last twilight #last twilight the series #mhokday #morkday #userjamiec #im soooo fuckin sleepy after making this but i still have to work #someone come make me tea and gimme a little kith

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

AITA for not telling my friend I don't want to play DND with her?

I (17M) am a player in a Dungeons and Dragons campaign (NOTE: it is not actually DND, I am just saying it for simplicity's sake. If anything sounds off, that's why. Either way, it's TTRPG, and both games have the same system, although they aren't anywhere near similar to DND gameplay-wise. It's very roleplay focused.) with a few of my friends (all 17-20F: Viola, Korrina, Valerie, and Olympia). Viola is our DM, and I have so much fun every time we play, with no intents on quitting because of this.

Olympia just like... fucking sucks though, to be honest? Like, I just hate playing with this chick. She's always asking for extra bonuses on rolls because she's just such a good player (no one else does it, Viola allows it though), she actively started PVP with me, she physically disabled my character in said PVP and I had to do chaos control (I did not want to have my character be disabled, if I did I would have a disabled character, but I failed a roll against her in this fight so I had to have my character go on a side-quest to fix it: I would be more fine with it if it was Viola, but another player? Really?), and she's just not really funny when she talks about the campaign outside of the sessions (I know, it's a little personal). She gets really upset when we mention this one thing we all like to the point of taking inspiration from it for characters and NPCs because she doesn't get it but she refuses to try the thing so we just have to not talk about it with her, and overall she just... isn't enjoyable to be around.

I know I'm gonna have people in the comments say "just tell her that you don't like her now! You sound awful, you should quit," etc etc, but hear me out. I am a player. Since the DM is Viola, and Olympia and Viola are having fun, I don't feel like I should say anything. It's the DM's story, and as a mere character in the story I can't have any say in the format, especially since I was the one that invited Olympia to the group (I made a casual offer to my whole friend group over a school group chat and both Olympia and Korrina responded, so I had to include both of them), and we've been playing this campaign since August.

One of our players had to cancel on us a week ago as of writing this, and so I decided to run a oneshot based off of a campaign I've been wanting to do (first time DMer, I wanted to try it out). The players were Viola, Korrina, and Olympia, and it was actually really fun! I wanted to wait for Viola's campaign to end before I actually started playing my campaign, but that wasn't going to happen in a while, so I had decided to run it then.

I don't want Olympia anywhere near my actual campaign, though. I'm planning on letting my friend (Drasna, 18F) join, as well as anyone else who shows interest, along with Viola, Korrina, and Valerie. But as you may know, Olympia is insufferable to me, and as DM I feel like I have the right to deny her from playing with me.

She still played in the oneshot though, and was... very excited for it. I am aware I am the only one with beef here. Olympia keeps on PMing me about her character, asking about the world, and she's really interested in the world and the format of it. Her character's nice even if a little similar to one of the main plot NPCs I have, but as I've mentioned, I really want to cut her out when the campaign gets rolling. The only reason I couldn't for the oneshot is because we are actively in the middle of a campaign and everyone would think I'm being weird and things would be tense for the rest of the campaign. I can't just tell Olympia to her face "hey, I hate playing with you actually. Go home, fuck off."

I feel like I treated Olympia fairly when we played (she didn't do anything drastic, at least), but I don't know how my negative feelings on her are going to impact the campaign. I don't want to have an inbalance in the characters and how they're treated.

AITA for leading her on to make sure things don't get awkward during Viola's campaign, even though I have no intent of changing my mind on not having her as a player?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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zjpg · 8 months

Text

just a girl

'silly season.'

last - m.list - next

[august - summer break]

liked by pierregasly and 2,496,583 others

addilynleblanc silly season i guess🤷🏻‍♀️ -> tagged: pierregasly, charles_leclerc, charlottesiine, arthur_leclerc

view all 12,495 comments

user1 she turned comments back on !!!!!

user2 oh she's so iconic for this one

pierregasly Silly Goose -> addilynleblanc you're never gonna stop that are you??😭

user3 oh she said fuck those rumors, i'm staying in red bull 😭 -> liked by maxverstappen and addilynleblanc

christianhorner 🏝🛥

user4 this is iconic

sebastianvettel Silly season indeed!

charles_leclerc I am so cool😎 -> charlottesiine Of course love. -> addilynleblanc don't make me laugh charlie.

user5 where is lando in the likes and comments? he's always hyping up addi?

arthur_leclerc We are bestie goals -> addilynleblanc i love that you stole that from me tbh

user6 ik she took the picture and posted it on her story, but using that pic of her and pierre that the gossip pages used makes me laugh

user7 where is lando?? -> user8 what does lando have to do with this? -> user9 he's always commenting and liking addi's posts

meeting lando's girlfriend wasn't something she saw coming this summer. and maybe it's selfish thinking, but he said he'd wait for her. she doesn't expect anyone to wait for her, she doesn't even want to push that idea on any of them. but just as she's beginning to figure out what her feelings mean, just as she's figuring out what happiness and love feels like, she loses another one.

luisa is really sweet, a kind and beautiful girl. but that only makes things worse. she's beautiful. stunning. the talk with lando wasn't long, because there was nothing more to talk about. he didn't want to wait any longer and he found someone to make him feel the happiness and joy addi couldn't, he deserves that.

"i'm sorry, but it just happened" was all lando got out before luisa walked over with a shining smile and introduced herself. she can't blame lando for anything, especially because it's been so long and she's still confused about everything. "what were you going to tell me, add?" he questioned with his hand on luisa's hip. her eye lingers there for a second before she looks back at him, "oh, nothing. i mean- it's kinda... private."

luisa looks regretful before immediately stepping back, "oh! i'm so sorry! i can-"

"oh no, it's okay!" addi lets out a kind laugh, stopping the older, "i can tell him over text, it's nothing too important!" she smiles, good thing her parents put her in acting classes when she was young. "it was nice meeting you!" the girls hug, lando smiles thinking all is good, which technically, it was. but she felt like she was dying inside.

after that she couldn't think right. she drove her car to wherever the night took her. her legs were moving faster than her brain as she made her way out of the car. she knows she shouldn't. she knows she should go home and get some sleep, talk to charlotte or claire, maybe get tipsy, but her body never listened to a thing her brain said. she walked up to the door, knocking on it before it swung open to show a concerned face and a topless torso.

"you alright?" he asked, she nodded quickly.

"can i come in? please?"

"of course."

taglist: @love4lando @fairiepoems @leilanixx @ietss @charli123456789 @ayoanna @enhacolor @be-your-coffee-pot @alixnsuperstxr @vellicora @tpwkstiles @lndonrris @willowpains @gaslysainz @blueanfield @cixrosie @ssararuffoni

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imaginespazzi · 1 month

Text

Part 3: Shades of Grey

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5

That's the thing about illicit affairs (they lie and they lie and they lie)

(In which a masochistic writer makes things difficult for herself and makes things even messier than they were before)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, a little bit of Hurt/Comfort and Fluff as always

Words: 7.2K (nice and short as always)

TW: Explicit Sexual Content (MINORS DNI), Swearing, Cheating

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I feel like I'm doing a pretty good job of sticking to my deadlines, who woulda thunk it? Fun fact, I'm at ~ 50 google-doc pages with this fic and despite my constant "trying to write less" rants, I'm actually lowkey proud of that. Anyways, there's a pretty clear hint (I am not a subtle person) as to why what happens at the end happens and if you pick up on it, I promise it'll save you from losing your minds till I write part 4. Also a couple of logistical details about the Cayman Islands are probably off but it's what worked so it's what I did, just pretend lol. Per usual, I did edit, there's probably still typos any way, feel free to point them out. And as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Happy reading and have a wonderful rest of your week lovelies!

August 2021

The fight was inevitable but neither of them can tell you what really lit the flame. One second they had been fine (well as fine as two girls who knew tonight was their last night in a while could be), the next they were hurling bullets at each other. There’s a subconscious part of Azzi’s brain that tells her to grab Paige and duck for cover, to preserve whatever little bit of friendship they can. But her whole body vibrates with anger as Paige’s words crash around her like a tsunami, drowning out the good angel on her shoulder that’s pleading with her to stop.

“It’s a good thing really. You and your non-existent nerves would have never survived playing for UConn,” Paige sneers, and that mean smirk on her face just doesn’t quite fit right, “I don’t know what I was thinking with that honestly. You’re not built like that.”

Azzi flinches, eyes blazing, “some of us want to be more than just another good UConn player.”

“That’s what all the people not good enough to play for UConn say,” Paige retorts bitterly and Azzi doesn’t think she knows this girl standing in front of her, one whose words are aimed to make her cry instead of laugh.

“Not good enough and yet you still wanted me on your team.”

“Nah you know what, my bad, I didn’t realise you’d fucking stab me in the back like that, ” Paige hisses, “you’re a fake as fuck friend and you’d probably make a shit teammate.”

Azzi’s never had a heart attack. She doesn’t even fully think she knows what a heart attack really is. But she’s certain this pain in her chest can’t possibly be anything less than one. It starts at her heart and then spreads to her lungs and then floods through her body, until she can’t move, she can’t breathe.

“You don’t mean that,” she whispers.

Paige hesitates, as if suddenly aware of the fragility of the moment, her voice considerably softer when she speaks but she doesn’t take it back, “ real friends choose each other.”

“Oh my god,” Azzi laughs, it’s the worst thing she could do in the moment and Paige’s eyes flash with anger, “you’re so fucking full of yourself.”

“Watch your fucking mouth-”

“Don’t you even dare. You say all that shit to me and now you can’t hear some of it back? Contrary to what you might think Paige, my whole life doesn’t revolve around you. My decision for where to spend the next four fucking years, does not revolve around you,” Azzi’s voice rises with each word.

Fighting is cathartic in a way. They’ve spent almost a year delicately tip-toeing around the subject, growing further and further apart and yet still holding on for dear life. And Azzi doesn’t want to let go, but everything feels burning hot, and her hands are starting to blister.

“Oh you’ve made that very clear,” Paige bites back, “you’ve made it very clear just how little I mean to you.”

“Because I chose a different school? That’s all it took Paige, seriously? That’s all it took for you to call our friendship fake?”

“No what it took Azzi was you being a fucking liar.”

“I didn’t lie about anything.”

Paige scoffs, her voice taking on a pitchy mocking tone, “ ‘I’d love to play with you Paige’, ‘being on the same team would be nice P’, all of that fucking bullshit when you didn’t mean any of it.”

“Oh we’re playing that game,” Azzi seethes, “how about ‘Az I’d support you no matter what’ huh? Where did all of that go?”

“Maybe if you didn’t make stupid decisions then.”

“No, actually choosing not to play with you might have been my smartest decision yet,” as soon as the words are out, there’s a part of Azzi that wishes she could wrench them back in.

“Right,” Paige’s voice is eerily quiet now, “well I hope that works out well for you then. Go to UCLA Azzi, have a great fucking life and stay the fuck away from mine.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Azzi takes a cautious step towards the blonde and almost immediately, Paige steps backwards, her expression suddenly blank. The change to indifference is somehow worse than the previous malice, “Paige-”

“Fuck this, I’m going home,” Paige says resolutely, her fingers fidgeting with themselves as she reaches for her phone and wallet.

“We need to talk this out, we need to try and fix this,” Azzi all but pleads, trying to position herself in front of the persistent older girl who’s trying to make her way to the door.

“I don’t know if I want to fucking fix this,” Paige yells, shaking away Azzi’s hand on her shoulder, “I don’t know if it’s worth it,” her voice breaks as she says the next words, “I don’t even think I wanna be friends.”

When Azzi’s 14, Paige Bueckers dribbles through a USA basketball camp court straight into her life and teaches her all about how one person can come into your life and carve out a permanent shelf. When Azzi’s 16, Paige’s casual smiles and not-so-insignificant touches teach her all about the complicated space in-between just friends and something more. When Azzi’s 18, Paige says those words, ones that sound a lot like giving up, and teaches Azzi that sometimes in life, even the people you thought would never make you feel this way, are the ones who'll break you the most. And that’s the day Azzi makes a promise to herself that she’ll never give someone that part of herself again, unaware that when she’s 20, Paige will teach her that some promises are meant to be broken.

***

July 2023

Azzi doesn’t know what god she pissed off to get herself into this position, stuck in a booth with Zoe on one side and Paige on the other. Her girlfriend’s left hand is placed firmly on her thigh and Azzi has to fight the vehement urge to shake it away because Zoe’s normally soft, sweet touch feels itchy and heavy. But the way Paige’s biceps are pressed against hers might be even worse. Every time the blonde moves a little, the sliding of her smooth skin against Azzi’s arms, sends a jolt of electricity through her veins. And Azzi doesn’t know when she became that girl, the girl who already has someone to hold her but is desperately craving somebody else’s touch.

When people’s girlfriends surprise them with an unexpected visit, the appropriate reaction is to be overwhelmed with happiness. Except since she’d met her, Azzi’s summers have always belonged to Paige. With them having lived in separate states most of their lives, it was the one time they got to be with each other for an extended period of time. It was an unspoken rule really, one that they had subconsciously still followed the year before when Azzi had shown up at Paige’s door, even if they’d only gotten the last couple of weeks of the season; summer was theirs. So, when Zoe had shown up that afternoon with a bright smile and shining eyes, all Azzi had been able to register was a sense of loss as Paige pulled her hand out of Azzi’s.

Introductions had been somewhat awkward. Her parents knew of Zoe, but hadn’t met her yet. They were nice of course, her dad pulling the shorter girl into one of his bear hugs and her mom giving her a warm smile. Jon and José were more awkward, nodding their greetings but making no move to actually welcome her. Paige had managed to muster up a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and shake the other girl’s outstretched hand. And then there was Drew, whose normally goofy smile seemed to have disappeared.

“Who are you?” the young boy had asked quizzically, his eyebrows crinkling together.

“Oh umm, I’m uh- Azzi’s girlfriend,” Zoe had replied, the last word causing Paige to involuntarily flinch.

Drew had looked over to Azzi then, his eyes wide and accusing, “you can’t be Azzi’s girlfriend.”

“Is that so?” Zoe hummed, clearly not taking him seriously.

“It is,” Drew had said petulantly, ignoring Paige’s warning squeeze, “she’s Paige’s.”

The silence after had been deafening, as Azzi tried to stop herself from choking on air. Eventually Paige had regained her senses first, apologising for her younger brother’s lack of filter (“he says stupid things all the time”) and then Azzi’s dad had swooped in before things could possibly get any more awkward, proposing that they all go out to dinner. And that’s how Azzi has ended up here, shuffled in a booth, opposite her parents, with Paige on one side and Zoe on the other. Life really and truly isn’t on her side these days.

“So girls, what are y’all pizza orders?” Tim asks jovially. Azzi’s brothers and Drew, desperate to go enjoy the sun (and avoid Zoe), had already told them their orders before zooming to the park right outside the restaurant.

“Oh uh- Az you wanna share a Margherita pizza?”

“Azzi and I’ll just have our usual.”

It’s as if the world wants Azzi to suffer as both Zoe and Paige immediately look at her expectantly. The girl in question keeps her eyes focused on the menu in front of her, unsure how to best handle this predicament by doing anything other than maybe just running out of the restaurant.

“What’s your usual?” Zoe asks, her voice all curiosity and no ill-intent.

“Grilled chicken and bacon with spinach and onions.”

“But Azzi doesn’t like onions, she says they make-”

“They make her breath smell I know,” there’s a hard edge to Paige’s voice, “but she-”

“She can’t pick them off. She can’t pick anything off of her pizza because it takes-”

“It takes the cheese off, I know that too. That’s not what I was going to say. She doesn’t eat them because she thinks they make her breath smell but she does like them. It’s just-,” Paige’s eyes flare with mischief, “she only eats them around people who are close to her. Guess you’re not quite there yet.”

Since Azzi had mustered up the courage to finally tell Paige about Zoe, right before summer break started, Paige had been nothing but respectful, supportive even. Until tonight apparently and Azzi doesn’t even know to react to the fact that her best friend has started a pissing contest over fucking onions.

“Right,” Zoe bites her lips, her ever-present smile slipping slightly as she slowly pries the menu out of Azzi’s hands and looks at her with hopefully eyes, “but we’ll get the Margherita tonight babe?”

“I-” and Azzi really should say yes, side with Zoe like the good girlfriend she is, except, well, all she can think about is that Paige hasn’t smiled since the California girl had arrived in D.C., “I think um- I’ll stick to my usual Zo, I’m sorry.”

She’s a terrible girlfriend, because immediately Zoe’s smile fades, and Azzi barely notices it, too busy watching Paige’s grin light up her face. Her baby blue eyes sparkle as if she’s won some important battle and it’s not even dark yet, but Azzi swears it feels like the stars have come out.

“Okay,” Tim says slowly, looking between the three younger girls, as he waives over the waitress, “if that’s decided then.”

The issue with Paige being pretty, is that nobody’s really immune to it, including the cheerful waitress that practically skips over to serve them. Her eyes glaze over a little bit as they roam across the blonde’s face and then to her arms before drifting down to her torso. Paige’s tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, exposing both her muscled biceps and toned torso and Azzi doesn’t need an x-ray to know the widely appropriate thoughts going through the waitress’s head. The feral roar of mine takes birth in her stomach and the quieting whisper of she’s not does little to subdue it.

“I’m Libby,” the waitress says, tongue darting across her lips, eyes solely focused on Paige, “and I’ll be your server today.”

Libby collects orders dutifully, polite and agreeable, but doesn’t once fully look away from the blonde, practically drooling once she finally gets to her, “and what can I get for you to drink babe?”

Azzi’s not sure whether it’s the sultry tone or the nickname that gets Paige’s attention, but all of a sudden her best friend is staring up at the waitress with her own flirty smile. She likes to think she’s not a particularly violent person, but Azzi thinks she might end up in jail for homicide tonight.

“Well babe,” Paige winks, Azzi wants to die, “what would you recommend?”

Libby smirks, clearly feeling triumphant as she leans on the table, one hand reaching out to brush Paige’s forearm, “sex on the beach.”

Several things happen at once. Tim chokes on a breadstick. Katie immediately thumps him on the back. Zoe lets out a laugh. Azzi’s nails break the skin of her palm, drawing blood as she fists both of hands. And then-

“She has a girlfriend,” it’s a blatantly untrue but all Azzi can think about is stopping this random girl from eye-fucking her Paige. It does the trick, Libby’s eyes go comically wide, as she steps back from the table, from Paige.

“She does?” Tim asks. Next to him, Katie, shoots her daughter a knowing look that veers on the edge of disappointment.

Azzi stutters under the heat of Paige’s glare, the blonde clearly unamused by her lie, “I uh- I mean um- it’s not official but um yeah,” she doesn’t even sound convincing to herself, “I’m uh- I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

She practically shoves Paige out of the booth so she can climb out of it herself, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her heart hammers in her chest and she tries to block out the sound of Paige’s being questioned by her dad, as she rushes into the restroom.

There’s no amount of water she could splash on her face to make this heat go away, but she tries anyway, unsure of when the tap water starts to blend in with the tears streaming down her face. The unsettling anger of how dare she flirt with another girl beating in her heart is replaced by the guilt of i’m not allowed to feel this way thrashing around her rib cage. It hurts all the same, as Azzi clutches her chest, trying to even out her breathing.

She doesn’t hear the door open or close until, “What the fuck was that?”

“Get out,” Azzi whispers, closing her eyes and leaning her head on the mirror, “just give me a second okay?”

“Oh no, no, no, you owe me a huge fucking explanation right now,” Paige hisses, “what the fuck was that bullshit? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“It was a joke-” before Azzi can even finish the sentence, there’s a hand on her biceps, forcing her to turn around. When she opens her eyes, Paige’s face is far too close to her own and when she tries to move back, she’s trapped with the cool edge of the sink. It’s too much, the proximity, the tension, the lingering touch of Paige’s fingers curled around her arm.

“Stop lying,” Paige bites out.

“It just slipped out babe,” and fuck, Azzi absolutely hadn’t meant to add that last part, hadn’t meant to make it so obvious what exactly had triggered her little outburst. Realisation flashes across Paige’s face, as she takes a step back, letting go of Azzi, and the distance should be freeing, but instead it just makes her feel lost.

“That’s what this is about?” the blonde asks in disbelief.

“Yes- no- I don’t know, okay,” Azzi’s voice is high-pitched, “I’m sorry okay. I’ll tell the waitress it was a joke,” she lets out a humourless laugh, “I didn’t mean to fucking cockblock you.”

“Cockblock me? Dude I wasn’t trying to fuck the waitress what the fuck?”

“Could’ve fooled me babe,” Azzi sneers.

Something menacing flashes in Paige’s eyes, “stop calling me that.”

“What? You don’t like me calling you babe. You didn’t seem to have a problem when it was her.”

“Oh my fucking god Azzi,” Paige throws her hands up, “you don’t get to do this. Not when your girlfriend is sitting right there.”

The reminder of Zoe is like being splashed with cold water and Azzi feels everything inside of her freeze. She grips the edge of the sink, trying to find some semblance of balance as Paige continues to glare at her.

“For the past few hours, I have had to hear your girlfriend call you every fucking nickname in the book. I have had to watch her kiss you and move your hair back and grip your fucking knee under the table,” with every sentence, Paige inches closer and closer, until she’s accentuating every word by pushing her index finger into Azzi’s chest, “and you can’t even fucking deal with me calling some other girl babe?”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers when Paige’s voice breaks on the last word. Their faces are so close, she can feel the other girl’s uneven breathing all over her skin. And it takes everything in her to not cave in and reach a hand out to caress away the tear that's threatening to fall from the blonde’s tearline.

“It’s been hell Azzi,” Paige spits out, “so you don’t get to be upset if I want to fuck someone-”

Something snaps and before Paige can complete the offending sentence, before she can imprint an image that will forever haunt Azzi’s mind, Azzi silences all the warning bells of why she really shouldn’t, and pulls her best friend into a searing kiss. Immediately, Paige’s hands come to rest against Azzi’s hips, pressing her firmly against the edge of the sink. It’s as if they’re trying to meld their bodies together, both of them gripping each other as close as possible. Outside, it’s a summer evening of clear blue skies, but here in this random restaurant restroom, lightning strikes.

Paige bites at Azzi’s bottom lip and then traces her tongue over the bruise she’s created, smirking when it elicits a gasp from the younger girl. Lips still firmly moving against Azzi’s, her hands work expertly on the buttons of Azzi’s tight shorts. The sensation of everything Paige is all-consuming and Azzi feels like she’s drunk on the taste of her best friend’s skin, as she moves away from Paige’s lips, to pepper kisses on her neck, before moving down to suck a mark into her collarbone. Mine, mine, mine.

“Fuck Az,” Paige moans when Azzi’s teeth grate against her skin and it’s the brunette’s turn to smirk. But her cockiness is short-lived when Paige’s fingers finally find their way into her now unbuttoned shorts. They press down on her clit through her underwear, making her whine.

A cry of “Paige,” escapes her lips when the blonde slides Azzi’s panties to the side, her middle and index finger beginning to rub circles around the younger girl’s clit in a tantalisingly slow rhythm.

“So wet, so fucking wet for me,” Paige’s voice is wrecked with want, as she brings her free hand to cup Azzi’s jaw, forcing her best friend to look her in the eyes. It scares Azzi, the sheer amount of emotion she can see swirling in the blonde’s eyes. There’s lust and then there’s something else, another l-word that she can’t bring herself to acknowledge, knowing it’ll ruin her, ruin them.

“Please,” Azzi whispers against Paige’s mouth, as the older girl’s fingers slip from her clit to tease against her soaking entrance, dipping into her folds but not giving her what she wants.

“If you want something baby,” Paige traces Azzi’s lips with her thumb, “you have to ask for it.”

Azzi's hands moved away from where they had been firmly gripping Paige’s waist, to wrap around her neck. She bites softly against Paige’s left earlobe, eliciting a low groan, before bringing her lips as close to the blonde’s ears as she can, “I want you to fuck me.”

It’s all it takes, Paige finally gives Azzi what her body’s so desperately craving, for far longer than she’s willing to admit, pumping two fingers into her pussy, while her thumb stimulates her clit. And fuck, Paige knows exactly what she’s doing, fingers curling in the exact right spots and Azzi feels like she’s floating or flying or falling, maybe all of the above.

“Please, please, please,” Azzi babbles incoherently, burying her face in the crevice of Paige’s neck, tears beginning to blur her vision. Because, it’s too much, the ecstasy, the fact that it’s Paige behind the ecstasy, the fact that this is better than her wildest fantasies.

“Doing so good for me baby,” Paige praises, fingers starting to move faster, “taking my fingers so fucking well Az, think you can handle one more?”

Azzi whines in response. Paige pushes in a third finger, both of them letting out identical sighs of pleasure. She’s slow for a second, giving Azzi time to adjust but-

“Fuck, Paige, faster, please,” the younger girls moans, grinding fervently, desperately, against Paige’s fingers, trying to create more fiction.

“Anything for you Az,” Paige whispers, and even in the high of the moment, Azzi knows those words are about more than sex, “whatever you want.”

As Paige’s fingers begin to move at a rapid pace, curling around her g-spot, over and over and over, Azzi can feel that familiar pressure building in her stomach. Her fingers claw at Paige’s neck in warning, too worked up for words. Paige nudge’s Azzi’s face out of her neck, free hand cupping the younger girl's jaw.

“Come apart for me baby,” she whispers before pressing their lips together.

Azzi’s hips stutter as her orgasm rolls all over her, pussy clenching around Paige’s fingers, as she moans into the older girl's mouth. Spent, her body goes limp, her best friend’s firm grip pressing her against the edge of the sink, the only thing anchoring her and keeping her uprights. Paige slowly pulls her fingers out of Azzi’s pants and the loss of contact feels wrong. It’s instinct really, as Azzi reaches for Paige’s hand and brings it up to her mouth, sucking each of the older girl’s fingers clean one by one, and it’s worth it for the way Paige looks wrecked.

“Az-” she begins softly, eyes filled with questions but before Azzi can even think about any answers-

“Azzi,” reality crashes and burns around the two girls as Zoe’s voice calls out for her girlfriend. The sound of footsteps gets closer and closer. Panic takes the place of pleasure as Paige and Azzi jump apart from each other and the realisation of their surroundings hits both of them at the same time. Sweat sheens against Paige’s collarbone and Azzi’s lips are bruised, her eyes still glazy. Their identical dishevelled demeanour gives away far too much. Just as the restroom door creaks open a little, Azzi dives into one of the stalls.

“Oh, hey Paige,” guilt pools in Azzi’s stomach at the sound of Zoe’s innocent voice, as she presses her ear against the stall door, “is Azzi in here? She’s been gone for like 20 minutes.”

“She- she was,” Paige stutters, and Azzi hates herself even more for putting her best friend in this position, “I-uh I think she um- she wanted some fresh air.”

“Ah okay, I’ll go try and find her,” Zoe pauses, “are you okay? You look a little flustered.”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Paige assures in a high-pitched voice, “just uh miss my girlfriend you know.”

Azzi flinches at the lie. She’d made such a fucking mess today. The lying, the cheating, all of it was so out of character and all of a sudden, she feels dirty. Tears brim in her eyes as she begins to process the gravity of what she’d done. And perhaps the worst part of it, is that she can’t find it in herself to fully regret it. If she could turn back time, she doesn’t know if she’d do anything different. Because when it comes to Paige, Azzi’s fine living in shades of grey.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Zoe says slowly.

There’s a pause and Azzi knows the words neither did I are floating in Paige's mind before she answers, “yeah, it’s uh- it’s new.”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you,” the sincerity in Zoe’s words hit like stones, rupturing whatever built up image of i am a good person Azzi had ever had of herself

“Thank you,” Paige replies quietly.

“It just-,” Zoe draws in a breath, “Azzi she- she worries about you a lot you know. Even before- you know- when you guys weren’t- you know? Like I think she thinks about you a lot,” there’s an unmistakable wistfulness in Zoe’s voice, “ like- if you’re doing okay and all that. And I don’t- I don’t even know you but I know she wants you to be happy- and- and I want whatever Azzi wants- so- so if you’re happy- that’s good.”

“That’s- that’s really sweet of you,” Paige sounds as guilty as Azzi feels.

There’s quiet for a minute until, “do you think I make her happy? Does she- does she talk about me?”

Zoe’s voice is laced in insecurity and hopefulness and Azzi wishes she’d never brought this girl into her mess in the first place. The sun-kissed Californian had been a classmate who had accidentally stumbled upon Azzi mid-breakdown on a random Thursday. One second she was hesitant, the next she was spilling her woes to a stranger, tired of holding it in. And from then on Zoe had been on a mission to just be there. She’d never hidden her intention, always clear that she wanted more than friendship and Azzi, despite knowing that her heart didn’t really have space for anyone else, had let her loneliness be her guide and given in to the urge to just let someone hold her. But the truth is that while every other second spent with Zoe was filled with mentions of Paige’s name, every moment spent with Paige was never about anything else other than her.

“She- she does, she seems happy,” Paige can’t bring herself to say the with you. The blonde sounds defeated, as if the admission that Azzi could possibly be happy with someone else has taken everything out of her.

“Good, it means a lot,” Zoe’s voice is lighter now, like there’s a smile hidden in it, “especially from you. Thank you. I’ll uh- I’ll go see if I can find her.”

Azzi waits for the sound of footsteps shuffling and then the sound of the door clicking behind Zoe, before prying herself out of the stall. Paige is hunched over the sink, face buried in her hands. And the words my fault, my fault, my fault imprint themselves all over Azzi’s heart.

“Your girlfriend’s looking for you,” Paige says, not bothering to look up.

“Paige I-”

“Just go Azzi, we’ll just” Paige scoffs, “we’ll just play pretend again,” the walls are up again and Paige is unreachable in her castle built from the ashes of the purity in their friendship that they’d just sacrified for a fucking quickie in a barely-lit restroom. And maybe Azzi should say something, maybe she should stay and see if she can fight her way into Paige’s castle. But Azzi’s no knight in shining armour, not Paige’s, not Zoe’s, not anybody else’s because knights don’t cheat and they don’t lie and they don’t break people’s hearts. So she listens to what her best friend says, she walks out, and she pretends she doesn’t hear the sob that’s let out behind her.

***

November 2023

UCLA is up on UConn, it should be a pretty momentous occasion and it is. Azzi’s had one of the best games of her career to get her team mere seconds away from getting their first win over the powerhouse. For UConn, so has Paige, except there’s nothing but frustration gleaming in the blonde’s face. The game had been bad for UConn, the cracks created by injuries on full display. And the competitor in Azzi was more than happy to take advantage of that. But the part of her that was Paige’s best friend was stuck on how tired Paige looked. Someone fucking help her, Azzi had thought throughout the game, she literally just came back from injury.

The outcome of the game is clear and Azzi’s already on the bench getting rest, cheering for her own team of course, but keeping a subtle eye on what’s happening with Paige. Azzi’s eyes follow Paige as she’s finally subbed out. The older girl walks to the end of her own bench, hands coming to rest on her thighs as she hangs her head, face scrunched up in irritation. Paige does that thing where it's like she’s trying to bite of all the skin on her lips and Azzi has the familiar urge to march over and make her stop, preferably by kissing her, not that that’s a thought she’s allowed to have.

It’s ironic really, the 2,943 miles that had once been the reason they’d fallen apart, is the only thing holding them together. Being out of each other’s reach makes it easier to ignore what had happened over the summer, makes it easier to not give into that same vice all over again. And it makes sense, Azzi thinks, because since she’s met her, whenever Paige had just been a blurry goofy face on her screen, they’d been good at the just friends thing. The moment they could touch though, that’s when lines got blurry. As much as Azzi’s not sure how she survived a year without Paige, she’s even less sure about how she’d survived that one year where they’d practically lived in each other’s skins.

Things in the handshake line are somewhat icy with both teams being overprotective of their star players. Muhl’s eyes are full of disdain once she reaches Azzi and Arnold barely shakes her hand, only doing as much as she has to, to keep up appearance. Azzi’s teammates aren’t any better, Angelica smiles at everyone until she reaches Paige, and Kiki rolls her eyes at the point guard. But it doesn’t matter what anybody else does, not when Paige practically falls into Azzi’s arms, her tense body finally beginning to relax a little.

“You did good,” Azzi whispers into the blonde’s hair, tightening her hold on the other girl as she soothingly strokes her back.

Paige scoffs, burying her face further into Azzi’s neck, “you did good, I did what I had to.”

They break apart reluctantly, the shutter of cameras ruining the intimacy of the moment. Their hands hold on a touch longer but the minute they finally slip away from each other, the familiar feeling of i’m tired of missing you that seems to always be lingering within Azzi, prickles against her heart.

***

UConn and UCLA don’t have a rivalry but if you were sat at the hotel restaurant in the Cayman Islands on a lovely November evening, you wouldn’t know that. There’s multiple women’s basketball teams present at the restaurant and everyone’s mingling with each other but the Bruins and Huskies seem determined to avoid each other at all costs. At one point, Angelica and Muhl, of course it would be them, accidentally bump into each other and Azzi holds her breath at the icy glare shared between them. She’s not sure how she and Paige ended up with something akin to the women’s basketball version of the Montagues and the Capulets, but it seems fitting with the way her life’s been going, that it would eventually start to take the shape of a tragedy.

It’s around 10pm when Azzi notices Paige moving in the direction of the door, towards the beach. Azzi hesitates for a moment, knowing her need to go after the blonde isn't just one born out of a best friend’s concern, but it’s Paige. It doesn’t matter if there’s inevitable destruction on the other side, it’s Paige and when it’s Paige, Azzi will follow.

Paige’s silhouette on the beach, glowing underneath the moonlight, with waves crashing onto the shore beyond her, is straight out of a dream. Azzi’s not an artist by any means, but she thinks if she were, this moment would be her muse. The sea wind causes Paige’s hair to flutter with it. Her eyes are closed in concentration, knees pressed against her heaving chest as she takes in deep breaths of salty air. Azzi traipses across the sand, sandals in hand, before falling to the ground next to the other girl. A whisper of a smile is the only acknowledgement Paige offers her as they let a comfortable silence glide over them.

“It would be nice to live here,” Paige says after a moment, “it’s peaceful.”

“Except when it storms,” Azzi surmises.

“It’s not peaceful anywhere when it storms,” Paige counters matter-of-factly, “can you just let me have my moment?

“Right, right, continue.”

“Well now I don’t want to.”

Azzi laughs. Paige grins. It’s so easy. It’s so fucking scary.

“Why’d you leave the restaurant?” Azzi asks cautiously.

“Fresh air.”

“And?”

Paige sighs, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, “it’s gonna be a long season.”

“It always feels like that at the beginning.”

“I know- it’s just- after last year- I just thought it would be different. We’d show the world this time. Be like the other UConn teams of the past. Maybe I just wanted something easier.”

“No you didn’t,” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder, “you’ve never wanted easy in your goddamn life Paige. If it’s not a challenge, then it’s not for you. Because you’re God’s strongest soldier, and He’ll give you his hardest battles, right?”

“Right, but sometimes I just don’t feel so strong.”

“Remember what I said in LA? It’s okay to feel that way P. It’s okay to feel however you feel. Let yourself breathe sometimes, it’s good for you. Fall down, let things go, just- remember to get back up and hold on again. It’ll get better, I promise.”

“You always say the right things,” Paige says quietly, and then even quieter, she whispers under her breath, “you make it so hard Az.”

Azzi’s not fully sure what that means. She’s not sure she wants to. Instead she tangles her and Paige’s fingers together, ignoring the way it feels a little too right, and lets them fall back into a peaceful quiet.

“So,” Paige begins again, after a couple of minutes, “Zoe didn’t make the trip here?”

I’m holding your hand and you’re thinking about my girlfriend. Maybe you’re a better person than me.

“She can’t just leave all her schoolwork and follow me wherever,” Azzi says, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. It’s true except the part where Zoe had asked if she wanted her there and Azzi hadn’t been able to give her the enthusiastic yes she wanted, starting an unspoken argument that quashed any chance of a nice romantic island getaway for the two of them.

“She did for the Elite 8 last-” Paige bites her tongue.

“How did you-,” Azzi’s brain feels dizzy with confusion, “how could you know that? You left- after the Sweet 16, you- how did you know Zoe was there?”

“I didn’t leave,” Paige keeps her eyes adamantly on the ocean, “the team wanted to stay longer,” that’s a lie, Azzi knows her too well, “and so I stayed and you know me, I love watching hoops so I uh- I watched your game.”

“You were there,” Azzi whispers more to herself than Paige at this point. She’d been so sure she was just hallucinating, her heart trying to trick itself into seeing what it wanted to see, “why didn’t you tell me you were there? Why didn’t you come see me after the game?”

“I did- fuck Azzi- I did-”

“Where? I would’ve seen- I didn’t see-”

“I saw you,” Paige cuts through Azzi’s frantic questioning, her voice heavy with unspoken emotions as she continues to refuse to look at the younger girl, “you and Zoe. Together.”

“Paige-”

“After the game, you were looking for someone in the stands and I- I thought maybe you were looking for your parents but then I saw you- with her- outside the locker room and- it hit me that- that you were looking for her,” Paige spits the last word out as it feels like lava on her tongue.

In the grand scheme of things, maybe Azzi should let Paige keep this misconception, maybe it would make things simpler if she let Paige believe in the idea that there was someone else Azzi sought out when she was struggling. But-

“I thought I saw you,” Azzi breathes out, “I should have been looking for Zoe but-” she has to draw in a breath when Paige whips around, piercing blue eyes that feel like they can see straight into Azzi’s soul, “Paige, I was looking for you-”

The last bit of sound is stolen away from Azzi as Paige’s lips crash onto hers. And it’s so different from summer and that wretched bathroom. Something softer, more gentle, but still desperate and passionate. Time slows down, as Azzi pulls Paige into her lap, hands caressing her waist, mouths still moving against each other with perfect rhythm. They only pull away when air becomes a necessity, resting their forehead against each other, as they breathe in sync.

“You’re so beautiful,” Azzi whispers, moving a strand of hair out the blonde’s face.

The way Paige blushes is everything, “stop.”

“You are,” Azzi insists, pressing a kiss against the corner against the edge of her lips, “you’re perfect P.”

If she goes blind tomorrow, in the next second even, Azzi thinks that would be okay. As long as this, Paige with her soft Azzi smile, looking at her with that sparkle in her eyes, face illuminated by the shine of the stars, is the last thing Azzi sees.

Slowly Paige climbs off of her, stretching out a hand to pull Azzi up.

“You don’t have a roommate right?,” she asks with a soft smirk that transforms into a shy grin when Azzi nods. And this isn’t a version of Paige that Azzi's ever met before, so different from her cocky loud best friend, but she’d like to learn her all the same.

The hotel staff probably think they’re a little drunk as they giggle their way to Azzi’s hotel room. Azzi barely manages to get the door open, before Paige’s lips are all over her again, drifting everywhere from her lips to her neck to her collarbone.

“Off, off, off,” Paige urges, hands pulling away Azzi’s shirt and she can’t help but giggle at the older girl’s impatience. She keeps her eyes firmly on Paige as she unhooks her bra, smirking as her best friend’s eyes glaze over. Paige moves to touch her, and Azzi moves back immediately.

“Nuh huh. I show you mine, you show me yours.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Paige groans but does as she’s told, discarding her shirt and Azzi’s smirk widens. She moves towards Paige, slowly tracing her tongue down the older girl’s neck.

“Am I?” Azzi whispers, as she backs her best friend onto the bed. Paige’s eyes follow her every movement as Azzi slowly slides down Paige’s pants, and then her underwear. She runs a finger down Paige’s soaked folds, causing the other girl’s body to shiver, “so wet already, for someone so annoying?”

“Fuck y-” Paige cuts herself off with a groan, when Azzi’s fingers find her sensitive clit.

Settling herself in between the older girl's legs, Azzi grazes her teeth against Paige’s left thigh, satisfied when it makes the other girl’s breath hitch, “if I’m so annoying maybe I should go?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige warns breathlessly, head propped up against Azzi’s pillows.

“That’s what I thought,” Azzi smirks, as she peppers kisses up Paige’s thighs, her right thumb lazily flickering against Paige’s clit.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Paige lets out a frustrated whine, “just fuck me already.”

Azzi bites down hard against Paige’s thigh, wanting to leave a mark in the one place no one would ever see it, before looking up at Paige, “whatever you want.”

Paige’s entire body writhes as Azzi fucks her tongue into Paige’s pussy, building pace with every thrust. One hand fists around the sheets, as the other moves to grab at Azzi’s head, trying to guide her in deeper.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck shit Azzi please,” Paige curses, eyes rolling into her skull, “just like that fuck.”

She’s so close, words becoming incoherent noises, thighs beginning to shake, when Azzi pulls her tongue off.

“What the fuck-” Paige almost yells but it turns into a groan when Azzi replaces her tongue with two fingers instead, “shit- FUCK.”

Azzi attaches her now-free lips to Paige’s clit and she can tell it’s too much. Paige’s back arches off the bed as her eyes go hazy. And then Azzi’s above her, fingers still rapidly pumping into Paige, as she places a delicate kiss against her lips.

“Let go baby, I’ve got you,” Azzi whispers into Paige’s ear as the blonde closes her eyes, letting her orgasm wash all over her, “I’ve got you.”

Paige is still for a second, as Azzi slips her fingers out, continuing to press lazy open-mouthed kisses against her best friend’s neck. She squeals when she feels herself being flipped over, back hitting the mattress.

“What was it you said?” Paige asks cheekily, as starts to unbutton Azzi’s jeans, “I showed you mine, now you have to show me yours.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, a laugh escaping her throat. Trust them to be dorks even in a moment like this. And then Paige attaches her lips to Azzi’s clit and the giggles turn into loud desperate moans. When she slips her fingers in, it’s clear Paige remembers exactly how to push Azzi over the edge.

“So fucking perfect,” Paige whispers from between her legs, eyes looking up at a blissed-out Azzi with awe, “you’re so fucking perfect.”

“That’s you,” Azzi manages to get out in between bated breaths, before her own orgasm hits her, and Paige’s name waterfalls out of her lips like a prayer.

There’s no more words after that, only shared looks and soft grins as they make their way into the en-suite bathroom, lazily washing each other between stolen kisses. They fall asleep, wrapped in each other's arms with matching content smiles.

***

Azzi wakes up alone the next morning. There’s no scribbled note, or even a text. In fact there’s really no proof that Paige was ever there to begin with, except for the ghost of Paige’s touch written all over Azzi’s skin. For a second, Azzi sits in bed and stares out her window. There's a thunderstorm brewing outside (it's not peaceful anywhere when it storms). She watches the raindrops slide down one by one and decides that, that’s the only water that’ll fall today because she won’t shed a single tear and she won’t cry and she most definitely won’t sob.

She replies to Zoe’s i miss you text with a me too she doesn’t mean.

And then she gets up and goes on with her day.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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knifedog-machina · 2 months

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Daemons To Systems, And The Ways They Intertwine

Hey, I’m Max, he/they - I’m the host of our system, the guy who lives in the front and has only ever lived here, the one who identifies our body as my body specifically. A few nights ago, we realized something about our system origins while talking to some other systems, and I’ve honestly never heard of it happening before, so I thought I’d talk about it.

I used to think that I was a singlet before Jude and Gavin walked in. Now I’m pretty sure I wasn’t. See, before I was the host of a system, I was a daemian. I had three daemons, over the course of my time practicing daemonism, interacting with the community. And they were all a little weird.

The first one was Charlie, affectionately longformed as Charlemagne. Xe appeared in January 2018 as a red fox, said that was xir settled form, and never changed from that. That’s an option for daemons - I know other daemons who chose their forms, independent of how well that form represented their daemian, and stayed that way - but it was in contrast to how most people seemed to do it. I never really felt the need to find a form that fit my personality, not when xe was so confident that this was what xe was.

I didn’t try to make xir do anything, I didn’t decide to give xir faux autonomy - xe just did things xirself, with or without my prompting. Xe was playful, optimistic, a cheerful presence always willing to race around and perk me back up. I really needed xir, back then - I was going through a lot of stress in high school, and I needed someone around to remind me of the whimsical little joys in life. Xe fronted sometimes, and I loved when xe did, conjured phantom tail and paws and big fox ears and an unstoppable zest for life.

My next daemon, Martin, appeared in May 2019 after a fever dream. Really. I was sick and tired and miserable, and I didn’t want to do anything, including things that would make me feel better, and a new internal voice appeared in my head. She told me to drink some water and get to sleep. The next morning, she was still there, lounging around as a large black dog, and she stayed.

This became her role, her purpose in our mind, being a shepherd for my needs. She ran our faulty executive functioning, told me to take care of myself when I forgot important things, encouraged me when I failed to meet expectations. She raised her hackles when anyone tried to overstep our boundaries, and advocated for doing what we needed to protect ourselves, regardless of whether it was nice or polite.

Charlie and Martin overlapped in existence for a while. Charlie loved having a big sibling to play with, and Martin was fond of xir. So I had two daemons for a while, and the arrangement was nice. As I transitioned out of high school into college, my circumstances and environment drastically changed. Charlie was sweet, but xe stopped having a function in my life, so over the months, xe popped up less and less, until xe faded away entirely. Xe wasn’t upset to go, and xir memory is a comfort to me - xe served xir purpose, brought me joy, and had a life well lived.

In October 2021, I created a new daemon, compartmentalizing my emotional dysregulation and disordered anxiety into something that was Not Myself, so I could talk to it and understand its needs without being overwhelmed with distress. This became the feral shadow of a dog that we named Cortisol, nicknamed Court - and if Martin was our Freudian superego, who provided guidance for my decisions and stability when I got stressed, Court was our id, feeling all the explosive emotions that I couldn’t externally express and curling up for scritches like a beloved pet when it got what it needed.

We stayed like that for almost a year, getting familiar with the rhythm of life together. Then, in August 2022, my current headmates walked into my brain. My daemons vanished for the duration of their stay.

They only stayed around a few days, that first time - I was moving to a new place and having new people in my brain simultaneously was overloading our mental RAM, so I was forgetting a lot, and I decided that I’d rather live with them some other time. They understood, we said our goodbyes, and they walked out the next morning. (Recounting this to my friend Tanix was hilarious, by the way. “what the fuck (positive)” he said, his own headmates unable to do this. The joys of being a gateway system.) Once the headmates were gone, my daemons returned into my life.

They came back in March 2023, after I settled down into college for a while, and the memory didn’t jam up like it did previously, so we didn’t part ways this time. Martin and Court vanished overnight, again, and looking back on it, I’m noticing some patterns.

Gavin is basically performing the same role that Martin did - he’s the guy reminding us about our responsibilities, talking through the emotions when we feel like garbage, telling me to eat when I forget, or encouraging me to eat when I have enough sensory issues that I can't stomach anything. He consistently fronts when talking to people we don’t especially like, because he feels protective of us and tends to be the most patient with annoyances.

He’s also literally just some guy, just a decent human person who wound up in here because his partner arrived in my brain five minutes before him and understandably got really upset about it, so he followed them in. Somehow. We don't know how it works, but I also don't know exactly where the first two of my daemons came from, so I’m fine leaving it as a mystery.

(He has a lot of complicated feelings about the position he's in, playing a daemon’s role as a completely different person from me, and will probably write his own post about it some time.)

Jude is, unfortunately, kinda in the same role as Court. And since Court held the emotional dysregulation in my brain, Jude also holds the grand majority of the distress and anxiety that we feel on a regular basis. We all really wish it was split more evenly, because Jude tends to not only lose the ability to talk when they panic, they also get stuck in the front, completely unable to talk to me or Gavin.

(It’s not even that they feel the stress that directly affects them, it’s that on top of the stress that we get in our daily life. They regularly had panic attacks over my grades and exams last semester, and they weren’t even the one studying for it at all! It’s fucked up and I don’t love it for us.)

And there are other interesting little coincidences. You know how Court was a sketched-in sort of black dog? Jude only really realized they related to dogs upon arriving in the system with me, and the archetypal form they identify with is, again, a stylized black dog.

It’s really interesting, the ways my brain decided to be plural, because I didn’t think I was a system back then. I had a daemon, then two daemons, and they were daemons because I considered them parts of myself - no matter how autonomous they were, we were bound together in the same identity, as parts of the same person. They were reflections of me, and I loved them like I loved myself, and they loved me with the same ferocity.

With this realization, that my daemons effectively merged into my system, I did have to ask - are my headmates also parts of me, since they’re falling into the same functional compartments in my brain? We don’t think so, or at least, we don’t think it’s that simple.

They’re completely different people from me, people who arrived here with their own lives and memories and identities. They aren’t autonomous reflections of my psyche like my daemons were. They’re my weird roommates who moved in with me, and my boyfriends, and I guess you could say we’re life partners - because hey, what’s a partner if not someone you share a life with? What’s more intimate than sharing the same body, hearing each other's thoughts and feelings? They aren't parts of me, but we live the same life together, and I think that counts as something just as significant.

#max talks #personal essay #alterhuman #daemonism #plurality #gateway system

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lavender-long-stories · 5 months

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Writing Advice: Getting Words on a Page

With the 75k word count in November and 90k in August, I have been asked questions like how do I keep focus and what do I do when I get stuck. I am going to compile all the advice I have.

Over the last few years, I have posted 700k+ words of fan fiction and have been posting 3 to 6 chapters every week for the last ten months. This is not how to make your writing better. This is how to get words on a page.

This is not all my original ideas. This is just a collection of things that have worked for me.

I am not sure I am the person to tell you how to make your writing better, but if people want my thoughts on that. I can make that post too.

When inspiration strikes, write like wild.

If you have the time and you are bitten by the writing bug, keep writing anything while you are in peak form. You will thank yourself later when you feel like you can’t write everything. I have done the extreme version of this where I have a month (four chapters) written ahead of almost everything on my post schedule (you don’t need this), but this was really nice after I brunt out after finishing out the 90k challenge I destroyed myself with in August.

Write in little pockets of time.

You don’t need to sit down and write for two hours. Write 100 words here and 500 there. It will all add up. When I was struggling at the end of the 75k, I would just open a doc every few hours and write half a page until I got distracted and tried again later.

Change your font.

If you are struggling to edit or even just find yourself drifting while writing, change your font. It helps trick your brain into paying attention. (I like doing a mono font like Courier when I need writing vibes. It looks typewriter-y)

Take a shower.

Not just for shower thoughts, being clean and fresh helps with focus

Get dressed.

I love being comfy, but something about getting dressed makes me feel like I am working and should finish my task. Extra points for it being fun. (Maybe cosplay a pirate or something.)

Move Locations.

Desk, kitchen table, bed, outside: changing location helps move you out of a brain rut.

Handwrite notes.

I take most of my notes on notion, but when I am struggling with my plot, I write out notes by hand, starting with what happened last and continuing from there, writing even things I know will happen. Then I transfer this to my digital notes so they are easier to move around in order, AND a lot of time, I add details when revising them to digital. Double power.

Always, always write down your thoughts and keep them.

Some of my most popular stories came from me rediscovering a 2 am thought that I wrote down six years ago. Keep a notepad next to the bed if you have to.

Change POV

If something is not working in a scene, maybe it is who you have reacting to it. Try switching POV. It helps you think of the scene from another perspective.

Watch a show in your genre.

I watch a lot of the silliest KDrama’s and get lots of romance ideas. Maybe I didn’t think of sending my character to a park or trapping them in a sky lift. Maybe I should add a stalker that sounds fun.

Take your bathroom breaks.

You should always drink lots of fluids and remember to take your bathroom breaks because the brief moment of walking away always gives me an idea.

Skim through the story and make notes on what HAS happened, not just what will happen.

This helps more with my style of having next to no plot outline. Need your next plot point and don’t know where to go? Remember that time they did x? Let’s build off that. This helps intertwine the plot without losing things.

Just read the story back.

You don’t always need to make notes, but sometimes just reading from the beginning can make you pick up on a detail that was unimportant at the time, and you may not even have meant to put in that could have a lot more meaning now. Then, you can call it clever foreshadowing.

Explain your problem or the scene you are struggling with out loud.

It doesn’t have to be to someone. It could be a glass of water. This is called ‘rubber ducking. It’s a programmer term (hello, that is my day job). Restructuring your problem in a way you have to articulate it most of the time makes the solution come to you.

Try focusing on the scenery.

If you can’t get a scene to work open with the weather or how the floor is creaking under step, give the world a new feeling. How does the person feel about the weather or the temperature of the room?

Can’t figure out what is wrong? Rewrite the chapter from scratch.

Open a new doc and rewrite the chapter from memory. I do this a lot in the beginning of a story that didn’t quite hit the way I wanted it to. I will start the chapter from memory and skim the old one to ensure I didn’t miss anything important. Can’t do it from memory? Read a paragraph and write that from memory.

Take a left turn.

Sometimes, if you can’t go any further, go back a sentence, a paragraph, a scene, a chapter, and just make a different decision. Turn left instead of right. Change how someone reacts to an argument. It opens a whole new lane to go down.

Excited for a scene that is in the future?

Write it! You don’t have to use it word for word in the future. Sometimes, you can copy and paste it in, and sometimes, you can just rewrite it, and you lose none of those thoughts you originally had. Writing it might remind you of something that needs to happen first to help you get there.

Have more than one story you are working on.

I don’t think you need to be working on four+ stories like I do, but having something to switch to when your brain really isn’t feeling your main is a great way to keep you writing. Call it productive procrastination. This is the REAL reason I have so many stories uploading. (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

Other Somewhat Related Advice

Context Switching

I work on multiple projects at a time, and I tend not to mix them up because they have a different vibe to me. It feels like stepping into each world. If you are struggling with context switching between stories, I suggest finding a song or making a playlist that gives you that story’s ‘vibe’ and keeping a link to it in your writing folder or snagging a section of your story that captures the vibe you are going for and keeping it off to the side to reread when you need to switch.

Don’t edit the same day you write.

You’re not going to catch errors. Your brain is too familiar with what you wrote. Also, I recommend Grammarly or another grammar checker for all your missing comma and period needs. (Word, Docs, and any other text editor simply won't bully you enough.)

If you hate editing, don’t leave yourself with a painful amount of editing.

When people ask me how I edit my work, how many passes I take, etc, I tend to disappoint them. The short answer is one read-through (after using a grammar checker). I learned a LONG time ago that as much as it would be nice to write a bunch of dialog and then tell yourself you will go back to add all the actions or write without quotes because it takes time, you will save yourself a lot of time and pain if you learn to write it correctly the first time and then editing won’t be as much of a chore. I have been writing for years, and I am used to how I write and edit. If you are newer to writing, give it another pass or two, but try to shift some of that work to the writing process, not the editing process.

Make yourself an editing cheat sheet.

Make yourself a doc or a notion of words you notice you use too much or common words you misspell when writing. I usually make one when I get back and do a post edit (when the story has been up for a while and I get back with fresh eyes and edit it). Reading through your old work and find things that you don’t like or don’t want to do anymore is a great way to build this list and improve your writing.

Now go write.

Got any advice for me? Reblog and tell me.

#writing problems #writing #writing tips #writers block #writing advice #writer #writing community #writeblr

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astroyongie · 9 months

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Enhypen August Reading 2023

Note: please take it lightly and have fun

Heeseung

Love: For the moment he isn’t dating anyone but he has been very close to someone, and specially he has been flirting and having dates with this person whenever he can. He does want something serious with them, but for now the person haven’t given their green light. Heeseung likes them a lot and he can’t help but turn into a small kid whenever they are around

Career: Things are going extremely well for him, not only does he has secured self projects that he was able to secure, he is also building his own name and his own idol empire the way he wants. His sponsors and company are being very nice and supportive or all the dreams he wants to get

Self: Heeseung is doing well, he is spending a lot of time alone lately but that solitude has been helping him finding his own self. He is also becoming a lot more independent and not being so much behind his members for things. He is learning to do things by himself

Jay

Love: currently he is single but he is looking for someone that he could love and have a relationship with. Jay really hates not being in a relationship, but his idol life and his schedule also isn’t very convenient to get into a relationship that can be healthy and last long enough.

Career: things are a little bit shaky for him in this area as well, because he has more delays than his peers, however he still has faith that everything is going to go well, now that things changed a little. Jay knows this team will keep by his side to support him

Self: He has been having a very hard time lately, because he cannot deal with the bad mouths. Either it’s people pointing on his flaws, people talking aggressively or bad to him or even mean comments on the internet. He is trying is best to stay deaf to all of it, but it’s hard

Jake

Love: Just like Jay, Jake is also single at the moment, but it was for pure choice. He decided to break up with his last partner (soloist idol) because he didn’t trust them with other people. He believed that his partner would cheat on him if they could so he decided it would be better to end things instead of being potentially humiliated

Career: he is being very resilient about everything that has been happening. He also put his idol carer in the hands of the ones that work with him (company and sponsor) and he is just accepting everything that comes his way

Self: he is probably having some dependance issues here, this could be anything and everything, but it seems Jake has been a little addict to something lately that helps him going through his days

Sunghoon

Love: he is still in a relationship with his non idol partner and everything seem to be going well fo him. He loves them dearly and he as been very kind to them. I believe that Sunghoon has been taking care of them emotionally and financially as well. He wants to be able to provide for them

Career: he is full of creativity and there’s so many projects he has been signing and working on. He wants his name to be known outside Enhypen and he is working very hard for it

Self: honestly his aura is positive lately, a rosy pink color, he is very altruist and tries to help those in need by being generous enough. I believe that Sunghoon is also probably doing donations

Sunoo

Love: he is also single at the moment, and mostly focused on his mental health at the moment rather than on his love life. Sunoo is very close to love lately and he has no patient nor the need to focus on love or on people altogether

Career: at least when it comes to his career, he is very positive and confident that things are goin to work on his favor. He works enough and he believes in himself and on his idol talents. It’s probably the only area of his life where he is stable and happy

Self: i see a lot of anxiety around him, being being always worried about everything and trying to do things way too quickly. His aura is red and very racy, he needs to rest and to stop putting everything on his shoulders

Jungwon

Love: Jungwon is still on his relationship with his idol partner and things are okay as well. They are both stable, in love and working toward a very healthy relationship. Don’t have much to say other than he is okay

Career: he is also very happy with his career situation at the moment, he is learning to let go of things that don’t matter and focusing more on things that can bring him wealth and success. Jungwon is learning a lot lately and just living his life as he should

Self: is aura is yellow lately, he has been very faithful to his partner, to himself his members and his responsibilities. He is also happy and just joyful in general and wants everyone to know about it

Ni-ki

Love: without much surprise he is single and he is also healing because of some disappointment he got lately. There was probably someone he had a crush in that couldn’t give it back in return (and even if they could, he couldn’t) so Niki is frustrated and sad

Career: He is being very brave and tries to fight everything that comes his way. Niki is very well supported when it comes to his career but he also had to make some choices that demanded a lot of him emotionally

Self: he is doing well, his aura is rather on purple tons and also he has been liberating a lot of seductive energy and feminine people are usually being very attracted to him lately

#Enhypen #Enhypen astrology #Enhypen tarot #Enhypen reading #Enhypen headcanons #Enhypen imagines #Enhypen scenarios #Enhypen reactions

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sweetcherryharry · 1 year

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Begin Again — 01

Synopsis: Harry and Y/N had a secret relationship for almost two years, until they broke up. A year later, she shows up to one of his Love On Tour shows.

(masterlist)

Y/N wasn’t really sure it was the right decision when she agreed to go to a Harry Styles concert a few months ago when one of her University friends suggested they go.

It wasn’t like she didn’t enjoy his music —not even close, it was the opposite—, she had been (and still is) a massive fan of his music for more than a decade, ever since his One Direction days. She adored him, always supporting him while in the band and when he went solo, that only increased.

But three years ago, her whole perspective on him changed. He was not only Harry Styles, one of the biggest pop stars in the world, one of the members of One Direction, but he became just Harry. Her Harry.

They’d met back in August 2019, when she was studying abroad in London. She had decided to take a semester somewhere else, wanting to live the whole exchange student experience in Europe. She was almost halfway through her career and decided it was the best time to go.

Oh, how things happen for a reason.

It was her third week living in London, and ever since the first day she arrived, she had her eyes set on a small café that was located just five minutes away from her small apartment. On her third day after arriving in the city, she decided to visit it.

She had fallen in love with it. It was a two-story local that had small tables, along with some sofas, meant for one to two people in each. The café was for people who wanted to study, get work done or simply read a book in peace.

Ever since her first visit, she’d go there around three or four times a week. She didn’t usually look around at the people in the café, but on this Thursday evening, as she roamed the place to look for the best seat, her eyes got stuck on a certain person.

She could identify that frame easily, after all, at the time, she had been his fan for around eight years, and she had seen numerous videos and pictures of the famous singer on the internet.

Harry Styles was sitting down in a small booth at the corner of the café, a book in his hands. He wore a vintage Debbie Gibson Tour t-shirt, along with a pair of jeans and worn-off white vans.

For a second, her whole world stopped. She couldn’t believe the same man she had admired for so many years was now sitting down right in front of her, looking like any other person would.

But instead of walking up to him, she decided to leave him alone to read his book. He seemed focused, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as his green eyes skimmed through the printed letters.

And honestly, she was way too nervous to even be able to talk right now.

So, she decided to sit at one of the tables that were beside the second-floor stairs —which she always preferred, as there were fewer people there—, and she pulled her laptop from her bag, ready to complete her school work.

Of course, she wasn’t going to let the opportunity to meet him get away, but she’d wait until he seemed more available, not really wanting to interrupt his time. Her plan was to get her nerves down, wait until he stood up from his place to leave, and then finally approach.

And she was happy she did follow her plan. Almost an hour later, from the corner of her eye, she saw the young man stand up from his seat, putting his book away in his tote bag. At that moment, they were the only two people on the second floor of the café, with only the background ambient music accompanying them.

It was now or never.

She stood up from her seat and took a deep breath, taking slow steps towards the famous singer.

“Hi Harry, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Her soft voice made him turn around, and as soon as his green eyes made contact with hers, she felt her nerves increase by a million. “I just wanted to say hi, I’m Y/N.”

He smiled at her, “Hi, Y/N, nice to meet you.” He placed his palm towards her, and she placed her smaller one in his, softly shaking it in greeting. She couldn’t believe his skin was touching his, this felt surreal. “Are you from around here?”

He had to admit, he had noticed her earlier at the café. The whole hour she had been at the café, he had glanced at her from time to time, noticing the pretty girl who was focused on her work a few feet away from him.

“No, I’m an exchange student,” She could feel her heart beating hard against her chest, “I just arrived in London a few weeks ago.”

He nodded, his smile never leaving his features, “Welcome to London, have you been enjoying yourself here?”

“Thank you,” She smiled at him, “And yeah, it’s been amazing so far. I definitely made a great decision when I chose this city to study abroad.”

And without any of them noticing it, time went flying by that evening as they chatted with each other. What was supposed to just be a quick conversation —Y/N thanking him for his music and the love he has for his fans—, turned into a whole full conversation.

After a few minutes, they even took a seat again. Harry had invited her to another coffee, and she agreed. She took her things from her original table, since she was moving his, and took a seat beside the brunette at the corner of the café.

Hours passed filled with laughter and good conversations, and they finally left when one of the employees told them they were closing for the day. Before they left though, Harry had asked for her number, enjoying her presence quite a bit, and she happily gave it to him.

He had texted her that same night, letting her know he truly enjoyed meeting her that evening, and that he looked forward to more coffee and chats.

From then on, they started to meet from time to time at that same café, growing feelings for one another with each day, until eventually, they became (secret) boyfriend and girlfriend a few months later.

It all felt like a daydream, both feeling their heads in the clouds… until it didn’t.

They broke up two years later, around December 2021. They were perfectly in love and smitten with each other, their relationship miraculously still a secret from the public—even though she went to almost all his shows in North America's Love on Tour leg that same year—, but as life returned to normal and his schedule got extremely busy as an actor and musician, along with having to fake a relationship with Olivia Wilde on his free days, their relationship got strained.

Ever since the messy breakup almost a year ago, Y/N and Harry had not seen each other.

Of course, during the time being, she had listened to his new album “Harry’s House”, knowing in her gut most of the songs on the album were for her. But even with that knowledge and the emotions his lyrics caused in her, she still didn’t make a move to reach out to him about it, not even with a congratulatory text.

And now, as she stood in her green and black outfit outside the Kia Forum, which was extremely decorated with colors and pictures of her ex, she didn’t how to feel.

A ton of emotions were running through her; happiness, sadness, pride, nerves, and many more. She was extremely proud of his accomplishments, she had seen the amount of effort he’d put into each thing he did, and for that, she wanted to cry with happiness for him.

But at the same time, she felt a heavy weight on her chest. The last time she went to one of his shows had been last November, on Long Island, New York, and those were one of the last few happy moments they had together.

“Come on, let’s get a picture!” Natalie exclaimed, pulling both of her friends (Y/N and Maia) by their hands and to the front of the Kia Forum, where you could clearly see the ‘15 Nights Live’, ‘Kia Forum is Harry’s House’, and ‘Harry Styles’ Love on Tour’ huge banners.

After the three girls got a picture together —two of them clueless that one in the trio had dated the singer for almost two years— they made their way to get inside the arena.

Maia had been the one to get the tickets, exclaiming to the girls that it would be amazing to attend one of the shows in LA since it was close to home, and they were big fans of his. Y/N couldn’t say no, especially since both of her friends were so excited about it, so she agreed.

She was still a huge fan of his music —even knew every lyric from his entire discography— and she knew how amazing the crowd was during his shows, knowing she’d immensely enjoy the vibes, too.

And even if she didn’t want to admit it, a deep, tiny part of herself wanted to see him again. It was an even better deal that she would get to see him from afar, to avoid the awkward conversations of how they’d been the past year.

“I have to confess something to you,” Maia said, stopping both girls in their tracks. She wore a nervous smile on her lips, and Y/N couldn’t decipher if it was something positive or negative, “I didn’t get us seats as I said, I got us floor tickets. I found a great deal, and it’s going to be so much more fun!”

Natalie instantly started jumping up and down in excitement, causing Maia to laugh. Y/N, on the other hand, forced a smile on her lips, feigning happiness to be so close to the artist they were about to see live.

On the inside, however, her nerves increased by a million. She knew how Harry loved to interact with the crowd, and he’d usually be very observant with his fans, even remembering faces that he glimpsed at shows.

The possibility of him seeing her tonight in the crowd just increased a lot more, which was the last thing she wanted.

But she still kept her smile on her face and thanked her friend for the surprise.

The girls went inside the arena, and Y/N was happy that even though they were in the pit, they were closer to the back of it, already hundreds of girls and boys trying to squish themselves to the barricade in front of them.

As the lights dimmed and the introduction to Daydreaming started to sound throughout the arena, Y/N swore her heart was going to fall out of her chest with how hard it was beating. Her hands started to sweat, and she felt butterflies in her stomach.

Fans’ screams rang through the Forum as a figure started to emerge from the center of the 360 stage, and it was when she finally saw Harry that her breath got caught in her throat.

She knew how good he was on the stage, how he was born to be on it, singing and dancing his heart out. But as the first song played and he circled the stage with a huge smile on his face, she couldn’t help but feel extreme happiness and pride.

The songs went on and on, and before she noticed it, Y/N was now singing and dancing along with her friends, her worries vanishing through the air as she noticed that he hadn’t seen her in the crowd and that he probably won’t.

The show was closer to the end, with only five songs remaining, and she was having the time of her life. She hadn’t enjoyed a show so much in so long, ever since the last Love on Tour one she had attended almost a year ago.

The beginning of Love of My Life started playing, and as she turned to look at Harry on stage, ready to sing the lyrics along with him and the crowd, she noticed his green eyes were already on her.

Their eyes locked with each other, and she swore she saw a million emotions cross his eyes in that second. A second that felt like a whole minute, like a whole eternity.

She was the first to break the eye contact, turning to look at Natalie who was standing at her right side, trying to distract herself from the heavy feeling on her chest.

Only that instead of finding a clueless girl, she found Natalie with a huge smile on her lips as she looked at her. “Oh my god, Harry is looking at you!”

Y/N tried to shake it off, forcing a small laugh, “He’s been looking at all the fans! That’s what he usually does at shows.”

She turned to look at him again, and surprisingly, he still had his eyes fixated on her, sending her nerves into a mess. Fans surrounding them were taking notice of how he was staring directly at a person in the crowd as he sang the first part of the song, and they started to turn around to find the mystery person.

Finally, as Y/N was starting to get more frustrated, it seemed like Harry snapped to reality, and tore his eyes away from her, acting like that whole thing never happened.

As the show went on, he’d glance at her from time to time, trying to be as discreet as possible. Yet, she noticed how his whole mood changed from that point on. His smiles and dance moves were now forced, and even though nobody in the crowd could notice how he wasn’t being himself, Y/N did.

She dated him for almost two years, after all. They lived together for the most part of it, sharing everything and anything with each other.

But he wasn’t the only one whose mood changed. Y/N wasn’t feeling herself, either. She had been dancing and screaming the lyrics earlier, enjoying the concert with her friends, but now she was forcing the smile on her lips, only singing the songs at a regular volume.

When the show ended and the lights were turned on, Y/N felt relieved. He had seen her, yes, but nothing more happened. She wasn’t sure what she thought would happen if he saw her, but it felt like now the worse had passed.

“The show was amazing! We definitely need to do this again.” Maia said as the three girls started to make their way to the exit.

Y/N felt her phone vibrate twice in the pocket of her jeans, and at first, she was confused as to why it would, since she had ‘Do Not Disturb’ on. But as she took her phone in her hands, her eyes widened when she saw who had texted her. There was only one contact in the exceptions for the Do Not Disturb mode...

H: Heyy

H: Please stay where you are. A bodyguard will come to get you in a few minutes when the pit has emptied a little to bring you backstage. xx H

Well, fuck.

#harrystyles #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry imagine #harry #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles series #love on tour #harry x reader

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joelslegalwhre · 1 year

Text

Stay with me, okay?

pairing⁀➷ august walker x reader

word count⁀➷ 570+ (just a short drabble)

summary⁀➷ you get shot by the men that want Ethan in Paris. What no one knows is that you and Walker have a past together and he would do quite literally anything for you.

warnings⁀➷ use of y/n, spoilers obvs, soft!august (just for the reader), violence (people getting shot including the reader), angst, no mentions of gender or physical appearance, use of nickname (angel)

a/n ⁀➷ tell me if I missed a warning pls! And I’ve got some requests for a part 2 so if you have any wishes that I should add, let me know x

You felt like going on a walk today. Normally you would just stroll around the neighbourhood but today you felt like changing things up a little. You haven't been to this part of town, it was just a feeling that dragged you towards it.

Apparently, this part wasn't as crowded as the other places, which was quite nice. Ever since you moved to Paris, your mind didn't really settle. There was always something going on, not quite as romantic as some would think the city was. So to find a place this quiet, even if it wasn't the most beautiful, you enjoyed it.

As you walked across the street, a large garage was being opened. You glanced at the door out of pure curiosity. But you didn't look away after you'd seen his face. One that was way too familiar to you.

You stopped in your tracks and inhaled sharply. What on earth was he doing in Paris?

But then, why wouldn't he be in Paris. He did god knows what, things you only knew so much about as to not be endangered by it. You shouldn't be surprised.

You still stood there, visible surprise on your face that mirrored the others faces, as you looked back and forth between them.

How you weren’t even wondering why there was a, most probably, kidnapped man about to be sat on the backseat, you didn't quite know yourself. It just fitted the whole situation.

August stood there, slowly letting go of the door, his eyes fixed on yours. But before he could do anything, you heard a gunshot. You didn’t only hear it, you felt it. What on earth? You thought as you dropped onto the pavement. It felt like someone had punched you in the ribs, and you couldn't comprehend that the bullet actually hit you.

„Walker!" you could hear one of the guys at the car yell.

August was raging with anger, how would they dare to harm you, to harm what's his.

The next thing you heard were more shots. You couldn't see much, but what you saw was August, in front of you, and a gun in his hand. He had shot the men, all three of them. They had said something directed at one of the guys August was with, but you couldn't hear it, for you were groaning in pain.

„Y/N!" August called out name. „Y/N, Angel please…" he repeated your name over and over, turning to you.

As he kneeled down, his large hands cupped your face and his fingers lightly brushed your cheek. The angry expression on his face changed and he looked as if his worst nightmare just happened. „August.." you whispered, panting heavily. You were about to pass out and he knew it. „Stay with me, okay?" he whispered.

His voice was raspy. You could just nod in pain.

August slipped his arms under your knees and your neck, as he lifted you up. Still watched by the others in shock of his actions.

His strong hold made you feel safe. The way he carried you but looked at your face every few seconds to make sure you still had your eyes open.

„You're going to be fine, you hear me? I won't let anything happen to you. I won't leave you ever again." The moment you looked into his eyes, filled with worry and sincerity, you knew he would keep his word this time.

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

#e writes #henry cavill x fem!reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #soft august #august walker mission impossible #august walker x reader #august x reader #august walker #august walker x female reader #angst #august walker angst #fluff #henry cavill angst #mission impossible fallout #mission impossible #em's masterlist

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loudblonde · 6 months

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Male!Reader Mafia AU (Chapter 15)

SummarySimon and (Y/N) get close before getting some unfortunate news

Warnings: Oral sex, mentioning of boundaries and people not respecting boundaries.

Author note:

Heyoooooo, it has been a while, things have honestly been mundane here, I just started school and bought Baldurs gate 3 which I have already gotten almost 400 hours in it since august, so sorry for not really posting but I kinda forgot midst school and gaming. I was stuck on where to take this story for a good few weeks, again so sorry. I cant in any way promise consistancy but I will try and post more often.

Thank you so much to the folk who were concerned and all your kind comments that you have left, it truly truly makes my day so much better whenever I read any comment you post.

Word count 1.9K

Ghost awoke feeling the spot in bed cold. He sighed, this was by far a too-common occurrence over these last 4 days, they would be leaving soon. (Y/N) would have Simon fully at his mercy again. Ghost knew he had to fight against it, and so did Simon, yet neither of him wanted to, no matter how much Ghost screamed and yelled that (Y/N) Price was nothing more than a slippery snake with venom-coated fangs, neither Simon nor Ghost was particularly eager to displease this new owner.

John Price himself had been strict but Simon always knew there was some part of him that regretted what had happened that night, it didn’t take a fool to see just how much he was being shown that he really shouldn’t be shown or seen, even for the bodyguard of John Price.

Simon opened his eyes as (Y/N) entered the bedroom, he sat up slightly, propped up on only his arms, his back ached from this position, but he wasn’t going to sit up further. “Did we get the go-ahead?” Simon asked, his voice deep and groggy, betraying any calmness he may have hoped to not show.

(Y/N) slipped into bed, Simon found himself lying down with his head on (Y/N)’s chest, he was far too comfortable in this position, far too exposed but that didn’t matter, this was… well he couldn’t call it safe, but it was nice.

“Hmm, we leave in the morning, I said goodbye to Arthur, he leaves on a small trip towards the store to stock up on bulk buys. He won’t be there in the morning.” (Y/N) said with a slight sigh.

“You sound almost sad at that, love,” Simon said.

“He is an old friend. He is my Soap.” (Y/N) said and Simon fully understood that, a bond he couldn’t explain to no other. Not romantic despite desperately trying it. He hoped (Y/N) wouldn’t be another Soap. “I am happy to see him and sad to leave, but we both know we won’t see each other much if at all after this.” (Y/N) said, disappointed. “Maybe at the opposite ends of a gun.”

“You think he will kill you?” Ghost asked.

“If he gets paid a lot, maybe, I won’t fault him for that. It’s the business.” (Y/N) said with a slight shrug. He absentmindedly ran a hand through Simon’s hair. “Your hair is getting long, I like it.”

Simon leaned into his touch, slowly getting lulled to sleep by it. When he awoke again, (Y/N) was sleeping as well. Simon closed his eyes and felt sleep embrace him for a few moments before (Y/N) woke him up.

Getting back onto the road meant one thing, medical attention. (Y/N) took over as driver and drove up towards northern Europe, (Y/N) took backroads and at times they slept in the car or in shitty cheap cash-only hotels, whatever the route was, they were not hurrying for time. It was almost a week later of this, when they finally arrived in their Swedish cabin, having almost completely blown past Denmark on the way up, only stopping a few moments for his wrist to be checked and taken care of. Simon looked to where (Y/N) was making a fire and yearned for them to get away from this life of running, but they were finally here, fully just alone and for once, without anything or anyone to worry about, a mutually distant place in a mutually distant country.

The cabin was small and comfortable, though without running water or electronics, they had a generator for their phones and a small camping stow, all they would ever need. Simon laid his head down on the pillow of the queen-sized bed, it was tugged in the corner of the small cabin, only one room, perfect for laying low.

(Y/N) glanced at him and smiled. Simon sat up as the other walked over, his arms found a way around his waist as he pulled him in. Simon kissed his stomach before looking up at him. “You haven't pushed yourself onto me,” Simon said softly.

“Why would I?” (Y/N) asked. “You are a person, no one deserves that and if I must cum, well I have a perfectly fine hand that can get me off.”

Simon chuckled at that, a small smile on his face. “You are making me more confident by the hour, that's a dangerous thing.”

This time it was (Y/N)’s turn to chuckle. He placed his arms around Simon’s shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, once I realise I am a handsome bastard then there is no stopping me,” Simon said.

“Well, that just means that my Simon will be the fiercest and most dangerous man around.” (Y/N) leaned down and kissed him passionately.

Simon groaned against the kiss. “You want me to be that? To be confident and not just another thing like that König you fucked?” He asked before standing up, his arms still wrapped firmly around (Y/N).

“Aye, I do. I love a man who knows what he wants and who isn’t afraid to either ask for it or take it.” (Y/N) said with a smirk.

“My hand is still busted,” Simon said before backing (Y/N) up against the wall, (Y/N)’s back hit it roughly before their lips met.

(Y/N) groaned lightly but returned the kiss, he didn’t fight this display of confidence that Simon was showing, despite (Y/N) being a power top, this confidence was very attractive and very different from what he had seen so far from Simon.

Their kiss lasted a while as they let hands roam and map each other's bodies, both seeking comfort in the movements.

(Y/N) pulled away and bit his lip before looking at Simon. “How far?”

Simon hesitated before walking over and sitting on the bed, he spread his legs. “I don’t feel comfortable with penetration….”

(Y/N) walked over and hummed. “Oral?” He knelt down, gently rubbing Simon’s legs. “You on the receiving end.”

“If I say stop at any point, will you stop?” The confidence washed away to vulnerability.

(Y/N)’s smile softened. “Of course, Si, if you ever get uncomfortable, even with kissing, tell me and I will stop. Even just holding your hand or touching you in any manner.”

Simon smiled at that and nodded. “Okay, let's try.”

(Y/N) reached up and cupped his cheeks before kissing him, his eyes fluttering close as he felt Simon respond to the kiss. He felt him kiss back, their lips parting easily, (Y/N)’s tongue explored Simon’s mouth, Simon didn’t fight against it, his trust in (Y/N) was unwavering.

(Y/N) pulled away only to kiss down Simon’s neck, leaving behind faint hickeys. They pulled apart for just long enough to discard the shirt and remove the belt. (Y/N) looked up at Simon as he palmed his growing erection, there were no signs of hesitance so far. “You are doing so well for me.” (Y/N) praised, his head tilting slightly before he undid the pants button. With some combined effort they managed to pull the pants and underwear down to Simon’s ankles. (Y/N) situated himself better before grabbing some lube from the bag next to the bed. He coated his hand before giving Simon’s cock a few strokes, getting it erect.

(Y/N) wasted no time before wrapping his lips around the head, he hollowed his cheeks out before slowly going all the way down, his tongue working expertly to hit all the right spots. Simon felt the wet warmth of (Y/N)’s mouth and moaned, his body was growing hotter by the second.

(Y/N) didn’t hold back, he bottomed out expertly, his nose hit Simon’s pubes, causing Simon to moan even louder, he was suddenly glad they were miles away from anyone or anything.

As (Y/N) moved up and down his tongue massaged every pleasurable part. He removed a hand from Simon’s thigh to fondle his balls, causing Simon to moan even louder.

Simon was in the clouds, no one had ever just focused on his pleasure, he placed a hand in (Y/N)’s hair, though he didn’t push down in any manner, the pleasure was too good, he was lost, no matter what he wanted to say it never came out.

Simon felt a familiar knot form in his stomach. He moaned even louder as he struggled to find his words to warn (Y/N).

(Y/N) saw him and hummed in satisfaction, ignoring his own throbbing cock. Simon groaned at that, causing (Y/N) to feel pride in his own ability to please Simon.

Simon didn’t hold out much longer, the vibrations, the warmth and the way (Y/N)’s tongue moved was pure bliss, he tapped (Y/N)’s head moments before he came. Simon’s salty hot cum sprayed down (Y/N)’s throat, which (Y/N) drank down without a problem. He pulled away and kissed Simon. “You did so well, I am so proud of you.”

Simon barely registered the words, he was still riding the high from cumming. “You are amazing.” He chuckled cum drunk.

(Y/N) chuckled and stood up, he helped Simon get dressed again before laying down with him. “Are you feeling less stressed?”

Simon nodded. “Yes, thank you and thank you for not doing anything I didn’t want.”

“Si, I would never, I may be an assassin, but I am not a monster.” (Y/N) said.

Simon chuckled and leaned his forehead against his. “You are painfully hard against my thigh, may I?” Simon asked.

(Y/N) hummed. “Sure, if you want.”

“I would love nothing more~,” Simon said.

—

The first few days of the cabin were quiet, almost exactly like their initial cabin but this time more intimate, neither man initiated anything sexual beyond those initial blow jobs, they were content with each other's company, and they needed nothing more. At least not for now. They had each other.

(Y/N) awoke to find his phone blaring the British national anthem. He rolled over, ignoring the way Simon groaned before picking up the phone. He hummed as sleep still had a hold on him. “(Y/N).”

‘Hey boy, we have this mess cleared up faster than we intended.’ His father's voice would normally have been a welcomed tone, yet it was like ice filled his veins. ‘Are you able to fly home as soon as possible?’

His mouth felt impossibly dry. “Yeah, no yeah, that’s good, I will see about booking some tickets home, we shouldn’t have any problems.” He said.

‘Good, we need to get you up to speed on everything.” Price said before hanging up, undoubtedly very busy despite it being ass o’clock in the morning. Simon wrapped his arms around (Y/N). “Hey?”

“We have to go home.”

“Oh.”

(Y/N) laid down and wrapped his arms around Simon. “I don’t know the situation or how open we can be.” (Y/N) said before placing a hand on Simon’s cheek, his thumb brushed across the scars.

“No matter what happens, my loyalty is to you,” Simon said, fully just closing his eyes. He had thought there was no other choice but Price, that he wasn’t worthy of living unless he served Price and attempted to work off his debt, yet (Y/N) had branded Simon as his own with the necklace and had shown him more kindness then he had ever experienced before, no matter how much Simon knew that in the end he was simply being used, he was still going to worship the ground (Y/N) walked on, he would burn the world for (Y/N) if asked, fully loyal like a dog to its master.

(Y/N) smiled at that, he kissed Simon’s forehead. “And I will do anything in my power to protect you, Si. I won’t let my father hurt you.”

“I love you too,” Simon said softly.

“Now, let's get some breakfast and catch a plane.” (Y/N) chuckled. “We can handle whatever England throws at us, no matter what, we have survived everything so far, eh?”

Simon chuckled. “Yes, yes we can.”

Tag list

@rasberry-jupiter

@one-green-frog

#cod x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod men x male reader #simon riley x male reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley x male reader #simon riley x you #male reader #loudblondes cod mafia au #mafia au #simon ghost riley #fanfiction #call of duty

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