#I mean if anyone is like oh that one sounds dumb or whatever then i welcome that ayeueisidhdj but im just like u don't like. have to read

[cruelsister-moved2]

ugh i kind of want to do my diss about music + trance states possibly gender mediation through trance states or something like that but ritual and trance have been a hot topic in ethnomusicology for ages so I doubt itd be very original whereas ik the stuff ive been getting into about englishness, the past, race, and cultural hybridity is more hot off the press or whatever plus ive done it before so i have a lot of groundwork already. and then I feel like what I would love to do abt neurodivergence would actually feel like the thing thats most important and revelatory but I genuinely dont know how I would actually go about it like i think id have to do fieldwork or something like I feel really out of my comfort zone when im not basically just synthesising theory from two previously unconnected fields I know that is basically what my brain is just good at 😭😭😭 basically torn between what I should do what I can do and what I want to do eeeek

#I think when term starts I can just like bring my three ideas to my supervisor and see what they say #Im literally just so scared of making a fool of myself that I want to come with like everything already laid out or something like #I have a year to do it I don't think I have to have started before term begins 😭😭😭 #and wrt the second one like that is important too it's just that firstly it's a very small field and secondly ik there are other ppl kind #of having the conversation as well now like since lockdowm #when I started they were still v much in nationalism and I was like I think race and the empire is like an underexplored component in this #but I think 2 years on there are definitely like wheels turning more now #and also outside of trad like it's been explored for years most of what I did was just like taking decades old work and inserting it here #its just that this is honestly a very very white field (which is exactly like. my point) so nothing really made it in #and like idk its weird as a white person to try n make my career out of that I don't want to do that Im also just like in 3 years of this I #have not had one non white lecturer or classmate #so it does feel like it kind of. is my job to make the ppl around me think abt like. why that is #ik if I go into arts education racial equality will always be a big part of my priorities but like. my goal would really be helping someone #to become A Voice on the issue rather than trying to be that myself which I think is an important distinction #sorry this is so long and. no one cares this is just my thinking to myself place and also I need to remember what my prev thoughts where #I mean if anyone is like oh that one sounds dumb or whatever then i welcome that ayeueisidhdj but im just like u don't like. have to read #this I know its sooo rambly

[sanguineterrain]

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

Lo

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

[q1ngqve]

hi!! same anon here you dont have to take this as a request bc i just wanted to get this out of my chest yandere or at least obssesive averatio where both overstim the hell out of reader (lowkey mindbreak if you're comfy about that??) after reader rejects their advances NOT OUT OF HATE or anything but bc their insecurities got the best of them and either thought the two were just messing w them or they have abandonment issues (i do not have the second one whatever do you mean i am not projecting do not percieve me) no offense to these two but they look like the ppl to mess w your heart n leave you to rot

mb some predator/prey (they both hunt you down after you avoid them both and as ratio wisely said "what do you do with a cornered prey? hunt it to death" AUGHAHSGA) aphrodisiacs, drugging, etc. anyways after that you best bet you'll be too dumb to ever think of something as stupid as that, and sure, yes ratio hates idiots but well..... you will be the only exception given how cute you look all fucked out and broken on their bed with their cocks deep inside you <3

SKLDJALSDJAL HELP i feel awfully embarrassed w writing this lmao scuse me while i bleach my head.

i am very sorry this took so long </3 i wrote this as a fic at first but i lost motivation so now it’s just in the form of brain rot :(

oh no :( poor reader with insecurities from your past relationships thinking every man out there is a liar, especially the two that gave their hearts to you :( running away from them is a smart move because we don’t trust men in this household!

but you forget how annoying they can be when it comes to getting what they want, and they want you (´▽｀) so don’t be surprised when you find yourself feeling scared out of your mind walking home alone and feeling like you’re being watched! or when you find certain luxury items randomly appearing in your room! or the slightest hint of their cologne when you wake up every morning! because you asked for this by running away 😵‍💫

this was supposed to be holiday for you — coming to penacony, but the headache and blurry room before you has you panicking! you best know that no one is coming to save you when you’re running through the reverie hotel like a lost bunny when you receive a letter saying they’ll have you tonight! and if you think you had any chance of escape, you’re so wrong 😖

oh, and don’t let them know that you’re afraid, it only spurs them on! hunting you down through the corridors of the hotel is so adrenaline inducing for them <3 running shouldn’t be so hard though, so why do you feel as if your legs are going to give out any second? oh right, the drink! they probably drugged it, seems like something they would do

an exasperated gasp leaves you when you finally let your body fall, eyes closing, preparing for impact. and the next thing you know you wake up, hands tied above you to the headboard, your body completely bare. you’d struggle with all your might, soft whines sounding at the back of your throat when you spot the two of them hiding in the shadows, staring down at you with those bright, lust-filled eyes

oh, you’re so dead

your body feels like it’s on fire, desperately needing release, needing someone to touch you, anyone. your voice betrays you as whimpers leave you when they stalk towards you, their burning gaze not helping with the burning sensation.

you really did think you could escape! so why’re you here, tied and unable to move? tears fall as you lock eyes with veritas ratio, your fight or flight kicking in when he reaches out to caress your cheek, wiping the tears away. laughter sounds from aventurine on the other side of the bed, you’re just so naive! all he wants to do is to love and break you until you’re a sobbing mess beneath him 😵‍💫 so don’t blame him when he kisses you, he just can’t help it anymore, not when you’re already shaking when all they did was drug your drink and reveal themselves to you after months of stalking :(

the aphrodisiac is making you incredibly sensitive to their touch, which is perfect for them because that would mean hearing your sweet cries of pleasure! you best prepare yourself though, because they’re not stopping until you’re about to pass out 🧎🏻‍♀️ they haven’t had you for months, nobody is going to stop them from worshipping you, not even yourself.

you’ll be so overstimulated by the end of the night that even just innocent touches can have you whining and trembling like a leaf (^^)

“you really think you can run from us?” — veritas ratio

“who you knew you were so filthy, hmm? you wanted us to hunt you down, didn’t you? dirty, dirty girl.” — veritas ratio

“missed you so much, pretty girl.” — aventurine

“stop? now why would we do that? you’re clearly enjoying this. look at you, making such a mess on my cock.” — aventurine

#anon you are so big brained #such yummy thoughts in your head #i can envision everything EVERYTHING in my head #but it just doesn’t feel the same when i write them down as a fic #so drabble / brain rot format it is 🙁 #I HOPE YOU LIKE IT #☃︎ anons! #🀥 lan’s writings! #hsr #honkai star rail #aventurine #dr ratio #veritas ratio #aventurine x reader #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #honkai star rail smut #aventurine smut #dr ratio smut #veritas ratio smut

[waitimcomingtoo]

Hot N Cold

Pairing: Tom Holland x Actress!Reader

Synopsis: you and Tom can’t stop teasing each other in interviews

Masterlist

“You three have spent a lot of time together making this movie. And you all seem to get along so great. Is it going to be hard to go back to making movies when you aren’t working with your best friends?” A journalist asked you, Tom, and Jacob one day on the press tour for your upcoming movie.

“No. I can’t wait for that.” Jacob answered. “I hate working with these two. They’re always arguing.”

“What? No we are not.” You insisted.

“We kinda are.” Tom said out of the corner of his mouth.

“No we are not. Why do you always have to disagree with me?” You asked and playfully smacked Tom’s arm.

“That’s a good point. You’re right. I do always disagree with you.” Tom said sincerely. “But maybe it’s because you’re always wrong?”

“You wish.” You scoffed. “Name one time I was wrong.”

“Yesterday, when you drove on the wrong side of the road.” He said immediately.

“That couldn’t happened to anyone, okay? It was not clearly marked.”

“It was clearly marked but you flew past the several giant “wrong way” signs because you’re a speed demon on the road.”

“That’s sexist.” You pointed at him. “You’re saying all women are bad drivers?”

“No. I’m saying this woman is a bad driver.” Tom said and pointed back at you. “You really don’t help the stereotype, darling.”

“Whatever. Fake news.” You rolled your eyes. “Ask us the next question please before I kill him.”

“All righty then. So, you’re all a few years out of high school now. How did you prepare for getting back into the mindset of a teenager?” The journalist asked.

“It was a really fun process actually. The director wanted to emulate a kinda 80s high school movie feel so he asked us to watch a few old movies so we could get the vibe he was going for. Like Breakfast Club, Back to the Future, stuff like that.” You explained.

“Yeah. We watched a few of them together.” Tom smiled as he looked over at you.

“Yeah, we did.” You smiled back at him.

“On your little movie dates in Tom’s trailer. That I was never invited to.” Jacob added. Tom blushed and looked down at his lap while you playfully rolled your eyes.

“They weren’t dates.” Tom insisted. “We were just watching the films we were told to watch.”

“You didn’t think those were dates?” You asked him, sounding hurt. Tom went bright red and scrambled to come up with something to say to explain himself.

“What?” Tom gulped. “No. I mean, I never thought of it like that but-“

“I’m messing with you.” You cut him off when you saw how flustered he got.

“Oh. You scared me so much just then. I didn’t know what to say.” He laughed and touched a cold hand to his hot face.

“I knew it would scare you. You’re so easy to make flustered.” You teased him, making him blush again.

“Hey.” He pouted. “I am not.”

“Yeah, okay.” You said sarcastically.

“Okay.” He mimicked you by sounding as dumb as possible.

“That actually brings me to my next question which was to ask you all to do an impression of each other.” The journalist said, making you and Tom remember that you were in an interview.

“If you want to impersonate Y/n, just whine and complain a bunch.” Tom said. “And leave your jumper on every plane you go on.”

“Okay, I’ve lost like three sweatshirts around you. That’s hardly anything.” You defended yourself.

“Imagine losing your jumper every time your travel.” Tom said to the camera.

“Imagine losing 13 colonies at once.” You snapped back.”

“Stop. You know I’m sensitive about that.” Tom jokingly whined, making you laugh.

“I can do a Tom impression. Um I want to ask Y/n to go to dinner with me um tonight but um what if I ask her and she says no?” Jacob said in a whiny voice coupled with a bad British accent.

“What?” Tom sputtered. “That’s not what I sound like.”

“Yes it is.” Jacob insisted. “I heard that every night during filming. In fact, I still hear it.”

“Aw. Wait, that’s so cute. Did you actually do that?” You asked Tom.

“Only in the beginning, okay? It wasn’t as pathetic as Jacob made it sound. I wanted to hang out with you but we didn’t really know each other yet so I was worried you’d say no.”

“Aw, honey.” You chuckled. “I would’ve never said no. I wanted to get to know you too.”

“I’ll never understand you two. You were fighting two seconds ago. Now you’re all nice and friendly?” Jacob pointed out.

“That’s just how we work.” You shrugged.

“Yeah.” Tom agreed. “We run hot and cold.”

“Exactly. But we’re friends most of the time. I don’t think we fight that much.” You replied.

“You kinda do, though.” Jacob insisted. “I’m expecting at least two more fights before the end of this interview.”

“We’ll see.” You shrugged but knew he was probably right.

“So, the press schedule is obviously very rigorous for a movie this size. Do you guys ever get a day off to do your own thing?” The journalist asked.

“We actually had a day off a little while ago. For Washington’s Birthday.” Tom answered.

“George?” You asked him.

“What other Washington is there?” He turned in his seat to ask you.

“You were just talking about one the other day. When we were asked what historical figure we’d have dinner with.” You reminded him.

“I remember the question but I didn’t say Washington.” Tom frowned on confusion.

“Yes you did. You said that Washington guy and then said it was a super British answer or something.” You insisted.

“Who are you talking about?” Tom shook his head and laughed endearing at you.

“That guy. Don’t you remember? You just said it yesterday.” You whined a little and pushed his arm. Tom looked at the camera in confusion before he connected the dots in his head.

“Wait, do you mean Winston Churchill?”

“Oh God.” Jacob groaned. “Here we go.”

“Oh yeah. Him.” You nodded and pointed at Tom.

“You thought his name was Washington Churchill?” Tom laughed incredulously.

“Well I don’t know who he is. It sounded right in my head.” You defended yourself.

“You don’t know who Winston Churchill is? He’s super important to history.”

“Oh yeah? So who is he?” You challenged Tom, knowing damn well he didn’t know the answer.

“He…” Tom started to answer and then trailed off.

“See!” You clapped your hands. “You don’t even know. I knew you were bullshitting yesterday. You have no idea what Washington Churchill-“

“Winston.” He corrected you.

“Whatever. You have no idea what he did. And yet you said you wanted to have dinner with him just to sound smart. Ugh. So pretentious.” You groaned and playfully rolled your eyes.

“All right, smart ass. Who was your answer?” Tom leaned on his chair and asked you. You were both in your own little worlds now and fully ignoring everyone else in the room.

“Jonbenet Ramsey.” You said like it was obvious.

“Are you kidding me? You’re making fun of my answer but you would pick Gordon Ramsey’s daughter out of anyone in the world to have dinner with?”

“First of all, dingbat, Jonbenet Ramsey is a little pageant girl who was murdered in 1996 and they still haven’t solved the case. I want to have dinner with her because I want to know who did it. It’s a very famous true crime case but I guess they didn’t teach you that in college. Oh wait. You didn’t go. You were too busy making movies nobody ever saw.” You said and poked his chest.

“Don’t even go there.” Tom warned. “If I pull up your IMDB right now, I’d have to scroll through dozens of commercials and straight to DVD films before I got to any substantial roles. Don’t think I forgot about all the time you spent on the Hallmark channel, darling.”

“Do it. Pull up my IMDB right now. I dare you. You know what, I’ll do it for you.” You said and pulled out your phone. Jacob immediately snatched your phone and put it in his pocket.

“No. Please, no more. We’re not doing this again. I can’t hear the IMDB argument again. You said you weren’t gonna fight anymore.” Jacob pointed out.

“All right. Fine. I’m disengaging.” You said and held your hands up in defense.

“Finally, some silence.” Tom sighed in relief. You gave him an icy stare and his smile immediately dropped.

When you sat down to do press the next day, you thought about what Tom had said about running hot and cold. You liked the playful fights you got into but you didn’t want him to start to think you actually disliked him. So when he came into the room and sat next to you, you got an idea.

“Good morning, darling.” He said politely.

“You know what Tom, why don’t we make a point to not fight today?” You suggested.

“Well darling, that’s the first good idea you’ve ever had.” He said with a smug smile. You smiled sarcastically at him as you narrowed your eyes.

“You’re so funny.” You said sarcastically. “How come you’re perpetually single?”

“Because I haven’t worn you down yet and gotten you to go out with me.” He quipped.

“Aw. You want to wear me down? So romantic. I can feel it working already.” You gushed and winked at him. Even though you were kidding, he felt himself blush and had to look away. The interviewer came in then and started to ask you a few questions. You managed to get through most of the interview before any fighting broke out.

“Okay. Now we’re gonna play a game called kiss, marry, kill. Your choices are Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr, and miss Y/n L/n.” The interview said.

“Oh God. That last actress is the worst.” Tom mumbled under his breath. You gave him a look and he faked an innocent smile.

“I mean I love her.” He corrected.

“Well Tom’s answer for kiss is obviously me.” You said simply.

“What? Obviously?” He scoffed.

“Yeah. Obviously.” You scoffed back to mock him.

“Excuse you. How is it obvious?” He asked and turned in his chair to face you. He mostly did this to keep the camera from seeing how much he was blushing.

“Please. You want to kiss me so bad. And marry me and kill me. So Tom’s answer to all of them is me.”

“That’s what you think, huh?” Tom smiled and leaned on his chair to be closer to you.

“That’s what I know. I can tell you’re dying to get with me. There is no use hiding it.” You shrugged, making Tom grow redder.

“Do you hear how conceited she is? What a diva you are. I’m gonna spread a rumor that you’re difficult to work with.” Tom teased you right back.

“Maybe you find it difficult to work with me because of how bad you want me.” You shrugged.

“Oh please. You’re just projecting because you have a big fat crush on me.” Tom replied.

“What?” You laughed. “In your dreams, maybe. I only go for guys over 5’9. You just missed the cut off, buddy.”

“Not just in my dreams. In my reality.” Tom insisted. “And I’m the average height of a woman so now you’re the one being sexist. But come on, we said no fighting. What would your answer be?”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about the question. Okay, let me think.” You tapped your chin. “I would kiss Bradley Cooper-“

“What? He wasn’t even an option.” Tom laughed in surprised.

“Oh shit. My bad.” You covered your mouth with your hand.

“How did his name even come up?” Tom asked you, feeling a little jealousy bubble up.

“Because.” You smiled coyly. “Have you seen him? He’s double handsome. He looks like a sexy UPS truck driver. I’d sign for that package I’ll tell you that right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re cheating on your husband with Bradley Cooper.” Tom shook his head.

“My husband?”

“Me.” Tom said like it was obvious, making you laugh.

“I know you’re kidding but you kinda are though. I was just saying that to Jacob the other day.”

“About me? You said I was your husband?” Tom smiled in surprise.

“Yeah. You’re my work husband. That’s why we’re so hot and cold. Because we’re like an old married couple.” You smiled and patted his arm.

“Aw. We are.” He gushed. “But you still never answered the question.”

“Oh my God. Who were the choices again?”

“Johansson, Downey, and yourself.”

“Okay. I think my answer is kill Johansson, sorry Scarlett, I love you. I’d marry Downey for that Iron Man money and then kiss myself.”

“You’d kiss yourself? Why?” Tom wondered.

“Because no one else will.” You groaned. “When I woke up this morning and I tallied in my head how long it’s been since I’ve been on a date and once I reached a conclusion, I started to cry.”

“Oh God. Has it really been that long?” Tom laughed.

“It’s been so long. We can’t talk about this right now. I’m gonna start crying again.” You said and pretended to wipe your eyes.

“Wow. I didn’t realize this game would bring out so many emotions.” The journalist laughed.

“Me either. God. I need a date.” You sighed in exasperation.

“All right. I got the hint. I’ll go out with you.” Tom rolled his eyes playfully.

“Oh, please. You wish I’d go out with you.”

“On every eye lash and 11:11, yeah.” He replied. You laughed and playfully smacked his arm as you wondered if he was telling the truth or not. The interview went on but you were barely paying attention as you were too busy wondering if you relationship with Tom was part of the reason you had been single for so long. No matter how nice or funny a guy was, you always ended up comparing them to Tom. If they couldn’t make you laugh as much or keep up with you the way he could, they just didn’t interest you. It didn’t help that In between your arguing and teasing, Tom always managed to slip some flirting in there. The more you thought about it, you realized he hadn’t been in a relationship since meeting you either. And maybe that had something to do with you.

“What do you think?” The journalist asked you. You blinked a few times and came back into the conversation.

“Sorry, what?”

“What was going on in there? You seemed so deep in thought.” Tom smiled fondly and poked your head.

“Don’t touch me, nail biter.” You said and swatted his hand away.

“At least I don’t stink up the whole hotel room by painting my nails every single day.” He shot back in a playful manner.

“Excuse me for wanting polished nails for these interviews. I just happen to chip them a lot. And if you don’t like the smell, go back to your own room. Stop always hanging out in mine.”

“But then how would I get to see you?” He asked with his stupid charming smile.

“What are you talking about?” You laughed. “We literally spend all day together in these interviews. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“With you, darling, there’s never enough time together.” He said with a sarcastic suaveness.

“Shut up.” You laughed again and looked down at your lap so he couldn’t see how that made you blush. He saw it anyway since he couldn’t never seem to take his eyes off you.

The next day, your relationship with Tom was heavy on your mind as you sat in your glam chair. You were spaced out all during hair and makeup as you thought about the possibility of becoming more than friends. You were more than ready to see him but when you walked into the press junket room, you only saw two chairs and Jacob occupying one of them.

“Oh. We’re paired together today?” You asked without realizing how disappointed you sounded.

“I’m sorry. I know you’d rather be with your boyfriend.” Jacob chuckled. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and hugged him hello.

“He’s not my boyfriend. But I do miss him.” You admitted as you sat in your chair.

“You know nobody believes that, right? You guys are clearly together.” Jacob snorted.

“We’re really not. I know how it looks but we’re just friends.” You insisted.

“Come on. There’s no way you two haven’t made out or something.”

“Maybe we have, maybe we have.” You shrugged, making Jacob gasp.

“Oh my God. I knew it. He wouldn’t admit it but I knew you two were hooking up.” He clapped his hands.

“We’re actually not.” You laughed. “It’s just funny to see people fight for their lives to prove that we’re together. I like to feed the flame sometimes with these interviews. You know, keep them all on their toes.”

“Really? Because I could’ve sworn you two were hooking up on set. You were always sneaking off together and no one could find you.”

“That’s just because we liked to spend time together. But we would never hook up. If we ever get together, it’s gonna be the real thing. I’m talking marriage and kids and a picket fence. And whatever the British equivalent of the American Dream is. Beans and toast maybe? I don’t know. But definitely not a hook up.”

“So what’s stopping you guys from being in a relationship now? You like him, don’t you? Why not just date?” Jacob wondered.

“I don’t know. We’ve gotten really close the past few months. I know we tease each other a lot, but I’ve never had that kind of banter with anybody. Talking with him and going back and forth is the best at part of my day. And of course I like him, but what if I say something but he doesn’t feel the same? That’ll make our friendship super awkward and don’t forget- we signed on for another movie. I don’t want to make things weird by suggesting we go out.”

“Oh my God.” Jacob laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“What?” You wondered.

“You can’t be this oblivious. Why do you think he’s always starting fights with you?”

“Because he’s irritating?”

“Well, yes. But also because he’s crazy about you.”

“What? No he’s not.” You scoffed. “He just likes to push my buttons.”

“Y/n, seriously, I’m telling you-“

Before Jacob could finish his sentence, the interviewer walked in with the camera crew. You and Jacob quickly dropped the conversation and turned to shake the interviewers hand. Your interview began and you had to force yourself to listen instead of thinking about what Jacob was about to say before he was interrupted.

Later that day, you went back to your hotel room and collapsed on your bed. It had been a long, long day of press and you weren’t with Tom for any of it. You saw him briefly at lunch but barely got a word in before getting shuffled to the next interview. You had just kicked your shoes off when there was a hasty knock at your door. You groaned and went over to it before opening it up.

“What?” You whined like a little kid. Tom put his hands on his waist and pushed you into the room before shutting the door behind him.

“If you’re gonna stay here I’m warning you right now that I chipped my thumb and I’m two seconds away from pulling out my nail polish-“

“I heard what you said.” He blurted to cut you off.

“Um, can you be more a little more specific?” You laughed. “You know I try to talk to you as little as possible.”

“Can we be serious for one minute?” Tom said hastily. You frowned in confusion but nodded your head and sat down. You’d never heard him sound so serious before so you dropped your usual mocking banter. You patted the spot next to you and he nervously sat down.

“What’s up?” You asked him. Tom scratched the back of his head before nervously cracking his knuckles.

“I just gotta talk to you about something.”

“Tom, you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?” You asked and put a hand on his back. He took a deep breath and looked at you.

“I heard you when you were talking to Jacob. I was walking by and I heard my name so I stopped and I listened.” He admitted.

“Oh, shit. You heard all that?” You grimaced. Tom was unphased and kept looking into your eyes.

“Did you mean what you said? Do you really think we’re gonna do the real thing one day? House and kids and-“

“-And beans and toast.” You cut in.

“Yeah. And that.” He chuckled softly. “Did you mean all that? Do you really see a future with us?”

“I mean, I did before I found out you were an eavesdropper.” You mumbled out of the corner of your mouth.

“Are you kidding me? I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you for once in our lives but you can’t be serious for one minute.” Tom huffed and sat on the bed next to you.

“This is who is am.” You shrugged. “You came to the silly lake and you found a silly goose. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Tom let out a dry laugh before looking at you. You looked into his eyes and saw that for once, he looked completely serious. You frowned at the unexpected candor in his eyes and gave him your full attention.

“Tell me you want me.” He said. “As much as I’ve wanted you since the day we met.”

“You do?” You asked doubtfully.

“Why do you think I invited you to watch all those movies with me? Or hang out in your hotel room every night? I want to be around you all the time. I just didn’t know how to say that since we’re never…” He trailed off as he searched for the right word.

“Serious.” You finished his sentence for him with a knowing smile.

“Exactly. I love joking around with you. I love how much you challenge me to come up with a better insult. I even love being teased for my nationality. But I also love when we just get to talk. I love to hear your perspective on things. I just like being near you.”

“Is this a practical joke?” You asked skeptically.

“Bitch, do I look like four lifelong best friends who compete to embarrass each other to you?” Tom sassed you. You gave him a warning look and he mumbled an apology.

“So you’re telling me you actually like me? For my personality?” You asked him.

“No, darling. I like you in spite of your terrible, garbage personality.” Tom teased you. You rolled your eyes at him but found yourself leaning in closer.

“I hate you.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I hate you too. See how much we can agree on?” Tom replied and smoothly put his arm around you. You looked over at the arm that was on your shoulders as you thought about what he was saying.

“You do realize if you were my boyfriend, we’d be fighting all the time.” You pointed out.

“We do that anyway.” He shrugged. “Why not throw some kissing and domestic partnership in there?”

“Oh, so I was right? You do want to kiss me, huh?” You raised your eyebrows as you teased him.

“Well, I have lips, you have lips, why not put them to use?”

“You have lips?” You pretended to gasp. “Where have you been hiding them this whole time?”

“Oh my God. You are such a little-“

You cut him off by cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. He insulted left his head immediately as he wrapped his arms around you to kiss you back.

“I want you too.” You told him once you pulled away. He smiled in surprise and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Even though we can’t agree on anything?” He joked.

“Even though your hairline is receding, yes.” You replied.

“That wasn’t what I-“

“Shh.” You hushed him and kissed him again. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Tag List 🏷️

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#tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland enemies to lovers #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x famous!reader

[boyfhee]

UNKISS ⋆ nrk

prompt · “you're so dumb” insert fond smile requested

g · bittersweet / fluff warnings · kissing, profanities wc · 0.9k

note · hi lily i hope u like this :< pls take care of urself, yeah? i luv u, and thanks to @flwrshee and @dokiyeom for beta reading + helping me with the ending. i asked both of them for advice and used neither's 😆☝️ go follow them

riki follows you closely behind as you rush down from the hallways to the middle of the football ground for some reason, anger spilling around with every step you take. “riki, what the fuck? what the actual fuck? how could y— why did you do that?” 

“relax, it was just a kiss,” and his voice is calm, like it’s just a kiss, just a moment where his lips touched yours, like it’s an everyday thing, as if you’re making a big deal out of it by making it sound like he just committed a crime. you don’t know why or how he’s so normal about this while you feel every nerve in your body go off with sirens. 

“my first kiss,” you turn around hastily, your index finger pointed at him as he takes a step back to avoid crashing into you. “it was my first kiss, riki, and you took it. you, and you’re not even my boyfriend,” 

is this supposed to be a secret? yes. are you in the middle of the football ground throwing a tantrum like a five year old, for the world to know? also yes, and you couldn’t care less, actually. the fact that riki took your first kiss easily tops your list of concerns at the moment. 

“i am,” he blinks, as if he’s stating a fact, hands on his waist like he’s making a completely valid point. “a fake one, but i am still your boyfriend,” you roll your eyes, scoffing at his oh so true words before shooting him a glare. 

“that doesn’t even make sense. i thought i made it clear when i said ‘no kissing,’ at the beginning of this fake dating thing,” there were three rules, actually— no kissing, none of you are allowed to go on dates with someone else, this is a secret which means, none of you are allowed to breathe a word about this to anyone, not even your best friends. 

“well, what do you expect me to do when your friends dare me to kiss you?” another factual information falls off his lips, it’s actually true this time. truth and dare with friends— never a good option, especially when you’re playing with your fake boyfriend and when your friends are spawns of the devil. 

“i don’t know, you should’ve made an excuse to not kiss me, or you could’ve pretended to kiss me, you know, since this is all about pretending,” right, all about pretending, from pretending to date, to pretending to like each other, fake smiles and fake words of affirmations, fake sweet nothings whispered and fake claims of being in love— it’s all about pretending and riki, he isn’t enjoying this little play at all.

he doesn’t like that every i love you that leaves his mouth manages to convince the world but you. he hates that at the end of the day, every second spent with him is simply tagged as ‘fake dating’ under the chapters named after him in your life. riki despises the fact that no matter how true his feelings are, in your eyes, they’re just an act pulled by him to convince people he doesn’t care about, and he hates himself for not being able to tell you how he actually feels. 

“eh, what’s done is done. besides, it can’t be that bad to kiss me,” so, he just picks up pieces of you from the smiles and hugs you give him here and there, hoping that there will be a day when you will actually consider turning whatever you two have into something more serious, something real.  

you feel your cheeks heat up at his words as you turn around to face away from him. truthfully, the kiss wasn’t half bad. it only lasted for a few seconds, but the ghost of his lips still lingers over yours as if you’re the home they’ve been looking for. you can still taste faint flavour of strawberry from the strawberry milk he had during the game. the moment replays at the back of your head like a movie, one that makes your heart beat relentlessly everytime you think about it. you don’t even know why your mind keeps travelling back to it every now and then. 

“whatever, ‘ki, first kisses are important to me,” you like the fact that he hasn’t noticed your flustered face, he likes the little name you’ve given him unknowingly. “i wish we could just…unkiss or something,” 

“that isn’t even a thing,” he chuckles, earning another glare from you in return. “you’re so dumb,” your words make no sense, but riki can feel himself smiling fondly at your stupid thoughts, his eyes fixed on you while yours are staring at the horizon with slight annoyance. what you said is baseless, but the next second, he’s actually considering it; to unkiss, if that’s even a thing— he can make it a thing, perhaps,

the next thing you know, riki is cupping your face to make you look at him, and before you could say something, his lips are on yours again, catching you by surprise as he pulls you a little closer. you swear your heart might’ve just skipped several beats, another second passes as you process the situation, and riki pulls away the very next moment. “there, i returned your first kiss back to you,” 

and all it took riki is a kiss to find his way to your head, and an unkiss to find his way to your heart.

#—approved. #hyfenet #enhanet #k-lables #enhypen imagines #riki x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen reactions #riki imagines #ni-ki imagines #riki x you #riki scenarios #riki reactions #riki fanfic #ni-ki fanfic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #ni-ki au #riki fluff

[berrieluv]

cw. squirting, fingering, kitchen sex, unrequited feelings, a bit of angst?, dom remus, remus is a sweetheart.

doctor!Remus Lupin x fem!Reader summary: Remus is hot, and tall and unbelievable good at sex. The fact that he's a pediatrician is just a plus.

Remus Lupin was tall and handsome, his light brown curls falling against his forehead every time he thrusted inside of you.

"Fuck..." You moaned. He was so unbelievable hot. "Oh, God" Remus took your cheeks with his hand and forced you to look at him, with that smirk of his that let you know he was looking for trouble.

"Yeah? This good, baby?" But he knew he didn't even need to ask, because the lewd sounds your pussy made every time he fucked you was enough, you wanted to think no one has ever been this wet before so he would think twice before letting you go "You can't talk, bunny? Did I fucked you dumb?"

"Fuck, you'resohot"

You moaned as fast as you could articulate the words. Remus just laughed at you and kept his movements, throwing himself next to you when your pussy was already full.

"I love filling you up, bunny"

And you smiled stupidly "Never have to worry about using condoms with me..." You stood up with your arm, looking at his dreamy face with his eyes closed "I just love to be filled up"

He smiles and takes a deep breath; "You're the best" He says while standing up from your comfortable bed, leaving you all whinny and pouty "I have to go. I'm late for work" He kisses your forehead and you loose yourself in your mind for a moment, because if this is just sex, why would he share such an intimate kiss with you.

Yeah, a forehead kiss was way more intimate than sex. You could have sex with anyone, it didn't mean anything, sex was just a way to fee our passion. But a forehead kiss, it was a sign of protection and love, it was a way to keep the words inside your mouth while saying at the same time: "I care about you". So why would he kiss you and then just call you only for sex "I'll be back later, that good?" You nod "Or you could go to my apartment. Whatever suits you best"

You nod again and he smiles, this time kissing your lips and finally walking away. He couldn't love you, not like you do love him at least.

It was easy to have sex at Remus' apartment. He would never kick you out, he was too much of a gentleman for that, and if he was in a rush to go at least he would invite you to have breakfast somewhere near where he worked.

You didn't know where it was, what he does, you just know every time he takes you out for food is near the place he works. Then he gives you money for an Uber because is just faster than him taking you all the way there.

And it wasn't like you two were in a relationship either. Lately he allowed you to stay at his place, you thought it was another way of intimacy as well, the soft lip kisses, the forehead kisses and the fact that the receptionist from his building knew you were allow to have the spare key.

So when you say; Sex at Remus' is better. What you really mean is, kitchen sex, bathroom sex, couch sex, hell, even the balcony sex was amazing. Things you couldn't do with roommates but you could definitely do at his apartment.

You wasted no time on taking your clothes off as soon as you heard the door being open, you walked to the kitchen, because well, you felt like doing it on the kitchen.

Remus looks at you once he's finally in and hugs you.

A hug? What were you, a couple? You wish.

"Hi, angel"

He says, and before you could respond he turns your body around so your ass could be against his growing erection. His hands start to work their way through your pussy and his other hand goes straight to your boobs. Because of course they will.

"How was work?"

You ask, knowing there was not going to be an answer. Because Remus and you don't have that kind of relationship. Instead he shushes you with a passionate kiss, leaning you over the kitchen counter and you think a little about how beautiful and clean his kitchen is, you could see yourself living here, really.

Being his pretty housewife, you would even wear an apron with no other clothes above. Yeah, that's exactly the life you picture yourself living, and it didn't seem bad for a bit.

A spank brings you back to reality and Remus takes your leg, you really don't know when he took his trousers off but he was working his way into your already wet pussy.

"You seem a bit distracted..." He comments after starting to move his hips, you respond with a moan, holding yourself to the counter, starting to beg for him to go faster "Just like that, angel. That's how I like my girl, all loud and messy"

He's just thrusting inside of you, you know that, but he holds your hips in such a way that you need to establish yourself. Anyone could do that but, God, not anyone could make it feel like Remus does.

"You wanna say something, baby?" He asks when you start to moan louder. Remus also loved sex at his place, because you were loud and shameless.

Your boobs were jumping against the counter while Remus hand lied now on your back, forcing your cheek against the cold marble.

His thrusts were faster and he had both of your hands against your back held with one of his hands while the other one was trying to make you wetter, as if that was even possible.

You don't even try to think anymore, anything Remus' wanted he would force your body to do, allowing you to just relax and enjoy the pleasure.

"Can you cum for me, pretty girl?" You moan "Can you, angel? My angel?" He mocks.

Every one of his thrusts made your mind simply blow as he fucked you. He freed your hands wasting no time on holding your body up, your back against his chest, angrily taking your face and forcing you to look at him.

"You just look so pretty" He says, smiling "I just need one kiss" And your eyes are glossy from the pleasure and your mind can't catch orders but it doesn't matter. Remus takes your face so your lips can impact against his "Ow, my pretty girl. I know you're long gone. That's fine, I'll take care of you. Just cum for me, alright?" His pace became sloppier and lazy as he felt his orgasm building "What has gotten into you, hum? I usually take a few more out of you before you're like this"

Remus only allowed himself to really groan only when he emptied his load inside of your wet pussy, filling you way more in one orgasm that many of your ex-lovers.

The good thing about Remus is that he may finish first, but he always makes you have the best time. There was two ways it could go, he obliged himself to last long, or he would succumb to his needs, either way he never let you down that easily.

He could go for hours if he wanted, and in your short sex-relationship you've done it against any surface belonging to his home, he made you cum multiple times and he made sure you could see the moon and the starts before cleaning you up to a good sleep.

However, Remus doesn't want to push you too far today, seeing the sensitive space you were now, crying every time he tried to stop this to check on you, poor boy, he was so worried. He didn't know you only wanted to please him.

Remus pulls out of you quickly, and before you could complain his fingers are filling your cum loaded pussy up. He makes you scream with the ferocity he moves them in and out of you, hitting all the right spots, making your back arch against his chest, and if it wasn't for his strong hand holding you, you would've collapsed against the floor.

You moan, loudly and shamelessly, just how Remus liked it. Your head falls into his shoulder and you look exhausted, but Remus can't let you go like this, not without an orgasm at least.

"Remus, Remus please stop, stop that's too much, too much" Your pleads don't seem to make much to him while his lips kiss your temple. "Please, please"

But; please, what?

"You can do it, angel" He says.

You feel a bit dizzy as the pleasure hugs your body completely, forgetting you're still on earth, on Remus' kitchen to be exact. It's an overwhelming sensation it doesn't even feel real but you don't want to stop it, neither do you have the energy to do so.

You feel Remus smirking against your scalp after chuckling at, you? You find the reminds of your energy and autonomy to force your eyes open. You feel Remus' cock hard again against your lower back. The fingers that were once inside you are now in front of your sight, and you open your mouth, hearing Remus' praise as you lick his long, thick fingers.

"That's the hottest thing I've ever done" He says, kissing your head again "You are the hottest thing I've done" He chuckles.

"What?" you mumble against his fingers. Tiredly leaning against Remus, knowing you didn't had it in you to stand.

"The squirt, angel" He pouts, mocking your expression "You didn't notice?" No? Well, you felt wetter than other times once you reached your orgasm, but you would have known. You lazily direct your eyes to the floor, watching the soaked drawers and the white floor shining more than it usually does.

"I soaked your kitchen" You pout and Remus does too, smiling a seconds later at you.

"Yeah, we'll get them change, angel. Don't worry" Who's we "You didn't realized you squirted?" You frown, not at the last question but who the fuck was we? "Guess I'll have to do it again, hun? But tonight it's time for a shower"

A shower sounded good, you wanted lots of showers at Remus place. You wanted Remus bed, you wanted your toothbrush next to him and his half-empty cabinets full of your stuff.

By the time you woke up Remus wasn't there. As usual since he got confident enough to let you alone at his apartment. You knew he kissed you goodbye, you felt it like a fever dream all the time, a sensation enough to be felt but not strong enough to wake you up to reality.

You saw Remus' wallet in the bed-side table, personally, you knew better than check it and try to return it to him, at his job, where he doesn't want you. But again, you were delusional, and wouldn't a girlfriend do that job? You had sex with him, you were just one step far from being.

"A pediatrician" You say as soon as you see his card "You have to be fucking kidding me"

Because not only Remus Lupin was tall, handsome, with a stable economy to start a family or take care of the house for you to live comfortable enough, incredible good at sex, he was also good with kids.

And you could've live it there, you found out something, doesn't mean you have to see it with your own eyes.

That's why you were definitely not walking to his job. And by the time you could think better of it you were already knocking on the yellow door with a silver plate scripted with "Dr. Lupin".

"Hey, Y/N?" He says as soon as he sees your small figure – but compared to him who wouldn't be –. "What are you doing here?"

"You forgot your wallet" You say, extending the leather square to him, and he smiled softly.

"Thank you, Y/N"

You couldn't help but feel disappointment, because alone you were never Y/N. You were his angel, his pretty girl, his baby. And now you were just, ugh, you never hated your name more.

"Um, this is... your job. Cool, cool, cool"

"It's just a job" He chuckles "I don't want you to feel different about anything, alright?" He again kisses your forehead "See you tonight?"

"Yeah, sure" You quickly answer "I was thinking maybe we could... You know, go out?"

"Sure, go out"

"Like, like in a date" You dig deeper into your words "Like people who, you know, like each other?"

"Oh, Y/N" He says. And he says it with such pity you want to cry and disappear and erase this moment from your memory. "I don't like relationships. They're not my thing. I told you this"

He did "Yes, but..." I just thought I could make you change your mind. But you don't say that "But I like you, I thought it would be fun"

Fun? You thought it would be amazing, you thought it would be Cornelia Street except it would just be the place he'll take you out for dinner. You thought it would be Begin Again but this was The Story of Us and Happiness all over again in your love life.

"Sorry"

You bite your lip trying to hold the tears and nod. Excusing yourself from his consulting room and walking the worst walk of shame, trying to hide your face from literal toddlers and their moms.

Already planning in your mind how you would drown yourself in misery. And how you would get the strength to ignore Remus' calls, if he calls.

Trying to scape Remus was really similar to that movie, Mission Impossible, the one with Tom Cruise. Because who would tell that getting sexually involve with someone who's not directly in your friend group, but knows many of your friends, would be a bad idea?

Definitely no one.

"Y/N?"

You panic when you hear that velvet voice, so calm and with just the right amount of happiness he always sounds. You look at him, completely frozen and your legs start walking the opposite direction without you realizing it.

Marlene stops you the moment he sees you, watching Remus walk to you and you escaping like a little kid would do when they did something bad.

"What's wrong?"

You push her into the closet and nock the two of you inside, shushing her the moment she opens her mouth and the blonde woman can't be any more confused and regretting her life, because she didn't want to ever, ever, get involved with Remus romantic life, and here she was.

"Y/N? Listen, I know you're here. I'm sorry, right? I'm only here because I knew you would be here. This is totally not my thing..."

"He's lying" Marlene says, a playful grin on her face "Men are such liars, angel. Don't listen to him"

You frown at the pet-name and look at the door.

"Hi, Marlene" He says.

"Hi, Remus"

"Y/N?" you pout and look at your friend. She just shrugs and begs for you to let her go, and you finally open the door to see Remus handsome face, his hair messy for a doctor and his face recently shaved.

"Don't do this, Remus" You plead, watching as Marlene walks away with a thumbs up not sure if it's for him or you. "You can't come back now thinking i will be just waiting for you, you know?"

"No, I really want to be with you" He chuckles but your lower lip jolts.

"I don't want to be your sex toy, Remus" in a really low voice, and if he wasn't so obsessed with you he would never hear it "I'm sorry, it's late"

"Well, I had to try at least" He smiles and walks closer to you, kissing your forehead "I'm really sorry it took me so long to realize that I... like you too"

"Don't do that. You're trying to play with my head" You say, getting defensive of the kicked puppy look he was giving you "Well, you need to fuck me first for you to accomplish that"

This time you say it loud, and the whole party seemed to stay silent for that bit, Remus felt his cheeks turning pink, and he didn't know why, clearly he was the one who fucked the most among his friends.

He was in med school, for God sakes. You don't make it out of there sane without tons of sex.

"Angel, can we talk in private?"

"No" You yell in a low voice "No, Remus, we can't. And you can't call me that either. What am I supposed to think? That out of nowhere you want a serious relationship now? With me? That you want to make it work?"

Remus feels the need to stop your verbal vomit with a kiss, and he does, because it feels like the right time, the building up to a big romantic moment the girls always want. But not in the context where you were standing.

A kiss like that felt sexual. It didn't feel intimate and tender as a forehead kiss, it felt desperate, hungry, he wanted your body more than he wanted you.

"Please, leave me alone"

You murmur, pushing him away from you and trying to walk out of his sight but you can't, your heart doesn't allow it, you want to be with him. He broke your heart so this shouldn't be this hard but it was.

He stood there, not moving, just waiting for you to do something, not wanting to leave you alone but also wanting to respect your space, and your wishes.

You look at him in defeat, crossing your arms and he smiles. Your legs make their way to him again and you stand in front of him, impossibly tall, impossibly handsome, just him.

"You like me?" He nods, not sure of what to say "Like really, really like me?"

"I'm utterly obsessed with you"

"Then kiss me"

You murmur, and he's not sure if he should because the last one ended with you mad at him but you were there, looking so pretty, shiny eyes due to the tears and the lights of the party giving you a different aura from the one he always sees you under. He takes your face and kisses your lips, it's the same kiss as the last one but he doesn't feel sure. He feels scared that he may ruin this and that you would run away from him and that somehow makes you feel sure of your choice.

Remus lets you rest your head on his chest and you turn your face to look at him, he smiles and kisses your forehead while hugging you even harder right now than he usually does after sex.

"Thank you?" You chuckle and you nod, making fun of him for the first time "Don't laugh at me, you little vicious angel"

#remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus x you #remus lupin x y/n #the marauders imagine #the marauders fic #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders smut #the marauders x you #the marauders x reader

[antiendovents]

actually, since i already commented on your post about tulpas and how they pissed me off; im gonna do it again. in detail.

note: i am a former buddhist, i live in a buddhist country. (95% of thais are buddhists) and pretty much been surrounded by it. im asian. saying it before people jump at me because im terrified as shit

as i mentioned, tulpas are stolen and bastardized completely from a tribe of tibetan buddhists, and the practice itself isn't even a system thing. while thai buddhism and tibetan buddhism are different in their own way, i am very fucking pissed off that they just saw the concept of a thoughtform spirit that helps you meditate, overcome your fear and guide you to nirvana (because that's the main purpose of buddhism) and turn them into "oh! we make alters because we can due to our meditation and we're spiritual so that totally excuses using a generally closed practice! we're not harming anyone!" total bullshit.

i don't want (and sorry if i'm a bit mean) those bigoted fucks stealing basically my culture since im attached to buddhism in general, i grew up with it. and "tulpa systems" slapping it on themselves for the sake of being "unique". i have seen countless comments and posts about how its always the white/non asian people that say "no its not a closed practice, its not cultural appropriation :) actually you should be glad we're appreciating your culture in the first place" fuck off! appreciating culture is fine, but you bastardize it so much and dumb it down to just "making alters/imaginary friends" are you just hearing yourself? are you stupid? are you braindead? god, im getting so angry again.

i have also seen "tulpamancers" insulting actual asians like me who speak against tulpas, saying that we're just "asian token of a character" or that we're "closed minded" and should accept these assholes who dont know what theyre doing into my culture and blatantly disrespecting it, spitting on it and just taking one practice that fits their narrative. wow, talk about being appreciative while half of your community does shit like this to actual buddhists, huh? real nice of you. way to go, you cultural appropriating fucks. /vneg

i cannot count how many times asian culture is so whitewashed on the internet, people that just take our tradition and do whatever the hell they want with it, including making a system out of thoughtforms, which is not possible whatsoever. and for what? FOR WHAT? for your own sick entertainment and enjoyment of having a imaginary friend in your head? try dissociating so hard you cry yourself to sleep you absolute pillock. this is a very angry submission, but it just frustrates me so much. all of the insulting "yous" are directed towards "tulpamancers" that they proudly call themselves. by the way. sorry if it sounded like it was directed at you, im just so angry at the moment.

one last thing. Stop. Using. The Term. Tulpa. For your system. Please!!!!. tulpa systems are not a thing and will never be. End of story. Nothing will change that. Endos fuck off. im sick of your shit. thanks for reading my angry rant.

-azriel for the majority of this, rox/virus proofreading some of the parts, thanks for letting us vent ^^

i dont have much to add, please read this ^^

#important psa about tuplas #no you can't be a tupla system #fuck off #endos dni #tupla systems dni #anti endo #did #did system #plural #actually did #alters #system #endos fuck off #did osdd

[ddejavvu]

The Right Person - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: You're good friends with Jack Hotchner, and his dad finds you crying at a house party.

Contents/Warnings: best friend's dad!hotch, legal age gap (reader is over 18), mutual pining, soft!hotch, mention of alcohol/drugs, cheating (reader's unnamed, faceless boyfriend), hurt/comfort, fem!reader

WC: 3.6K / navigation

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Very few things are more embarrassing than crying at a party. You're wading through a sea of high, hammered young adults, and even if they're too out of their minds to notice the tears on your cheeks, you feel like a fool for letting them fall.

You probably shouldn't have been as naive as you were going into your relationship. You'd been blinded by the prospect of someone being interested in you, and you hadn't stopped to consider the odd behavior he'd presented. You didn't want to be the overbearing girlfriend and check his phone, but walking in on him sucking face with someone else was just about all the evidence you'll ever need.

So now you're crying, stumbling down the hall and into the front yard for a breath of fresh air. Inside it's stuffy, booze and weed clouding the air and burning at your lungs. The front steps feel like a new beginning, away from your asshole (now) ex-boyfriend and the shitty music blaring from the house.

You're not offered much solace, though, because sirens blare through the streets. You squint through your teary eyes at a squad of cop cars that screech into the driveway, black SUVs trailing behind them. Fear drags your stomach down to your feet, because despite knowing that you're sober, you still probably hold some accountability for whatever drugs they're doing in there.

You're the only one outside, save for a couple moonbathing around the side yard, but the cops start for the front door. It means you're scrambling out of the way, tempted to put your hands up just in case.

"Miss," One of the officers glances at you, "Go home. We're shutting this down."

"Oh- okay," You stammer, nodding and wiping a tear from your eye, "I-um... I have to call an uber."

The officers don't pay you any regard after that, streaming into the house. It's only when you're fumbling clumsily with your phone that anyone engages with you, and the booming voice that travels over the lawn brings immense comfort to you.

"Y/N?" It's Aaron Hotchner, Jack's dad. You'd become fast friends with Jack through a couple of shared community college courses, and you'd come to know his dad from study sessions and movie nights.

"Mr. Hotchner," You breathe, reaching up to smear a tear off of your cheek, "I- Are you- what's going on?"

"The neighbors complained about the noise" He explains, jogging across the grass to reach out for your shoulder, "What happened? Are you alright? Why are you crying?"

"I'm okay," You sniffle, now infinitely more embarrassed to be caught blubbering by your best friend's very attractive dad, "We all have to leave?"

"Don't worry about that," He murmurs, shrugging his windbreaker off of his shoulders and wrapping it around your own. Your top is sheer and too-short, and the cold air had been nipping at your skin. His jacket is warm, soft, and you realize with an aggressive heat to your cheeks, it smells like him.

"Now," He tries again, keeping his jacket securely over your shoulders, "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm alright," You shake your head, chin to your chest, "It's dumb, it's nothing. I- I need to call an uber, I'll-"

"I will drive you home," Aaron promises, voice soothing as his hand brushes over your back, "But I need to know what's wrong."

"I don't-" You stammer, eyes rolling at how silly you sound while another wave of tears streams down your cheeks, "It's just- my boyfriend, I saw him kissing someone else. Really, it's dumb, it's nothing."

Aaron doesn't respond, not right away, but you know he's heard you. You know by the momentary tightening of his grip on your shoulder, the way that his fingers dig into your skin like he's trying to make a fist but you're getting in the way. Then he eases up, touches all soft and gentle.

"I'm sorry, honey." He coos, stepping against your chest to wrap you in a hug. He rubs your back, up and down, up and down, up and down, until you're sniffling and sobbing into his chest. He keeps his arms around you, strong and firm, his cheek flush with the crown of your head as partygoers stream out of the house around you.

He's the epitome of comfort, all sweet, low reassurances and grounding touches. He murmurs only loud enough for you to hear as you curl your fingers into his shirt, 'He didn't deserve you, honey.' and, 'You're better off without him.'

"I just didn't see it coming," You admit lamely, your voice muffled against his chest. He doesn't ease up on the hug, and you're grateful for that. The last thing you'd want to do is make him uncomfortable, but he seems to realize you need comfort right now.

"Jack... always had his thoughts about him." Aaron admits, "But I think he kept them to himself, he didn't want to ruin things for you."

"I could tell," You sigh, nestled snugly into Aaron's chest, "I... I thought they just needed time to get used to each other, you know? Like, get to know each other. But I guess not, I guess Jack was right."

"Don't tell him that," Aaron teases, "It'll go straight to his head."

You laugh, albeit weakly, against Aaron's chest, and he takes it as a win.

"Okay," He hums, giving one last broad sweep of his hand over your back, "Let's get you into the car. It's late, you should get home and get to sleep."

"Thank you for taking me home," You sniffle letting him lead you with an arm around your shoulders to one of the SUVs, "Are you sure it's okay to just take one? Weren't there other people riding with you?"

"They'll figure it out." Aaron assures you, knowing Derek will have to bite the bullet and sit in the middle seat of the back row, something he always takes an extra SUV to avoid doing, "It's okay."

Aaron helps you into the passenger's seat, even tugging at your seatbelt when you struggle to wrestle it over his jacket.

"Here," He reaches for the strap, easing it up and over a fold of the jacket that it was stuck in, "Let me."

He clicks it into place for you, and you smile tearily up at him.

He leaves you with a pat to your knee, then shuts the door.

You hear him call something to, presumably, another agent, trying not to think too hard about whatever team member of his you're depriving of a seat. Aaron doesn't let you think much about it, though, because as soon as you're pulling away from the curb, tears no longer pouring down your cheeks, the interrogation starts.

"What were you doing at a party, anyways?" Aaron glances over at you, a frown creasing his brows, "You're not the drinking type."

"I didn't go to get drunk," You shrug, "I went 'cause my boyfriend invited me."

"He invited you," Aaron repeats, "And then... wow."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," Aaron looks at you, stopped at a signal just outside of the neighborhood, "Really. That's awful. You deserve so much better than that."

"Thank you, Mr. Hotchner," You sniffle, "I really appreciate how kind you're being. The ride, and- and the jacket, and-"

"It's no problem," He assures you, looking you in the eyes through the mirror, "That's what you deserve, sweetheart. You don't need to thank me for it."

You have the ironic urge to thank him again.

"And you can call me Aaron." He reminds you, smiling knowingly at your reflection, "You know that."

He's made a point to tell you time and time again that you're allowed to call him by his first name. During impromptu, mid-study-session dinners, at pick-ups in the college parking lot, but you've never felt acquainted with him before, not like this. Wearing his jacket while he drives you home after a ten minute hug seems a lot better of a reason to use his first name than seeing him in passing while you're laughing with Jack.

"Aaron," You mumble, and he chuckles warmly.

You don't have much time to enjoy the sound, even if it flips your stomach into cartwheels. You wish you could savor it, but you watch Aaron take a wrong turn to your house, and a frown tugs your brows down.

"Uh, I live that way," You point behind you, "It's okay, you can just turn up there, I think."

"We're stopping somewhere first," He explains, car bouncing as he pulls into the parking lot of a convenience store, "Come with me?"

You nod, wordlessly, climbing out of the car. He's already around to your side when you step out, looking only a little upset that he hadn't gotten to open the door for you. He shuts it, though, and catches his jacket when it slips from around your shoulders.

"Oh-! Here," He holds the material open, urging you to fit your arms through the slots, "Put it on, honey."

You blame his honey-sweet tone of voice for how clumsy you are in slipping into the jacket. It's unfair, really, how he's treating you like a precious thing, wrapping you in his jacket and driving you home. Then he zips it for you, all the way up to your chin, and you think you're in love.

The cool night air feels even more now like a fresh start. Thoughts of your awful ex-boyfriend have been looming over you the entire time, but they ebb away with each caring gesture Aaron shows you. It takes every ounce of self control in your body not to tackle him into a kiss when he takes your hand, leading you into the convenience store.

He beelines for the frozen section, grabbing a handheld basket on the way. He stops you right in front of the ice creams, only dropping your hand to gesture at the display case.

"Go ahead," He urges you, "Pick some. That's proper breakup ritual, I hear."

"Aaron, no-!"

"It's a rite of passage," He cuts you off, something stern in his eyes even if they're primarily kind, "Just- here. You like cookies and cream, right?" He eyes a container of the flavor behind the glass, and you nod tentatively, wondering how he'd remembered. You'd only eaten it once at his house, and he'd only known because he'd caught you washing your bowl out, and insisted on doing it himself because you were a guest.

He pushes the basket into your hands, and you watch begrudgingly as he takes two quarts of ice cream from the shelf. You protest weakly as he ushers you to the counter, but he shushes you gently, stepping in front of you to pay.

"Aaron," You mumble, cheeks hot and voice whiny as he waits for the cashier to ring him up. You knock your face against his back, burying it there for safekeeping, and he reaches back to pat your side.

The total isn't egregious, but it's more than you're happy with him spending on you. Of course, you don't have cash, so you're unable to pay him back, either. You'll have to slip Jack money the next time you see him, but you have a sneaking suspicion he'd use it at the school's vending machine instead.

"Thank you," You gush, voice still thick with embarrassment and cheeks still burning as Aaron leads you back to the SUV. He's slipped his hand back into yours, and he tucks the ice cream at your feet when you're settled into your seat.

"Again," He urges, resting his hand over your own where they lay in your lap, "Don't thank me. I'm only treating you like you deserve."

If he notices the monumental smile you try to bite back, he doesn't tease you about it.

He pulls into your driveway shortly after, with no further detours. You're renting a little ground-floor condo, and he walks you to your door with your ice cream in hand.

"Alright," He sighs, passing the bag over to you, "I think you have to watch a romance movie with this," He glances at the bag, "It's the law, I'm pretty sure."

"Oh, yeah?" You grin, the expression brighter than it would have been a half-hour ago, "What if I don't? Are the police gonna show up?"

"I will," He threatens, a warm smile on his face, "And I'm a bit of an ice cream fiend, so don't tempt me."

"Well there's two quarts..." You raise your brows, a silent invitation.

"I don't want to intrude," He starts, but you cut him off before he can even try.

"Mr.- Aaron," You hesitate, voice coming out meager where you want it confident, "I really don't want to be alone right now."

You almost expect him to leave. Sure, he'd been sweet to you tonight. But you're nervous that his sympathy was temporary, and that it's waning. So you stare at his shirt instead of his eyes, and you miss the way his gaze softens.

"Okay." He nods, one foot stepping forwards towards the threshold of your condo, "Okay honey. I'll stay."

Your condo isn't much. You're a college student, not a CEO, and your shoddy furniture tells that story. Aaron doesn't seem to mind, though, setting the bag on the counter and rummaging for spoons.

"You sure you want to share?" He eyes you where you've sat yourself on the couch, quarts and spoons in hand as he joins you.

"I'm sure," You nod, reaching for the tv remote, "I think I'd get sick if I ate two cartons."

A romance movie isn't hard to find, but you feel yourself developing a pounding headache from the exhaustion of crying. The ice cream is sweet on your tongue, cookies crunching between your teeth and staining them dark. You munch through the first half of the movie, digging into the carton with a greedy spoon each time. You don't even breach the halfway point before you have to stop, eyes closing and head pounding.

Aaron's similarly engaged with his ice cream, spoon upside-down in his mouth as he sucks it clean. You try not to stare at his mouth, but you're bashful as you place the lid back on your ice cream tub.

"I'm gonna beat you," Aaron boasts, digging his spoon back in for more ice cream, "Quitter."

"Go ahead," You sigh, head lolling back against the cushions. Your voice is colored with defeat, sad and dull. Aaron suspects it's not just about your unspoken ice cream eating contest.

"C'mere," He sighs, jamming his spoon into his ice cream and wrapping his now free arm around your shoulders. He urges you against his shoulder, something that you'd wanted to do since the moment you'd sat down, but didn't have the guts to.

"I'm sorry, honey." He reminds you as you lay your head against his shoulder, his constant slew of sympathy warming your chest, "He's an idiot."

"I feel like the idiot," You admit, voice in a low grumble, "I should have known it was too good to be true."

He pauses, stiffens, shifts. He's turned to face you, now, nudging your head off of his shoulder so he can look you in the eye. He's frowning, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, like... I dunno." You sigh in defeat, "I wasn't exactly everyone's dream girl in high school. And when I started college and everyone seemed older and more mature, it was comforting, like a fresh start. And then he took an interest in me, and I felt like things were finally starting to work for me, like I was finally a girl that guys liked. And then... well, you know the story. It just feels like I should have known better."

All the while, through your confession, Aaron's face has twisted itself into the deepest frown you've ever seen on the man. It looks like it's embedded permanently into his features, like he's stuck there from now on. It's almost cartoonish, and you'd laugh if you weren't so sad.

"Don't say that." He orders, voice stern.

"What?"

"Don't say that." He repeats, "This is not your fault. You were not supposed to see it coming, nor does it mean that people don't like you. College boys are..." He deliberates carefully on his word choice, seeing as he has one himself, "Impulsive. And impulsivity can sometimes be channeled into some pretty stupid shit. Like cheating on your girlfriend. Okay? It's not your fault that college boys are stupid."

"But-" You start with a choked voice, and his disapproving glare intensifies, "He wouldn't have cheated on me if I wasn't doing something wrong, would he? Or- or maybe I just am wrong, maybe I'm just not the type of person that's good enough to make someone stay."

"That is," He rushes to reply, reaching up to thumb a tear away from the apple of your cheek, "The dumbest thing I've ever heard." His hand rests there now, flush to your face, and there's a cold stripe down the middle where he'd been holding his spoon. His fingers are chilly too, but they warm against your skin.

"You are not wrong, there is nothing about you that makes you 'not good enough'. I can think of a thousand things that make you wonderful, but not one dealbreaker. Listen to me, please." He's leaning in, getting closer and closer with every word that tumbles from his lips, "There are people who fall in love with serial killers. No one is unlovable, certainly not you."

"But- but those people fall in love with serial killers because they're serial killers. That's- that's a thing about them, that's a lifestyle that people glorify. No one glorifies mediocrity, Aaron," Your heart sinks, "And that's what I am. I'm mediocre, maybe I'm good enough to take home for a night but I'm not good enough to live with."

In all of your frantic blubbering, you'd avoided eye contact with Aaron. Snapping back to focus, though, you see that it's impossible now, that he's close enough that your noses are brushing, and his breath is fanning over your mouth. Your own breath hitches in your throat, and your heart pounds.

His eyes, once stern and disapproving, are soft around the edges. They're chocolatey, and they speak to his sweet soul that's compelling him to stroke his thumb over the pudge of your cheek. You think for all the world that he's going to kiss you, you almost beg for it, but at the last minute, he tilts his head down, not forwards.

His forehead presses to your own, and his eyes shut.

"You are," He murmurs, holding you close, keeping your face flush to his, "The perfect girl. You're sweet, you're kind, you're funny, you're caring, you're so pretty, you're hardworking, you're resilient, you are... I could name a thousand other things. And, one day," His eyes flutter open, staring into your own as best he can at such a close proximity, "The right person will tell you that."

Aaron is the right person. He has to be, you can't imagine anyone else in the world being as kind or sweet with you as he is. And after all, that's what he says you deserve, right? The way his hand fits around your face seems like a piece of your puzzle you'd never known was missing until it snapped into place, and if you could steal his voice sea-witch style just to hear it all day long, you would.

It's a staring contest, and you blink first.

"I'm glad you told me," You admit, voice thick with emotion. You're not sure whether he picks up on the fact that you're designating him as the right person or not, but you choose not to think about it as he pulls you impossibly closer.

"Don't thank me," He reminds you, "it's what you deserve. Are you tired?"

"Yeah." You admit, slumping your forehead against him even as he tries moving away. It means that your skin slips against his lips, and he presses them into a pucker against your head. You'll savor the feeling forever.

"Go to sleep," He urges you, hand still on your cheek to guide it back to his shoulder. You curl into him much easier now, feeling lovey enough even to wrap your arms around one of his own. The movie plays forgotten on the tv, and your eyes shut to the vision of Aaron's lap, ice cream abandoned between his thighs. It's a nice image, but one you can't think too hard about while sleepy.

His hand comes up from where it had been draped over the cushions behind you to rub your back. He applies soft, gentle pressure, stroking up and down over the fabric of your- his jacket, one that you hope he doesn't take off of you before he leaves. It's grounding, and it only makes you burrow into him more.

The way you know he's the right person for sure is by fighting sleep. You want to conserve your time with Aaron, and you don't want to forget the feeling of his tender touches. You're in that floaty space between sleep and consciousness, somewhere with bodliy sensation but little cognitive ability. Your brain is pleasantly cloudy, and Aaron's hand on your back never stops.

When your breathing evens out, Aaron thinks you're asleep. You feel him shift ever-so-slightly, and you're worried he'll leave you. But he doesn't, he gets even closer, and you feel his lips land on the crown of your head.

"Perfect," He murmurs into your scalp, vibrations thrumming through your skull and wriggling their way into your brain, cementing the thought there, "G'night, sweetheart."

You drift to sleep knowing, without a doubt, that Aaron is the right person for you.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner au #bfd!hotch #bfd!aaron hotchner

[mediumgayitalian]

As soon as they come off the track, things get messy. Both boys are covered in dirt and grime, striped with grease from the broken wheels, bleeding sluggishly from various scraps. Sherman has his non-flailing hand clamped to an oozing wound on the side of his neck, and Will is limping.

“—and I cannot fucking believe you, Solace! All I asked for was effort!”

“Oh, forgive me,” Will says sarcastically, finally close enough to hear. “In the hustle and bustle of being shot at, I made a couple errors.”

“That gonna be your attitude in battle? ‘Oh, sorry, there was a monster chasing me so I lost all focus —’”

“Battles are not usually fought on a chariot going a hundred fucking miles per hour!”

“That’s no excuse! You need to be —”

“What, Sherman, fucking what? What indisputable flaw do I have, oh great one, that needs to be so desperately remedied?”

It’s startling when Will’s composure cracks. When he goes from bitey and sarcastic, eye-rolling from his usual distance, to right in Sherman’s face. It’s eerie to see him at his full height, no slouching, reminding anyone watching that yeah, actually, their laidback medic is six-two, strong, capable, in more ways than what they’re used to.

Sherman, in usual Ares kid fashion, doesn’t even flinch.

“Your reflexes, for starters,” he says coolly. “No matter what you do, Solace, you’re always one second too fucking late.”

A collective gasp ricochets through the gathered campers. The tension rackets up so rapidly that Nico coughs, lungs suddenly constricted. Will rears back so violently Nico is half-convinced Sherman actual punched him.

Sherman, for his part, seems to realise he’s crossed some kind of line. The cold look on his face twists into a scowl, uncomfortable and apologetic at once. “Look, Will, I just mean —”

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Will’s quiet voice seems to echo through the entirety of the valley, cutting through laboured breathing of charioteers, pegasus neighing, even the crashing of the waves in the distant shore — everything goes silent.

Nico likes to think he knows Will pretty well. He knows what he sounds like when he’s giggly, watching his siblings argue about nothing; when he’s excitable, rambling about his newest obsession; when he can’t choose between amused and stern at whatever dumb thing Nico has gotten himself into. He knows what he sounds like when he’s exhausted, too, overworked and done with everything; when he’s annoyed, when he’s hurt and sad.

But he’s never heard Will sound so dangerous.

“Of all people.” His words are articulated, deliberate. The usual warmth of his eyes is gone. He’s completely still in a way me never is outside of surgery — no shaking in his perpetually trembling hands, no bounce to his curls, none of the constant energy that seems to constantly exude off him. Still, cold. Icy. “You do not get to talk to me about being one second to late.”

Sherman looks stricken. Guilt is written across each of his features, and for a second he steps back — as if afraid.

“Will, I —”

The son of Apollo turns without another word, striding over to the distant tree line and disappearing into the woods. No one chases after him.

No one even moves.

#THIS IS JUST A WIP ITS NOT EVEN CLOSE TO DONE #but i’m proud of it so #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo & will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #will solace angst #solangelo #nico/will #will/nico #longpost #my writing #fic

[tvhsleb3ww]

LOVE IS NOT OVER! - OIKAWA TOORU

yeah i used a bts song as the title bc i ran out of ideas 🥴

summary, your blind date is your ex boyfriend from high school!?

minor swearing, praise (cute, hot, sexy), depression, heartbreak, tooru being dumb

read part 2 here!

now, there were plenty of beautiful women in Tokyo. millions! but why oh why did the universe hate him so much to the point they sent you as his blind date.

that's right. you. his ex. his first love, his high school sweetheart, his best friend and the same girl who stole his heart and stomped on it until it broke into a million pieces. it was simply unbelievable.

you turned him into a depressed man after you broke up with him because you thought it was better to go seperate ways. okay, maybe it was for the better because now he's a superstar volleyball player and now you're doing whatever. and he's one hundred percent sure that you're succeeding in whatever the hell you're doing because holy fuck do you look like a goddess right now.

of course, dating his ex was not written on his workbook. he never would go back to his exes. that he can swear he'd never do but right now he's starting to contemplate whatever mindset he has going on. in full honesty, he's still bitter and upset at you for dumping him due to stupid reasons. it has been years since you last saw each other.

Third Year of High School

" you're not even giving me a chance here! "

his voice broke as tears welled up in his eyes. his hands holding onto yours as he intertwined his fingers with yours. his lips remain a frown as he looked at you. you sighed and remain your gaze on him.

" tooru, it's not that like that "

he clicked his tongue at your words. bullshit. that's all he thinks right now. he lets go of his grip on your hands as he looked at you with glassy eyes. he bites down his bottom lip to control himself from actually breaking down in front of you.

" so, you're gonna give up on us? "

his question remains unanswered as you stayed quiet. he sighed, looks like he got his answer. you sighed and crossed your arms. you couldn't bare to look at him right now in his vulnerable state. you feel like you just got shot by a million arrows from how bad you're hurting him.

" i just think it's better if we go on our seperate ways"

back to the present, he didn't expect you. first of all, he didn't even want to go on this stupid blind date in the first place but his awful yet amazing friends kept pestering him to do this. saying that "you're too obsessed with volleyball get a life", blah blah blah. he just rolled his eyes to their statement but he still went.

so, it wasn't his friends' fault for setting him up with his ex. or is it?

both of you sat in silence for a whole minute inside the busy yet quiet café. both of you had ordered your drinks and tooru swears that his matcha latte is almost finished from how often he kept sipping it.

he quickly clears his throat before finally saying something.

"long time no see"

okay that did not sound as badass as he thought it was gonna be. it kinda sounded corny. he took a second to cringe at himself before looking at you. god, he wanted to curse the heavens because how dare they make him hate this amazing woman!?

from head to toe you're perfect. tooru would fight anyone who says the opposite. you got so much prettier in the last couple of years too. your hair, your eyes, your lips, your face, your ass-

that was a little overboard, he thought. he's not supposed to be thinking this! you broke his heart and he hates you!

" yeah, you look great "

god, he wanted to melt on the spot. the same voice that haunted his dreams for years. still so sweet and so good to listen to. he looks great? woah! does that mean you're complimenting him? what is great? his physique? his personality? he had to bite his bottom lip to cover his smile and remain his scowl.

" pfft- i know "

you rolled your eyes at his words. ah, tooru always as smug as he can be. but he did in fact looked great, he looked healthy and more muscular. indeed, seperation was better for both of you. of course you knew about his growth in the volleyball world, he was the talk of the year. based on the scowl on his face, you're sure he's still being petty about what happened between the two of you.

" i see that your ego is still bigger than your ass "

he gasped at that statement. his eyes narrowed down at you as he crossed his toned arms. he's gotten tan too from the Argentina sun. it's a good look on him, not gonna lie.

" at least, i didn't leave people at their lowest points "

touché but it was a terrible comeback. tooru has always been horrible at comebacks. it did however managed to shaken things up a little bit. you clicked your tongue and rolled her eyes. same old petty tooru.

" i'm sorry, alright? that was a long time ago "

" you don't seem sorry "

" at least i'm apologizing "

" yeah but years after that- "

you groaned loudly making him snicker. he always enjoyed driving you crazy. to him, it was cute to see you all fired up and he just likes to piss people off in general. he leans back on his chair as his gaze remains on you.

" so quickly agitated, (y/n) "

he commented making you huff and roll your eyes.

" you're still as annoying as you'll ever be "

" annoyingly hot you mean "

" maybe because you came from hell "

his smug grin falters and drops at your comeback. he scowls and huffs at your now smug expression. this interaction was gonna be interesting. you just wiggled your eyebrows at him to piss him off even further.

ugh, he hates you. he hates how sassy and teasing you can get. he hates the fact that he finds it cute and sexy at the same time. why is it so sexy when you put him in his place!?

he clears his throat again after a minute of whole silence.

" you know, i hate you right "

you sighed softly and rolled your eyes for what seems about the nth time now.

" and it's completely my fault, i know "

he wanted to say yeah it is. you're to blame for the heartbreak pain he felt for years.

after he flew away to Argentina, he couldn't sleep at night wondering about you, he devoted himself fully to his career because he didn't want to think about you, he tried going out with other women but they all just weren't you.

but right now, it's as if he wanted to push that ego away and forget everything that has happened in the past couple years and just grab your face and kiss you with everything he's got.

and he's not leaving this date until he does exactly that.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa tooru x reader #hq oikawa #haikyuu oikawa

[slayfics]

Explosive Tendencies a slow burn fan fiction about the readers developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.

Chapter twenty-one: Your class decides what to do for the School Festival.

Chapter links

In class, you overheard that your classmates had decided to put on a concert for the school festival. After classes, everyone huddled around in the common room trying to decide what the show would look like. You weren't surprised to see Katsuki wasn't there yet again.

Mina eyed you as you walked past your classmates debating on what kind of show to have. You slipped by them and made your way to the elevator for the boy's side of the dorms.

Once you finally made it to the fourth floor and Katsuki's door, you were greeted with his typical furious "What!?" when you knocked.

"Oh, hey," he said when he opened the door and realized it was you.

"Hiding up here again?" You asked, as you made your way into his room sitting in your usual spot on his rolling chair.

"I was about to head down," he said, as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What really!? You were actually going to help with ideas for the show?" You asked surprised.

"Tch- I don't know... the whole thing is pointless anyway," he said irritated, although you noticed he had been much more in thought about it than before.

"Pointless hu?" You asked.

"Yeah... I overheard some dumbasses from general studies talking about our class. Saying it's our fault everyone had to move into the dorm. As if we fucking asked for some villains to come and ruin everything. Just- I don't know..." He trailed off.

You could tell it was bothering Katsuki more than he was saying. You knew he must feel partially responsible given he was the one that got kidnapped at summer camp. You decided changing the subject to get his mind off it was best.

"Whatever, forget those extras," You joked. "I never asked how your classes went this past weekend for your provisional licenses," you said.

You were hoping a change of subject would help, but this also seemed to activate Katsuki.

"Fucking dumb," he said dryly.

"Tell me about it," You encouraged.

Katsuki grunted and looked away as he decided if he wanted to talk about it or not. "The test was fucking stupid and those damn airheads from Shiketsu were there," He spoke.

"Airheads?" You asked clarifying.

"Yeah, that fucking wind guy and some blond bitch that was all over Icy Hot," Katsuki said as he averted his gaze to the ground.

Katsuki wasn't saying it but the fact that Inasa and Camie ignored him while they fawned over Shoto upset him.

You noticed the dejected look on his face and laughed, "Well sounds like that blond girl has some horrible taste then."

"Hu?" He exclaimed and looked back up at you.

"I just mean if I was her, it's not Todoroki I'd be looking at," You explained.

"No?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who would you be looking at then?"

"Uh-," You felt your face get hot. You hadn't expected Katsuki to call you out to clarify.

"Come on, say it," He pushed.

Just then Katsuki's door flew open, "Are you seriously not going to come down again and help Kacchan?" Denki asked entering the room unannounced. "Oh! Uh hey! Didn't expect to find you here too," Denki said looking at you. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"Didn't anyone teach you to knock dunce face!" Katsuki yelled.

"Sorry!" Denki said throwing his hands up. "But come on- you two should be helping us!" He complained.

"Fine," Katsuki grunted standing up. "Let's go see what these idiots are planning." He said waving at you to follow.

Once you three made your way down to join the rest of your classmates a discussion about who knew how to play instruments ensued.

That was when Denki shouted excitedly at Katsuki, "Hey! Didn't you say your parents made you take drum lessons?!"

"HU?! No way I'm playing and making a fucking idiot of myself on stage!" Katsuki barked.

"Oh, we get it- it's too hard for you, hu?" Hanta said snickering. He was clearly trying to anger Katsuki into playing them.

"WHAT!? THEY AREN'T EVEN THAT HARD!" Katsuki yelled as he stomped over to play.

"Well, that was easy," Hanta whispered to Denki, and they both broke laughing.

Katsuki proceeded to play a short drum solo that left everyone shocked. Jiro quickly proclaimed that Katsuki should be the drummer for the school festival.

"NO!" Katsuki said and began to walk back to his dorm.

A symphony of your classmates broke out trying to persuade him.

"Don't you idiots get it!" He yelled. "All the other classes blame us for why things are so strict now. They are only going to come and watch us to hope we make fools of ourselves," Katsuki explained.

"What?! We're just trying to help everyone have a good time!" Trou yelled back.

"You didn't help decide what we were going to do so you can't complain," Shoto said.

Katsuki let out an annoyed grunt, "Whatever, but doesn't it piss you off? It's not like we wanted villains to show up and attack us, but now we're being blamed for it? I don't give a damn how those other weak classes feel about us let's just destroy them by having the best event at the stupid festival." Katsuki replied.

Most of the class erupted in excitement at Katsuki agreeing to play drums, but few exchanged glances having a different understanding about what he said.

Some of your classmates picked up on the subtly of what Katsuki was saying. He had been carrying around the guilt of being kidnapped and causing all the strict changes to the school.

Tags: @anon-mouse223 @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @sikuthealien @queenpiranhadon @melrs21 @poemzcheng @kazuumii @bakunianadecorazon @ur-crusty-uncle @reads-stuff-quietly @chixkadee @perfectsukii @faetoraa @fem-weeb @nagicats @lees-chaotic-brain @maelibo

#katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki fanfic #katsuki fluff #bnha katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #bakugo x self insert #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou x you #great explosion murder god dynamight #explosive tendencies #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #bnha x self insert #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader

[quokkawritesarchive]

BE MY VALENTINE — JISUNG.

pairing: jisung x reader(afab) genre: smut, NSFW warning: established relationship, vibrator in public, edging, overstimulation, begging, slight dirty talk, slapping rule implied, no clear dom/sub dynamic a/n: it’s part of my valentine’s collab!

the perfect boyfriend equaled your boyfriend. you could stand by that statement for life. honestly, your morning of february 14th started like your birthday. you didn’t think jisung was capable of something so romantic.

“good morning, jagi!” his soft voice, followed by neck kisses, woke you up.

you opened your eyes and gasped in awe. the entire room was filled with heart-shaped balloons, and the bed was strewn with roses. good thing you were a heavy sleeper, so jisung could easily do such surprises for you.

of course, he cooked your favorite breakfast in bed, and while you were eating and looking at him with the most fond look, he told you about the plans for the day.

“but…” he said with a cocky grin.

“but?”

oh that didn’t seem any good. the cheeky smile on his face was making you rub your thighs in impatience.

“i have a present for you.” jisung said, handing you a box wrapped in ribbon. “it’s not the only one for today, but you need to open this one right now.”

you quickly set the plate aside and began to untie the ribbon. did he gift you something from your wish list? the box was small, so it could have contained anything. a new phone? concert tickets? jewelry? an engagement ring?

“vibrator?” you looked at jisung in surprise.

“with a remote.” he added proudly.

not to say that you were upset about the gift, it was rather just very unexpected. why did he say that you should open it right now?

meanwhile, jisung was looking at you with a smirk, analyzing the emotions on your face.

"did you figure it out?"

"what do you mean?" no. you didn't figure it out at all. what did a vibrator have to do with anything? was this some kind of allegory for another gift?

"i want you to put it inside yourself." okay. it was already a good start. "and walk with it inside all day. for every orgasm you have, there will be one slap at the end of the day."

“what? are you serious?" you were taken aback. jisung has never been a fan of sex toys. especially in public.

“as you can see, jagi.” jisung grinned. “do you like my gift?”

“i don’t know.” honesty was the key. you really didn’t know how to feel about it. the idea sounded intriguing, but you’ve never tried anything like it. what if people see your dumb expression when you cum?

“jagi, i wont let you get embarrassed in front of anyone. trust me, please. i will make you feel good.” jisung knew you were very sensitive and would get worked up very easily, but he was confident he would be able keep you away from losing your control infront of anyone.

“okay…” you agreed.

“do you need help putting it inside?” jisung’s eyes were glossy, already undressing you under his gaze. you were still in pajamas, but to him you looked sexy in any clothing. he bit his lips in anticipation; such a pervert. you were wondering, if you said no right now, how crazy he would go.

you threw off the sheets, letting him climb on top of you and pull you into a kiss. he was impatient, biting your lips as if pushing you to action. his tongue slid against your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. and that alone made your pussy dripping. his hands finally reached your thighs, gently stroking your skin. his fingers then put your panties aside, toying with the clit just for a second. you moaned into his mouth softly.

the vibrator slid in with ease. you were already soaking wet just from kissing him.

“i’ll turn it on once we’re out, ‘kay?” he pulled away from you, string of saliva still connecting your mouths.

you nodded in agreement. whatever makes your boyfriend happy.

getting dressed with a vibrator inside was an unusual feeling. it was turned off, and you barely felt it inside, but at some angles it pressed against the walls, causing your legs to tremble. how could such a small thing bring so many sensations?

once you were dressed and ready two of you headed out to the small market in the city center. there were many attractions, a ferris wheel, food courts and other entertainment for couples. there were so many people already. the small market felt like a shopping mall, it was so easy to get lost in the crowd. it seemed like every couple in your city decided to spend the day here.

you kept giving nervous glances at jisung’s hand inside of his pocket as the two of you walked together. you had no idea when he’d activate the toy. probably the moment when you least expect it.

“relax, jagi. you’re making it too obvious.” he spoke to you nonchalantly, holding your hand in reassurance.

“relax? how am I supposed to relax when-”

the sudden trigger of the vibrator caused you to stop mid sentence; a surprised moan left your lips. the vibrations were much more intense than you imagined it’d be. was this supposed to be the lowest setting?

“...when I’ve got this thing down there…” you continued your sentence, sending jisung a fierce look.

“just try to enjoy it.” he said, his cocky grin still present. “no one is looking at you.”

he was right. the crowd was so big that no one was paying attention to you.

you hand was still holding his in a matter of safety, you felt so exposed all of a sudden. each time someone passed by the two of you, you carefully avoided any looks or stares you could’ve gotten.

you felt anxious, your cheeks were flushed, and yet — why did you feel so good? jisung wasn’t letting you get used to a particular setting — changing it to a higher one each time someone walked by, making your walls clench around the vibrator. jisung was enjoying the show; the way your body reacted was making him grow big in his pants.

you were so wet; you were worried that your slick would leak out and dribble down your inner thighs.

with another change of settings you let out a particularly loud sound, immediately trying to hide your face in the crook of jisung’s neck.

“hey,” he laughed. “don’t be embarrassed. let them know how good you’re feeling right now.”

you were holding onto him, trying to form a proper sentence. “ji.… ahh…”

he pulled you closer by the waist, pressing your lips together. with the other hand, he subtly set the vibrator to a faster mode. you moaned in the kiss from new sensation and clenched your walls uncontrollably.

“ahh… ngh- stop ji- jisung.” your cheeks were fully red by now, and you were holding his hand like a lifebuoy.

in fact, he didn’t stop, but kept on enjoying the way your eyes shut and palm went over your mouth to cover up moans. if you were to be honest, you were already close to giving in. you were about to forget about that stupid slapping rule, you could live through it, even thought you probably wouldn't be able to sit down afterwards.

and then he suddenly put an end to it before you could feel any satisfaction, leaving you feeling disappointed and empty.

“ji?” you cried out, bringing your face closer to him, trying to capture your lips together.

“you’ve asked me to stop several times, jagi. isn’t this what you wanted?” jisung observed each of your facial expressions. the one full of complaint, the one that showed how flustered you were, and the one he was most excited to see — the one filled with plea. what you didn’t know was that he was barely holding back from ending his own game. his cock twitched with anticipation when he saw you begging him to fuck you.

“please?” your face was hidden in the curve of his neck.

“please what, jagi?” jisung chucked.

“turn this thing on again… i want to cum-“ you whispered in his ear, not daring to speak any louder than that.

jisung decided to play nice today. it was valentine’s day after all. he merely raised the intensity on the vibrator again, his own breathing quickened at the sound of you moaning in his ear. you inhaled sharply and pressed against him, fingers digging into his shoulders.

from afar, the two of you looked like an overly affectionate couple, with the way your body was pressed against him and his arm supporting you, while his eyes never left your face for a second.

you have noticed how positioning yourself in a certain position angled it up in a better way. jisung was still edging you, turning it off as soon as your eyes closed. he knew your cumming face too well. you could have came ages ago if he hadn’t kept ruining it.

“ji, please... ‘m so close…” you plead with a hushed voice as you were on the verge of letting out a loud moan.

he gently stroked your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with his fingers.

“are you now?” he asked smugly, leaning his face impossibly closer to yours.

“just please let me cum… stop edging me.” you were basically begging him at this point. the crowd was long forgotten — the only thing you could think of was your approaching orgasm.

jisung felt a familiar throb in his dick as he listened to your plea. he smiled fondly and captured your lips with his own, his hand sliding down to lightly massage your breast. you were rapidly inching towards your climax again. his hands and lips combined with the toy were doing good job at getting your panties all drenched. jisung smirked against your lips, swirling his tongue around yours as you tightened your grip on his jacket. breaking the dizzying kiss, you gasped, and your body jolted as you were nearly there.

“please, please! ‘m cumming!” you panted as you felt the orgasm rush through your body.

jisung’s hands tightened around you, holding you in place. your legs trembled as you went through your orgasm. it was so intense, the toy kept stimulating your walls, prolonging the sensations.

once you finished, jisung kissed you gently on the temple, letting you know that you did well for him. however, he did not turn the vibrator off completely, just put the setting to lowest, giving you with a bit of overstimulation. you jolted uncomfortably in place, adjusting to the new sensations.

but then you were pulled out of your euphoria when his palm touched your butt with a loud smack.

“ah!” you exclaimed, looking at him in disbelief. he did not just slap you in front of all these people. “you said slapping would happen at the end of the day!”

“well… i lied.” jisung put on his cheekiest smile, squeezing your ass tighter with his hand.

how were you going to survive whole day like this?

-> reblog to support me, if you enjoyed reading this and please let me know your thoughts in the comments! ♡

masterlist | taglist

TAGLIST (OPEN): @lvlnijiro @hanjisung-enjoyer @fun-fanfics @soonie1010 @noellllslut @newhope8 @channiebahngswife @chanscappuccino @vivioluh @rockstrhanji @yoontaethings @katsukis1wife

#stray kids #skz smut #skz x reader #han jisung #skz jisung #valentines day #be my valentine #collab #skz han #han jisung smut #jisung smut #han smut #han jisung x reader #han x reader #jisung x reader #han x you #han x y/n

[ongaku-ato-kakikomi]

I have an imagie idea for Joe Goldberg. So imagine the reader likes Joe and works with him at Mooney's and he developes a soft spot for her and teaches her how to repair the old books down there. And it isn't uncommon for her to go down there on her own to do that herself.

You give out a long sigh as you walk toward Ethan standing behind the cash register, and you drop your arms and head on the counter as soon as you arrive. Ethan gives out a chuckle as he observes your melodramatic act.

“Let me guess. One of too many customers asked you one of too many dumb questions?”

“No, there’s barely anyone in here.” You give out another sigh and look up at him with desperation. “I’m just so bored.”

“Well, you can always re-stack the shelves.” Your friend and coworker speaks as he counts the money in the cash register, his eyes sometimes looking up so he can send a smile when a new customer walks in. “We got a few new boxes in this morning.”

“But my arms are so sore.”

Ethan gives out a small smile. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. They hurt so bad. Actually, I think I might need to ampute them.” Your comment only manages to bring a chuckle out of Ethan, then you notice something from the corner of your eyes, and a spark of curiosity appears in your eyes. “Hey, what’s that?”

You point at a small pile of wrapped books on the far edge of the counter.

“Oh, a client dropped these earlier. They’re old books that need some restoration.” Ethan continues to count the cash, humming a familiar song in-between his words. “I’ve been planning to tell Joe as soon as he comes back from his errands.”

“What? No, forget Joe.” You rapidly grab the pile of books, a wide smile taking over your lips. “I’m gonna go downstairs and take care of these myself.”

“Um...” Ethan gives you a look of hesitance. “I’m not sure you should do that.”

“Aw, come on, Ethan.” You give him a pout, batting your eyes. “You know Joe trusts me to do these. He even said I’m doing a better job than he is.”

He bites his bottom lip, still unsure. “Yeah, I’m not saying you aren’t good, but he’s given us straight orders not to go down there for a week now.”

You point at the half empty store with your head, your voice lowering to a whisper. “Whatever’s down there isn’t worth this deadly boredom up here.”

“(Y/N).” Ethan calls out your name as you walk away, his voice coming out a bit more panicky when you ignore him. “(Y/N)!”

“Relax! Joe won’t mind, I’m sure.” You unlock the door to the basement, then send your friend a wink. “Call me if there’s an emergency.”

You open the door and close it behind you before Ethan can say anything else, your feet already making you walk down the stairs as you hum a song. It doesn’t take long for you to reach the main area of the basement where the rare books are, your mind settled on getting to the restoration table. Although, a putrid smell brings your pace to an abrupt stop, and you frown in both disgust and confusion. Curious of the origin of the smell, you turn your head toward the glass cage on your left, internally wondering if you should adjust its humidity levels.

You drop the books on the floor the moment your eyes settle on the body decaying in there.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Hey, Ethan.” Joe smiles as he walks into the shop; although, his smile slightly falters when he notices his friend jumping up at the sound of his voice. “Whoa. You’re okay? You seem nervous.”

“Ah...” Ethan’s fingers fidget with the cash register for a moment, trying his best to focus on finishing his counting task. “No... No, I’m good! Great even!”

Joe quirks an eyebrow at that, thinking that this kind of behavior could only mean one thing, and he crosses his arms over the counter with a grin.

“So, what did (Y/N) do?” He stares intently at his friend, his head slightly tilting. “Tell me the truth.”

Ethan’s eyes quickly shift toward the basement door, but Joe immediately catches onto it. 

“No...” His heart sink with fear as he realizes what you’ve done, and Ethan doesn’t have time to reply anything that Joe’s already running to get downstairs. “No, no, no!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bitter vomit pours out of your mouth to splash in the trash can you barely managed to grab, violent trembles taking over your body soon enough. The image of the body’s glazed white eyes staring back into your soul sticks into your mind, and it only worsens your sickness. You breathe sharply the moment you stop throwing up, using your sleeve to wipe off your mouth as you take another look at the cage. Whoever this body used to be, you can tell he’s been trapped in there for a while, his decaying skin looking like a gooey moldy paste. You can see some dry white foam around what used to be his mouth, and it doesn’t take you more than a few neurons to realize that he was poisoned.

And that Joe killed him.

“Oh my God...” You cry out those words as you stand up, your legs shaking as you try to run back to the stairs. “Oh my God, Ethan! Ethan, we have to call the police...!”

The door opens before you reach the top of the stairs, and your heart drops when you realize that it’s not Ethan who’s standing up there.

It’s Joe.

“... (Y/N).” Joe whispers that name as soon as he sees you standing down there with a look of terror on your face, his hands already closing and locking the door behind him. “(Y/N), please, let me explain. I... I can explain-(Y/N)!”

You don’t waste a second to run back down, your mind now focused on finding the basement exit to reach the alleyway. Tears fall out of your eyes when you hear Joe run down behind you, screaming your name out of desperation.

“(Y/N), wait! Wait!”

He manages to grab the back of your shirt and pulls you back.

“No!” You scream as loud as you can the moment you feel his arms wrap around your body, hoping Ethan would be able to hear you as you try to kick yourself out of Joe’s grip. “No, no, no, let me go!”

“I’m sorry...” Joe whispers those words into your ears, struggling to wrap one of his arms around your neck. “You weren’t supposed to see that...”

You gasp for air when you feel his arm squeezing your neck, your hands desperately scratching at his skin to stop him. “Let... me go...!”

“I can’t do that.” He puts more pressure on your neck, making you moan in pain as you give out raspy shot breaths. “I’m so sorry.”

I’m gonna die. You think, your movements slowing down as your vision blacken. He’s going to kill me.

Joe frees your neck the moment your arms fall victim to gravity, and he gently lays you on the floor. His eyes fill up with tears when he sees your unconscious face and the red marks around your neck.

“I’ll fix this.” He presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, his mind already racing to find a solution that would save you from himself. “I promise you I’ll fix this.”

In the meantime, he’ll have to keep you down here. 

And hopefully Ethan won’t question his excuses.

#you #joe goldberg #joe goldberg imagine #joe goldberg imagines #joe goldberg x reader #you imagine #you imagines #you x reader #request #requests #imagine #imagines #x reader #reader insert

[pxgeturner]

omg tell me why i was just thinking about making out with miguel and your glasses bump together and his break 😭😭 you’re all panicked and whatever and this man just does not give a fuck he’s tossing them aside while the arm is bent at a whole right angle… straight back to undressing you like the loser he is

he was probably like a 30 yr old virgin tbh he is king of dorks. wc: 763.

he has you sat on his desk, laptop and papers pushed to either side to accommodate you. he fumbles with your coat as he kisses you, but slips as he slides the sleeves down. you’re caged in as he’s forced forward. the tupperware box in your lap fall to the food and your heads collide with a glorious clack.

“miguel!” you try to slide off of the table to rescue the food. “i-” a kiss. “need-” another, “you need-” you put your palms out before your lips can touch again. “you need to eat lunch, no more working through your breaks.” you take a second to gulp in air as you keep looking down at your skirt. hod, kissing sure takes a lot out of a girl. miguel tilts your chin up, making you look at him.

“i-”

“OH MY GOODNESS! your glasses!” you pluck them from his face, examining the webbed cracks in the left lens and the hinge bent completely out of shape.

“cariño, you want me to eat, no?” he moves the glasses out of your grasp, discarding them off to the side of the desk. you nod. he kneels and you think he’s about to grab the lunchbox, but instead he hooks his hands behind each of your calves and says, “and you’re so nice for that, muñeca, to bring me a meal. but honestly there is only one thing i want.”

you nod again, “uh, huh,” stretching to get his glasses. your fingertips graze them, but miguel bumps the desk and moves them from reach

“baby,” he’s slipping off your panties. you’re still trying for the glasses, your torso turning so far it’s almost making a ‘c’. “baby,” he says again, softer. This time you feel his breath right against your clit. you sit up straight, your hands going straight to your boyfriend's hair. you look at him, smirking at you, hands at your hips, keeping your skirt bunched up

“miguel!” he nips at your thigh and you squeal. “what are you doing?” he lifts your legs over his shoulders.

“I’m taking my meal.”

“what ? no! we are at your work!! anyone could come in-”

“it’s lunch. everyone is out. we have twenty more minutes until people start filing back in.”

“that’s not a guaran-”

He nips at your other thigh.

“TEE!”

“remind me, where are we?”

“Your of-office,”

“and what’s special about my office?”

“It’s-it’s yours.”

another bite.

“um, it, it’s-”

“mi cosita, i’ve fucked you dumb without even touching you.” you whine, he’s being so mean, not touching you. where’d your sweet boyfriend go? you grind into the air looking for some friction. “oh, poor little thing, do you want me to remind you why my office is special?”

You nod, whining.

“i’m the boss, preciosa. I run this whole place. I get a nice office, all to myself, so i can draw the blinds down and fuck you stupid.”

“miguel,”

“yes, pretty girl?”

“touch me.” he puts his lips to your pretty pussy

“do you deserve it?”

“you, you, said, you need to eat.” what the fuck are you saying? You must sound so stupid.

a lick to your clit snaps you out of it. you look at your miguel. his eyes are closed, he looks like an angel— no, a demon. a sexy, tempting, demon who knows how to get exactly what he wants from you. you roll your hips onto his tongue, egging him on. you have to lay down– it’s all so intense you don’t trust yourself to sit up.

he moves his hands up from your thighs, up to your waist. he holds you down and rubs circles into your tummy. his mouth mouths effortlessly against you, and you squeeze his head between your thighs. he nuzzles into you, his slight stumble making you yelp. his nose rubs against your pretty little button as he moves. whenever he hums, it shoots sparks through your spine.

“miguel–”

“i got you baby,” he started somehow doing more, and you couldn’t hold off even if you wanted to. he’s licking, sucking, nipping. and you pull at his scalp, he loves it, it’s like saying god job, keep going. “you’re right there honey, i know you are, just let go baby.”

“mi-miguel i–” he sucks at your clit one more, and you’re seeing stars, back arched and knuckles turning white gripping onto miguel’s hair. he keeping going, working you through it, and easing you back down. once you’re back on earth, he stands, and helps you sit up.

“thank you, tesoro.” he kisses your temple.

#accross the spiderverse #atsv #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x you #miguel x reader #my writing #nsfw.giselle

[bandgie]

Hey, I have an idea. How about skz members reaction to you being the Dom for the first time

perfect idea I must say!

MDNI 18+, edging, overstim, chastity use, rimming, strap ons, bondage, fem!reader, bottom!skz, dom!reader, exhibitionism mentions, fleshlight use, mutual masterbation

Chan - loves it idk what anyone says. he's such a hard worker, he needs some time where he just lays there and takes everything you give him - you do have to tie him up a bit though, he keeps gripping your hips when you ride and fucking you to his liking - I imagine his hands tied behind his head and his biceps flex everything you sink onto his cock. you might even put your underwear in his mouth to muffle his moans (he looks so good) - takes longer to cum when you dom, but it feels so much better. it's like he's constantly at that high just before he orgasms. hurts so good

Lee Know - taken back honestly, might even decline your request the first time. he can't though, it intrigues him. - he'll have you start off slow, he doesn't think he can bottom right from the get go. I imagine he has you suck him off for as long as you want. - overstimulating Minho is literally seeing that gates of heaven. doesn't matter how red or swollen his pretty cock gets, he's much too prideful to tell you to stop - he's surprised by how much he likes it, he'll absolutely let you eat his ass like this. bro has no shame when it comes to cumming

Changbin - slut oh my god, do whatever you want with him he's been waiting for you to dom. put a cute little chastity over his cock so he can't get hard - he'll leak and leak, but you'll just make him eat you out for hours. he'll complain about wanting to cum, but he only does it to see you get mean. telling him he's a dumb slut who can't wait - hop on his thighs like you're gonna ride him, but put a dildo between the two of you. ride that instead, gripping his shoulders and making him suck your tits. his little cock is still in that god forbidden chastity, but he moaning like you're really fucking him - loves it, overall. you just need give him a bunch of aftercare

Hyunjin - he's a service dom and he's a service sub, so he loves fucking you either way - similar to Changbin in that he'll do whatever you want, but different in that he doesn't it because he only cares about you pleasure. - you like to test this out, sometimes you won't ever make him cum when you dom, but Hyunjin doesn't complain one bit. he is really hard though, his dick is leaking so much that you take pity and let him cum even when you tell him you won't - I don't hyunjin is really surprised or super turned on, he just loves you period. in any way shape or form. - he does it like when slap his balls though oops

Han - loves it when you dom for the first time, and you do it everytime after that, works out the best - do not let this man cum! he loves when you edge him and it doesn't matter how much he's begging do not let him cum! - really likes rimming and when you use a strap. it can't be too but though, 4 inches max. he's totally the type to complain that it's still too big and that it hurts, but he loves it when you tell him to take it - tbh he might just come from anal play, whore! you can't let that slide, you didn't give him permission. now you're gonna make him cum until he can't feel his dick anymore

Felix - first thing he thinks is 'why didn't we do this sooner?' and he's so right. lix is a good sub and he listens obediently. you could even play with him in public and he'll do what you say. - for the first time, you need to go slow with him. everything is new and both of you need time to adjust. safe words are a must, safe gestures as well - unlike Han, Felix can take bigger straps. his ass is literally a pussy with how easily it takes your silicone cock. he was built for dick honestly, moans prettily too - likes when you edge and overstim him, he can't choose a favorite. just please squeeze his balls he sounds so cute when you do - I firmly believe you can use a double ended dildo with him after some time

Seungmin - loves it when you dom, I don't know why I dont see that a lot. he's a huge tease, and when you finally threaten to dom him, he loves the challenge - you both degrade each other. Seungmin may physically surrender to you, but he never will verbally. he needs to get the last word even when your fingers are wrapped around his throat. - you like to push him, and he loves it when you do. wear a nice sized strap and fuck him like that. get a fleshlight and stroke his cock with it. he goes insane, he can't even speak - 'no smart ass reply this time huh?'

I.N - girl...he doesn't even know he likes it - like minho, he's dismissive. he actually forgets you even asked him until you're riding him one night. maybe it would be nice, to see what you can do - the next time you guys fuck, he'll ask what you have in mind. he's a little scared you might say something outlandish, but you actually mention mutual masterbation! - oh that's easy to him! how is that even a dom thing? - then he realizes the challenge when he watches your pussy cream on the dildo you're fucking yourself on. he's so jealous, mad even. all he gets to use is his hand while you have a surplus amount of toys to cum on - he begs and constantly asks to fuck you, but you tell him no over and over again. it doesn't matter how many times he's cum in his fist, it's nothing compared to your hot pussy - then you make him eat you out after. making sure to clean your pussy up real good. that's when he cums the hardest, untouched.

#smut #felixismybf! #skz #skz changbin #skz lee know #skz hyunjin #stray kids #skz bang chan #skz seungmin #skz smut #stray kids smut #bangchan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #lee Felix #seungmin #I.n. #bangchan skz #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #skz x reader

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 15

The beautiful mess that would’ve been The Beatles plus Yoko Ono plus Billy Preston plus Bob Dylan plus whoever else. Although I guess that is sort of what George went on to do. He really did just want a group of friends that cared more about each other than the product, and that’s what he created for himself. 

John: And the dream I had was you. The camera: zooms in on Paul’s wounded puppy eyes. John: *staring at Paul* d’you get my meaning? Imagine doing that to literally any other human being. I would not be that intimate with my best friend, my husband, my sister . . . anyone. Let alone my ex, (not literally, you all get what I mean) in front of my current SO and multiple cameras. This kind of thing really makes me wonder what kind of insane shit he must’ve said/done when they were alone, especially in happier times. 

George painted his own psychedelic guitar, and it looks gorg. Who painted Paul’s. Anyone know?

How can I Not assume “Stand By Me” is *meaningful* if, firstly, this is the second time you’ve sung it at each other during this project, and secondly, if you look at each other like This while singing it? Then again, when are they not uncomfortably intense when singing together?

“Oh, help me, Daddy. I don’t even know how this thing works.”  He says about the instrument he plays in the most successful band of all time. Paul can play whatever he needs to to get what he wants out of someone, and that includes dumb.

John’s little “Ookaay.” At Paul’s weird carrying-on about his insecurities with his bass playing. It just screams, “You’re delusional and I’m not getting into this right now.” Which is 1000% valid. Imagine being Paul McCartney and second-guessing your bass skills. Reminds me of that quote where John’s like, “He’s an egomaniac about everything else, but he’s coy about his bass playing. Which is stupid because he’s one of the most innovative bass players . . .”

John and Paul nail the harmony on “HoooooohOoOoOme.” And the LOOKs, you guys.

But also the nonverbal vocal communication! It’s one of my favorite parts about them, really. One of the things that reminds me of how special their relationship is. John makes a face. Paul goes, “brroop”. John replies with a beaming, “Yeah!” To which Paul adds another “brrrrip” as they simultaneously continue the song. It’s just unreal. Nobody does that. They are magical and they were right to think they had special telecommunicative powers. 

The lunch orders today are everything you need to know about the Beatles. John: Sparrow on toast. Paul: Boiled testicle. George: Uh, Mal? So, we’ll have whatever the vegetables are, and if they’ve got any cheese sauce for the cauliflower. Ringo: Mashed potato. That’s it. That’s them.

“Then there’s another one,” says Paul, doing a shit job of pretending he hasn’t rehearsed this to sound like some accidental discovery. “Don’t let me down. Oh, darling,” sung suddenly, and forcefully, directly at John, “I’ll never let you down.”

John, beaming like the star quarterback just told him he looked pretty, tucks his hair behind his ears and says, barely hovering in the safety of a joking tone, “Yeah, it’s like you and me are lovers.”

John has of course taken Paul’s game of gay chicken an arm’s reach farther than Paul’s comfortable with, at least in front of cameras, so he can only nod, and brush his own hair back. Stiff, expressionless. "Yeah."

(Of course, Peter Jackson cuts out what eventually evolves into John and Paul singing “we’re a couple of queers” and talking about wearing skirts for the performance) 

Am I the only one getting the vibe that John genuinely dislikes Teddy Boy? Not because he thinks it sucks or anything but because he doesn’t like the obvious similarities to his relationship with Julia? Personally, I love it. It was my anxiety song a few years back.

The original lyric to “fancy me chances” was Not “frock” I absolutely guarantee. 

Love Paul checking on Billy. Love that they're all, even with everything they've got going, making sure he's set up and taken care of.

Sorry not sorry that I’m so thirsty over literally every woman in this show, but. Hello, Pattie! She just walks in, ignores everyone else, kisses him Like That, whispers something, and gets out to go live her own life. Queen. Gorgeous. Obsessed.

George Martin praising his children for "working so well together." I love that he refused to produce them after the white album, not because they were being disrespectful to him or anything, but because they weren't getting along. And that, although he's not producing, technically, he can't stop himself coming in to make sure they're okay. He's such a good dad, literally.

John over here being emo af by himself, playing “I Feel Fine,” because he definitely does Not feel fine and he’s just as nostalgic as Paul, which is way too fucking nostalgic. Poor baby. 

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back