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lovebugism · 5 months

Note

hi bug! can I please request the dialogue prompt “Hold up, she said what?” with steve and shy!reader? maybe she is robin’s friend and robin tells steve something reader said (maybe that she thinks steve is cute or nice or something of the sort), and it leads to a cute conversation between the two?

ty for requesting angel!! — steve finds out the cute girl at the record store likes him and decides to bring her ice cream as a proclamation of love (shy!fem!reader, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, 2.3k)

blurbcember ⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve interjects suddenly, a metal scoop in his hand and a wild look in his eye. “She said what?”

Robin fumbles with the metal tub of Peppermint-Chip ice cream she’s refilling. It clangs when she drops it into place with haphazard care. The shop goes unusually silent without her rambling to fill the dead air. Holly, Jolly Christmas crackles quietly from the broken speakers overhead.

The girl blinks at him with a wide ocean gaze. Her rogue-tinted mouth falls softly agape. She knows she’s said the wrong thing, but she can’t remember what.

“...Huh?”

“What’d you just say?”

Her doe eyes flit to the left for a moment. It takes her a second or more to recall the words she’d only just said. She does this thing sometimes where she rambles on and on about nothing, and Steve was the first person in the whole world to let her. So it’s way too easy for her to tell him a billion things at once and forget about all of them a second later.

“That the music store just got new cassettes in?” Robin answers, her gritty voice a few octaves higher than usual.

Steve nods slow and with a crooked grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth. He rests his elbow on the glass case above the ice cream and eggs her on. “After that?”

“…That you and the pretty new girl that works there have the same taste in music?”

“Before that.”

“That she said she wanted to show you the new tapes,” she says, wincing with the realization that she had, in fact, said the wrong thing. A secret she swore not to tell has just spilled from her lips without her even knowing it.

“And?” Steve lilts with a wider, rosier smile.

“Because she likes you…” Robin confesses (or rather, re-confesses) with her teeth gritted.

Even though Steve had heard her perfectly the first time, hearing it the second makes his heart skip a beat. The pulsing organ lurches into his throat. He almost forgets how to breathe.

“She likes me?” he repeats, mostly whispering, with an incredulous gape of shock. His bushy brows raise until his forehead wrinkles. His eyes go wide until the honey of them starts to glimmer.

Despite her best friend’s lovesick disposition, Robin’s freckled face hardens. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she rumbles like a storm cloud, knocking her shoulder against his when she walks by him.

“Why?” Steve retorts like a child, following behind her just the same.

He nearly bumps into her when she stops short at the deep freezer. She returns the cloth mits she carried the ice cream in with after spending her whole break organizing the case by color. Steve could never even be bothered to put the damn things back where they belonged in the first place.

“Because I swore to her I wouldn’t,” Robin agonizes, then whips around to face him again. Her features are twisted like a hurt puppy as she pleads. “Don’t tell her I said anything either, okay? She’ll hate me.”

Steve wasn’t planning on it. Not because he thought it might make you hate her, though. He’s not entirely sure you’re capable of that.

He’s only known you for a few months — ever since the leaves started changing color and people traded their ice cream cones for cool music at the new record store. He spent half that time admiring you across the landing, but you’ve never been anything but gentle with him. You were soft, with a soul of sunshine.

He didn’t know it was possible to be made of sunlight until he met you.

“Well, did you tell her I liked her back?” he presses, hoping Robin might’ve done some of the hard work for him.

Her face screws up like she’s tasted something sour. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I promised you I wouldn’t.”

Steve shoots her a deadpanned look.

Robin caves.

“It’s not like I meant to tell you she liked you just now, okay? It just came out!” she explains, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Maybe next time I stick my foot in my mouth around the new girl, I’ll tell her that you’re obsessed with her, and the two of you can finally start dating instead of making sex eyes at each other all the time.”

He wouldn’t put that past her. Robin the Mastermind, Robin the Blabbermouth, Robin the Matchmaker. But his fluttering heart is pumping with too much adrenaline now. He feels like he could move mountains with the knowledge of your affections — knowing that all his own big, fuzzy, suffocating feelings have been reciprocated all this time.

If he doesn’t talk to you now, he’s scared he’ll never work up this kind of courage again.

“No. Screw that,” he concludes with a shake of his head. He’s in King Steve mode now — feeling half as suave as he used to back when the whole town was falling at his feet — chest puffed and ego reeling. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Robin watches, dumbfounded, as he dumps a scoop of their best-selling ice cream into a paper bowl. Another tub she’ll have to refill. Steve ducks under the counter door and heads for the exit. “Wait— what am I supposed to do?” the girl shouts across the empty store.

Now out in the bustling Starcourt mall and taking short strides towards the music store, Steve spins on his heel to face her. He shrugs and readjusts the sailor’s cap on his head. “Wait for me to get back.”

—————

You’ve been banished to the back of the store.

Not exactly. But that’s what it feels like.

You got a bit too overwhelmed working the front counter, and since Eddie’s crazy soft on you, he let you put up all the Christmas decorations he’d been putting off instead. It’s a win-win situation, really.

You’re stringing up sparkling tinsel over the rows of records when a deep blue sailor’s uniform catches your eye. Looking over your shoulder, you find Steve in all his glorysauntering towards you. He’s wearing shorts even though it’s basically winter now in Indiana. He’s beaming at you like sunshine anyway.

Beneath the amber glow of the dimly lit store, he looks borderline angelic. Almost unfairly ethereal.

“What’s that?” you wonder with a smile you don’t even know is there, nodding to the Scoops Ahoy brandedcup in his hand.

You can almost smell the syrup-cinnamon concoction of the ice cream he holds in his palm. Or maybe that’s just Steve, and the sugary sweetness is radiating from his pores after working in a confectionary shop during the holidays.

He looks at you even sweeter.

“New flavor,” he answers vaguely, smirking as he leans against the metal shelves. He stumbles slightly when it rocks beneath his weight. “Oops. Sorry. It’s, uh— It’s pancake chunks with maple syrup swirl. I call it Wake and Bake.”

A giggle tumbles from your lips when he hands it to you. “Eddie’s gonna love that,” you murmur.

“Well, it’s actually called Breakfast in Bed, but— I don’t know— I thought my idea was better.”

“Way better,” you concur with a nod and a pretty smile.

Steve watches with attentive honey eyes as you spoon a bite into your mouth. He feels a bit like it’ll be his fault if you hate it. His irrational need to impress you always makes him feel hopelessly inadequate.

“Woah,” you hum without your mouth still a little full. The cream melts softly on your tongue, tasting of a sweet and early morning. “This is really good.”

His brows raise, and his eyes widen. “Yeah?” he wonders. Your words wash over him like a compliment for a reason he can’t name. It feels good to make you feel good.

“Mhmm. I might have to come by after work and buy the rest of it, actually,” you joke with a curt shrug. It’s a feeble confession — your way of telling him that you want to see him more because you could never say the real thing out loud.

Your heart sinks when Steve shakes his head. Then swells when he smiles.

“No way,” he scoffs, lips curling into a lopsided grin. “I’m not gonna let you pay for it— that’s crazy.”

“You can’t keep giving me free ice cream, Steve—”

“What my manager doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he lilts lowly and with a cool shrug that makes you melt. He goes very distinctly soft when he looks at you, all scruffy-faced and sweet-eyed.

It’s suffocatingly beautiful. You crack under the pressure of it.

“Well, uh— Thanks for the— ice cream,” you stammer and motion the bowl back to him. Thanks for stopping by and keeping me company, but you’re too pretty and I’m not sure how much longer I can take it, you don’t say.

“You don’t want the rest?” he asks with pinched brows.

“I just… should probably get back to work, you know?”

“Eddie doesn’t let you take breaks?”

“No, he does,” you answer quickly, shifting your weight on your feet. It becomes virtually impossible to meet his gaze. “Just not with…”

Steve’s brows raise when you trail off. “Not with me?” he finishes with a laugh.

“Well, not with the… pretty-boy-ice-cream-slinger in the sailor’s uniform,” you correct, then quickly follow. “His words. Not mine.”

In all honesty, Steve couldn’t care less about what Eddie Munson has to say about him. If Hawkins’s local freak is the only thing standing between him and the pretty girl at the music store, he’s down to break a couple of dumb rules.

He takes a small step towards you. His pink smirk widens. You swear your heart stops when he looks at you with it. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” he teases with a twinkle in his squinted eye.

Suddenly, there’s a frog in your throat and you’re fourteen all over again. You’re flustered and drowning and totally unsure of yourself. “I didn’t say that,” you mutter, gaze flittering and smile wavering.

Steve goes to rest his elbow on the shelf again, then remembers its unsteadiness and decides against it. His arm rests awkwardly in the air for half a moment before he crosses both of them over his chest.

“Well, I mean, you didn’t not say it, so…”

You squint up at him, busying your clammy hands with the melting ice cream in your palm. You know what he’s fishing for. Your pride urges you to stay silent even though your heart sings the sweetest songs for him.

“You know you’re pretty, Steve,” you murmur matter of factly.

“But do you think I’m pretty?”

Your thundering heart lurches into your throat when Steve takes another small step closer. He smells like wintertime — like Christmas and nostalgia and boy. You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, so you nod, slow and sheepish.

“Good,” he hums with a beam he couldn’t hide if he tried. “‘Cause I think you’re pretty, too.”

Your chest gets all sparkly at his admission — the affirmation that all your girlish feelings are being reciprocated by a boy you never dreamed you could have. You don’t feel hardly deserving of the fondness dripping from his features, but you pray he never stops looking at you with it.

You grow warm with the irrational hope that he might kiss you. You think he might actually kiss you until your boss’s voice pierces the golden bubble of puppy love the both of you are basking in.

“How’s the decorating going?” Eddie announces himself, appearing suddenly between the two aisles.

Robin idles at his side. She’s in the feminine version of Steve’s sailor outfit — with silver chains around her neck and bandaids on her knees. Effortlessly endearing and totally unaware of it all.

You push Steve away from you without thinking, all but shoving the softening ice cream into his chest. Some of it smears white against the scarlet tie around his chest. “Sorry!” you exclaim in your moment of fleeting panic, then turn to Eddie with the same apologetic wince. “Sorry…” you repeat quieter.

“Robin?” Steve gapes at the sight of his best friend — apparently the second thing standing in his way, right beside the freak. “What the hell are you doing here— did you tattle on me? What are you, four?”

“I got lonely,” the brunette answers plainly. “And I knew you were around here somewhere, so I asked Eddie where you were—” She waves a pale hand your way, fingers painted with chipping maroon polish. “—And now I’m here.”

Eddie grins wide and tilts his wild head to his shoulder. “Yeah. Can’t believe you’re trying to taint my one good employee, Steven.”

“I’m not tainting anybody, Munson,” he bites back like a bickering brother, then screws up his face and turns to Robin. “Wait. If you’re here, who’s manning the counter?”

Her freckled face falls like a child caught in a fib. Her deep blue eyes widen when she blinks at him. In a mousier voice, she confesses, “Dustin came by… And I told him he could eat all the ice cream he wanted as long as he made sure no one stole anything.”

The four of you fall silent. The soft rock of Christmas Wrapping plays weakly from the radio at the front of the store. Eddie breaks first. ‘Cause he can’t ever be serious about anything.

The boyish sound of his laughter sends a giggle sputtering from your lips. The pretty noise makes Steve smile despite his baffled disbelief.

He turns to you with a dumbfounded grin. “You’re still stopping by after work, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer softly, nodding as your smiling face grows hot.

Eddie scoffs when Steve walks by him. “If you still have a job by then.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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mid-80s · 10 months

Text

fixing eddies bangs

pov: eddie asks you to fix his bangs

cw: grinding, implied sex

you immediately say yes.

it has been a dream of yours to cut eddies hair or to style it in any way and you hop at the opportunity when it's presented.

you're both on the floor of eddies room, him practicing for his gig the following night, you picking an outfit for him for it.

you don't know when you'd become his personal stylist, but you always find yourself picking out his show outfits.

suddenly eddies soft tune that he's been playing stops. "can you cut my hair?"

the question out of the blue, as they hadn't even been saying anything before, simply content in the others presence.

you turn around, stunned, and look at him with a look that says really?

"c'mon, i know that styling my hair is like a wet dream of yours," you roll your eyes and turn back to his closet, being stubborn. "but i really need my hair cut for tomorrow!" you don't budge. "you're my bestest friend in the whole wide world and i would really like you to cut my hair." nothing. he rolls his eyes.

"please?"

and that's how you ended up sitting on a flustered eddies lap cutting his bangs.

he kept squirming and you're no expert, so didn't want his hair to look worse than it already did. soo you sat on his lap. not the best idea for either of you as now you have to try not to squirm as eddies manhood is rubbing up against your clit just right.

you're both a blushing mess and you pray he can't feel your pussy twitch from his big hands around your waist, the cold from his rings giving you goosebumps through your thin shirt (that's probably his, you don't remember), and his big doe eyes, staring at you like you're the prettiest thing on earth.

and you're not far off as that is exactly what eddie is thinking.

having the girl he's been crushing on for years a half an inch away from his face is not helping the feelings he's been trying to push down, or his growing boner.

it's just the way you press your lips in a line when you're focused, the furrow of your brows, the tilt of your head. ugh, the twitch of your tight cunt against his boner. fuckkk.

he feels his cock jump at that and he knows you feel it too. and as much and he doesn't want to admit it, he's kind of glad you do, especially now because he knows you're feeling the same.

just a few more snips. you tell yourself. it's not helping you feel better because you have absolutely no idea what to do when you're done. eddies grip on your waist tightens and your pussy twitches again.

and then you feel eddies cock twitch. like it's fucking mimicking yours. you finish his hair, and look him dead in the eyes.

"fucking finally." you sigh, breaking the heaving silence hanging over your both.

you brush the hair off his face and practically throw the scissors on the counter while keeping eye contact and eddie looks at you terrified and confused.

you kiss him at the same time you grind against his fat fucking cock. you can't believe you didn't realize how hard he was before.

eddie tries his hardest to kiss you back but can't hold back the moan that comes deep from in his chest.

this is gonna be a long night.

#they def fuck all night after this lol #eddie didn't even see his hair til the next morning #might make a part 2 if this does well #eddie x reader smut #eddie munson #eddie x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #smut #smutshot #stranger things #first fic #best friends #eddie and reader are bffs #eddie x reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb

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luvwestwood · 3 months

Text

"Give Me Five" - Choso Kamo

4,591 words.

₊˚༊*·˚ warnings. nsfw (18+), ice-hockey player! choso, bestfriend's brother trope, p in v, resolved sexual tensions, foreplay, fingering, titty sucking, choso fucks you in his jersey, orgasm denial, praising, hair pulling, rough play, nsfw links (underlined), spitting kink, mirror play, feral choso

₊˚༊*·˚ notes. I absolutely enjoyed making this special request for @moonriseoverkyoto! thank you all so much for 700 followers ^^ included a link for you lovelies as a gift, hehe I hope to send more work your way soon :) thank you for the love and support this whole month!

rightful art credits to @/kmskc_f, @/yume041624, @/elcheggen, @/uoru1_juju (all on twt)!

(russian translation) - creds to @juliabelll 🩷

Goosebumps formed all over your skin as you were met with the coldness of the rink. Bits of regret filled you for being stubborn this morning, choosing to not wear extra layers. Squinting, you look around to find a close friend of yours, not too far a figure jumping up and down catches your eye.

"Hey! Over here- I'm here!" Yuji called to you in his typical, chirpy voice. Multiple heads turned to the sudden commotion, followed by another look to your direction. Embarrassed, you facepalm; whispering quiet apologies to others as you squeeze past the row of seats, making your way over.

"Yuji!- I got caught in traffic. Did I miss anything?" You fold down the seat next to him, the excited Yuji passing you another one of those generic team jerseys that he also had on. You take a good look at it before putting the garment over your head, the team colours being black and yellow.

Beside you, the boy rummages through a large plastic bag of popcorn. "Mmph- No- My brother would be happy if he knew- You were here." His eyes were wide open and alert, observing the game like a hawk.

"..Ah, it's nothing. If I didn't go, I would have been rotting at home." You giggled, knowing the real answer. As soon as Yuji sent the text, 'wanna go to my brother's game next weekend?'. You had to go. You've been dying to go. Ever since you met Choso for the first time, you made good use of every opportunity you had to see him.

He had an unforgettable face, and a dreamy body you'd sometimes, and shamelessly catch a glimpse of from time to time. But you were doubting, and unsure if the feeling was mutual. The man was busy, which drove you to think he had no time for a woman in his life.

You fixate your head to the rink in front of you. Of course, you got a hold of the best seats. Yuji being the brother of a world renowned hockey player had it’s benefits.

The same bag of popcorn lands firmly onto your lap, Yuji reaching for the soda cup underneath his foot. "Hmm, he looks pissed though. I think I know why." He leans back, index finger scratching at his head.

You furrow your brows, taking several glances around the ice. A familiar back faced you, 'Kamo' and '12' plastered onto the behind of his jersey. Dark hair effortlessly left down, not too much going on. A couple loose strands falling onto his face, Choso looked like a dream. Yuji beside you shrieks for his name, cheering his brother on.

Choso spins around, glaring at the audience. He was outraged, and you weren't sure why. He didn't dare smile, or wave. Yuji grunts at his brothers reaction, smile fading and slouching back down onto the seat.

"..Oh, I get what you mean now." It was undeniable that Choso was a different person behind his helmet, and that he took the sport seriously. He always wanted to make everyone proud. As one of the best players on his team, everyone counted on him, so there was a generous amount of pressure on his shoulders.

The screeching blow of a whistle shrills throughout the arena for half time, Choso violently shoving his hockey stick onto the ice. Plenty of teammates approach him, others choose to not get involved. Either way, he shoves past them. Everyone around you seemed confused, wondering what made him so agitated. You watched as he cursed to his higher-ups, hands strongly gripping onto the side wall.

"Every day, I fucking hate this sport more and more." Choso speaks through gritted teeth, angrily ripping off his helmet. "Piece of shit."

The staff team stands aside, ushering him out of the rink. His coach guides him over to the side bench, crouching down to give him a typical, motivational chat. Choso only puts his head down and into his gloved hands, becoming more and more annoyed by the second.

"Kamo- you know what? Bring your ass back to the locker room and give yourself five." Not knowing what to do, his coach decides it was best for him to blow off some steam. Not letting out another word, he storms off back into the locker rooms, the crowds groaning as he does so; the privacy invading camera focusing on him.

Chatter filled the air between the crowds around you. “..What happened to him? Your brother just stormed off.” You turn to Yuji, confused and filled with millions of questions.

"No clue, but I'm still a bit hungry." Yuji sighs, looking at the now empty plastic bag of popcorn. He takes a sip of what's left in his soda cup.

"..What? You are?" You look through your purse for some money. More than enough, that's for sure. A wrinkled twenty bill was tucked away inside. "Here- I'll go and get you something. It's on me."

You could've sworn that you had seen happiness twinkle in his eyes. This boy certainly loves to eat. "..Really?" He smiles, in response you nod your head up and down.

"Yeah! Just give me five, I'll be back as soon as possible." You warmly confirm the offer and he nods, shortly before you had to endure the entire process squeezing your way back out of the row.

You walk off into the tunnel leading to the outside of the arena. So many halls, and I’m not even familiar with this place. The two minute stroll led you to nowhere anyways, resulting in you doubting yourself. “…Where’s the food court?” You pout, coming to the conclusion you had probably been walking in circles this whole time.

The next long corridor you were met with was filled with doors everywhere. Loads of them. “..Ah.. have I been here before?”

Walking past each door, you look around for anybody nearby who was able to provide some sort of guidance. Hopeless, there was no one at all. Until one door you had walked past was slightly open, the light on. Maybe someone was in there? You genuinely just wanted to get your hot dogs.

You retrace your steps backwards, the faint sound of two voices coming from the room. Curious, you peeked your head through the slight gap.

"I don't think I did my best out there." It was Choso, elbows on knees on a padded seat. Heaving heavily, pulling the last strings of himself together. His coach with arms crossed in front of him. The conversation was hard to make out, but you were still able to put together some bits of it.

Clutching tightly onto your necklace, you couldn't help but feel concerned. Choso adored this sport with his entire heart, but so much he didn't have time to do anything else. Yuji always talked about how distant he could be when preparing for the new season.

The cursing stops, and before you know it, the door in front of you was wide open; framing you to look like an absolute snoop. You howl, instantly stepping back from the door frame. The same coach stood in front of you, an appalling look on his face. "Who the hell are you?! A money hungry reporter? Guards!-"

You nervously laugh, "Oh- No, no- I'm not a-", endless words were coming out of your mouth in a complete babble.

"..I know her." Choso who was watching everything unfold, tilted his head to the side, looking to see who was at the door.

The coach looks at you with an unamused expression, giving Choso a double look. His voice grows low, speaking in a discreet manner. "How about you talk it out with him. He needs it." He says before walking away from the frame, giving you a stare down as he does so.

Dumbfounded, a string of words only come out in a disoriented patter, "..I was just, looking for the.. concession stand.."

Choso on the other hand, keeps quiet. Blankly staring at the carpeted floor. His gloves and skates were off, but his jersey still on. You gulp, considering if you should speak anymore; scared that you'll only tick him off further.

Your hands rested in each of your palms, unsure whether you should step inside. "..I'm here with your brother, actually- cause he invited me to-"

"I know. I wanted you to come. I invited you, I told him to ask you." Choso speaks lowly, his tone different from when he was talking to the coach. He lets out a labored sigh, mumbling. "..Only for me to play like absolute shit,"

Processing what he had just said, it still changed your entire perspective. You didn't know how to think of it though, so you simply looked over it.

Deciding to approach him rather than standing at the door like some stranger, you close the door behind you. Recalling the coach talking about 'money hungry reporters', you didn't want to take any chances. "..I don't mean to pry, but do you want to talk about.. this?" Sitting down on the free seat beside Choso, you were careful with your choice of words. You didn't want to dig the hole any deeper. Making yourself comfortable, you set your bag away to the side and faced him.

Choso's voice was more soft, and it wasn't as stern to when he was talking to his coach. "..I just don't approve of how I'm performing lately."

Personally, you didn't know much about ice hockey. Nor did you store any valuable advice for it in your brain. It pained you to think that if you were to give him advice, you'd sound like a typical high school guidance counselor.

"Oh, well um.." You purse your lips, trying to come up with something to say. "Is it because you're.. stressed?" Still unsure of what to do, your hand slowly makes its way onto the flat of his back; slowly rubbing shapes all over to comfort him.

"Probably." Although his voice was now mellow, Choso's replies were becoming short and quick. You were afraid that this talking out was of no use to him.

Your hand stops its movements, "..Should you do something about it? Like let it out?", Choso lifts his head up, turning to you. A gulp forces down your throat at how intense he was eyeing you, your own eyes unable to hold contact.

Choso blinks, head turning away once again to rest his chin on his palm. "..I don't know how." That was his problem, Choso wasn't good at letting out his emotions. He usually bottled them up, and solved his personal problems on his own— you could almost refer to him as a stoic being.

Clearing your throat, you bite your lower lip to try and think of something. You gave him the advice, but you didn't know the method yourself. This is why I could never be a therapist.

You mentally curse at yourself, trying to come up with a suggestion that isn't so cheesy like, do what you love to do!

"..I don't know either.. Me- I guess?" A worried expression washes over your face, a mazed Choso turning his head to you for the second time.

A perplexed, questioning noise came stirred up in him. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Eyes fluttering, you were unable to provide him with another answer. What did you mean by, 'me'? Was it just another one of those moments where you let your mouth speak before you think? "..You could let it out.. on me?"

Chosos demeanor had altered, his chin peeling away from the warmth of his palm. His body sat upright as he looked at you, his lips slightly parted. You couldn't tell if he was mortified or enthralled; and you were almost begging for him to say something.

He closes his mouth and swallows some spit to nourish his dried out throat, before standing up in front of you. You feel as if your beating heart were to take over your entire body and head any second now. A lingering tension in the air so thick— not even a lumberjack could saw through it.

Choso's eyes surveying you from top to bottom, studying the features on your face— his thumb swipes across your cheek in a tender, reassuring matter. He was grateful of your offer, but he just couldn't bring himself to directly accept it.

Choso's hand slowly moves down your face, the tip of his thumb gently pressing down on your lower lip. "..You look good in our jersey," His thumb forces the rest of its way into your mouth, "..but even better if it was my own." Was this a code phrase for, 'I need to fuck you, and I need to fuck you now?' His thoughts drifted off to filthy things—like imagining himself rutting into you in his own, bespoke jersey, 'Kamo' in a dirty gold written on your back as you take him whole like a good girl.

Your breath hitches, his finger gliding over the surface of your tongue before he decides to pull it back out. Choso starts to take off the gear on his upper half, both the body pads and jersey.

It was difficult enough to keep your eyes off the now, half naked Choso in front of you. His body muscular and perfectly carved from all of the work he's been putting in for preparation, Choso was more than pleasing to look at. He tosses his jersey and gear beside you, his hands grabbing onto the flesh of your waist.

Lifting you from the seat, you wrap your legs around his torso, lips desperately locking onto each other as he switched positions. The two of you now sitting back down on the seat.

Short mewls and gasps for air leave your mouth as you started to pull your top over your head; Choso's hands roaming all over the surface of your ass. Your hands travel down his chest, your finger tips tracing over his abs painfully slow. Tongues tangling, Choso swallowing any moan he could get from you, especially after the distressingly slow period of yearning for one another. It felt like a reward.

Being the skilled man he is, his fingertips undo the clasp of your bra effortlessly. Groaning in satisfaction, eyes closed and sucking; a free hand fondling with the other.

You claw your fingers through his hair, quietly moaning as he hungrily latched onto your nipple. Arching against his bare skin, you ached to keep him close, and possibly closer. Amidst the sucking, Choso reaches for his jersey beside him, gesturing you to put it over your head. He fulfilled his wish. You proudly raise your arms up, feeling the fabric graze against your skin. It was quite massive on you, hence himself being twice your size.

Impatient, your curious hands wander off to the waistband of his pants; his safety gear already being off had made it easier. Reaching down and past his skin tight shorts, a thought evoking in you causing your hand to withdraw.

"..W-wait," You pant, "What about everyone out there?" You couldn't help but worry about those outside who would start to get suspicious. You knew how much this mattered to him.

Choso rolls his eyes. "I don't really care, they're assholes anyway. Let them wait." His lips only make its way back onto the skin of your neck, warm breath fanning down your sternum. He didn't care if everyone else were to wait outside. He had been waiting for this moment, dreaming about it - and would do anything to not miss it.

Using two hands, you possessively grab onto his jaw to keep him closer, Choso's hands cheekily moving up inside the jersey and cupping onto both of your tits. He really loves them, doesn't he?

Pulling away for another breath your lips miss his already. You hop off his lap, hastily unbuttoning and kicking off your jeans. They fly away to the other side of the locker room, Choso pulling you back into his embarace. But this time, you were facing the other way.

His fingers tug onto the hem of your panties, pulling them back until they snapped against your skin; the stinging sound echoing throughout the room.

You intently watch yourself in the full length mirror across from you two, Choso using his hands to guide your legs open; his head falling onto the crook of your neck.

Choso's hand slowly made its way down to the your panties, his fingertips moving the fabric to the side. Toying with your folds, taking his sweet time. His delicate, addicting touch giving you shivers all over. You close your eyes to indulge in the ecstasy of this moment; scolding yourself for not doing this with him any sooner.

His same fingertips circle your clit, the speed of his movements fluctuating; which resulted in you grabbing onto his bicep, your body sinking down into his lap. Choso watches you break into pieces under his touch, how you repeatedly tap on his arm- asking for leniency.

Choso leans down to your ear, his throaty voice almost sounding like he's purring. “Just relax for me, I can feel you’re too tensed up.” Wasn’t it supposed to be me who gives him advice? Why is it that the roles have reversed?

The back of your head presses deeply into his chest, Choso bringing retrieving fingers give them a generous suck before pushing them into you. His fingers curl up inside, working them in a motion that emits a squelching noise.

“C-Choso, it’s too much- please,” A whimper crawls out of your throat, the man above you cooing and hushing you.

Your hair raising pleas being the catalyst for him only wanting to do more than he already is. His middle finger taps and teases and your bundle of nerves, his strength making your tug on his wrist pointless. “..Shh, you don’t want them to hear, do you?”

You frantically shake your head from side to side, Choso grinning against the top of your head as he had you wrapped around his finger. Cock straining against his shorts, he would take a photo to make this memory last.

His gestures come to a halt and you whine, Choso had forbidden you from orgasming. "Choso!" You hiss as he glues his hands to your hips, twirling you around against the seat.

Mindfully pressing onto the flat of your lower back, he bends you forward; in need of support, your hands reached for the wooden slabs that divided the seats. His strong hands rip your underwear into fragments off your body, Choso sneering at you nagging him.

His actions in no rush, the same hands that were cupping your pussy now feeling down your back, Choso sheepishly grinning at this fresh new view, a degree of gratification fills him for the hundredth time at the sight of 'Kamo' and '12' plastered on your back.

You reach behind you, barely tapping your fingers on Choso's pelvis to grab his attention. He leans down to hear what you had to say, the imprint of his cock imprisoned by his shorts pressed against your bare pussy.

“..Let it all out, I promise I’ll be okay.” Your hand snaked behind his head, fingers combing through his hair one last time. His body heat glossed over your behind, a position so intimate.“Just tell me if I’m hurting you, alright?”

Nodding in approval, Choso withdraws into his old position. Grabbing for his girthy cock out of his shorts, he groans as he jerks it ever so slightly. Forming an orb of spit on his tongue, letting it fall directly onto his length. He doesn't waste anymore time to slide it in, the objective of not hurting you still at the back of his mind.

You let out a long, awaited whimper that broke out into a pained sniffle, his entire length stretching you out. Your anchoring onto the wooden panels only grew stronger, Choso stilling in you for a few moments. The two of you create a symphony of guilty satisfaction, Choso himself unable to process that you let him inside of you; luckiest man in the world, he thought.

His grip on the plush of your waist transition into a soothing massage, “..Are you okay?” Concerned, he regards your strained noises.

Tears well up in your eyes, Choso rubbing his hands up and down your back. “..I-I’m fine.” You replied, managing to form some words. Even though it hurts, you didn't want him to stop. You wanted this as much as he did. He inhales deeply, grunting as his hips stroked into you slow and deep. He took you in like a work of art, savoring every minute, second with you.

“Fuck, Choso- just go faster will you? I know you want to.” You choke out, words dying in your throat. Choso obeying the green llight, you felt him grab and twist onto the fabric of the jersey behind you, his hips snapping into you at a faster pace.

A cacophony of skin slapping and moaning echoed throughout the room, Choso brings his hand down to toy with your clit; heightening your stimulation. Your entire body jolting with each of his thrusts, his little praises like 'good girl', and 'you're taking me so well' making your sex pool like mad.

Broken and choppy curses slip past your wet llips, Choso letting go of the jersey and fixing his grip on your scalp, pulling your head back towards him.

His hand sneaks underneath your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact as you furrow your brows up at him. Your mouth stays wide open, moans no longer heard coming out from it. "Look at me baby," lids shut at the colossal pleasure, Choso needs not to repeat himself; but he does. "I said, look at me," Hauling your eyelids up, a vision of Choso glaring down at you from above— he wasn't the same person as the one half an hour ago.

Choso drops yet another ball of spit into your mouth, patting on the bottom of your chin telling you to shut and swallow, letting out a throaty sound in approval.

Clawing his fingers back into your scalp, he pushes your head back down. His leg lands onto the seat beside you, his thrusts brutally drilling into you deeper than before; Choso definitely rearranging your guts. You let him use you, so he did exactly that. Hell- if you two had a bed, just make sure you have enough saved for a new one the next day.

Makeup was unfortunately ruined from tears and spit, your hair no longer in perfect style from all the grabbing. His heavy balls relentlessly slapped against your clit, Choso huffing quietly.

He takes a hold of your two wrists, prying you from the comfort of the seat and commanding you to stand. Hypnotised, you watched everything unfold; Choso still holding onto your arms behind you as he continued to rut into your hole like a mad man.

Your cheeks were stained with tears, all sorts of unimaginable feelings stirring in the pool of your stomach; Choso already grows bored of the position. He swiftly lides you off his cock, turning you around for the fifth time today so he could see your beautiful face one more time.

Unsure of what was to happen next, you tiringly wrap both of your hands around his neck as he cupped onto the surface of your ass, lifting you up and sinking you down onto his cock. Your head rests against his chest in exhaustion, Choso’s anchored grip slowly loosening, choosing to move into the inside of your legs. Short paced breaths and eyes shutting at the new sensation of him fucking up into you. It was light work to him, carrying you was no problem at all.

Pushing both of you against a nearby wall, your back almost slid up and down the cold panels as Choso grew feral, his cock bullying but thoughtfully kissing your cervix at this unforgiving pace.

You fail to keep your eyes open, body taken over by bliss as he bottoms into you, convinced you had lost your voice. Choso could feel your silky juices move down his shaft, walls constantly clenching around around him.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes,” Choso orders, your hands hysterically tapping onto his shoulders to let him know you were going to snap. Your face winced in pain, you knew that you were going to have a hard time walking for the next week or two.

“..C-Choso,” you choke out, a threshold about to be met as the unfamiliar coil in your stomach urges to let loose.

His thrusts deepening to push you over the edge, cock sloppily moving in and out of your hole; his entire length coated with you.

“Just let it out— let it out.” he desperately whimpered, your mouth forming an ‘o’. His words like a spell, something that will haunt you for days coming. Choso’s eyes faux-sympathetically looking into yours that were blinking like mad as he felt your legs shiver in his grasp.

You shatter and cry at the orgasm that washed over you, bringing yourself to look at his cock withdrawing from your puffy, used cunt. Choso's jaw clenched, beads of white endlessly form at his tip, his balls twitching at the same time your gummy walls pulsed and throbbed around him.

He doesn’t let go of you, bodies still overheating and glistening from sweat. Instead he carries you back to the seats, sitting you down like a fragile porcelain doll. “My legs,” your voice raspy from the endless moaning, “..they’re so sore.”

Choso leans in for a meaningful kiss, your cock-dazed smile forming against his lips. His hands kneading your thighs. The locker room smelled of filthy, sinful sex—but that will just air out in no time. “..You need me to walk you out?”

“Choso, you can’t. There are cameras everywhere.” You grab your purse off the ground, in search of your phone. Almost forty five minutes have passed, your eyes widening. “Huh?! How long have I been gone for?"

He attempts to wipe the stained carpets, a faint white still engraved. Atleast he tried. “Pussy too good I forgot where I was, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Not funny, Choso. I need to get back to your brother!” Scurrying around the room, you pick your jeans off the ground, Choso whistling behind you causing you to turn your head,

“..Guess these aren’t of use to you anymore?” He holds the fragments of your panties up, torn to pieces, the dismaying mempry angering you as you were reminded of it for the second time.

You snap at him, Choso not taking any inch of you seriously. I mean, he literally had you whimpering, fucked you in his jersey and melting under his touch less than five minutes ago. “You fucking owe me a new pair.”

“I’ll buy you a hundred.”

You hurry out into the lobby, looking around for Yuji. Not having time to fix your hair, you almost scream as you walked past a reflection of yourself, mortified at how you looked. It’s okay… he wouldn’t suspect anything, right?

A familiar coral haired person was lounging at the sofas down the end, of course that had to be him. “Y-Yuji? is that you?” The head turning to your direction, it definitely was him; his eyes were shocked to still see you alive and standing before him.

You sit on the free armchair beside him, “..I’m so sorry, something just.. happened.” Nervously smiling, you wipe the residues of dried spit off your chin, your head stuck in one direction to avoid looking at Yuji in the face. Airing yourself with an invisible fan, you look away in all sorts of directions.

“It’s cool, the game got cancelled anyways- and I got my hotdogs.” He points to the four empty wrappers on the table in front of him. Yuji leans back against the sofa.

“..Uh— ..Is that, Choso's jersey?"

Fuck.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24 all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me, ily guys sm!!🎀🩷

[luvwestwood masterlist]

#choso kamo smut #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #choso kamo #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso

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loveshotzz · 2 months

Text

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter one -

Late arrivals and big asks

A broken down car, a party at Reefer Rick’s, and a bandaid that needs to be ripped off.

warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking, lots of tension, some king!steve angst in the form of a flashback.

wc: 10.1k

series masterlist | series playlist

June -

The air is sticky, thick with the kind of humidity only Indiana could have at 9:30 pm. An annoyed breath expands into your lungs as you lean against your car that refuses to do anything but sputter. Despite your irritation, your glossed lips twitch with the nostalgia that creeps into your heart because after all these years it still smells the same.

Crossing your arms, your eyes trail over the clear night sky not polluted with the kind of man-made smog that blankets the city and the stars shimmer like diamonds in its absence. The warmth of the overrun engine is still hot on your exposed calves, the light breeze making the bottom of your sundress dance across the tops of your thighs. White beams emerge, cutting through the dark at the top of the hill, followed by the roar only a tow truck can make, and this time, the smile you fought off before spreads wide across your face.

Robin.

Butterflies wake up in a frenzy deep in your gut, with nerves that twitch from your fingertips at the thought of finally getting to hug your best friend after months apart. You push off the side of your car as the truck approaches, eyes squinting to make out the second outline in the front cabin as it pulls over. You recognize the messy mane of hair that could only belong to Eddie Munson in the driver seat almost instantly and his dimple filled smile brings you back to memories you thought you’d long forgotten.

“Well, well, well, would you look at what the cat dragged in!” Robin sticks her head out of the window with a wide grin as the big tires slow to a stop in front of your car, “are my eyes deceiving me or is my best friend in the entire world actually in Hawkins, Indiana right now?”

The rasp in her voice sounds just like it does over the phone and despite the roll of your eyes, your cheeks hurt from how happy you are.

“Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t guilt me out here by saying the fate of your future depends on it.” Uncrossing your arms, you open them wide, “I made the ultimate sacrifice for you, so are you gonna hug me or not?”

Dramatic? Yes. But it works like a charm when she flings open the passenger door and charges at you in a mess of honey blond waves and freckles, almost tackling you with the force of her impact wrapping her arms around you.

Too distracted by Robin, you almost don’t notice the creak of the driver's side door or the filled out frame of the man that used to be a lanky teenage boy walking past as Eddie starts to attach your car to his truck. He’s taller than you remembered even bending down, and despite the navy blue coveralls, you can still see that his pale skin is littered with even more tattoos.

“I can’t believe my guilt trip worked!” Robin beams, finally letting you go, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement as she claps her ring clad hands together.

“I really can’t believe it either,” you laugh nervously, the reality of what it means to come back starting to set in after seeing just one familiar face, but this isn’t high school anymore and you’re definitely not the same person you were five years ago either.

“Thanks so much, Eddie,” you break the ice when he stands back up, and the sound of your voice has his big brown eyes warmed with gold light up just like his face when he turns his full attention onto you. Scruff filled dimples poking even bigger holes in his cheeks.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart, I almost didn’t believe Robin when she called me. I thought it was a prank.” He beckons you over with open arms, “now that I know it’s not, you have exactly 10 seconds to get over here and hug me before I change my mind.”

There’s zero hesitation about giving into his ‘demand’ and when your arms wrap around his waist, you’re brought back to afternoons in the woods behind the school with heavy lidded eyes and lopsided grins.

“Your own auto shop, huh?” You smile up at him, pulling away, “Eddie Munson, the business owner.”

He rolls his eyes but the pink tint that colors in his cheeks tells you he appreciates the praise.

“Yeah, something like that.” He chuckles, “Got a soft spot for that old man in the trailer park, couldn’t bring myself to leave.”

Your heart warms at the fondness that drips from his ton.

“Okay, as sweet as this little reunion is. You’re late, and we have a party to get to.” Robin interrupts snatching your keys out of your hand, dropping them in Eddie’s.

“A party?” You snap confused, and Eddie takes that as his queue to walk away with a knowing smirk.

“Yes, this is the summer of fun and reckless abandon, this is the last summer of our youth before we have to be adults. Do you understand me?” Her fingers are digging into your shoulders by the end of her rant, with the kind of look in her eyes that you’re absolutely going to have to revisit after a few weeks.

“This is the part where I remind you that I graduated college last year.”

Your best friend scoffs at you.

“Just humor me, okay? It’s your grand homecoming.” She pushes out her bottom lip, and makes her eyes big in a way she knows you can’t say no to.

“Fine.” You huff, making her finally let you go with the kind of pleased smirk that tells you she never thought she was going to lose to begin with.

“Great, it’s time to rip the bandaid off anyway.” Robin practically mumbles the last part turning on her heel to head back to the truck.

It takes a minute for her words to stick to your ears and their meaning to ring loud through your head, but when they do it feels like the air is stolen from your lungs.

“Rip what bandaid off, Robin?!”

It’s his name tightens in your chest but you refuse to say it, even after all this time it burns coming back up.

“Since you had to drive for so long, I’ll sit in the middle because I’m just that good of a friend, you know?” She winks with a shit eating grin before pulling herself up and disappearing inside the cab of the truck, ignoring your question, like she’s not asking you to do the one thing you said you’d never do.

See Steve Harrington again.

I tell myself, ‘draw the line.’

You wonder if Robin can feel the daggers you’re glaring into the back of her head as the two of you walk up the driveway to Rick’s house. Gravel crunching hard under your converse as you keep up with her black combat boots. She looks effortlessly cool in her high waisted jean shorts, and her oversized army green jacket covered in patches. You’d compliment her if you weren’t so mad.

“I can’t believe you guys still have parties here.” You scoff, making your sour attitude known, but your best friend ignores it with ease.

“I can’t believe you forgot to have fun. Don’t you live in the city?” Turning around with a smirk, she can’t help but laugh at the look on your face.

She stops abruptly, almost making you run into her leaving you both just close enough to the party to hear the bass of the music spilling through the cracks in the windows. The low chatter of people echoes through the trees that surround you and bounce off the lake not that far away. The thought of hearing the calm baritone of his voice mixed in makes your chest tight with the kind of nerves that dare you to high tail it and run.

“It’s been five years.” Robin’s playful demeanor breaks and becomes pleading with a kind of desperation you’ve never seen from her before. “He’s not the person you knew in high school, I need you to understand that. You think I’d call someone like that my best friend?”

“Hey!-“ You object at the title, and it makes her lips twitch despite serious lines that crease her face.

“Stop, you know what I mean,” her painted fingers grab onto yours, squeezing them lightly, “please, just give him a chance. I’m not asking you to get back together or even be friends, just get along enough not to kill each other this summer. I can’t choose between you. I won’t.”

The genuine love she has for Steve is apparent in the way her ocean blue eyes threaten to drown you in their sincerity, and you can’t find it in yourself to say no to her.

“Fine.” You accept your defeat in practically a whisper, but it makes your best friend squeal nonetheless. The giddiness from before coming back tenfold as she links arms with you, continuing your way up to the house.

It’s just a summer, right?

The crowd gets bigger as more people start to come into view, between groups smoking cigarettes outside, couples arguing by cars, others making out against them. The smell of beer gets more pungent with each step, the atmosphere a stark contrast to the way the moon glows against the peaceful waters behind the madness of the house.

Salt N Pepa’s ‘Push It’ plays loud enough for you to make out the words when you reach the front steps, walking through clouds of tobacco smoke to get to the unlocked door. The interior hasn’t changed at all since high school, the smell of stale lime and tequila stinging your nose. The bass of the music vibrates under your shoes as Robin unlinks her arms and you have to fight the urge to yank her back.

“Drinks or …Steve first?” She asks, her nerves about the situation finally showing themselves as she bites at her thumbnail.

“Absolutely drinks! Is that a trick question?” You half whisper, half yell, looking around as if saying his name out loud might summon him.

“Okay! Okay!” Robin hisses, grabbing your wrist, leading you towards the familiar path to Rick’s kitchen.

Suddenly you wonder what your makeup looks like after a long day of traveling in your car, your fingers tugging at the bottom of your dress before adjusting the front of it so it sits just right. You itch to grab your lip gloss that’s tucked into the side of your bra, but you don’t want to deal with the look you’d get if you went for it.

Rounding the corner to the living room, your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach before you even have a chance to stop it when your eyes meet that messy head of chestnut hair, and a pair of hot pink nails tangled inside it.

“Oh - I - god dammit.” Robin groans, when you're met with number two on your list, making out with a pretty blond on the couch.

Despite the years and distance, there’s still a sting that you feel in the corners of your eyes. It’s not enough for any tears to fall, there’s none left for him anymore, but it’s enough for the anger you’ve clung to since the day he broke your heart to boil hot under your skin. It singes the wings of the butterflies that try to take flight when you see the way his frame has filled out, how he’s somehow grown more handsome than the last time you saw him.

Robin coughs, squeezing your wrist in reassurance.

“Hey, - uh, Steve.” The sound of his name catches his attention, long brown lashes fluttering open to reveal the deep coffee of his eyes that widen when they lock with yours for the first time in years.

His lips pull from the blond’s with a loud smack, leaving a small trail of glitter on the side of his mouth that he tries to wipe away quickly with his wrist. Black ink you’ve never seen before looks bold on his tanned skin that glows like it’s been freshly kissed by the sun.

His gaze wanders up and down your body like he’s unsure you’re actually real, and if it wasn’t for the obvious shock of your arrival and the way the color seems to drain from his face, you’d snap at him for the way it lingers over your curves.

“Um, Robin, what the fuck?” The sound of his voice makes your heart skip a beat, and again when his hand drags through his hair just how you remembered.

“Surprise?” She shrugs, wincing when he scoffs loudly and the warmth that went missing floods his cheeks, turning them bright red. The blond next to him eyes you up while she clutches harder to his waist, and you can’t stop the rise of your brows and the giggle that bubbles past your lips because of it.

Steve’s head snaps towards you, something softening the moss that hides in his eyes when he hears the noise despite the sarcasm that drips from it, and you really get to look at him for the first time since high school graduation.

God, you wish you could’ve had that drink.

The jawline that always drove you mad is sharper, peppered with the kind of hardly there stubble that tells you he’s only missed one shaving day. A problem he never used to have, and somehow, it makes him all that much more attractive.

His hair is a little messier than his carefully crafted look that used to take him a good forty five minutes every morning. It curls wildly at the ends now, tucking behind his ears and fanning along the nape of his freckled neck. It still looks as soft as you remember, though.

His shoulders are broader, stretching the white cotton of his shirt tight enough across his chest that you can see the outline of a thick patch of hair that had only just started growing when you knew him last. The dark wash of his jeans makes them look almost black, fitting snug over his thighs, cuffed at the bottoms framing the tops of his boots.

Why couldn’t Steve Harrington just peak in high school like he was supposed to?

“So yeah, this is awkward.” Your best friend laughs nervously, “We’re going to get a drink or three because this scenario is by far the worst case and not the way this was supposed to go in my head, but anyway, look who’s here for the summer! We’ll talk later!“

Robin grabs your wrist before Steve can respond, pulling you back into the party and away from your ex-boyfriend while the realization of the summer you’ve foolishly agreed to hits you all at once. It turns your body weightless as the two of you weave in and out of the crowd. It tightens in your chest, the music turning muffled hitting your ear drums. Suddenly, you're not the woman who crossed state lines to the one place she said she’d never come back to, happily living the lie that you’d actually forgotten about him to be a good friend.

You’re the girl who let him keep you a secret, and you hate him for it.

Sneakers hit the sticky tile floor that hasn’t changed since 1984, the harsh lighting of the kitchen makes you both squint. It’s calmer than the rest of the house, just a few groups lingering off in the corners, too deep in conversation to care about you and Robin. Letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your ears start to pop too, Eddie Money’s Take Me Home Tonight coming through crystal clear.

“The band-aid might have been violently ripped off, but hey, it’s ripped off nonetheless.” Robin shrugs, finding the half-drunk bottle of tequila on the counter. “I think we should count this as a win and take a shot to celebrate.”

“A win?! Are you kidding me?!” You hiss, completely bewildered.

“Yes a win - oh no.” Her blue eyes go wide at whatever’s behind you, but it doesn’t take you long to figure out when that familiar spice and cedar of his cologne hits your nose.

“Right so, who’s going to let me know what’s going on?”

His voice comes out close enough to send your lashes fluttering, mimicking your heart. The nerves you’d just gotten over threaten to come back tenfold, but you manage to swallow them down just like in high school, turning around.

“I think it’s obvious what’s going on, Steve,”

It’s not as hard to say his name as you thought it would be, but it is hard to stare at his face from this close. Specifically, the two moles that dot his cheek that you always used to kiss, or the ones on his neck that you hate still taunt you for more.

“I’m here for the summer.”

Steve Harrington had thought about this moment a lot, but Rick’s house was never the backdrop for it. His eyes take in the features you’ve not only grown into but somehow are even more beautiful than he remembers. Even if they’re twisted in a glare.

“I meant, why didn’t I know until right now?” He manages to get out with a shake of his head narrowing his eyes at Robin, who’s too busy trying to find clean shot glasses to notice.

“Why would you need to know?” You snap, making a nervous hand card through his hair

“Cause I’ve, uh, you know, I’ve asked about you a few times,” the last part comes out a little harsher, clearly directed at your best friend, who you know is actively ignoring you both now.

“Why? Why would you need to know anything about me?” Your hostility still shocks him even though he was expecting it. His eyebrows shoot up just like his hands in surrender. “Why didn’t you tell me, Robin?”

She groans loudly, slamming the tequila bottle down on the counter before turning around.

“You said you didn’t want to hear anything about him after you moved, why would I tell you he was asking about you?”

“Wait -“ Steve butts in this time, “seriously?”

“Oh my god, can you two shut the fuck up for a second and take these shots? You’re really putting a damper on the beginning of the best summer of our lives,” Robin snaps before waving a hand in front of three freshly poured shots.

It’s a struggle to tear your eyes from him, your body responding to his presence in a way that feels like it’s turning against you. It has you downing your shot in one quick motion before anyone else can even touch theirs.

“Wow, okay.” Robin deadpans before shaking her head, wasting no time in following your lead.

“So we’re not cheersing anymore? Isn’t that bad luck?” Steve mutters, shoulder brushing against yours as he leans forward to grab his shot, the slightest touch enough to engulf your skin into flames.

A whole summer? Fuck.

“Robin, pour another one.” You rush with pinched brows as you try to move past the bitter sting of the alcohol going down your throat, taking a step toward her and away from him, you add “and we’ll cheers.”

You refuse to meet his gaze when you say it, but you can feel the intensity of it on the side of your face, begging you to break.

“Rob’s, how are you guys getting home?” Steve finally breaks, giving up his quiet fight for now, and you hate the way his nickname for her softens your heart.

“Huh, that’s a good question, I hadn’t thought that far yet.” She admits, over pouring so tequila splashes against the countertop, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Seriously–

“RECKLESS ABANDON STEVEY!” Cutting him off, she downs her shot in his disapproving face.

“You didn’t cheers again.” Steve sighs, hands finding his hips as you whine an irritated, “We needed to cheers!” At the same time.

Your eyes meet his finally, his knowing smirk twisting the corners of your lips despite yourself. You blame the tequila starting to warm the blood in your veins.

“Well, you need to take yours then if we’re doing another one ‘the proper’ way, or it’s not going to be even.” Robin points at your drink in a silent challenge.

You know how this game works.

“Fine.” You shrug, downing it with more ease than the last one.

“Oh my god. Stop! Do not pour another one before you answer my question, please!” Steve sounds exasperated, grabbing the bottle from her before she can disobey, “How are you getting home?”

You try not to focus on how much larger his already big hands are now, or how small the bottle looks wrapped up in his palm compared to your best friends. The second shot takes the edge off your nerves in a way that your shoulders relax. Leaning against the counter, you cross your arms, watching the two of them bicker, catching Steve’s wandering gaze on your exposed legs while he tries his best to keep his focus on Robin. It boosts your ego in a way that has the anger hiding just under the surface go from a boil to a slow simmer.

“I don’t know Harrington, do you know anybody with a car?” She wiggles two thick brows at him, the second shot making her blue eyes glassy, and her smile a little more goofy.

“Why’d I know you were going to say that? And why did I know you were going to do this?” Steve sighs, letting her snatch the bottle out of his hand.

“What? Bring her to the party?” Robin snorts pointing a thumb in your direction, making you gasp.

“Robin!”

“No! What? No. But don’t think,” Steve clears his throat looking at you awkwardly before finishing a little quieter, “don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”

“I can still hear you.” You remind him with a sarcastic smirk.

“Yeah, I know you can. Look, I’ll DD for you because obviously tonight is, uhh,” he gestures to you with cheeks that grow pinker by the second, “a big deal. But you gotta stop doing this to me, I need you to get your license you’re out of colleg-”

“Shots! Steve’s driving us home!” Robin whoops loudly, and an irritated Steve pinches the bridge of his nose before walking away.

Your eyes follow him out the door, shoulder blades flexing under cotton when he runs another hand through his hair before disappearing from sight. You try to push down the small pang of jealousy that makes a familiar home inside your chest remembering the blond girl waiting for him on the couch.

“Okay, okay,” Robin interrupts your inner struggle at the perfect time, sliding an overflowing shot over to you with a giggle that's contagious and it banishes Steve from your mind just like magic. “I’m not going to forget this time, promise.”

“I don’t think I can afford for you to forget again,” you smirk, raising your glass, tequila spilling over the tops of your fingers, “cheers!”

“Cheers!”

You both down them at the same speed, slamming the empty glasses back onto the countertop with laughter that bounces off the walls and threatens to drown out the music. And for a second you think maybe you can actually do this.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” She squeals, throwing her arms around your neck, doing a terrible job of holding her weight up. Grabbing onto her waist, you do your best to steady her, “Look I just want to say while he’s gone, I know this isn’t easy for you, okay? I know.”

She hiccups before pulling away slightly to look at you as she finishes,“But It means so much to me, and I just wanna say I’m proud of you. I mean, who knows, you’ve changed, he’s changed-”

“Nope, no, you’re done. Where’s the weed? I wanna smoke some weed.” You push Robin away, rolling your eyes at the loud laugh your reaction gets from her.

There’s a long summer ahead of you, but right now, all you need is to find a joint and try not to think about your ex in the next room.

With a few more shots and a couple of hits from a blunt you and Robin you’d stumbled upon being passed amongst a group outside, you start to really feel like you’re back home. Nostalgia hits you hard in the gut as you walk through the crowded living room hand in hand with your best friend, giggling and stumbling back to the kitchen on the hunt for some food.

“God, I’m so hungry!” Robin practically growls when you hit the harsh lighting again making you both hiss.

An empty bottle of tequila sits on the counter now and red solo cups litter the floor that weren’t there before, and a growing pile of bitten into limes cover the counters in a sticky mess. Alone and left to your own devices Robin begins to raid the cupboards, huffing when she finds nothing behind every door she aggressively yanks open.

“Why is his kitchen always so empty? Like? Do we just always miss the party?” You hiccup, tripping on a tile that’s coming out of the grout.

You catch yourself on the kitchen island in front of you, a loud laugh bubbling up from your chest, too drunk to focus on how gross the formica feels under your fingertips.

“There’s literally nothing to eat in here, not even like an old bag of stale chips.” She opens the first cabinet one last time before slamming it shut, officially giving up with a thump of her forehead against the wood. “This is why he’s always at the diner.”

“Wait, Rick actually lives here still?” Another hiccup, you foolishly lean your elbows on the counter, something you’ll regret in the morning as you stare at your best friend with a toothy smile, completely unaffected by the news about the missing food that seems to be ruining her entire mood.

“How can he sell weed and not have any food in his house? What happens when he gets the munchies?!” She throws her hands up, ignoring your question and answering it all at the same time. “I’m gonna find a bathroom, and then we’re gonna find Steve - don’t make that face, he’ll take us through a drive-thru.”

“Don’t be gone long, I don’t know anyone here!” You whine with a childish drunk stomp of your foot, still sporting that sour look she told you to wipe off. The carefree girl from moments before now gone in the blink of an eye.

“Literally like five minutes, I swear!” She promises, turning around with a smirk as she crosses her heart with a ring covered finger like you used to do as kids, easily earning the smile from you she was hoping for.

You watch her disappear into the party, staring after bouncing honey waves until they’re out of your sight.

Suddenly alone for the first time in hours, the kitchen feels quiet. The bass of the music is distant, and your thoughts are heavy just like your feet as your last shot of tequila settles with the rest. Your brain wanders to places that you thought you’d banished from the corners of your mind for years. It takes you to the pink fullness of his lips, and has you biting the bottom of yours. Then it’s the freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and explode across his cheeks, even leaving their mark on the bottom of his earlobe.

You’d found that one the night you’d tried to count them all. You never finished.

Then you remember the blond on the couch, and how her pink nails dug into the thick chestnut of his hair that you used to tug on when his kisses got to be too much. She turns into Nancy Wheeler and those stolen looks in the hallways at school, and suddenly, you hate him all over again.

“Jesus, you’re in here alone? Where’s Robin?” Steve’s voice makes you jump at the worst possible time, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scar-“

“Seriously?!” You snap, turning around with crossed arms. Leaning against the counter, you hope that you don’t seem as drunk as you are, but the way his lips twitch regardless of your attitude tells you that it’s not working. “She went to the bathroom and then was going to look for you.”

“So, it just makes sense for me to hang out here then, right?”Steve raises his hands in a silent plea for permission.

His big boots take heavy steps towards you, and just like on cue, has your body betraying you. The plush dough of your thighs pressing harder together each time he gets closer to closing the gap.

Cautiously taking the spot a few feet away from you, he keeps his hands up till he feels safe enough to shove them in his pockets. The spice of his cologne smells fresh, and you wonder if he sprayed it before walking in here. It overpowers everything else around you, invading your senses and committing itself to memory despite you.

“I um, I really hope this is okay to say,” he stammers watching the way one of your eyebrows arches up, and it doesn’t take long for his hand to escape from his pocket to run through his hair again, “but it’s, it’s good to see you. I m-missed you, Robin’s missed you.”

“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your girlfriend?” You ignore him and tuck his words away to unpack another time with a sober mind.

“Cassie? She’s not my girlfriend.” He answers without any hesitation, something sparking alive inside the gold of his eyes that has one side of his mouth tugging up.

“Does she know that?”

“I’m pretty sure she does considering she left with another guy not that long ago.” He snorts, the confidence you’ve always known him to have finding its way back, and you don’t miss the way he scoots closer.

So you scoot back.

“Sucks to suck, Harrington.” You sigh, impressed with how well you’re playing off the victory lap you’re shamefully running in your head at the new information.

“There you are!” Robin rushes in, face flushed and out of breath, interrupting the moment you weren’t ready to have yet at the perfect time “Somehow I got roped into like a keg stand and I think it’s really time for us to go home guys.”

“Robin!”

“What?!”

She tries to shush you, but even you can see from across the room the way sweat starts to bead across her forehead, the blush in her cheeks going pale before she runs to the trash can. Steve pushes off the island without any hesitation, rushing to the other side of the kitchen, gathering her hair in his hands to hold it back.

“What were you thinking?” Steve scolds her in the softest way possible, rubbing her back as all the beer finds its way out of her body.

Those big eyes of his that you’re sure are going to haunt your dreams meet yours, and in that moment the room decides it wants to spin. You’re not sure if it’s the night of tequila with nothing but a weed chaser catching up to you or if it’s the onslaught of feelings you’ve successfully suppressed for the last five years coming back to seek their revenge. The deadly combination of both comes to a head the more you watch the gentle way Steve handles Robin and it makes you realize it’s time to go.

You manage to pull yourself together enough to help Steve get Robin in his car, heart almost stopping when you walk up to the same Maroon BMW he took your virginity in. It takes everything inside of you not to abort the mission, run to Robin’s apartment by figuring your way through the woods you used to play in, do anything but sit in those leather seats. But your best friend’s drunk rambles of how happy she is to have her ‘two amigos and how that it makes three now’ while professing her undying love for both of you has you putting on a brave face, and then your big girl pants when you have to sit in the front seat next to him.

It’s in perfect condition, just like the morning he pulled into the parking lot Junior year with it. Your stomach twists in the kind of knots that have you wrapping your arms around your waist. The smell of leather and pine pulling on the back of your throat, and all the memories that come with it. He keeps the radio low, and you can hardly make out the faint sounds of whatever late night talk show was on over the soft snores of a passed out Robin in the backseat.

“I thought you’d have a different car by now.” You grumble sinking further into your seat, keeping your eyes trained on the trees that zoom past your window.

“You’ll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands, honey.” Steve chuckles, relaxing a little more into his own, a big hand finding a new resting spot on the stick shift.

The endearment sends you reeling, the tequila making it hard to bite your tongue.

“Don’t call me that.” Quickly realizing that staring out the window does nothing to help your already dicey equilibrium, you decide to finally look at him, but you’re not sure if that’s any better.

‘What? Honey?” He asks, fully knowing the answer but egging you on just the same with a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Narrowing your eyes, you turn fully in your seat doing your best to ignore the way the street lights bounce off his sharp features as you face him.

“What? So you just make out with girls that you’re not dating and get away with it?”

Steve snorts, licking his lips and meeting your angry gaze with an amused one.

“I am twenty-four and single.”

Scoffing at his answer, you pause to collect your words that keep getting tangled on the tip of your tongue from too many drinks and how the whites of his teeth start to show in a grin as he glances in the rearview mirror to check on Robin.

“You think you can do whatever you want don’t you?”

“No -“

“What? Because you didn’t peak in high school like you were supposed to, you somehow just got hotter, you think the rules don’t apply to you or something?”

“Good to know you still think I’m hot.” Steve’s face cracks into a smile, turning into an apartment complex you’re assuming is Robin’s.

“You’re the worst,” you try to deflect weakly, turning back in your seat with a huff.

“I definitely used to be,” he mumbles mostly to himself, putting the car in park, both of you jerking forward slightly. The sudden lack of movement makes Robin groan in the back, lashes fluttering open to look at her surroundings.

“Oh, thank god, I think I’m gonna be sick again.” Her throat sounds hoarse when she finally speaks, but it’s all she can manage before a dry heave has the boy next to you scrambling.

“Not in my car! Not in my car!” Steve’s quick to jump out of the driver's seat rushing to get your best friend out of the back, leaving you alone to fight with your seatbelt.

Frustrated, you blow a breath out from between your pressed lips tugging on the smooth material while your thumb smashes the release button. It doesn’t budge and the cedar starts to pick at your nerves. An angry noise squeaks from the back of your throat catching Steve’s attention who finally gets Robin on her feet. The spice of his cologne swallows you whole when he emerges back into the car. Leaning over the console he’s gentle when he pushes your hand away. You don’t protest his help this time, eyes tracing the gold chain that slips out from under his shirt. It shimmers everytime it swings from his neck when it hits the moonlight, clicking the button with ease, releasing you from your self imposed trap.

“Thanks,” you grumble, using a wobbling arm to open your door, clambering out less gracefully than you intended.

“Are you good to follow me? I don’t think Robin’s gonna make it up the steps on her own.” Closing the car door, he leans over the top of it, his eyes watching the way you maneuver around his car like you’re walking on thin ice.

“I’m fine,” you growl, right as you lose your footing catching yourself with an open palm on the hood of his trunk.

“Seriously, I can help I just have to take you both one at a -“

“Steve, I said I’m fine. I don’t need anything from you.” You interrupt and if you weren’t so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, you’d see the way the harshness of your words make him wince.

He stares at you for a minute longer before muttering a quiet ‘whatever’ scooping Robin up and tucking her into his side. You follow them at your own pace up the cement steps to the second floor, thankful that her apartment isn’t too far from the landing when you get to the top. Your legs start to feel like Jell-O waiting for him to unlock the door, the long drive from New York and the night finally catching up to you in a way that makes your eyelids heavy as Steve pushes open her front door.

“Bathroom! Bathroom!” Robin manages to get out when she and Steve cross the threshold first, a string of cuss words spilling out of his mouth as he tries to hurry her to the place she was begging to be taken to.

You use the full force of your weight with your back to the door, closing behind you with a loud slam. The navy blue couch in the middle of her living room begging you to sit down, an invitation your clumsy steps accept, leading you to the fluffy cushions. Collapsing onto them with a satisfied hum, you sink into the foam, lashes fluttering and eyelids getting heavier with each second that passes, and soon you find yourself giving in with a warm cheek pressed into the arm rest.

You don’t know how much time has passed when the feeling of your laces being tugged loose stirs you awake. Trying to focus with vision still blurry from sleep, Steve’s messy head of hair comes clear into your line of sight. Long fingers pull the white strings from the metal eyelets of your converse, a warm palm wrapping around your ankle that sends a shiver up your spine as he slowly wiggles your sneaker off your foot. The white tube socks that cover your feet make him smile with a thumb that dares to rub a small circle on your skin before dropping it to work on the other.

“Steve,” you manage to get out, voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m just tucking you in, that’s all hon- and then I’ll get out of your hair.” He clears his throat after the nickname that set you off earlier burns like acid dying on his tongue.

You grumble something unintelligible, rubbing the mascara off your eyes as he pulls your other shoe off the pad of his thumb doing the same thing to your other ankle making your toes curl. Both his hands find their way to your calves squeezing softly at the muscles before he starts to lift them up.

“Come on, let's get you laying on your side.” He coos, helping you adjust so you’re finally horizontal. You groan a little, reaching out for him on instinct, the softness of his touch making a very drunk you crave more.

“I’d love to cuddle but I think you’d actually kill me in the morning,” he laughs to himself knowing you won’t remember any of this when you wake up.

You make some more noises that he can’t figure out if they're supposed to be words or not as he drapes Robin’s thick throw blanket over you. Grabbing the material in your fists when you feel it, you pull it even closer, a low satisfied hum spilling from between your lips that still sparkle with leftover glitter from your gloss. He watches the way you curl into yourself, fingers twitching at his side to run his knuckles over your cheek.

“Steve,” his name comes out clear as day, kicking up his heart rate.

“Yeah?” He squats down next to your face, the warmth of your breath hitting his face while your eyebrows furrow in your sleepy state trying to get whatever you want to say out.

“You really broke my heart, you know that?”

Your words punch the air out of his lungs, just like your unexpected arrival. Something he’s fantasized about happening more times than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs defeated, giving into his urges for comfort with knuckles that brush against the warmth of your skin, a familiar burn stings his eyes when you subconsciously lean into it.

You don’t say anything else to him, the furrow of your brows smoothing out as your face finally starts to relax under his touch. He watches the way your shoulders move with each deep breath that pulls you further into sleep and away from him.

He takes a selfish minute to stare at you uninterrupted, tracing your cheekbone one last time before he stands up to leave, he knows he won’t get any sleep, and the words you won’t remember saying are already haunting him like a bad dream.

“Do you really wanna love me like you say you do? Give it to me like you say you do? Cause it’s hard enough you gotta treat me like this, lonely enough to let you treat me like this. Do you really love me?”

Steve was late, glancing down at pink the digital watch on your wrist, fifteen minutes late. Five lockers down from his, you wait for him at what’s been your meeting spot for the last eight months. Far away enough from his locker that no one would suspect you waiting for the King of Hawkins himself, but close enough to the janitor's closet for him to steal you away from sight without anyone noticing for the forty-five minutes of study hall.

Hushed argumentative whispers catch your attention, nerves making your feet move from side to side unsure if you should abandon ship and just go and study for the final in your last period. Nancy Wheeler's eyes meet yours as she rounds the corner with her best friend Barb, the corners of her lips pulling up ever so slightly giving you a small wave which you return as she tries to ignore her friend.

“He’s just trying to get in your pants! Come on, you have to be smart enough to know that.” Barb points at the note Nancy is clutching in her hand so hard that the whites of her knuckles show.

“It’s not like that, I’m just tutoring him.” She argues but the blush that creeps across her cheeks and spreads down her neck gives her away.

I’m just tutoring him.

That simple sentence is enough for your world to tip off its axis, chest tightening at the realization of who they're arguing about. All the canceled plans the past few weeks with the excuse of extra tutoring starts to feel like a knife to the gut. Prince Charming rounds the corner holding and twists the handle with a bright flirtatious smile that used to be just for you, only now it’s flashed at the dainty brunette who melts under it because no one is immune to Steve Harrington.

It takes him a minute to see you, too wrapped up in Nancy who’s back is pressed to the lockers, caged in by Steve’s big hand splayed against the metal by her head. They’re too far to hear what he’s saying to her, but the confident way his teeth flash and the sweet giggle he earns from it tells you everything you need to know. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. Fists clenched at your sides, the blunt ends of your nails dig into your palms as you hold in the sob that threatens to give you away as you walk past them, meeting his guilty eyes before you round the corner.

The pounding in your head wakes you up before the sun that leaks through Robin’s small kitchen window. Your hangover rings in your ears with a vengeance, and has you letting out a pained groan. Everything after the joint you shared outside at the party is nothing but a blur, a scattered puzzle with pieces missing as you try and figure out how you ended up back home and tucked into the couch.

“Are you alive out there?” Robin’s voice calls out weakly from down the hall in her room.

“Barely,” you grumble, agitation kicking in from dehydration and the old wounds your dream decided to rip open.

“I’d say I’m never drinking again but we both know that’s a lie,” she says, muffled by what sounds like a pillow.

A giggle tries to escape, but it only makes you wince, clutching your forehead willing the pain to subside.

“How’d we even get home?” You croak, rubbing harshly at your eyes before attempting to sit up, covering them with a cupped palm as your surroundings get brighter.

“Steve,” Robin’s voice comes out right next to you, surprising you by appearing in the entryway.

Hearing his name out loud sends the kind of rage that scorches through your veins, it burns from your fingertips remembering the look on his face when you broke up a few weeks after that day in the hallway your dreams so sweetly reminded you of.

It was Pity.

Your best friend ignores your silence and the sour look on your face as you silently take a trip down memory lane while she shuffles into the living room wandering to the attached kitchen.

“How far is Eddie’s shop from here?” You grimace watching her chug from a carton of orange juice.

“Oh, super close. You can walk from here.” She answers, wiping her upper lip with the back of your hand, “they opened like two hours ago, I’m sure he’s already looked at your car.”

“I think I’m going to shower and go over, do you want to come with me?” Raising your hands above your head, you stretch your sore muscles as a yawn comes out in the middle of your question.

“I think I need to rot in bed for a little while longer before I go walk amongst the living, I promise I’m all yours after I don’t feel like a freaking crypt keeper.” Your yawn is contagious, giving you a view of all her perfectly straight teeth.

“I demand something greasy for lunch when I get back then.” You point at her finding your footing on the carpet, noticing your converse are tucked nice and neat against the couch next to you. The feeling of Steve’s knuckles is a ghost against your skin, details starting to come out clear from the murky waters.

Heat rushes to your cheek at the memory while your emotions start to go at war with each other over what to feel towards the man who tucked you and your best friend in last night, but also broke your heart in a way you don’t think you’ll ever quite forget.

“I’m on it boss, god, I wish Benny’s was still open.” Robin interrupts the inner struggle she’s oblivious to you having as she walks past you flinging herself on the couch you’d just won the battle of leaving “But I’ll think of something good, I promise.”

Just like your yawn, the smile she gives you is contagious despite the sharp pain you get in your head from moving too much and you both laugh wincing when it only gets worse.

Ibuprofen first, then your car.

Birds chirp loudly, mocking the headache that's turned into something more annoying than painful after a handful of ibuprofen. The sticky air is still suffocating even in a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized loose fitting tee, while the sun shines golden against the cerulean sky without a cloud in sight to hide you from its light.

The heat warming off its rays makes beads of sweat start to collect at the crown of your head and the nape of your neck, while the incline Eddie’s spinning auto body sign sits on top of threatens to take your breath away. Unwanted thoughts of Steve Harrington keep your pace quick, stewing over the last twenty-four hours and everything it’s unraveled.

The small parking lot is empty when you reach it, kicking small rocks with the toe of your sneaker as you cross it. The double garage doors are open, Metallica’s Seek and Destroy echoing loudly, tugging up the corners of your lips. Your Chevrolet Caprice is the only car semi-lifted in the air with a pair navy coverall-clad legs underneath it.

Opening your mouth, Eddie’s name dies on your tongue before you get a chance to shout it, clocking him and his wild curls sitting in the glass office inside. Those big brown eyes meet yours from across the way, a dimple filled grin lighting up his face waving excitedly from his chair before standing up.

“Glad to see you’re alive, princess.” He teases stepping out of his glass case, with coveralls that are gray today.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle,” you laugh, confused eyes darting to the large boots under your car that don’t seem to have any reaction to the sound of your voice.

“Oh, I heard all about your first night back home. In fact my shop opened thirty minutes late because of it,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the open metal frame where the door should be. Faded bats that you remember when they were fresh dancing across his arm with his movements.

“Wait, what?” You ask, confusion pinching your brows together right as the mysterious pair of legs start pushing out whoever’s under your car.

“I didn’t get back to my place till almost four in the morning after getting you two home and in bed,” Steve emerges flashing you his million dollar smile as he sits up on the dolly, the sleeves of his own coveralls tied tight around his waist and hair wild like he’d just rolled out of bed, “I slept through my alarm.”

The immediate glare that hardens your face when you see him has Eddie's eyes light with obvious amusement.

“What are you doing here? And why are you touching my car?” You snap, trying to push the worries about what you look like deep under the irritation and the distraction that begs to steal your anger with his arms on full display like this. Or how the patch of chest hair that peeks out the top of it shines with sweat.

“I work here,” Steve snorts like it’s the most obvious conclusion, because, well, it is, “and I volunteered to look at it, Eddie’s got his hands full.”

That was a lie, he begged him.

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” Snorting, your attitude makes him roll his eyes, pushing himself off the ground.

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze when he stands at full height, biceps flexing with his movements practically daring you to look. He pulls out a faded maroon rag from his pocket and starts wiping off the fresh black from his hands that’s already stained under his nail beds. The hard bottoms of his work boots making their way across the cement floors of the garage.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore, that’s what happens when someone leaves for five years.” Steve antagonizes, his lack of sleep leaving him with thin patience.

He stops just close enough for you to smell how the woodsy spice of his cologne mixes with the sweet bitterness of the oil that seems to find a way to leave its mark on every surface in here. Including him.

“I’m going to finish balancing the books, why don’t you tell her the good news first and then the bad,” Eddie pours ice over the tension that threatens to boil over before it can turn hostile, catching the way both of your nostrils flare and shoulders square up.

“Wait, there’s good news and bad news?” Your focus on Steve shifts as Eddie’s words sink in.

“Like I said, I’m going to finish balancing the books.” The metal head reminds you, giving a half salute with two fingers while simultaneously shooting a stern look to Steve who’s mouthing something behind you. “Your mechanic’s going to go over everything with you, we can talk about pricing when it’s all said and done.”

“Seriously?” You bluster as Eddie shrugs with the kind of nonchalance that sends you reeling before sitting back down, tuning the dial-up on the radio in his office. End of discussion.

“Look -“

“How do I even know that you know what you’re talking about?” You interrupt, making his full lips set into a straight line.

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms, the tops of his shoulders moving with them.

A pleading expression softens his features instead of the hard combative one you were anticipating, and it helps your blood pressure return to normal. The realization hitting you that maybe skipping breakfast with a hangover probably wasn’t your smartest idea.

“N-no, sorry, I just feel like -“

“Shit? Yeah, I bet.” He chuckles, and your jaw clicks. Maybe if you count to three…

“Just tell me what’s wrong with my car, Steve.” It comes out clipped, but it's an improvement from your fingers twitching to rip that handsome head right off those shoulders that won’t stop trying to distract you.

“How about you tell me the last time you had your oil changed?” He counters, taking a few steps back to sit on the hood of the rusted baby blue Buick behind him.

“Uhh, I- I think,” All the blood rushes to your cheeks, warming your skin as you try to wrack your brain and not focus on the way his legs spread wide to keep his balance. “Maybe, like, six months ago.”

“Six months?!” The number must be worse than whatever Steve was preparing for when a dirty hand runs through his hair, “and then you drove it three states to get here?”

“Yeah, I - I mean, hearing you say it out loud,” you grimace thinking of all the weeks you ignored that flashing orange light on your dashboard.

“So then you shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that your engine locked up.”

“Is this the bad news?”

“Kind of,”

“What do you mean kind of?”

“Look, the good news is that I can fix it, the bad news is that I have to order a few parts that could take up to three weeks to get here, then the job itself is going to take me probably another week.” He sighs standing up, starting back towards your car with you quick on his heels.

“That’s the whole summer!” You argue like it could possibly make a difference, frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes watching him pop open the hood.

“More like half of it, but hey, you’re lucky I can even get it running again without having to replace the whole thing.” He meets your gaze from under his lashes leaning over the engine, long nimble fingers unscrewing the cap where your oil should go.

“So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get around?” You know that part isn’t his problem, this entire mess is your own doing but it doesn’t stop it coming out in a whine. You blame your hangover.

“You’re gonna be just fine, city girl,” Steve grins up at you before reaching even further under the hood, muscles flexing with him, “besides we both know I can’t say no to Robin.”

He pulls at a small tube that’s purpose is unknown to you but you keep eyes trained on his movements like you have an idea, anything to keep the focus off the gold chain that dangles from his neck.

“Or you.” The last part comes out so quiet, a focused look pinching his brows together as he continues his investigation.

“Me?”

He doesn’t look at you when he shrugs, pulling at something with a little more force that makes you both flinch.

“How much is this going to cost me, Steve?” Your defeat shows in your tone, as the question slips quietly from between your lips that you wish you’d have put gloss on now.

He grunts at the same time something pops against metal under his hands, muttering a string of curse words under his breath before standing back up wiping his palms on the white cotton of his tank top. Charcoal stains fill the small grooves in the fabric with each swipe of his hands, pulling the collar further down every time. It’s a losing battle not to look at his chest when every motion reveals more of the thick curls underneath.

Steve clears his throat, letting you know that you’ve been caught and it’s at this moment you wish you could walk in front of the moving truck that drives loudly past the shop, only exaggerating the silence that follows.

“Don’t stress about that today,” he smiles, letting you off the hook for now, something mischievous dancing in his eyes for another time. “Like Eddie said, we’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t stress about it?! Have you met me?” You huff, the money you’ve saved up for the summer starting to dwindle right before your eyes.

“I have actually,” Steve chuckles, stepping close enough for the tips of your shoes to touch his boots. He feels bold when you don’t make any attempt to move away like at the party or retreat when he closes the gap. A thumb and forefinger finding their way to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, “and you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

Your lips part on their own, the full force of his face from this close stealing the breath from your lungs. You can smell the coffee he had this morning and the mint from his toothpaste still lingering on his breath. The stubble that lines his sharp jaw is even more noticeable today, tapering off at the top of his neck making the cluster of moles that live there stand out even more. A pink tongue runs over his full bottom lip and it has your lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks.

“Now go get some food, grumpy,” his voice comes out low, a teasing edge to it that reminds you of what it’s like to have Steve Harrington flirt with you. “I’ll call when I get the parts, okay?”

It’s like detention junior year all over again as you turn into putty in his hand. Still too attractive for his own good, all you can do is nod while all the fight you had left inside you disappears as the pad of his thumb swipes soft against your heated skin just under your pouted lip before letting you go. He turns on his heel after that, walking back to the box of tools he has spread out over his workbench before adding,

“Do me a favor and tell Robin she owes me a new shirt.”

beta’d by @sweetsweetjellybean

🌻 chapter two

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n

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haetrack · 1 month

Note

omg now im thinking of perv!haech whos ur best friend but ur just a pretty bimbo ! completely clueless to the fact that ur bestest friend in the whole wide world is hopelessly in love w u and imagines what its like to be wrapped around ur creamy cunt 25/8 .. so eventually he gets tired of it and just decides to start being even more forward w it bcz ure just one oblivious bimbo :P

- ☀️ (aka same anon that sent cockwarming w haech <3)

a/n: HELLO ☀️ ANON… nice to have u here… trying something a little new… thank u for little me try this…

warnings: a little dubcon, reader wears a skirt, male masturbation, improper massage, MDNI

throughout the years haechan has known you, he’s fallen more and more in love.

you were always so nice to him, talking to him about everything and anything. you had a pretty smile, contagious laugh, and always talked to him with interest shown.

you also had a nice body. his eyes always wandering down to your almost-exposed chest, eyes lowering down to your smooth thighs. his hands always wanted to touch your pretty skin, hands twitching on his thighs at the thought.

too many times has he hung out with you and thought about fucking your cunt. he just knows you have a pretty pussy, knows that you would beg for him to fill you up. you just can’t seem to catch on, thinking his stares are only friendly.

he’s heard people talking about you, almost shushing them as they talk about his best friend. he doesn’t want to hear about how pretty you look giving someone head or how good you feel wrapped around someone’s cock.

he knows he can make you feel better than anyone else.

he never asks you about your sex life. you assume haechan probably doesn’t want to hear about it, probably doesn’t care about all the people you have sex with. he’s just your friend anyways, he’s only there to talk to you!

except, he can’t really take it anymore. he needs you to look at him, to touch him, to tell him that there’s no one else that you’d rather fuck than him. but he can’t just tell you that, right?

he decides to be more honest with you, letting you know that he’s ready for you to come to him, ready to hear you beg for his cock.

there’s a day where you’re wearing a skirt while hanging out. his hands move to warm themselves between your thighs, fingers dancing along your skin. he smiles when he sees goosebumps raising on your skin, not missing the embarrassed pout on your face.

you don’t push his hands away, watching with a dazed look as his hands trail higher on your thighs. you’re squirming in your seat, not caring that it’s your best friend that’s touching you like this. before you can start begging, he pulls away, leaving you to look at him with desperation.

there’s another day where you want to hang out at his place. he purposefully gets himself off knowing that you’re on your way. he’s letting out gross whimpers of your name, wanting you to just walk in and catch him like this, all messy for you.

once you knock on his front door, he’s cumming all over his hand, a loud moan of your name leaving his mouth. he cleans up quickly, licking off the cum on his hand before making his way to you. you notice his pink cheeks and messy hair, knowing none the wiser of his actions.

in a final attempt of trying to get you to notice him, he offers you a massage.

“i know how stressed you’ve been,” a sickly sweet smile on haechan’s face, “let me help you.”

you, of course, say yes to your friend. you even peel off your shirt, letting it lay on top of your chest, exposing your back to haechan. he didn’t even have to ask, his eyes drinking in the sight of your skin.

his hands tremble before putting them on you. he digs his thumbs into your shoulders, not missing the small whines that leave you. his cock is twitching in his pants, enjoying all the pretty noises you make.

it’s not until you let out a choked whimper when he rubs against a tender spot where he realizes he can’t take it anymore. precum spills out of his tip as his mind runs fast. his hands trail a little lower, moving to cup your covered chest. he gropes your boobs, feeling at the soft fabric covering you.

you let out a whisper of his name, hearing how he tuts back at you. “you’ll let me make you feel good, right?”

you feel his sweaty hands go under your bra as his fingers make it to your hard nipples, pinching around to hear high whimpers leave you. he can see your thighs squeezing together, your eyes peering up at his, your voice begging for more.

he tries to hide his shaky voice from you, “i knew you needed me, knew you wanted me to touch you all over.”

after all, you’re his pretty bimbo to play with.

#asks #☀️ anon #vals hard hours #haechan hard hours #nct smut #haechan smut #haechan x reader

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literaila · 2 months

Text

premature death

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you settle into jujutsu high, and then you settle out

warnings: fluff, angst (canon events), satoru is an idiot as per usual, suguru is there.

a/n: open wide, daddy made your favorite

last part | next part

second year.

you've never loved dining in, you think, as a menu is pulled from your hands and you try to relax into your seat, looking around.

you're sitting in the corner, near a wall.

it's been an hour since you finished your mission--with nanami and haibara--and an hour since haibara insisted on all of you meeting the second years for dinner.

honestly, even if you'd had the energy to argue with him, his face would've broken you eventually. so, you followed your two best friends blindly, stumbling into this restaurant that smells a bit like burnt sugar.

your body aches from running around, and your head pounds from all of the mental strain it takes to protect both nanami and haibara at once (especially when they're both hellbent on being as reckless as possible at any available moment). you barely give suguru and shoko a 'hello,' as you near the table, and you ignore satoru completely.

(and the way your body immediately perks up at the sight of him).

the only reason you've even made it in the restaurant is because haibara let you lean on him the whole way here. someone better be coming to pick you up after this.

and when they push you into this seat--away from literally everything else--you don't even mind it. it's nice, a sort of protection from the outside world.

but, of course, none from the one right there.

satoru is sitting much too close to you. he's wild and animated, boasting about some curse that was no big deal for him, of course, with no consideration for personal space.

you can feel it when he breathes, when he laughs. his hand is basically on your thigh, and he's almost grabbed your drink on accident three separate times.

no one else has even commented on this, so you don't say anything.

it's definitely not because he's pleasantly warm--sickly warm, you think--or because you feel a bit relaxed with him right next to you instead of anyone else. at ease. and it's not because just sitting near satoru creates an automatic reaction within your body, a buzzing, and keeps you from falling asleep on the table. it has nothing to do with any of that.

you just don't want to make a scene.

you're staring down at the table, fiddling with a napkin and wondering how many other people have sat here, spilled their drinks, and shared these thoughts, when a hand pokes at your side, and you jump.

"hey," satoru says, leaning to meet your eyes. his mouth is ridiculously pink, and you can see the tips of his lashes from over his glasses. "you okay there?"

you push his face away with a hand, grimacing at him. you ignore the twinge in your shoulder, and the hundred other sore muscles in your body. "just fine, thanks."

satoru leans back, observing you for a moment. everyone else is lost in conversation, so there's no one to save you from his attention.

"that looks heavy," he says, eventually, with a ton of fake sympathy. and condescension. he's smiling at you, because when isn't he?

"what?" you say, frowning. you look around for a problem, but there isn't one.

then you meet his eyes again, and you know what he's going to say.

"your hand," he answers, easily, predictably. "let me hold it for you."

you slap him away before he can even try.

"were you genetically engineered in a lab to be annoying?" you ask him, scowling.

"just beautiful."

you roll your eyes, moving to sip on your tea. when you set it back down, satoru is still staring at you.

"what?"

"oh, nothing."

you frown, hoping that there isn't anything on your face. or that he hasn't realized that you don't want to be here. and then, before he can read any real expression, you smile sweetly at him. "you're popping my bubble, satoru."

"what bubble?"

"my personal space bubble," you answer, sharply, pushing at his chest. "move over. you know there's a whole other end of the booth right there?"

satoru looks to his other side, to the empty spot where he should be sitting, and then back to you with a wince. "you want me to sit next to nanami?"

you stare at him blankly. "i want you to allow me free will over my limbs."

"but he scares me."

"want me to tell him that?"

satoru sighs, but moves over a single inch. because he's nice.

"seriously?"

satoru stares at you, pointing towards the centimeter of both you can see between your bodies like it's a solution to your problem. when you say nothing, he pouts. "what? i like sitting next to you."

"you can sit there and not attempt to suffocate me," you tell him, shaking your head. you look away and go back to playing with the napkin you stole. "i promise it's possible."

"where's the fun in that?"

you sigh, and satoru leans his head on your shoulder. you don't even comment on the fact that he's even closer now, or that he smells like a gallon of sweat.

no, in all actuality, you don't really want him to move. you want him to stay right there and be your block from the world.

not that you'd ever admit that out loud.

"i really hate you," you tell him, quietly, once you've realized that you haven't said anything.

satoru smiles up at you, teeth peeking out from bright pink lips. then he groans theatrically. "you know i can't resist flattery, sweetheart."

you roll your eyes again. "how have you survived this long?" you wonder aloud. and then you pause. "no, wait. i already know."

"what?"

"special grade sorcerer," you whisper, in mock awe. you shiver when satoru runs a hand up your thigh, just to mess with you.

"i'll let you try to kill me next time we spar," he says, shaking his head at you. his hair is soft and ticklish against your neck.

you still don't move him.

"i refuse to spar with you."

he frowns. "you spar with suguru."

"'cause he doesn't cheat."

"i don't cheat."

"no cursed techniques during hand-to-hand combat," you recite.

he continues to pout, like the child he is. "how is that fair?"

you sigh at him, shaking your head. you don't have the energy to remind him of simple rules.

"c'mon," satoru says, leaning up and nudging you. "just once. it'll be fun."

he taps your nose with a finger.

you grab it. "we've sparred before, and we will not be doing it again."

satoru just smiles at you.

and the two of you sit there like that, staring at each other, your hand wrapped around satoru's stupid finger, waiting for the other to break.

his eyes are ridiculous, you think, for the hundredth time ever. the only real reason he's still alive is because of how pretty he is. if his bone structure was even slightly different, you think, he'd be dead.

satoru stares back, maybe thinking the same things you are.

but eventually, you're broken out of the daze.

"satoru," shoko says, again, and you both snap to look at her. she's got a brow raised. "did you hear anything i just said?"

you and satoru exchange a glance and ignore the looks of everyone else at the table. your body settles once again, no longer ignited solely by satoru's concentration you you.

finally, satoru moves away from you, leaning on his elbow to focus in on whatever conversation his friends are having.

you don't even realize that your hand is still wrapped around him, or when, eventually, satoru intertwines his fingers with yours.

you go back to eating your dinner, and you're very comfortable with the amount of space you have to yourself now.

really.

"hey," you say, pulling your jacket tighter around your body.

it's too cold to be outside, but it's too loud to be in bed. too quiet. "can't sleep?" you ask suguru.

you crept out of your room just ten minutes ago. you were only going to get something to drink--something to soothe your irritating heart--when you realized that it would never work.

so you ventured outside, instead, not really caring about rules or being caught.

and just when you were walking across the courtyard, you stumbled upon him (for a brief moment, you'd thought it was yaga, and almost ran back inside.)

but suguru just sitting there, on the steps, looking out into the forest like it'll come up with some answers for him. his hair is tied up, and he's got a better jacket on than you do.

you look at it a bit enviously.

suguru blows out a breath, the smell of cigarette smoke filling the air. you watch the puff as it disappears into the air. "no, you?"

"can i sit?" you ask, looking at the space beside him. suguru nods, watching as you sit down beside him, shivering. "nightmares," you tell him, answering the question.

he smiles at you, shaking his head ambiguously.

you gesture towards his hand. "i didn't know you smoked."

suguru almost laughs. "i don't, really. shoko's a bad influence."

he holds it towards you, but you shake your head.

"no, thanks. i've got enough bad habits to last a lifetime."

he laughs, stamping out the rest of the unsmoked bud on the ground.

you look towards the trees, almost expecting something to jump out from behind them--even though you know that no curse can touch you, or anyone here.

you don't get a lot of alone time with suguru. you're comfortable enough around him--and haibara sings enough praises for you to know what he's like. still, you're not sure what to say to him, or what he might know about you.

probably too much, you think.

eventually, you look back to suguru, smirking. "so, did you leave satoru sleeping by himself in your bed?"

"he snores," suguru answers, easily, and his shoulder brushes against yours.

you giggle, flexing your hands, trying to regain some feeling in your fingers.

a small part of you is glad that he's out here, right now. that there's someone else to be around, to remind you that it's all okay. and, if worst comes to worst, suguru is a lot stronger than you are.

you look up to the sky, tracing the remains of clouds with your eyes. there are no shapes to be made out--there never are, this late at night. and it's different here, at school.

at home, you can hear all of the bugs at night, and you can smell the breeze as it passes through. but here, it's almost irrationally silent. it doesn't smell like anything here. like cursed energy is strong enough to fade out the smell of the pine or the pollen.

you're silent, looking around.

"do you want my jacket?" suguru asks, suddenly, after you've shivered against him for the seventh time.

you look towards him, trying to ignore how cold you feel, and you sniff. "no, it's okay."

suguru's got a sly smile when he says, "probably shouldn't, anyway."

"what do you mean?"

he laughs to himself, then shakes his head.

you feel like you're missing something as you wait for him to answer. to clue you in on the joke.

"do you get them a lot?" he asks, instead of answering your confused glance. "nightmares?"

you swallow, nodding. "yeah. do you?"

"all the time."

"any advice? haibara says you've got overwhelming amounts of wisdom."

he snorts. "haibara..." he whispers, almost appreciatively.

you tilt your head at him, waiting.

"i'm only a year older, you know?"

you nod, consider it for a moment. then you think about satoru--inevitably--and what he said last time you mentioned the mere one year of age between the two of you. "well, a year is a long time for a sorcerer, isn't it?"

suguru makes a face. "i guess that's true."

you lean your chin on a palm, waving a hand. "so...?"

he grins at you. "finding someone to wake up next to helps," he says, only slightly teasing.

you understand what he's getting at, so you roll your eyes. "not all of us have a clingy best friend."

"satoru would cuddle with you if you asked."

"good thing i'm never asking."

"yeah, you shouldn't," suguru answers, feeling much older than he is, "he kicks."

"i bet."

suguru laughs again and clears his throat, looking around. you know there's nothing there, but you wait anyway. "i just try to remember that it's not real..." he says, eventually, "even if it seems like it."

you sigh, looking back to the forest separating your two worlds. "that's gonna be difficult, because i only dream about curses. and those are all real."

not to mention the other very real things you have nightmares about. the memories, the yelling, the quivering ideas that hide themselves in the corners of your head, begging to be let go, to be let out.

suguru must see this on your face; you're assuming it's fairly obvious.

he nudges you, but doesn't say anything for a moment, just looking back when you look at him. and then. "i have dreams about it, too."

you furrow your brows at him. "about what?"

"home. my parents."

you swallow, pausing. you blink rapidly, trying to regain your ground. "i don't..."

his face relaxes, at once. "satoru talks too much," he says, trying to joke. "especially about you."

you ignore that. "i don't--i barely think about my... parents. i'm too busy."

"i think your situation is probably worse than mine," suguru answers, obviously ignoring your lies. "my parents didn't tell me to leave. but... it was obvious that i couldn't stay."

it doesn't seem worth it to try and deny it, and if he's going to offer up information willingly, then who are you not to listen?

"how old were you?"

"eight," he says, easily. "you?"

"ten."

he nods, scratching at his neck. "i didn't tell anyone about it, for a long time. i thought... i knew that they wouldn't--"

"get it?"

"yeah."

you huff, relaxing at once. you slouch down, staring at the ground. suguru is wearing dirt-covered shoes, and you've got slippers on. "wish i'd thought of that. if i hadn't told anyone i'd probably still be there."

"you'd be hiding, though," suguru says, watching you, "trying to pretend like you fit in there, even if you didnt. couldn't."

"it would've been easier to pretend than having to live through it," you say, softly, absolutely sure about this. you've had a lot of time to think about it. then you smile, "i would've made a good human."

suguru laughs, tapping his foot against the ground. "what would you have done? if you weren't a sorcerer, i mean."

"uh..." you frown. you've never given the real world much thought--not beyond foolish dreams and stupid glances--"i think i'd be a taxi driver or something."

he snorts. "satoru says that you're a terrible driver."

"big talk from someone who can't drive," you say, scoffing. "and he was distracting me the entire time." you shake your head, annoyed at just the memory. "what would you be?"

he pauses. "...a teacher?"

"this is what haibara means by wisdom," you say, laughing. "maybe i wouldn't be a good human. i can't imagine doing anything else."

"maybe not."

you swallow. there are not very many stars in the sky, but you can still see all of the constellations and the stories written within the sky. part of you wonders if you'll be up there someday, another myth to speak about.

no, probably not. satoru will be written in history, and you'll still be here, always thrown out or forgotten

"do you think... do you think that my parents would be sorry? if they could talk to me now? if they saw what i can do?"

suguru hums, he doesn't even seem surprised by the question, to his credit. "i don't know... they--non-sorcerers--can't really understand, can they? they don't know that we exist solely to protect them, so they can't appreciate it. it makes it hard to be... angry, at them, doesn't it?"

you blow out a breath, looking away from the stars. "yeah."

"when yaga scouted me," suguru says, "my parents thought he was crazy. i understood what he said immediately, but they couldn't believe that anything like this could exist. and then, when i told them about the curses i was seeing, and absorbing..."

you look at him. his face is tense and easy, all at once. he doesn't mind telling you this, you realize. maybe haibara was right.

his eyes are contemplative as he looks around the courtyard, thinking about things you're sure you've thought about too.

"they thought i was crazy too, after that," he continues, finally. "my dad avoided me, and my mom never tried to argue with me about leaving. neither of them minded that i was going to this bizarre school and might not ever come home. even though they thought that yaga was a maniac."

you look at the ground, trying to push the memories out. you bite the inside of your cheek and wonder if there was ever a way to save that smaller version of yourself. if she'd grown up here, would she be the same?

"i think," suguru says, voice a bit harder, "that even if i was crazy, and all of the things i saw and experienced were fake, that if my parents truly cared about me, then they would've tried to help. they wouldn't have... ignored me, or treated me like i was the curse."

your neck snaps to him, and his eyes meet yours. suguru lets a thoughtful smile slip from his lips as he says, "it's not your fault that they didn't understand. that they couldn't. but it's their fault that they never tried to."

maybe it's because you haven't dared to speak with anyone about it--beyond snarky remarks to satoru when he says something ignorant--or maybe it's because suguru is the only person who gets it. who truly understands in a way that only children can.

or maybe it's just that you've been waiting for someone to say that to you since you were ten. since you were rejected solely for being yourself, being different.

six years of wondering if it was ever fair.

you swallow, nodding.

"sorry," he whispers after you're lost for words, struggling to put the pieces of you back. "but you can talk to me, if you want. i've been told i'm very wise."

you snort, shaking your head. he's like satoru in that way--shaking you out of whatever matters. "i really need to stop telling satoru things. he can't ever keep his mouth shut."

suguru laughs, looking at the sky. "no, don't."

"hmm?"

"don't stop telling him things. i'll have to hear all about it."

you laugh.

"'why would she be mad at me?'" suguru mocks, in a very good impression of satoru's honey-flow voice. "'i didn't even do anything.'"

"'i didn't know it was a secret,'" you say back, suddenly lighter.

suguru nudges you, hand wrapped around your forearm. just there. his fingertips are cold, but you don't mind.

"does satoru really tell you about the things we talk about?" you ask, after a while.

your entire body feels numb now, and you might freeze out here, but somehow it's worth it. just to not be alone for once.

suguru looks over at you, his brown eyes slight and knowing. "he doesn't need to," he says.

you have to look away, just so he doesn't catch that shock--the brief moment of recognition, pleasure--as it passes. but you smile in the dark eventually, letting it go unsaid.

and that's just how things are.

you spend your late nights chatting with suguru in the dark, both of you hopelessly lost and completely insane.

you let satoru irritate you whenever he wants, and sometimes you even bask in it. letting all of the horrors wash away with every quip that you send his way.

and you ignore that light--and heavy--feeling in your chest around him, pretending that it doesn't exist, or maybe it just doesn't matter.

you spend time with people who understand you, for once. you let the fear flow away in concerning thoughts and subconscious glances inward. you let the fears of attaching yourself to them fade away.

you know that any of you could be gone, could live with the regret of never living, at any moment, so you choose not to care about any of it. you go on missions and you act like your life is a feeble thing to play around with.

and it's honestly not all that bad.

until riko amanai, that is.

third year.

"suguru," your voice almost catches when he opens the door.

how many days has it been since you've seen him? how many weeks?

you've spent the last several weeks trying to let the two of them settle. into life, into existing, whatever.

you ask shoko how they're both doing--satoru and suguru--and she just shrugs.

"they don't like to talk about it," she tells you, and you try to just accept it. you try to let it go and worry about yourself, about your own messed up life.

but everything feels different.

satoru hasn't been answering your calls, which, okay, fine. you could deal with that. but he also hasn't been calling you, or showing up at your door just to talk, or stealing your breakfast, or clinging to you like he does.

he hasn't been doing any of it. and you could pretend you haven't noticed--that it doesn't matter to you if he cares or not. if he wants to be around you or not.

but it matters.

you decided to let him in at the beginning of the year, and you hadn't thought it was a mistake until now. until this exact moment, when you realized that you'd gotten too close to satoru. that you were friends, or...

you look at suguru now and you try not to gape.

his face is dreadfully grey, his eyes almost completely sunken in. he looks like an elderly man who hasn't slept in five years, just on the verge of death.

and you know from shoko that he's been gone a lot, like satoru, that he's been busy, but... still. this doesn't happen to overworked sorcerers. the recovery rate for all of you is extremely quick.

you really try not to gape. you try not to stare at him for too long, but you can't peel your eyes away.

"y/n," he whispers, no pleasantries needed. even his voice sounds rough. "is something wrong?"

you should probably be asking him that.

"no, i..." you stare for a moment, swallowing. maybe it's just his hair. you've never seen it down before, you realize, trying to refrain from taking a step back. still, there's that feeling in your chest--reminiscent of being a child, of dealing with satoru. you exhale. "are--are you sick?"

"what?"

"you look..."

suguru's eyes widen, and he nods, eventually, looking caught. "yeah, i guess i came down with something... i'm just..."

he looks behind him, and you get the sudden feeling that he doesn't want you there. doesn't want you to disturb whatever this is.

it makes you wonder if he and satoru have talked at all, since it happened almost a month ago. maybe two months.

you all know that sorcerers die all of the time. that people die just from living, curses or not.

so why is this death any different? why does this one matter? you want so desperately to ask.

"sorry, i can--i'll come back--" you say quickly, turning. then you turn around again, feeling guilty. "do you need anything? medicine? um... food?"

finally, a small smile makes its way to suguru's face. it's small, almost unnoticeable. but something inside you relaxes.

it shouldn't be this surprising that he even remembers how.

"did you need something?" he asks, softly, talking to you like he always does.

like you're sitting outside again, talking about life, ethics, being a sorcerer, and having a part of yourself hate it.

but this is so much different.

your stomach drops again. this is a ridiculous, stupid thing to even be asking. you shouldn't be here, worrying about this. you should be in your dorm, studying. you should be training with nanami, or trying to get haibara to come with you on a mission...

you shouldn't even be here.

you feel like a deer in headlights, caught in this the same way you caught suguru in whatever.

but he already knows, you rationalize. he already knows.

everyone knows, you think. everyone but you and satoru, according to shoko's comments.

so what do you care if suguru knows this?

"i, um, i just haven't..." you swallow, wanting to punch yourself in the face. are you really this pathetic? "have you seen satoru?" you ask, blurring the words together. "i know you've both been... busy, but i--i've been trying to get ahold of him, and shoko says that he won't answer her messages, and it's been a couple of weeks since i've seen him around school, so i just figured--" what? that suguru would have some brilliant answer for you? that he could reassure you that satoru wasn't trying to ignore you? "--that you might know where he is... or if he's okay? he's your best friend so--"

"i haven't seen him, either. we've been doing seperate missions," suguru says, interrupting whatever terrible thing you were about to say next, luckily. "he hasn't been answering your calls?"

your responding "no," sounds so small you want to bury yourself beneath the earth.

you really don't care about him, okay? you really don't.

you just want to be notified if he's dead or something. you just want to know if you did something to make him avoid you, or if he needs someone there, or if...

suguru frowns, contemplating something. "i think he's supposed to be home in a couple of days," he says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. it looks wet, and greasy, like he hasn't washed it in weeks. "but i'll text him."

"...you don't have to."

he smiles, knowingly. he gives you that same look that everyone does. that look that tells you that they know more about what's going on between you and satoru than you do. "it's no problem. you know how... spacey satoru can get."

"yeah. i know."

"you don't need to worry about him," suguru says, laughing a little bit. his eyes are so cold, bland.

"i know," you say, again, a bit more defensively. you take a step back. you're not sure why you expected suguru to have any answers for you.

(maybe it's because they're best friends and they're supposed to be there for each other. or maybe it's because they just went through the same terrible experience, and should probably depend on each other right now).

maybe he told him not to answer, you think, instantly. maybe suguru is working for him.

not that you care. if satoru doesn't want to talk to you--doesn't want suguru to talk to you--then you can't do anything about it.

you just have to live through this like you've lived through everything else.

he's just a classmate.

but the question slips through your lips, breaking down all denial. "is he... do you think he's okay?"

you want to clarify. you want to ask if they're both okay, if they've talked about any of it. if suguru needs you to get someone, like shoko, or if he wants to go sit on the steps and shout at the sky.

if he'll come with you to look for satoru because you're really worried about him.

if everything is okay.

but you know that suguru wouldn't answer that, especially not like this.

"are you okay, y/n?" suguru asks, and it's almost rhetorical. you can tell that he's trying to hit you where you're sore.

you feel frozen there for a moment, and then you turn away.

and that just about sums it up.

you're staring down at a white sheet, and all you can think is, this can't be happening.

not really, that is.

it's been a long time since you felt this deeply about anything. anger, sure. are you mad that your classmates are distancing themselves from you? are you mad that everyone seems to be advancing and you're stuck there, stagnant, while everyone else deals with everything?

of course.

but this...

you've had this nightmare a hundred times, but it's never gone like this. it's never been so untouchable, unforgettable, unbearable...

your entire body feels freezing; like you're the one who's dead.

have you already undergone rigor mortis? are you frozen there, muscles turned to stone?

this can't be happening, you think, again. so briefly it's not really a thought.

you're staring down at him. you're looking at him--at haibara--but this can't be how he really is, how he really was. haibara doesn't look like this, you think. you've never seen his hair this limp, never seen his face this pale. you've never seen him without a smile.

but nobody is smiling now.

you barely hear anything they're saying--the other people undergoing this, the other people who could probably tell you if this is real or not.

"...to exterminate a second-grade cursed spirit..." rings briefly out in your mind. you wonder if you imagined it.

your eyes glance down to the blood on the table. shouldn't shoko be here? shouldn't someone be doing something?

should you be doing something?

"nanami," someone says. "you should just rest for now." there's a hand on your shoulder, a whisper of another person in the room. "y/n, let's sit down."

are your legs shaking? is this a physical reaction to the news? you're always calm, always collected. the only person that--

"satoru has taken..." the same voice continues.

you pause, trying to listen, but their voices echo. if this were a dream, would you be able to listen? this is a dream, you think, just something to wake up from.

there's no one here to pull you out from this flood of emotions, of thoughts. satoru would usually, you think. he would be here and he would crack and joke and you wouldn't care about it anymore.

but satoru...

what should you do?

"can't we just let him handle everything alone at this point?" nanami asks, and you just hear it.

suguru ushers you over to the wall, where all of the stools are, one missing. he sits you down and you let him, because there's nothing else you can do.

your limbs are numb, and it's ridiculous to feel this way.

you barely even notice when you reach a hand out, grabbing nanami's, or when he grabs back, squeezing harder than you thought possible.

you should tell him that it hurts--that he's stronger than he looks--crack a joke or say something comforting, but you can't. you don't mind if he cracks all of the bones in your hand, as long as he stays right there.

"it's going to be okay," suguru says, maybe to you, maybe to nanami.

but he's lying. and you know it, even if you don't know anything else.

and when you try to knock on satoru's door later, feeling absolutely nothing, he doesn't answer.

not that you were expecting him to, anyway.

satoru doesn't think any of it is supposed to feel like this.

he's been hurt a hundred times. bruised when he let suguru get a hit in during practice, sliced up when he lets shoko try something on his body just to heal him right after, cut through the literal throat, and left to bleed out.

but it's never felt like this before.

he's ashamed, almost. lost.

what could he have done differently, he wonders? where did it all go wrong?

he thinks about amanai, thinks about suguru telling him not to be so arrogant, and then rejecting him just like that.

are you the strongest because you're satoru gojo? or are you satoru gojo because you're the strongest?

satoru almost wants to laugh.

well, he wants to say to suguru, how strong am i now? how strong am i like this?

but suguru isn't there. he's not coming back, satoru thinks, blandly, and his fists clench automatically. if anyone had asked him a week ago, he would've said that everything was fine.

everything was wrong, of course, but it was all fine.

shoko was staying at the school, helping with the damaged sorcerers, satoru was advancing more rapidly than he'd thought was possible, and suguru was...

what was he doing, again?

satoru blinks, and before he can answer that question for himself--answer any one of the goddamn questions floating around in his head--you're there.

you're there, and satoru suddenly can't remember the last time he saw you.

he certainly can't remember the last time he saw your eyes that sad, that wrong on the rest of your otherwise untouched face.

his defenses go down immediately, as they always do when you're around. it's probably a stupid decision, but satoru doesn't really care to rationalize it.

he's missed you, he thinks, suddenly. he's missed you more than he should.

you don't say anything when you sit down next to him, on the steps of the school, watching as his hands fall from their outstretched position.

"do you think that i'm strong?" satoru asks you, his voice rough, so tired.

and then he looks over to you and he watches as all of the thoughts pass on your face--the thoughts about suguru, knowing what he means, the worry and concern that he hasn't missed on your face since he first met you.

but you sigh, eventually, and you move a little bit closer to him.

"are you strong, satoru?"

he hasn't spoken to you in weeks, he remembers, suddenly. he doesn't even know why you're here now.

not when he's been avoiding you in favor of improving himself. not when he's been ignoring all of his responsibilities so he could try to get back to that place where there wasn't anything to care about.

"not strong enough," he answers, distantly. he's not even really sure if he means it.

your head falls to his shoulder in an instant, and you're there again.

satoru remembers every smile and every wince on your face. every time he made you laugh and then said something else just so he could try and do it again.

god, he's such a fool.

"that's okay," you whisper, eventually. "that's why you have me," you tell him.

"do i?" he wonders, aloud.

"hmm?"

"do i have you?"

you lift your head, and you're smiling, just a little. satoru can see the bitterness in your expression. he can tell that you're angry and that you're tired of it.

he can taste that hint of happiness that pours from you, that contradicting feeling of just being together again, even in a moment like this.

"of course," you say to him, softly. it's soft, unbelievable. "whenever you want."

satoru nods.

and you sit there with him for hours, and for once, you're the one pulling him out of everything.

just briefly satoru wonders what he would do if you left, too.

"what?" you repeat, watching nanami throw something into a suitcase.

you've been standing there for five minutes, processing this like you've processed everything recently.

meaning that you haven't. and that you're not going to as long as you'd like, thank you.

"what's the point of this?" kento answers, like you tried to tell him that there was a purpose to any of this. like you're just arguing.

but you can't be, because this isn't a discussion. you didn't happen upon his room and pick an argument with him.

you walked through the hall and you noticed the suitcase outside the door. the boxes he was stacking up to take somewhere else.

would he even have told you? would he have said anything if you hadn't stumbled upon it yourself?

"kento," you say, again, like a grounding tool. "i don't understand."

he sighs, folding a suit. "i'm not going to sit around and live this life. i don't care about jujutsu. i don't care about any of it."

"but, you..."

"there's no point, is there?" he asks, quietly, and he's not asking. "and even if there was, i don't care. i don't want to die doing this, y/n."

"you won't die," you answer, uselessly, trying to grab onto his arm, to get him to look at you. you want him to walk you through this, this thought process, the past three months here. "where are you going to go?"

"i don't know. i'll find an entry-level position somewhere."

"where are you going to live?"

"there's an available apartment in the city."

"but..."

"look," finally nanami turns around, meeting your eyes. he's never been emotional, but he looks even more stoic now. maybe he really doesn't care. "i don't want to be a sorcerer. i don't want to exterminate curses every day. i want to... live a normal life."

"what?" you repeat, feeling that terror rise in your chest.

so many people are leaving, you think. so many people are running away from this, and eventually, you're going to have to follow. or you'll rot here alone, hiding in the closet like you did as a kid.

"nanami, you can't just decide that you don't--"

"i already did."

"what about..." you swallow, and nanami shakes his head at you. his eyes are glazed over and you know he's not going to listen. you can feel it. "what about haibara?" you ask, finally, stepping over the boundaries you've laid down about him. "he wouldn't have wanted you to live some boring life in the city and run away from all of this--"

nanami's eyes are stern, his jaw clenches. "haibara died. isn't that proof enough that this doesn't matter?"

"it does matter," you say, even though you're not sure yourself. "it does."

"geto left, too. if the only two choices are staying and dying or leaving and living a boring life, then i choose the latter."

"suguru killed--" you pause, not wanting to talk about it out loud. you haven't seen satoru since the day you found out, and you don't want to risk having to think about him. "nanami, you're useful here. you're strong. you can do whatever--"

"gojo handles most of our cases now, anyway, doesn't he?"

you freeze, looking away. "well, he can't handle every curse, even if..."

"there's no point, y/n."

"what about--"

what about me?

he gives you one more look, another glance your way, another reminder that your only remaining classmate doesn't want to be that anymore. that there's nothing you can do to stop him from leaving.

it's your parents all over again.

are you the crazy one here? are you crazy for wanting to stay, even with all of the horror?

"i'm sorry," he says, after a moment, looking sincerely at you. but nanami has never been able to read your mind. he has never tried to spare your feelings--you thought you liked that about him. "we'll still talk. i'll call you."

"yeah, sure."

because you have to give up at some point. if nanami doesn't want to stay, you don't want to force him.

"this is what's best."

you nod blindly. and you wonder, for the first time since you got to jujutsu high, if you're strong enough for this.

year zero.

"this is basically every kid's dream," satoru says, rolling his eyes. megumi is the most difficult kid he's ever encountered, and he refuses to be pleased. "i got you candy and i'm letting you stay up late. why aren't you normal?"

megumi looks up at him, a vigorous hatred in his eyes. "why aren't you?" he repeats, attempting to kick at satoru's foot.

honestly, it's a little pathetic.

satoru tries not to snort, about to tell megumi about the millions of children lacking in candy at this current moment, or about how he's actively trying to find them a place to sleep even after megumi tried to punch him in the stomach earlier and--

he looks over to tsumiki, the little angel who is in no way biologically related to megumi, and watches as she waves.

his brows furrow, and then he looks up, away from the child attempting to murder him with his eyes, and he sees you.

you're standing there, a figure illuminated by the light in your entryway, a wary look on your face.

you're looking at both of the children, eyes flicking between the two of them, probably noticing how small they are, or how wet their clothes are from the rain.

not that satoru cares, actually.

as soon as satoru sees you--as soon as he can feel you again, the familiar curves and concaves of your cursed energy, of your entire being--his heart shifts, clicking back into place.

you look a bit upset, angry at his intrusion as you've always pretended to be.

he hasn't seen you in months, and it's suddenly very apparent. you look almost exactly the same. maybe you got your hair cut, or maybe you've just woken up, but satoru doesn't care.

he doesn't care about any of it.

his lips curve into an involuntary smile, and he wants to throw himself on top of you and tell you a million little things. he wants to whisper all of his secrets in your ear and hold you until you force him to let you go.

but you clear your throat, interrupting him before he can begin, and your eyes finally look towards him, both firey and excited.

his favorite.

"satoru," you say, the sound of his name in your mouth sending goosebumps up and down his skin. "where did you get these kids?"

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spacedace · 1 year

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@proshipper-on-ship thank you for the Dick & Dan idea you added to my other post, please enjoy some of the fall out your comment resulted in haha

“So,” Bruce tried, looking hesitantly pleased at the surprisingly light atmosphere around the table. “Anything new and exciting going on with anyone?”

There was a smattering of answers from around the table. Jason didn’t offer anything - which wasn’t surprising, that he was even there and largely not starting a fight was more than enough as far as Dick was concerned - but with some ribbing from Steph, Tim eventually admitted to finally asking that boy he’d been interested in out. Dick joined in on teasing his little brother - and even Jay gave, for him, some gentle ribbing over finally getting the balls to do something, eh Timberland? - while very carefully avoiding mentioning his own sorta-kinda thing with Dan in Bludhaven. He’d deal with his siblings making him miserable and embarrassed over it all when he actually scored a date with him thanks very much.

Things were going good.

And then Damian cleared his throat, looking imperious and uninterested at the same time as he waited for everyone to turn to look at him.

“I have an announcement on an alteration to my personal life.” He declared, chin up and looking like he was already over this whole family-bonding-time thing, which was fair. Damian had gotten better over the years, but he was still not exactly the cute and cuddly little brother. Dick still had the scar from the last time he tried to hug Dami without warning a year ago and got stabbed for the effort. Still, he was sharing, willingly even! That’s progress!

At the head of the table Bruce tilted his head, looking as cautiously hopeful as Dick felt over the youngest Wayne actually offering to share something personal. “Have you decided on what college you want to go to then?”

“No.” Dami dismissed easily, without more than a glance in Bruce’s direction. “Night and I have decided to take some time to travel before continuing any further schooling.”

Huh, honestly, Dick was kinda surprised. With how much of a perfectionist Dami was, he’d thought he’d throw himself into college with the same ferocious, competitive drive he did everything else. But then again, if Elle Nightingale was going to be taking a gap year or two, it wasn’t as if it was that much of a surprise that Dami would go and join her.

The two gremlins had been practically inseparable since they were twelve and discovered a shared love of stabbing people and adopting every animal they see. If Dami’s best friend was going to go gallivanting across the world like she always dreamed of doing, Dick couldn’t actually be that surprised that Dami would be going with her.

Dick took a sip of his drink as Dami opened his mouth to continue with what was probably going to be to most people the world’s most harrowing game of “how many incredibly dangerous animals can we see before we end up dead on our gap year” that the two demons were undoubtedly planning.

He regretted taking that sip almost immediately as Damian said, “Night and I took our marital vows yesterday. She sends her regrets that she was unable to join us for family dinner tonight.”

Predictably, the room broke out into utter chaos.

Dick choked on his drink, spraying across the table and splattering Babs with a shower of wine. She didn’t even seem to notice, dropping her own glass as she snapped her head over to stare at Damian, the sound of breaking glass and a deep red stain pooling across the table following as she did. At the end of the table, Jay made a noise like a dying goose as the samosa he’d just popped in his mouth threatened to kill him. Cass, perhaps the most outwardly calm at the proclamation, only stared with wide eyes at her younger brother as she hit Jason on the back in an attempt to make sure he didn’t die.

Dick could practically hear the old shrieking AOL dial up noise that was Tim’s brain attempting to process what his little brother had just said, while sitting next to him Steph gave a small shriek of you what? Duke’s head was on a swivel, eyes darting from Damian, to another family member, to Damian and back again as if unsure who to even look at in the moment.

Bruce just…stared, frozen in place, face caught in the most open look of shock Dick thinks the man has ever shown in his life.

—

Damian sniffed and cast a caustic look towards - of all people - Jason, “Unlike some people, I share my good news with the family in a timely manner.”

Jay sputtered, “You know what, fuck you! Fine, you want me to share the news?” Jay snapped his head towards the rest of them. “Jazz is pregnant, baby is due next month on the sixth. Baby shower’s next weekend at Robinson Park, show up or don’t, I really don’t give a fuck.”

Or maybe he was just going to try to kill them with a heart attack.

“What the fuck?!”

“Language!”

“Who the fuck is Jazz?!”

“Language!”

“Night’s elder sister and guardian, Drake, keep up. You should know this, you’re dating her brother.”

“I’m what?”

“And Grayson is having flirtations with her other brother.”

“Dan is Elle’s older brother? Wait - how do you know about that?”

“Todd and I are in the Nightingale family group chat. We have endured far too much waxing poet about your posterior over the past months.”

“Why do they all have variations of the same name? Who gives all their children the same name?”

“He likes my ass?”

“Oh my god, bigger picture Dick, focus.”

“Seriously, do they all have the same name outside of the older sister? I feel like we need to acknowledge they all have the same name.”

“Can we go back to the fact that Damian got married? To Elle? Yesterday? How did you even do that without anyone knowing?

“Dr. Nightingale is a notary.”

“…Dr. Nightingale as in the woman Bruce is investigating Dr. Nightingale?”

“Okay but the name thing? Please tell me you’re not naming the baby some variation of the name Daniel.”

“If the gremlins get their way it will be. Do you know how many lists we’ve made that they keep sabotaging?”

“So you have Dan’s number? Could you give it to me?”

“Jesus Christ, Dick I’m begging you.”

“Why did you guys even get married?”

“For the diplomatic immunity.”

“You don’t have diplomatic immunity.”

“I do now.”

“What does that mean?”

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #batfam #damian wayne #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #dani fenton #danielle fenton #danny fenton #jazz fenton #dan fenton #redeemed dan fenton #anger management #brain dead #queer platonic damian and danielle #dick grayson/dan fenton #gotham therapist jazz #gotham's favorite psychiatrist Jazz AU #ghost king danny #Bruce has no idea which thing he should have a crisis about first #or if he should combine it all into one BIG crisis #he's going to be GRANDPA #HE'S ALREADY STRUGGLING WITH THE DAD THING HE'S NOT READY TO BE A GRANDPA #AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN FOUR OF HIS CHILDREN ARE INVOLVED WITH THE SAME SHADY FAMILY?#everyone is very concerned about what Damian is going to do with the diplomatic immunity #reposting because shit got fucked when I attempted to post it before and I can't even delete the old version #tumblr is having a time of things apparently lol

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planete777 · 9 months

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getting high with lando and u somehow end up on his lap and u kinda accidentally grind down on him and he moans and says that feels rlly good and ur just like yeah? and u end up riding him

I WANNA RIDE・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader )

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI, getting high (as per), p in v unprotected sex (practise safe sex guys!!), semi public sex, riding, a little bit of body worship, high!lando x reader being hot (as per pt. 2)

NOTE. anon prbly wanted this as a small thought post, but i had to write a proper fic coz planete.exe 404 error: BRAINROTTING! so plz enjoy my first ever smut (sorry if it sucks i tried), and remember, don't get high!! or do wtv u please.... ok bye 🫶

SIDENOTE. my askbox is open! feel free to send in any thoughts, scenarios, requests etc about high!lando 🤍

￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

all in the name of needed getaways, y/n and lando find themselves in the aforementioned's car, basking just behind the local park, where the sunset could perform best. clocks are just shy of 7pm, the wind a couple of degrees cooler than hours prior, and sitting in their adjacent seats with doors wide open, both lando and y/n have lit and inhaled their spliffs by second nature.

lando's beyond glad that the vehicle is out of plain sight, veiled by thick trees and bushes, because he was completely struck, dazed with not a thought in mind, and the sight would make a journalist's field day. yet, it's the thrill that keeps him flippant to all seriousness and discretion. the presence of y/n, uncaring and completely liberal in nature, gives him a second identity to just let it all go and succumb to the skewed vision and thrumming fingertips.

seats reclined by a bit, lando's foot rests just below the dashboard, y/n the same but with both instead, and lando can't feel a thing.

it's light conversation that carries the mood, punctuated by the aux that y/n has complete control over, and the rest of the world simmers away as they let the high take them before the ombres of the sky. it gets chiller, and it knocks y/n into partial sobriety slamming her side of the door shut.

"shut the door, lan', it's fucking cold now."

he groans, "nah, can't move."

he hears her sigh, mumbling a disappointed 'dickhead' beneath her breath, and he smiles before zoning out again. a few seconds of shuffling commences, then weighted friction lands so heavily on his thighs that it excavates a vehement puff of air out of him, red eyes snapping open. he can't say anything, not when y/n leans to grab the door shut and grinds on him with so much force that it has to be intentional.

lando knows he accomodated a semi throughout the whole car ride. something about seeing his best friend in her element turns him on so much that he could probably cum untouched.

but now, he feels too much, there's pressure on his dick, accompanied by warmth only y/n could emanate, and the moan that flies out of him rumbles in his chest.

"fuck, that feels good."

y/n freezes as she settles again, but then she's smirking, and no matter how more shut than open his eyes are, he can see it blatantly.

"yeah?" her voice sounds light and airy, and it runs lando mad.

"mhm." his chest is heaving up and down with a quickened velocity, and he feels far from being at the peace he was just seconds before.

the girl leans in, lips tracing along the skin of his neck with a phantom touch, and lando can feel every single inch of his resolve melt away. his hands rest on her hips, teasing a slip beneath her hoodie, and he squeezes, hard.

she goes higher, and higher, stopping at his ear, "let me ride you."

then it's all gone. composure complete in lack, his hand reaches up to her nape and slams her lips against his for a gratifying kiss. his eagerness is matched instantaneously, y/n combing her hands through lando's curls and tugging so hard that he nearly fears that some would rip out of their roots.

nothing amounts to the all encompassing sensation of y/n everywhere. her grinding turns more frantic, and he pushes her down hastily, hands crawling upon the skin of her back.

"get your dick in me, lan'," she says, with no room for more words, and he does just that, welding their lips together again as he fumbles with the knot of his joggers.

y/n finds a way to free herself of her hoodie, leaving her in nothing but her bra, and lando, pushing down to free his hard, aching dick, expresses his distaste for that.

"take it off, y/n."

she's smirking, and lando's losing it even more, "what? you're gonna suck them out here?"

he almost finds it offensive that she doesn't think he'll worship her anywhere. public be fucking damned, he'd be at her mercy whenever he could.

"and you'll fucking love it."

"damn right."

just as she unclips her bra, she grabs lando's dick, and, unprecedentedly, sheaths herself in.

everything is hot. god, he can't do anything but moan and moan again, shutting his eyes and going completely limp. it doesn't deter y/n, in fact, her wet, tight cunt squeezes and grinds upon lando's dick without mercy and the pleasure that soars through him burns and tickles.

"oh fuck fuck fuck," lando's mouth rains profanities, and as he goes to open his eyes, y/n moans and they roll back shut again. he's red all over, feels his t-shirt sticking to his skin with sweat, and the girl keeps on bouncing and grinding. he can't survive with it on, and so he yanks it off, coming skin-to-skin with y/n's naked chest.

"fuck lan'."

she can say nothing more, and neither can he, his hips thrusting upwards to meet hers. she lets out a high pitched moan, and lando's ears ring as he brings his hands up to cup her breasts. they fill them so perfectly, and his mouth waters like it aches for honey, attaching it to her left nipple and sucking it like he was running mad. he's drunk off her essence, a complete goner, and y/n throws her head back as her grinds slow down.

"feels so fucking good."

she's so deep in euphoria that she's on the verge of tears, and lando decides to let himself do the work, grabbing her hips and grinding upwards frantically.

the car smells sharply of sex, humid and steaming up the windows, and y/n hazily complements the scent with a drag of weed, eyes rolling back, and mouth puffing out pouts of smoke and moans. she feels the knot tighten in her gut and her toes curl just as lando sloppily licks wet kisses up her chest and neck, then into her mouth.

the kiss is barely one, filled with clashing teeth and the exchange of sighs, but lando keeps their mouth attached, sneaking a hand into hers to steal the spliff. y/n lets him, jaw slackened and too tired to engage in the tangle of tongues either.

"fuck, i'm cumming— shit shit shit!"

"cum with me y/n, cum on my dick," lando slurs out, taking the roll into his mouth before inhaling and exhaling the white smoke. his dick spasms sporadically, sensitive and completely throbbing as he spurts right into y/n's cunt, feeling her own coat and pool at the base of his dick.

they can barey ride down their high, exhausted and completely satiated, and all y/n can do is rest her head on lando's shoulder, rubbing her hands up and down his chest as he does the same.

#‧₊˚✩彡 planete.thinks: high!lando #lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris fic #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris scenarios #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #f1 smut

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enha-stars · 3 months

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hi! can you write hc's about what enha would do on your 1 year anniversary? can be sfw or nsfw (or both) whichever you prefer!

✧ one year down, forever to go

pairing: enha hyung line x reader (fluff, smut)

summary: it’s your one year anniversary with your boyfriend, and he is so excited

warnings: fluff, kissing, sex, standards will be raised

a/n: tysm for this request! i love anniversaries so much. i just know all four of them would do the most

✧ heeseung;

all he’s been thinking about for the past four weeks is your one year anniversary; he’s excited and he’s nervous and he wants it to be perfect because you are

he spends hours deciding what he wants to do; how he wants to celebrate a year of love and happiness with you

eventually, he decides that the only way to spend your anniversary is to spend the whole day with you; he decides on three restaurants (breakfast, lunch, and dinner), he buys tickets to your favourite places, and he brings you back to all your first date places, reminiscing the beginning of a beautiful relationship

he doesn’t let you worry about a single thing, wanting you to have only the best time; so, when you ask him questions before the date, he plays them all off like he isn’t buzzing with excitement

the entire day, his body is somehow touching yours; his hand on your lower back or pinkies linked, he needs to touch you, and when his needs grows to be too much, he’s kissing you; slow and messy

once you both are back home, exhausted yet inexplicably happy, he lets you wash up before he sits you down on the bed and pulls out his final and favourite gift of the night; a promise ring that he designed during one of his late night gaming sessions

he watches your reaction carefully, eyes focused only on you as your lips part and your eyes glaze over, nothing but fondness in them as you look up at him

“i know it’s only been a year, but it’s been the best year of my life and i want to spend every year with you until we’re eaten by worms.”

he grins widely when you reach behind you and hand him a small box, a pink blush reaches his ears when he stares at the ring in the box, knowing he would only ever replace it with a wedding ring

and when he makes love to you that night, he does so slowly and sensually, making it all about you; he’s between your legs for hours before he even considers his own hard on, finding the most pleasure in pleasuring you, tongue against your core as he loses himself in his favourite meal

he doesn’t tease you, doesn’t ask for anything; only wanting to feel you around him as you suck him in; and he fills you up that night, a lovesick smile on his face as he watches himself spill out of you

✧ jay;

he’s been thinking about your anniversary for six months and begins planning everything three months before, wanting it all to be perfect

he has a few nights of panic when he realizes that nothing he wants to do seems enough; not for you, the love of his life

one night, after you’ve fallen asleep in his arms after you had a rocky day; he realized that the best way to celebrate your anniversary would be to spend it at home, alone and in the comfort of yourselves

a month before, he texts your friends and makes a plan with them; they’ll keep you preoccupied the day before your anniversary and when you come home that night, after midnight, he’ll be waiting for you with candles and rose petals littered everywhere

he watches you as you simply stare at him, a smile widening on your lips as he stares at it; so mesmerized that he promises himself to make you smile like that for the rest of your life

he's usually romantic, but he's pressed against you the entire night, making sure you feel incredibly loved and wanted, making sure that it was all about you

that night, he spends hours in you; making love to you like he had all the time in the world; kissing and biting your body as he wraps your legs around his shoulder, and pushes himself deep within you; wanting you to feel how much he loves you, reaching so far in you that it has you seeing stars

he's awake before you are, preparing your breakfast in bed and even when you waddle into the kitchen, he simply picks you up bridal style and brings you back to bed, wanting to eat with you while you're both comfortable

you both spend the entire day lost within each other; cuddling and talking, finding comfort within your barely clothed bodies as he makes sure to show and tell you how much he loves you, and how this anniversary is one of many

in the evening, after you both eat a delicious dinner that he doesn't let you help with, he gives you your final gift; a delicate necklace with the first letter of his name and at your awe, he shows you his, the first letter of your name hanging directly above his heart

"you know i love you, but i wanted to keep you close, as close as i can, because it belongs to you, only you. my heart, i mean. forever."

✧ jake;

he's nervous, has been for almost two weeks because he wants to buy you a house and a fridge and everything a house needs but he needs to be patient because it's only been one year; one out of many, but still one nonetheless

unknown to you, but he has spent a total of 76 hours on the internet trying to find the perfect way to celebrate your anniversary but he likes none of the options; because none of them scream YOU and HIM finally, in his dreams, a brilliant idea comes to him and he wakes up with a start, typing it all in his phone before he wraps his arms around you again and lets himself drift off, warm and content

the next morning, he calls his cousin that works in the amusement park you used to visit when you were a child and asks him for a huge favour, yelling out his thanks to the phone when everything goes smoothly

the morning of, he's all over you; making you breakfast in bed and kissing you softly, his heart about to burst out his chest in excitement and love

he sits you in his car and drives you to the secret location, hand on your thigh as you try and ask him questions, words dying on your lips as you see the familiar roads and signs again, smashing your lips against his when you realize he rented out the whole place for you

he grins at you with wide, heart eyes as he follows you like a lost puppy, taking all the rides you want and playing all the games you glance at; he takes pictures of you on the mary-go-round and wins you all the stuff animals

at the sound of your laugher, uncontrollable and loud, he pats his chest a few times; willing his heart to calm down, but it begins to beat rapidly when he gifts you a bracelet at the top of the ferris wheel, small charms of your favourite items and hobbies dangling from it

unknown to him, you pull out a bracelet and hand it to him, the same goofy smile on your lips that he supported as he gently slips on the bracelet, kissing the small heart that was looped through it

emotions high and arousal deep, the car ride back is quiet and filled with nothing but delight, his thumb rubbing circles on your inner thigh as you play with your bracelet, completely in love with it

that night, when he kisses you deeply, he whispers his quiet promises to you, needing you to understand that his entire being was yours, that although it had only been a year, he knew where he belonged and it was with you

when he makes love to you, he spends majority of the night buried between your legs, his tongue and fingers finding home before they move up and down your body, obsessed with the taste of your skin

he lays beside you, holding you tight to his chest as he pushes himself deep within you, mumbling small praises, and when you let go, so does he, and he continues rocking his hips, the images of a house with you flashing through his mind

✧ sunghoon;

he likes to think he's very nonchalant about most things but he has been freaking out for a week; having been so nervous and excited that he pushed everything till last minute, the fear of not doing something spectacular had crawled up his chest

a few days before your anniversary, as you nap in his laps, he realizes that he feels incredibly safe with you; knowing that he had found his person and that he wanted to share everything with you

quietly, he pulls out his phone and texts his old coach, asking him a huge favour; he plans everything in that single hour, his hand rubbing up and down on your stomach as you sleep peacefully, unaware of his plans

the day of, he wakes you up by pressing soft kisses to your body, pressing his tongue in the crevices of your body, smiling when you guide him between your legs, a soft smile on your face as he smiles at you before kissing you right where you needed him

you both make breakfast in the kitchen side by side, laughing and bumping hips as you eat, standing across each other; not wanting to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere that had been created

with bright, mischievous eyes, he picks out warm clothes for you and then drives you both to the ice rink, laughing as your eyes light up in excitement; having been deprived of his skills due to his shyness and fears

he smiles at you with nothing but tenderness as he laces up your skates, gently guiding you onto the empty ice, having booked the entire rink just for you both, wanting to let you in completely

you laugh and smile as he holds you, skating around the rink with ease as he shows you different tricks and shows you a part of him he had kept hidden away; your heart feels full and his heart feels fuller, softness leaking through his skin

“i really really do love you, you know? i feel the safest here, with you in my arms as you cling onto me”

he takes you on an evening walk, hands linked together as he guides you through the park, his smile widening each time you find a small gift he had hidden in the grass earlier

when you push him against a tree at kiss him messily, he concludes that he would willingly do anything you wanted him to do as long as you kisses him like this, for years and years to come

that night, he pushes you up against a wall and sinks to his knees, his nose trailing from your stomach down your legs; he lifts you right leg and rests it on his shoulder before he clasps a beautiful anklet around it, his name grazing his cheek

he pushes your legs up to his shoulders as he makes love to you, obsessed with the sight of the anklet on your ankle; the sight alone is enough for him to beg you to let him fill you up, the need of feeling everything around him too strong

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ellecdc · 9 days

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Hello I’m new here (tumblr) and idk if I’m doing this right but hi!

Your fics first came up with regulus and moon water so I’ve been binge reading your fics :), I was wondering if you would write Sirius x reader?

Where like Sirius is like head over heels for reader and it’s just him talking to the marauders about her because she’s like on prefect duties so he misses her.

If not that’s fine.

hahaha lovesick Siri is my kryptonite - thanks for your request; here's a cute little baby blurb <3

please note: my requests are currently closed as I finish exams and work through the requests that I currently have.

lovesick!Sirius Black x fem!reader who's on prefect rounds and he's upset about it

“So….why exactly is Padfoot pouting right now?” Peter asked cautiously as he shed off his bookbag and sat down to watch James and Remus’ game of wizard chess as Sirius hung upside down from a grandfather chair looking awfully contemplative.

“His bird ditched him for some other bloke.” James muttered without raising his head.

Sirius scoffed dramatically and shot James what was probably supposed to be a withering glare, but was significantly diminished from his current upside-downness.

“First of all, do not call my darling girl a bird. Second of all, she did not ditch me for another man, she has prefect rounds with Regulus.”

“The better of the Black brothers; good for her.” Remus commented; dodging a throw pillow lobbed at him from Sirius without moving his attention from the board.

“What? You think you’re going to die if she’s not here to stroke your ego, Pads?” James asked teasingly.

“I might.” Sirius responded earnestly.

The other three Marauders groaned.

“You’re all just jealous you don’t know what it’s like to be in love.” Sirius accused as he repositioned himself upright in the chair.

Remus and James both turned to give him unimpressed glares.

“You’re nearly as bad as Prongs now.” Peter muttered, earning him indignant “oi!”’s from both James and Sirius.

“I can’t help it if she’s the best thing to ever happen to me, Wormy.” Sirius pouted.

“I am sitting right here.” James grumbled.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You’re a close second, Prongs.”

“She can’t be that great if she willingly puts up with you.” Remus commented, causing Sirius to launch himself out of the grandfather chair and onto Remus’ back.

“You take that back right now! My girl is the sweetest, most angelic, lovely person in the whole wide world and we’re all better for it.”

“Oh my gods, okay, okay. Merlin’s tits you’re wild.” Remus muttered as he bodily shoved Sirius off of his person.

“I can’t believe she puts up with you if this is what you’re like around her.” Peter commented, earning him a laugh from James.

“Oh, you should see it, Worms. She reduces him to nothing but a soppy lovesick smile whenever she’s around; no more feral Pads, he’s right docile with her.”

Sirius stared between his three friends with his mouth hanging open, face painted in a look of pure betrayal.

“See, this is why I spend so much time with her; she’d never treat me like this.”

“And yet, here you are.” Remus taunted.

Sirius stood quickly as he scoffed derisively. “Fine. I’m going to go hang out with her; at least then I’ll know I’m wanted.”

No one said anything as Sirius dramatically stormed out of the portrait hole and the Gryffindor common room once again returned to its appropriate volume.

“His logic is flawed if he thinks Regulus wants him anywhere near them during their rounds.” Peter commented, causing James to groan.

“Reg’s gonna hex him into oblivion if he disrupts their prefect duties again.” The Headboy groaned.

Remus let out a long suffering sigh as he stood from his long since abandoned chess game and made for the portrait hole.“I’ll go play interference…again.”

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fluff #sirius black drabble #sirius black blurb #sirius black ficlet #ellecdc fics

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silverynight · 9 months

Text

Katsuki realizes Izuku is his whole world after the war, but instead of panicking or trying to shove his feelings away he decides to embrace it. He attaches himself to Izuku (being apart from him during the battle made him understand how painful it is not to be next to him at all times) and tells himself it doesn't matter if his nerd doesn't feel the same.

But it does matter.

Everyone notices because Katsuki isn't good at being subtle; the stares, the fond smiles whenever Izuku is talking excitedly about his favorite thing, the way he turns into a feral thing whenever he hears someone saying something bad about Izuku.

However, Izuku has no idea. He's convinced himself this is the way Katsuki shows they're friends now. A very intense friendship, one that involves hand holding and having Katsuki making him breakfast and dinner because he says Izuku doesn't know how to take care of himself.

It must be something best friends do all the time, even though Izuku hasn't seen his classmates do the same.

They always end up cuddling on the couch; Izuku is not sure how that happens, they start by sitting normally next to each other, but Katsuki gets closer and closer (even if they have more space on the couch) and somehow Izuku finds himself on the other boy's lap. His classmates don't find it even remotely interesting or surprising.

Katsuki likes to play with his hands, even though they're full of scars, he's always touching them and holding them and sometimes nuzzling against them like they're a precious thing. Izuku usually gets flustered, but keeps convincing himself the other boy is being friendly.

"Izuku..."

"Yeah?" The green haired boy looks at his friend; he has to move his head in a weird angle because Katsuki is wrapped around him from behind, like he usually is.

"I want to live with you after we graduate."

"Like roommates?" Izuku beams. "That'd be great, Kacchan!"

For a moment, Katsuki looks a little bit disappointed, but he nods almost immediately, smiling fondly at the other boy.

"Anything you want, just don't... leave me."

"I won't, Kacchan!" Izuku promises, turning around to put his arms around the blond's neck. "I honestly can't imagine a future without you by my side..."

Katsuki looks vulnerable, but happy, his smile is wide, but it seems like he's fighting the urge to sob. If he starts tearing up, Izuku will too.

"I feel the same, nerd."

Even though he says that, Izuku feels like Katsuki is hiding something from him, perhaps he should talk about it with him tomorrow.

#my hero academia #mha #bnha #bkdk #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya

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theemporium · 1 year

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hello hello hi, was wondering if you could do james potter hearing about a new position and wanting to try it with reader

thank you x

this kinda became more of an innocent!james blurb but🤠thank you for requesting!🖤

It wasn’t unusual for James to come to you with new ideas or things he wanted to try out.

He didn’t have much experience and you knew that, and you had no problem with it. If anything, it warmed your heart to see how excited he got when he found something new he wanted to try, how excited he was to do it with you because if he wanted to learn, it was you he wanted to share the experience with.

You weren’t dating. Not in any way. You were just best friends, and who better than to help you gain a little experience than your best friend.

Right?

“Fuck, Jamie! Shit, just like that!”

His tongue was lapping against your cunt, up and down like he was a starved man eating for the first time. His arms were wrapped around your thighs and his hands splayed across your stomach, keeping you pressed down against the bed as he continued to fuck you with his tongue.

He had been sheepish and blushy when he approached you less than an hour ago, saying he wanted to try something new that you hadn’t tried before. He told you that he wanted to go down on you, he wanted to experiment something that he had read up in one of those dirty magazines Sirius smuggled in from the muggle world.

You agreed with a smile.

Little did you realise you would be lying on your bed, body squirming and shaking because as it turned out, James Potter was fucking relentless when it came to eating you out.

He loved it. He loved the taste of you and the way your fingers pulled and tugged at his curls. He loved the way you screamed his name, your teary eyes meeting his as his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. He loved the way your thighs squeezed against his ears, trapping him between your legs even when you moaned and whined that it was far too much.

“I-I can’t,” you choked out between moans, your whole body feeling like it was on fire as he lazily made out with your soaking cunt. Your thighs and the lower half of his face was glistening with your slick but he didn’t care, not one fucking bit. “It’s too much, I can’t—”

“One more,” he groaned against you, his words muffled as he squeezed your thighs tighter like he was scared you’d run away. “One more, love, please?”

Your eyes shifted down to find him lifting his head a little, his lips all red and swollen and shiny and his cheeks flushed pink. He looked drunk, the happy kind of drunk where the buzz was at its peak and you never wanted the night to end. He looked like he was happy to stay where he was forever.

“Just wanna make you feel good,” he murmured as he pressed lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your thighs. “Got a few more tricks Pads’ magazine said. Can I try them, love? Please?”

He was borderline begging, wide eyes staring up at you through slightly askewed, fogged up glasses and you couldn’t say no to him, not when he asked you so nicely.

“One more, Jamie,” you murmured, your stomach tightening in anticipation as the boy grinned boyishly in response. “One more.”

He made you come three more times before he finally crawled up the bed, wrapping his arms around your torso and falling asleep with his head on your chest and your hands in his hair.

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ohmyamor · 1 year

Text

oh my ***

Pairing: ateez (ot8) x reader

Summary: Everyone supposedly has a guardian angel, one that’s tasked to always keep their human out of trouble and on the right path of life. But you don’t just have one, you have...eight?!

w.c. 10.2k

Warnings: fluff, angst, near death experiences, threatening someone wooyoung with a bat, cursing, comfort, reincarnation, i think that’s it?

You wouldn’t necessarily consider yourself a lucky person.

You also wouldn’t really consider yourself an unlucky person either.

You just kind of exist, with the occasional good and not-so-good things happening to you.

Like when you somehow managed to score you and your friends front row seats to see your favorite group in concert. Or the time that you somehow managed to break your ankle and your phone all in the same day.

So, yeah, you wouldn’t say you’re the luckiest person in the world, but you’re also not the unluckiest person, so you’re pretty fine with continuing your life as is.

Today, however, has been going oddly perfect.

You woke up for the first time in forever feeling incredibly well-rested, which has not happened since before you hit puberty. The weather was perfect, maybe a little too perfect, but you didn’t care. You could finally open your windows completely to let in the cool breeze from outside, listening as the birds sang outside of your apartment.

Checking your phone, you also noticed that your paycheck came in a whole day early. Opening your bank account, you stared wide-eyed at the number that was deposited. It was certainly a much larger amount than your last paycheck.

Feeling absolutely ecstatic over how well the morning was going, you decided to make a trip to your favorite coffee shop and treat yourself to some breakfast.

Connecting your phone to your speaker, you selected your favorite playlist and allowed the music to flow through the apartment. Picking out some cute clothes, you began to get ready. As you finished washing your face, you also noticed that your skin seemed to be really nice today, with hardly any redness seeping through and the dark circles under you eyes had seemed to disappear over night.

Smiling brightly at yourself in the mirror, you finished applying your skincare before moving to get dressed and apply some light makeup. Once you finished, you couldn’t help but check yourself out in the mirror.

I look so cute today.

Giving yourself a wink, you let out a small laugh at your own antics before grabbing your purse from where it hung on the wall and stepping outside. Making sure the door was locked, you began the short walk to your favorite cafe.

You couldn’t help but admire how nice the sun felt on your skin. For the past few weeks, the weather had been anything but nice, and it almost felt like the weather had been reflecting your mood. With the project you had been assigned at work, you had been feeling so overwhelmed and stressed out that you often contemplated just quitting in order to get rid of the stress.

But thankfully, the project was finally done, you had received great feedback from your boss, and it finally seemed as though your little slump was beginning to improve.

Making your way inside the cafe, you walked up to the counter and ordered your usual drink as well as a small pastry.

A little treat for myself.

Sitting down at a table that had the best view of the street, you made yourself comfortable with your drink as you waited for your pastry. Though, you were pleasantly surprised when the man who took your order came out with two pastries instead of one.

“Um, I think you might’ve given me the wrong pastry,” you frowned slightly. “I only ordered this one,” you pointed at the pastry that you know for sure you had ordered.

“Oh!” the man smiled brightly. “No, don’t worry, it’s on the house!”

Before you could even respond, the man gently placed both pastries on your table, sending you a small wink and making his way back behind the counter.

You could feel your cheeks warm slightly at the man’s actions.

Damn, today really is a great day you thought, bringing the pastry up to your mouth and taking a bite out of it.

Holy shit this is so good too you hummed appreciatively.

After thoroughly enjoying your breakfast, you bid goodbye to the barista before making your way out of the store.

Hmmmm, what should I do now?

Glancing around, you remembered that one of your favorite bookstores was about a block away, and quickly made up your mind to go there.

Walking to the nearest stoplight, you pushed the button on the pole and waited patiently for the light to turn green. Fishing out your phone from your bag, you scrolled aimlessly through social media and responding to some texts your friends had sent. Glancing up, you noticed the light was now green.

Placing your phone in your pocket, you began to cross the street.

You were almost at the other side of the crosswalk when a loud screeching noise caused you to whip your head to the side. There was a car moving down the street in your direction incredibly fast, and you watched as people on the sidewalks jumped out of the way as the car swerved from side to side and hit things on the street.

Your heart raced you watched the car come barreling towards you. It felt like your feet were stuck to the ground and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move.

Right as the car came feet away from hitting you, you shut your eyes, bracing for the impact of the car hitting your body.

You barely registered the feeling of someone grabbing your hand and yanking you forward.

Landing roughly on your hands and knees on the sidewalk, you stared at the cement in front of you as the sound of the car slowly disappeared in the distance. There were people running up to you from both sides of the street, some yelling while others gently crouched next to you and asked if you were okay.

The strangers helped turn you around and you sat on the sidewalk unable to calm your racing heart.

“Th-thank you,” you breathed out, looking at the woman who was closest to you.

Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked at you concerned.

“For what?”

You swallowed.

“For grabbing me and pulling me forward. I couldn’t move and I though for sure the car was going to hit me,” you explained.

It was your turn to look confused when she opened her mouth.

“Honey, there was no one around you. I certainly wasn’t going to reach you on time and neither was anyone else.”

After the lady explained to you that the other pedestrians on the street had just barely reached you after you were already on the sidewalk, you couldn’t shake the feeling of someone’s eyes on you.

The strangers who had come up to check on you were incredibly nice, and after convincing them to not call an ambulance and that you could stand on your own, the crowd slowly dispersed.

The woman who had helped you insisted on calling a cab for you, even though you reassured her that you didn’t live far and you could make it home safely. She was adamant, saying that she wouldn’t let you walk home alone after what just happened and said it would weigh heavy on her conscious if she did.

Eventually, you relented, and waited with her patiently as she called a taxi.

When the cab eventually pulled up, she gave you a hug and said that she was happy you were okay and to get home safely.

Waving goodbye through the window, you watched as her figure slowly grew smaller.

Leaning back against the leather seats, you finally allowed yourself to process what had just happened.

Your day had been going so well and that car had quite literally come out of nowhere. Even though the lady who helped you said there was no one near you, you were 100% positive you had felt someone grab your hands and pull you forward onto the sidewalk.

Your mind wandered to your parents and the stories they had told you when you were younger of guardian angels.

“Guardian angels? What’s that?” seven-year-old you has asked your mom.

She smiled, softly running her hand through your hair from where she sat on the edge of your bed.

“They’re people who are assigned to watch over you and always protect you. They help you when you’re in trouble and make sure you always make good decisions.”

Younger you wrinkled her nose.

“They’re always watching me? That sounds creepy.”

Your mom laughed, tossing her head back.

After what you had experienced today, maybe the stories your mom used to tell you weren’t that crazy.

As the cab you were in slowly came to a stop in front of your building, you thanked the driver and rummaged through your bag looking for some cash to tip him.

He waved his hand at you, telling you the lady who had flagged him down already paid and there was no need to tip.

“I’m just glad I could get you home safely.”

“Oh,” you blinked, kind of surprised he was saying no to being tipped. “Well, thank you, sir.” You said honestly. “I hope you have a great rest of your day,” you said, stepping out of the car.

The driver bid you farewell and drove away from your building as soon as you walked through the front gates.

Sighing heavily, you made your way to the elevator in the building and walked into the old machine, watching as the doors closed and the numbers for the floors slowly climbed up.

Honestly, you couldn’t wait to into your bed and knock out. Way too much has happened today that was out of your comfort zone, to say the least.

Eventually, you reached your front door and reached into your bag to fish out your keys.

Searching inside your bag with your hand, your eyebrows furrowed when you didn’t feel the familiar metal of your keys.

I know I brought them with me, so where are they?

Taking your bag off your shoulder, you opened it up and began pulling out everything you had in there. You could feel the pit in your stomach get heavier with every item that was removed and no keys were found.

You eventually emptied out your entire bag and still, you were unable to find your keys. Leaning your back against your door, you slowly allowed yourself to sink to the ground.

They must’ve fallen out when I fell, you though bitterly. You could feel the familiar sting of tears in your eyes and you felt a lump in your throat.

This was the last thing you needed today.

You’re unsure how long you sat outside your apartment door, wallowing in your own misery.

The sound of footsteps brought you of your thoughts.

Glancing up, you noticed a tall man with short pink hair come to a stop in front of you.

“Is everything okay miss?”

Holy shit he has a deep voice

You sighed loudly.

“Not really,” you admit. “I lost my keys at some point when I was out today and my friend who has my spare is out of town for the week.”

You’re not really sure what compelled you to tell all this to the strange man who you’ve never even seen in your apartment, but something about him gives off a very peaceful aura.

You feel like you could tell him anything.

The man furrows his eyebrows and a soft pout forms on his face.

“Aw, I’m really sorry,” he sympathized.

You shrugged, there wasn’t really anything he could do to help.

He glanced around nervously. Why? You’re not quite sure.

“I’m, uh, actually one of the maintenance people and we’re here doing some routine check-ups,” he started.

Check-ups? The building manager didn’t notify me of anything going on this week.

“If you want,” the man continues. “I can go back down to the leasing office and grab the master key to unlock your door for you?”

You hesitate.

On one hand, this man is literally offering to go out of his way to help you out and unlock your door for you.

On the other hand, you have absolutely no way of proving he’s actually who he says he is. He could be a serial killer for all you know and you’ve basically just given him access to unlock your apartment and kill you in your sleep.

Giving him a once over, you notice the bluish jumpsuit he’s wearing and the work boots he has on. Quite frankly, he does look like he’s been doing some manual labor, so maybe he’s telling the truth.

“Okay,” you finally reply, albeit hesitantly.

Honestly, if he does turn out to be a serial killer and comes back to murder you in your sleep, you’ll make sure to haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Great!” he smiles widely, his eyes turning into the cutest crescent moons you’ve ever seen.

At least he’ll be a cute serial killer, you think.

“Oh!” he says, as though he just remembered something. “Also, my name’s Mingi! It’s really nice to meet you!” the man, Mingi, reaches his hand out.

Pushing yourself off the floor, you quickly dust yourself off before reaching out as well to shake his hand.

“I’m (Y/n),” you introduce yourself.

Mingi hums.

“That’s a really pretty name.”

You can feel your cheeks get warm.

“O-oh, thank you.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before Mingi speaks again.

“Okay, well I’m gonna go downstairs to get the masterkey really quick. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone!” he jokes, beginning to walk back down the hallway.

“I’ll try,” you laugh nervously, thinking about the day you’ve had.

If anything else goes wrong today, you don’t think you’ll have the willpower to keep living.

You’re only waiting for a few minutes before you can spot Mingi coming back down the hall.

Damn he’s quick.

“Got it!” Mingi says cheerfully, waving a small key in the air.

You smile back, feeling relieved that you can finally get inside your apartment.

He stops in front of your door, pushing the key inside the lock and wriggling it around a few times before you can hear the familiar click of the lock. Letting out a small “aha”, Mingi twists the doorknob and sure enough, the door to your apartment opens.

You might actually cry tears of happiness.

“Ma’am,” Mingi says in a fake posh accent, gesturing with his hand for you to go inside.

You let out a small laugh and walk inside. Mingi remains outside of your door.

“Well, thank you so much Mingi,” you say earnestly. “I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t showed up at the right time. My knight in shining armor,” you joke.

Mingi blushes furiously, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his head and looking off to the side.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “I’m just glad everything worked out.”

You nod, unsure of what to say next.

Mingi’s head suddenly snaps to the side, looking at something down the hallway, almost as if he heard something. You frown. You didn’t hear anything.

“Well, it looks like I have to get going,” he begins.

You nod.

“Better get back before the big boss gets mad at you for slacking off, huh?”

You say it as a joke, but Mingi only lets out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Um,” you’re not quite sure what to say. “Okay, well thanks again Mingi, I really do appreciate it.” You slowly begin to shut the door.

“Anytime,” he sends you a small wave and bright smile, turning to walk down the hallway as you finally shut the door.

You don’t spend too much time thinking about Mingi’s strange behavior at the end, chalking it up to him having a really strict boss. Plus, you honestly can’t wait to change into your pajamas and knock out.

Dropping your purse on your couch, you make your way to your room and quickly change into your pj’s before flinging yourself onto your bed.

You hug the stuffed bear on your bed closely, feeling the tension and stress from your body slowly begin to fade away as your body succumbs to sleep.

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up.

The lack of light coming in from outside lets you know that it’s dark, leaving you to assume it’s either really late or really early.

You roll back over, fully intending on returning to dreamland when the sound of hushed arguing catches your attention.

You groan, assuming it’s your neighbors who are always going at it. Seriously, if they argue this much, they should just break up. Arguing that much can’t be healthy for anyone.

You’ve just grabbed onto your pillow, intending on using it to block out the voices, when you suddenly realize that it’s only male voices you can hear. Sitting up, you strain your ears to try and catch more of what they’re saying.

You feel yourself freeze when you realize that the voices are coming from your living room.

You sit frozen on your bed for a few minutes, unsure of what to do.

Did these people break into your apartment? What are they doing here? What are they going to do to you?

Reaching out blindly, you attempt to locate your phone, hoping you can at least call the police before the robbers can reach you. Pressing the power button, your heart drops when it doesn’t turn on. In your excitement to knock out, you never put it to charge and now it’s dead.

Taking a deep breath, you try to think of a course of action.

Slowly getting out of bed, you reach under the bed to grab the metal bat that you keep in case of emergencies. Maybe, if the robbers don’t have any weapons, you can either scare them off or hurt them enough to grab the home phone sitting on your kitchen counter and call the police.

You cautiously make your way to the door of your bedroom, letting out a shaky breath before slowly twisting the doorknob. You gently push the door open, thanking whatever gods are out there that it doesn’t make any noise.

Now that the door is open, you can hear the voices more clearly.

“Why would you show yourself to her?”

“What did you want me to do? She was having the worst day, I wasn’t gonna sit back and watch her suffer.” The voice sounds oddly familiar.

Someone else hums.

“Don’t even say anything,” the original voice whispers angrily. “You should have never interfered earlier.”

“She was about to get hit by a car, hyung! What did you want me to do, let it happen? Then we would be back to square one all over again.”

It’s a different voice this time, slightly higher in pitch.

They’re talking about what happened to you earlier.

Who the fuck are these people?

You arrive at the corner of the hallway, gripping your bat impossibly tight and peeking around the corner.

From what you can see, there’s a few men standing in your living room. One with dark blue hair sits on your couch facing the kitchen, another stands with his back to the hallway where you stand, and there seems to be someone standing in front of him.

You can’t help but let out a small gasp when you realize the man standing with his back facing you has short pink hair.

Mingi.

All three men whip their heads around.

They stare at you wide-eyed, including Mingi.

You come out from behind the corner and point your bat at the men.

“Who the fuck are you?” you demand. “And why the fuck are you in my apartment?”

Your eyes dart around, trying to keep an eye on every person in the room. Your heart pounds in your chest and your hands are sweaty, but you’ll be damned if you go out without a fight.

Mingi takes a step forward, his hands raised slightly.

“(Y/n),” he starts.

He stops when you take a step backward.

“Mingi, if that’s even your goddam name,” you spit. You miss the way all three men flinch slightly. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

“Was helping me earlier just a plot to figure out where I live? Are you gonna kill me?” you question.

A crestfallen look falls on Mingi’s face. A small part of you almost wants to feel bad. Almost.

“No, not at all,” he defends. “Look, it’s kind of complicated, but I can explain. I just need you to put the bat down.” His eyes dart to the metal bat you have a death grip on.

You let out a harsh laugh.

“No fucking way. I don’t care who the hell you are, I need you and your friends to get out right now before I call the cops.” You demand.

“The cops aren’t going to help you sweetheart,” a voice comes from behind you.

You let out a scream, turning around and blindly swinging your bat. It hits something hard.

“OW!”

A man with long hair that’s black and silver hunches over in front of you, clutching his stomach. You stare wide-eyed.

There’s more of them.

And where the fuck are they coming from?

“(Y/n),” someone else says your name. You whip back around, moving backward towards the wall and making sure the men don’t leave your sight. You keep the bat pointed at them.

The man with dark blue hair siting on the couch is standing now, and he looks at you with wide eyes as well.

“Please, just put the bat down and we can explain everything to you.”

You shake your head vehemently.

“You guys broke into my fucking apartment and you want me to calm down?” You laugh incredulously. “Are you guys fucking insane?”

You miss the way the shorter male standing next to Mingi has disappeared.

Mingi frowns, looking genuinely saddened.

“I’m really sorry we have to do this.”

You furrow your eyebrows, now genuinely concerned he’s going to murder you.

“What are you-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence when you feel fingers touch your temple and you black out.

“What did you do?”

“What we had to! She already managed to hit Wooyoung and she was obviously freaking out so we had to calm her down!”

Someone snickers.

“Shut up Yeosang.”

“C’mon, you’re telling me it’s a bat that took you out?”

“She has a good swing! You should try getting a metal bat swung directly at your stomach and see how you feel.”

You let out a soft groan at the voices that surround you. They’re too loud.

You’re laying on something soft and it feels familiar as well.

Am I dead?

“You’re not dead.”

Your eyes shoot open.

Sitting up, you groan at the light that shines harshly into your room and shut your eyes. Opening them softly, you glance around. You’re definitely in your room, which is a relief.

But the eight bodies that surround you bring anything but relief.

You tense up, your hands gripping at the sheets.

You can feel tears beginning to blur your vision and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimper.

Someone lets out a sad noise.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” a deep voice comes from your right side.

You look over to see who said that. Familiar brown eyes stare deeply into your own, and the soft pink hair instantly allows you to recognize who just spoke.

“How can I trust you Mingi?”

A heartbroken expression falls over his face and he looks unsure of what to say.

“He’s right sweetheart,” another voice speaks up. “We’re not going to hurt you.” This time it’s another tall man who speaks. He has peach colored hair. His eyes bore into yours, and you feel slightly unnerved at the raw honesty that comes across.

You don’t say anything, opting to take a glance at all the men who are spread across your room.

A shorter man who stands closest to your bed sighs and takes a step forward.

“This isn’t how we wanted to meet, so please accept our deepest apologies for scaring you,” the man begins.

“We’re your guardian angels.”

The man, Hongjoong, had explained to you that they were in fact your guardian angels.

Typically, humans only had one guardian angel, he had explained, but you were assigned eight.

Guardian angels were also never, under any circumstances, to reveal themselves to their humans, but some people, Hongjoong glared at the man sitting at your desk with dark blue hair as well as Mingi, had broken these rules.

Which is why you were currently able to see all of them.

“How do I even know you’re telling me the truth?” You questioned. This entire situation was absolutely insane and you could barely wrap your head around any of the information that was just given to you.

“Well, we’ve been watching over you your whole life,” the blue haired male spoke up. “Ask us anything that no one else knows and we can answer it.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, thinking about different things throughout your life that no one knew about you.

“When I was in middle school and I asked out that boy a year ahead of me, what did he say?”

There’s no way they could know the answer to this. This is literally something I’ve never told anyone and I intend on taking it with me to my grave.

“He said no because you reminded him of his mom and that grossed him out.”

You stare wide-eyed at the man with medium length blonde hair that sat in the middle of your floor.

What the fuck?

“Don’t worry, you honestly dodged a bullet with that one,” another male with cherry red hair shook his head. “You know that guy ended up marrying his first cousin?” The man snorted.

You had no words.

You had never told anyone that secret because it embarrassed you so much, but clearly, the men in front of you knew it.

Maybe they’re telling the truth.

“Of course we’re telling the truth, we’re angels.”

The man with two-toned hair speaks up.

You narrow your eyes at him.

“Did you just read my thoughts?”

He shrugs.

“They’re very loud.”

You stare at him.

“Do you want me to hit you with my bat again?”

The man shudders.

“Please, don’t.”

Another voice speaks up.

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” the man with peach hair pipes in.

You shrug.

“I don’t really have any reason to doubt you, I guess.” You hesitate before saying your next words. “Plus, I don’t know what it is, but you guys have this vibe,” you gesture your hand vaguely.

“It feels...safe?” You shrug, looking down at the spare thread you’ve been messing with since you woke up. “I felt it when I met Mingi earlier, but I didn’t know what to think about it.”

You miss the way Mingi’s ears turn red.

An awkward silence falls across the room.

“Well,” another man, the one who stands next to Hongjoong, begins to speak. “Now that that’s done, we should introduce ourselves. I’m Seonghwa,” he sends you a beautiful smile.

“I’m Hongjoong, as you already know,” Hongjoong says and you nod.

“My name’s Yunho,” the man with peach hair speaks up.

“I’m San,” the man with dark blue hair pipes up, sending you a bright, dimpled smile. You can’t help but send him a small smile back.

“I’m Yeosang,” the blonde one on your floor gives you a small nod of acknowledgement.

“I’m Wooyoung!” Two-toned hair chirps loudly. You can’t help but side-eye him slightly. “What?” he cries.

“Please don’t sneak up on me if you don’t want me to hit you again,” you warn.

A few snickers sound throughout the room.

“I’m Jongho,” the one with cherry hair tells you.

Your eyes land on the last man who sits closest to you.

“I’m Mingi,” he says. “But, you already know that.”

You nod. He still seems a little bit sad.

You hesitate, but reach out to softly grab his hand that rests on your bed.

“Thank you for your help earlier,” you start. “And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first.”

You glance around the room.

“But, you guys have to understand that this whole situation is kind of crazy.”

Seonghwa nods.

“We understand, and we’re sorry for scaring you so much.” He nods his head toward Mingi and San. “But those two broke one of the most important rules that guardian angels must follow.”

You nod, understanding what Seonghwa’s saying.

“Wait,” your eyebrows furrow. “I know Mingi broke the rule when he helped me get back inside my apartment, but what did San do?”

You look at him as he crosses his arms and pouts, reminding you of a scolded child.

“He’s the one that pulled you out of the street yesterday before the car could hit you,” Wooyoung explains.

Your eyes widen and you sit up even further.

“So I was right!” you exclaim.

Mingi raises a brow.

“I knew I felt someone grab my hands and pull me forward, but the lady who helped me said there was no one there!” You pout slightly. “I thought I was going crazy for a second.”

You look over at San.

“Thank you for saving my life,” you tell him sincerely.

San throws his hands up in the air.

“See? At least she’s grateful for what I did!”

Yeosang rolls his eyes.

“Of course she is, you idiot, she would’ve been dead if you hadn’t.”

This time, you don’t miss the way they all seem to wince at Yeosang’s words.

You frown.

“Yeah, actually,” you begin. “If you guys are my guardian angels, how come I almost died yesterday?” You look at them expectantly. “Isn’t the whole point of you guys being here to like, keep me alive?”

They avoid your eyes.

“We were a little...preoccupied,” Hongjoong admits.

You click your tongue.

“Well, at least San was there for me.”

You send a grateful smile to him, which he returns with slightly red cheeks.

“Hey!” Mingi whines. “I helped you too!”

You roll your eyes.

“Yes you did, you big baby, but San literally saved my life,” you emphasize.

“And I didn’t?” Mingi asks, offended. “What if I never showed up? You would’ve had to sleep on the streets and who knows what would’ve happened then?”

“Oh my god,” you groan, throwing yourself back on your bed.

“I didn’t know angels were this dramatic!”

Jongho lets out a laugh.

“The most,” he admits.

The sound of your stomach rumbling has a warm flush spreading across your cheeks.

“You haven’t eaten?” Yunho furrows his eyebrows.

“Mmmm, not since breakfast yesterday, I think,” you admit.

Wooyoung jumps out of his chair.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll make you the best meal you’ve ever had,” he sends you a small wink before heading out of your room towards the kitchen.

“He’s not going to burn my apartment down right?” You ask worriedly.

Hongjoong shakes his head.

“No, Wooyoung’s actually a really good cook,” he reassures you.

“Plus,” San says. “You have seven angels here to protect you if anything!”

You’re not sure if that makes you feel any better.

As it turns out, Hongjoong was right, and Wooyoung is an excellent cook. In a span of 20 minutes, he’s managed to make you an omelet that looks like it came straight out of a Studio Ghibli movie, along with some oatmeal, fresh fruit, and what looks like freshly squeezed orange juice.

“Wow,” you gape at the food.

Wooyoung motions for you to sit at the table.

“It was meant for you to eat, not just stare at.”

You happily oblige, sitting down at the table and bringing up the fork to your mouth, only to pause when you realize no one else has food.

“We don’t have to eat,” Seonghwa explains, reading your mind. “We can if we want to, but it’s not necessary for us to survive.”

You nod, feeling a little less guilty about eating in front of them.

Letting out a satisfied hum at the taste of the food, you send Wooyoung a thumbs-up. He smiles brightly.

“So,” you start, swallowing your food and taking a quick sip of your juice. “Now that I’ve met you guys and I know you exist, are you going to go back to being invisible to me?”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa share a look.

“Not exactly,” Hongjoong says.

You raise an eyebrow, motioning for him to continue.

“Now that you know we exist, we can’t exactly just disappear,” he elaborates. “It’s one of the reasons guardian angels aren’t meant to reveal themselves to their humans.”

You nod slowly.

“So, humans just never find out they have a guardian angel? Like, ever?”

Jongho mutters something under his breath. Yunho kicks his leg under the table.

“Sorry, what was that?” You ask, looking at him.

He avoids your gaze.

A tense silence falls over the table.

You notice how Mingi shakes his leg anxiously. San taps his fingers on the table and Yunho avoids your gaze.

You narrow your eyes at them.

“There’s something you guys aren’t telling me.” It’s not a question.

“I don’t think now is the best time to talk about this-” Hongjoong starts.

“Humans only find out about their guardian angels when their time is near,” Wooyoung says calmly.

Hongjoong glares at him. Wooyoung only shrugs.

“What? She was bound to find out eventually.”

“Their time?” You look around at the men that sit at your table. “Like, when they’re about to die?”

Yeosang nods.

You let out a small “oh”, looking down at the unfinished food that stares at you.

It’s silent as you think about the information they’ve just given you.

“The car,” you swallow. “The car that almost hit me yesterday. Was it,” you almost can’t get the words out. “Was it supposed to hit me?”

Your question comes out in a whisper.

No one responds, but when you look up, they all fix you with a sad look.

You nod.

“Okay.”

You push your plate away from you.

You don’t have an appetite anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Mingi whispers from your left side.

His large hand gently encompasses yours. You nod, refusing to look him in the eyes.

“But we’re not going to let you die.”

You look up at San’s determined voice, barely able to see him through your misty eyes.

“What?”

“We’re not letting you die,” he says firmly. “It’s not your time.”

You shake your head.

“I’m pretty sure if the universe decides it’s my time, then it’s my time,” you reply. You’re not sure if you’re saying it to convince them, or yourself.

“I can’t just avoid fate.”

Hongjoong sighs.

“San’s right.”

You send him a questioning look.

“We’re your guardian angels. We’re not going to let you die.”

“Screw what the universe says,” Yeosang chimes in.

You stare at them incredulously.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Look,” Yunho starts. “We’ve been thinking about it, and we’re pretty sure the universe is wrong about it being your time. We’ve been around for centuries, usually we have a good sense of when it’s going to be someone’s time and when it’s not.”

“And we don’t get that feeling with you,” Jongho continues for him. “We never have.”

“So, we’re going to do our best to make sure you stay out of harms way,” Yeosang finishes.

Your throat feels constricted and you can barely see through all the tears that have welled up in your eyes.

“You guys would do all that for me?” You choke out.

Mingi squeezes your hand.

“Of course. We’re not your guardian angels for nothing.”

You sniffle, looking down at your lap and bringing up your other hand to wipe at your eyes.

“Thank you guys,” you tell them sincerely.

“Anything for you,” Seonghwa smiles softly.

After the conversation at breakfast, the nine of you come up with a vague plan Wooyoung affectionally dubbed “Keeping Our Human Alive”. Despite the look you had given him, you had to admit, it made you laugh.

You all agreed it would be best for at least one of them to accompany you every day, more if any of them felt like tagging along.

“That way,” Hongjoong explained, “if anything unexpected happens, at least one of us will be able to protect you.”

You agreed.

“What about when I go to work and stuff?” You had questioned. “Won’t it be weird if there’s a different guy following me around every day?”

Yunho shook his head.

“Just because you can see us doesn’t mean everyone else can see us too. We can make ourselves visible to other people besides our assigned human if we want,” he explained.

“Oh, okay. Well, that certainly makes this easier then.”

“What would you prefer for us to do?” Questioned San. “Do you want us to remain invisible all the time or only at work?”

You think it over for a minute before shrugging.

“Honestly, whatever’s most comfortable for all of you. I would prefer if at work you guys are invisible, but while we’re in public and stuff, whatever you guys feel comfortable with is fine by me.”

At your answer, they all give you fond looks which makes your face feel slightly warm. Clearing your throat, you continue.

“Also, I was thinking about it and if you guys are going to be with me 24/7 now, we need some ground rules.”

Jongho chuckled.

“Technically, we’ve always been here, you’ve just barely found out.”

You realize he’s right, and the memories of every single embarrassing thing that you’ve ever done in the privacy of your own home comes rushing back to you.

“Well, yeah, now that I know you guys are here,” you stumble over your words slightly. “Privacy is really big for me. I don’t have many rules, but I just ask that you guys don’t show up unannounced or else that might really freak me out, and please, if you’re going to come into my room, just knock.”

Everyone nods their heads in agreement.

“And,” you continue, “no more reading my thoughts please.”

Only a few of them nod, which makes you grow slightly concerned.

“Is that a problem?” You ask, a slight edge to your voice.

“Not at all,” Seonghwa reassures.

“It’s just that we do get a little concerned for when you’re alone. Being aware of your thoughts helps us decide if you need our help at that moment or not,” Hongjoong explains.

You nod.

“I get that, but if at least one of you is going to be by my side every single day from now on, I really don’t think there’s any need for you to read my thoughts.”

You continue.

“Plus, it’s really just about privacy for me. I don’t really feel comfortable with you guys having access to every single thought in my head, no matter how big or small.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa both nod.

“We understand. And we’ll do our best to respect your boundaries.”

“Thank you guys,” you send them a small smile.

“Plus, if I need any help or anything, I’ll just yell out ‘bat’ really loud,” you joke, referring to the bruise you might’ve left on Wooyoung’s stomach.

Everyone laughs except for him.

“Not funny,” he pouts.

You let out a small giggle, patting him lightly on the arm.

“You did kind of deserve it, my friend.”

Clapping your hands together, you let out a deep exhale.

“Now that that’s all settled, I need to go grocery shopping. All of you are more than welcome to come.”

A few of them look very excited, which both excites you and makes you slightly nervous.

“Thank you for the invitation,” Hongjoong starts. “But Seonghwa and I will have to pass this time.”

You pout slightly.

“Aw man.”

“Trust me,” Seonghwa starts. “We would love to go on our first official errand run with you, little one, but we have some business to deal with upstairs.”

He uses his index finger to point up and you look up as well.

Upstairs?

“Ohhhh, you mean, like, heaven and all that,” you laugh nervously at your lack of understanding.

The two men nod.

“But don’t worry, we should be back by the end of the day,” Hongjoong reassures you.

“Don’t worry guys,” Mingi slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “We’ve got this.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa stare at the male by your side, slightly unamused.

“That’s what we’re scared of.”

It’s officially been about a week since your near death experience and finding out about your guardian angels.

While having all of them around had certainly been awkward at first, you’ve all slowly begun to fall into a routine. Sometimes, you feel as though you’ve known them your whole life.

Which, to a certain extent, you kind of have.

Something about having them around just makes you feel incredibly safe and warm inside. Not to mention the slight butterflies you’ve been experiencing around them, but you’re quick to try and cage them as soon as they appear.

Wooyoung and Seonghwa have taken it upon themselves to cook most of the meals for the nine of you. Every day when you come home from work, you can always count on a warm, freshly cooked meal to be waiting on the table for you.

“You’re kind of like my house husbands,” you joked to them one time.

Seonghwa blushed, while Wooyoung had blown you a kiss.

“Anything for you sweetheart.”

Yunho and Mingi are the two that typically accompany you to work, although sometimes Jongho will tag along if he doesn’t have anything else to do. Despite the tall men’s playful personalities, they were both incredibly smart and helped you with your work whenever you felt particularly stressed out.

San was certainly one of the more playful angels, you had noticed.

Although all of them were fun to be around, San was always the first to notice when your mood wasn’t the best, and he was the best at comforting you after a long day. A bad day at work usually ended with San waiting for you with open arms as soon as you walked through the door for some cuddles and quiet time.

When Wooyoung and Mingi had found out about this little routine, they both immediately demanded to be allowed into the “cuddle time” as they called it.

Jongho and Yeosang were the two individuals who you enjoyed spending some quiet time with. The three of you would usually wind down together with some tea and some books or a show. Although they were a little more reserved than the others, you still genuinely enjoyed your time with both of them.

But they certainly had their moments where they could be just as chaotic as the others.

Exhibit A was the day you walked into your apartment to see Yeosang and Yunho standing in your kitchen covered in flour.

“What happened?” you had asked, absolutely astounded by the amount of flour that somehow managed to cover every inch of your kitchen. You didn’t even think you had that much flour to begin with.

The two of them sheepishly admitted that they were trying to bake some cookies, but things had gotten out of hand.

Clicking your tongue, you walked over to the roll of paper towels to begin cleaning up.

“What am I going to do with you guys-”

You had just turned around when the feeling of something soft and powdery hit your face. You sputtered, staring wide-eyed at the two angels. Yunho looked at you and then turned to Yeosang, who avoided your eyes.

What followed next was a flour fight that resulted in a very long clean-up shift.

There was also the time you found out Jongho literally had the voice of an angel.

The two of you were headed to your local plant store to look for some new plants to decorate your apartment with when one of your favorite songs came on the radio.

Turning the volume up, you began singing along softly as did Jongho. As the song continued, his voice grew louder, and when the two of you reached a red light, you were unable to do anything except stare at him slack-jawed at the voice that was coming out of him. Only the sound of the car behind you honking was able to shake you out of your stupor.

Now, you guys have little karaoke parties in your car when the two of you are alone.

The only angel you had yet to spend a lot of time with, however, was Hongjoong.

The man always seemed to be busy, as he was hardly ever in your actual apartment. Most mornings when you woke up, he was gone and he wouldn’t show up until the evenings.

You would be lying if you said the hushed arguments he would have with some of the others didn’t concern you. They always occurred at night, when they assumed you were fast asleep. And they always revolved around the same thing.

“She’s not the exact same, and that’s okay, but you guys can’t keep expecting her to be the same as our (Y/n).” You heard Hongjoong say one night.

You had been unable to fall back asleep after that.

Today, though, you really needed to go to the post office, and Hongjoong was the only angel available to accompany you.

You stood awkwardly at the end of your table where Hongjoong sat using your laptop to do something.

“Uh,” you clear your throat. “Hongjoong?”

He looks up a little startled.

“(Y/n),” he acknowledges. “Is everything okay?” He looks at you concerned.

“Yeah everything’s fine!” You reassure him.

“I just need to run a quick errand and the others are all busy so I was wondering if you could go with me,” you trail off.

God this is awkward.

To your surprise, although you really shouldn’t be, he nods his head quickly.

“Yeah of course. We can go now, if you’re ready?”

“Cool, let me just grab my bag and we can get going!” You rush to your room to grab your bag before walking back to the front door where Hongjoong already waits for you.

The two of you agree to make the short walk to the post office, commenting on how the nice weather is today.

Exiting through the front gates of your apartment, you two begin walking down the sidewalk shoulder to shoulder in silence.

“So is-”

“I wanted-”

The two of you start talking at the same time.

You both let out a laugh and you can feel your shoulders relax a bit.

“Go ahead,” you allow Hongjoong to speak first.

He takes a deep breath.

“I just wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been acting lately,” he says as he stares into your eyes.

You have to admit, that’s not what you were expecting him to say.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been really distant and pre-occupied lately,” Hongjoong continues. “And I know you’ve noticed, so I want to sincerely apologize. There’s been a lot of stuff I’ve been dealing with and I don’t want you to think I don’t like this,” he gestures between the two of you, “thing we have going on.”

You shake your head.

“No, please don’t feel like you have to apologize Hongjoong. To be completely honest, I have no clue what it is you guys have to deal with in the first place, but I’m really grateful you’ve all gone out of your way to help me.”

You let out a small, sad laugh.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t really get why you guys are helping me in the first place. I’m sure you’ve all had hundreds of different assigned humans throughout your existence, so I’m nothing special.”

Hongjoong stops abruptly and turns to face you.

“That’s not true,” he says firmly. The serious expression on his face has you taken aback.

“What?”

“You said you’re nothing special. That’s not true.”

Hongjoong sighs and grabs both of your hands.

“Look, it’s complicated to explain, and I will tell you, but we agreed we all wanted to tell you together. So, if you’re okay with waiting, I can tell you everything that’s been going on as soon as we get back to your apartment.”

You would be lying if you said his words don’t scare you a little bit.

“It’s okay Hongjoong, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you reassure him, softly running your fingers over his knuckles.

He shakes his head.

“I- We all want to tell you, and you deserve to know the truth.”

You nod your head.

“Okay. Back at my apartment it is then,” you send him a small smile, which he returns.

“Before we head to the post office,” you start. “Do you want to visit my favorite cafe with me?”

Hongjoong smiles softly at you.

“I would love to.”

You guys continue walking down the few blocks and after a few minutes, you both stand at the stoplight that sits across from the cafe. You and Hongjoong laugh at the stories you tell him about the antics Yunho and Mingi get up to when you’re at work. The light turns green, and you begin to cross the street.

“I’m telling you, I just told them about this lady in my office who’s always getting on my nerves and they made it their mission to inconvenience her in every way possible!” You exclaim.

Hongjoong lets out a hearty laugh and you smile widely at how relaxed he looks.

Just as your about to continue your story, you notice the wind blowing your letter out of your purse.

Cursing, you tell Hongjoong to wait on the sidewalk while you run quickly after the paper. The letter lands in the middle of crosswalk and you’ve just barely managed to pick it up when the sound of someone yelling your name makes you whip around.

Coming towards you at a terrifying speed is a car.

You stand frozen in the middle of street, unable to move your feet.

You barely manage to catch a glimpse of Hongjoong’s terrified face when you feel your body get thrown back, and everything turns black.

You stand in a green field.

The scenery is absolutely gorgeous and you can feel the warm sun and cool breeze on your skin.

Looking around, you notice a large, crystal blue lake in the distance. Your legs begin to take you in that direction on their own accord.

You reach the lake and crouch down, slightly dipping your hand in the cool water. Soft ripples make their way across the surface of the water and you can’t help but feel completely at ease in this place.

Whatever this place is.

As you continue staring down into the water, you notice your reflection seems to look different.

The you staring back has much longer hair than you currently have, and the clothes your reflection wears is older, looking like they come from an early Victorian age.

You tilt your head to the side and notice that your reflection’s head doesn’t move.

A voice sounds out through your mind.

“You need to go back.”

“Go back?” You whisper aloud.

Your reflection nods.

“They need you.”

Other you doesn’t specify who you two are talking about, but deep down, you think you already know the answer.

Your reflection sends you a gentle smile before disappearing. You watch as the water returns to its calm state before gently pushing yourself back up to your feet.

You take one last look around the field you’re in, before closing your eyes.

The first thing you notice is how dark it is.

You can hear the sounds of people talking and crying around you, and you can feel hands softly grabbing your body, but you’re unable to open your eyes or move.

“Please,” someone whispers over your body.

“Please don’t leave us again.”

You lose consciousness once again.

The next time you wake up, your entire body hurts.

You let out a soft groan, slowly opening your eyes and allowing them to adjust to the soft light of your lamp.

Something heavy rests near your right hand, and turning your head slightly, you can see a head of familiar pink hear laying down next to you.

Using what little strength you have in your body, you raise your hand and gently rest it on Mingi’s head. Softly, you run your fingers through the short strands on his head.

He makes an inaudible noise and turns his head over so that you can now see his face. As you continue stroking his head, his eyes flutter open. He looks a little bit confused for a few seconds before his body is shooting up and he stares at you shocked.

“(Y/n),” he whispers softly.

“Hi Mingi,” you reply.

You watch as tears well up in his eyes and he throws himself on top of you, mindful to not rest his entire body weight on you. You can hear footsteps rushing towards your room before your bedroom door is being slammed open.

You can barely see over Mingi’s broad back that covers your frame, but you already know who it is.

As Mingi releases you, you attempt to sit up, only to stop and hiss in pain when jolts of pain shoot up your back.

“Be careful, little one,” Seonghwa says, moving forward to help adjust some pillows behind you.

You thank him and take a moment to look around at each of the men that surrounds your bed. You notice the dark circles under their eyes and the way their skin seems to lack it’s normal glow.

“You guys look worse than I feel,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Yeosang frowns.

“You’ve been out for 4 days, sunflower.”

You blink harshly.

“Four days?”

Jongho nods.

“The worst four days of our entire existence,” he says.

You look down at the blanket that rests on your lap.

“I’m sorry.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.

“No I’m sorry.”

It’s Hongjoong who speaks.

He comes to your side, falling onto his knees beside your bed and taking your hand into his. He leans down to rest his forehead against your hand.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he cries.

“I should’ve known. I should’ve seen the car coming, I should’ve moved faster, I should’ve gotten you out of the way-” he sobs.

“No, Hongjoong,” you shake your head. “There’s nothing you could’ve done, the car came out of nowhere and it was too fast.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Yunho whispers.

“We swore to never let you pass before your time again.”

You can’t help the confused look you give them, but then, you remember the reflection you saw in the lake.

How the person looked just like you, but from a different era.

The arguments you heard Hongjoong have with the others.

Softly resting your palm on Hongjoong’s tear stained face, you speak.

“I need you guys to explain everything to me.”

All nine of you sit in your living room.

The boys helped you get settled on the couch, where you sit with San and Wooyoung flanking both of your sides. Hongjoong and Seonghwa sit across from you three while Mingi sits on the floor next to your legs. Yunho sits to the right of San and Yeosang and Jongho remain standing, but still close.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve met you,” Hongjoong begins.

“We’ve been very lucky to have met you almost every single time you’ve been reborn.”

Yeosang continues.

“The first time we met you was an accident. You happened to stumble upon me when I was helping a wounded human at the time. Soon after, I introduced you to the others.”

“But I thought the only time humans could see a guardian angel was when they were close to death?” You questioned.

Jongho nods sadly.

“You passed away shortly after meeting the rest of us.”

“In almost every single life where you’ve been reborn,” Wooyoung explains.

“We’ve managed to find you, but we’ve never been granted the luxury of time.”

You softly run your fingers through his hair, hearing the tremble of his voice as he speaks.

“The last two times that you’ve been born, we’ve been fortunate enough to be your guardian angels,” Seonghwa smiles.

“But in your last life, you passed away prematurely,” San says.

You turn your head towards him.

“A freak accident that we weren’t able to save you from.”

Mingi turns around to look up at you from where he rests by your legs.

“We failed you,” he whispers sadly.

You shake your head.

“You guys didn’t fail me. Not then, and not now. Just because you guys are angels doesn’t mean you can control everything that happens.”

“Sometimes,” you take a deep breath. “Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can’t always protect the ones you love.”

“But we have to,” Hongjoong says, looking you in the eye. “Not only is that our job, but for selfish reasons too.”

He looks down at his hands.

“We couldn’t take watching you die another time.”

It’s silent for a moment.

“How am I still here then?”

Hongjoong looks back up at you.

“We made a deal.”

You send him a questioning look.

“A deal?”

All the men surrounding you nod.

“What kind of deal?” You prod, noticing how they seem to hesitate to give you more details.

“Our life in exchange for yours.”

You inhale sharply, the sudden movement causing pain to shoot up your back. Wooyoung and San attempt to soothe your pain, but your mind is only focused on the information they just gave you.

“What?”

“We made a deal with God,” Yunho starts. “Our status in heaven as guardian angels, in exchange for the guarantee that you would live a full life.”

“What?” you say breathlessly. “Why, why would you guys do that?”

“Because we’re selfish,” Jongho says, looking at you with such tenderness you’re unsure of what to do with yourself.

“And we don’t care about being angels or having those powers and helping others if it means we have to live in a world without you in it,” Mingi finishes.

Tears begin to well up and spill out of your eyes before you can stop them. San and Wooyoung cuddle impossibly closer to you, hugging you tightly while the others watch on with misty eyes.

“Thank you,” you sob into your hands. “Thank you.”

They all smile.

It’s been about a month since you almost (should’ve) died.

In that month, the ex-angels did their best to help you recover from your injuries, although they certainly complained about no longer having healing powers to help stop you from being pain.

“Welcome to the life of being a human,” you rolled your eyes.

“This is lame, maybe we should’ve stayed as angels,” Wooyoung muttered.

You smacked him on the chest, ignoring his yelp and complaints.

“Don’t make me bring out the bat again,” you warned.

After you were fully recovered, you focused on helping the boys adjust to their new lives as humans.

“Why do we have to walk everywhere?” Mingi groaned, dragging his feet behind you.

You rolled your eyes.

He’s just like a little kid.

“Because my car can only fit four of you, but all eight of you decided to accompany me to the store,” you remind him.

He says nothing, but you could still hear his grumbling.

As they’ve slowly adjusted to human life, the nine of you have fallen into a smooth routine that’s oddly domestic.

Wooyoung and Seonghwa continue to cook the meals for you guys, and you all make an effort to eat at least one meal together a day.

Seeing as most of them aren’t morning people, you typically opt to eat dinner together instead.

You’ve also decided to introduce them to your favorite bookstore.

“How ironic,” you muse, walking hand in hand with San and Yunho as you all approach the quaint shop.

“What is, sunflower?” Yeosang questions.

“This bookstore is the whole reason I met you guys in the first place,” you give San’s hand a small squeeze.

He squeezes it back three times.

Later that night, when you’ve all returned home, you guys decide to have a small movie night.

After arguing over what movie to watch, Jongho insisted on watching a horror movie, which Mingi complained about loudly.

Not that it mattered, most everyone ended up falling asleep by the time the film was halfway over, including yourself.

You could hear the sound of someone moving around quietly in the living room and turned your head to the side, burying your face deeper into Mingi’s chest. The feeling of a blanket being laid over the two of you was welcomed.

You felt someone leave a soft kiss on the side of your head.

“Goodnight my love,” Hongjoong whispered softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You hummed in reply, falling back asleep perfectly content and safe in the presence of your lovers.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

a/n: my fic to celebrate hitting 50 followers, you guys are insane, i love you all so much and i hope you enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez ot8 #ot8 x reader #ot8 imagine #angel au #guardian angel au #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez comfort

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straykeedz · 7 months

Text

day 15: seungmin + hair pulling

©straykeedz

tw: bff2?; mention of throwing up; mentions of masturbation (m) and several sexual scenarios; seungmin is kind of a perv if you squint???; female anatomy; oral sex (m receiving); unprotected piv sex (don't do that at home 🤨); seungmin calls reader a slut several times; creampie; ♡

wc: 4,3k;

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡

🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡

to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

⚑

He can’t get the thought out of his head.

And he knows it’s wrong to jerk off to the thought of your best friend, your bestest friend in the world who’s been by your side your whole life since you were little kids, but Seungmin isn’t kidding when he says that it’s all he has been able to think about for a month. A month. And he’s gotten off to that thought nearly every day.

Now that he thinks about it - he almost feels like a creep, especially because he keeps acting normal around you and then, when he’s in the confines of his own bedroom in his own lonely, quiet place, he wraps his slender fingers around his cock and strokes himself thinking of bending you over his desk, entangling his fingers in your hair and pulling it. All this while grunting in your ear how much of a slut you are for his cock, or how much he wants to fill your cunt up with his cum. Other times, you’re on his bed with your face down and ass up, other times you’re on your knees as he fucks your face - either way, his hands would always be in your hair, pulling it until your scalp hurts.

Seungmin swears he’s never had that kind of thoughts involving you. Not until that night.

How he found out you have a hair pulling kink is pretty curious.

Being you bestest friend in the whole world, your shoulder to cry on, your entire life and the bane of existence all at once, it’s pretty obvious that he’s the one in charge of taking care of drunk you. You’d do the same for him, really, but somehow you always end up getting drunk first and don’t have the chance to return the (multiple) favor(s). Seungmin scoffs and rolls his eyes, but deep down he’s not annoyed, and he secretly likes taking care of you.

That night - you’d drunk a lot. More than usual, and soon felt like throwing up, which you never did. Naturally, you’d grabbed Seungmin by the forearm and practically dragged him to the club bathroom - the ladies’ room, of course, ignoring a few annoyed scoffs of the girls waiting in line, who probably thought you were about to fuck in there. But no, you were genuinely feeling sick, and begged Seungmin to hold your hair in a makeshift ponytail because you didn’t want to cover it in your spit and vomit in case it ended up falling on your face.

Seungmin followed your instructions, however, when his fingers accidentally got tangled in your hair and he pulled a bit harder - he wasn’t expecting you to moan. Like, a proper moan. It could have been literally anything, but no - it had to be a moan.

He froze in his spot as soon as he heard the sound, eyes open wide as he breathed through his nose slowly because no way you’d just moaned because he accidentally pulled your hair. No way. And then - his brain was telling him to stop right now and don’t do it, but little devil Seungmin sitting on his shoulder encouraged him to repeat his previous motion and pull your hair once again. You know, for research purposes - he had to know.

So he pulled it again - and, as predicted by the little devil on his shoulder, you did it again. You fucking moaned again. It was more like a whine this time, a desperate whimper, which did not make the situation any better. And now he was hard. With his fingers in your hair. And you were kneeling on the floor, trying to empty your stomach, although unsuccessfully.

Like the gentleman he is, he drove you back home, made sure you’d drink a lot of water, left aspirin on your nightstand for you to take the morning after and asked your roommate to check in on you during the night. Then, he drove back home, hopped in the shower with the intention of washing away the stress of the week off his body, and… his dick got hard, again. And he was thinking of you - actually, of the sounds that you made, repeating them over and over in his head as he wrapped his fingers around his length, a bit ashamed of doing this while thinking of you, but it was too late now.

And since then - life has never been the same again for Kim Seungmin.

He’d come home after his shift, take off his work clothes and, before hopping in the shower, take his time stroking himself, laying spread on his king sized bed. You’re the protagonist of the scenarios he plays in his head every single time since that night at the club. Before that night, he wouldn’t really think of anyone in particular while getting off - it’d be mainly tits or asses or pussies, if he’s particularly horny maybe even cocks, but never a person, only body parts. But since he discovered your hair pulling kink… oh, boy. All he can think about is you and how you’d sound moaning for him, because of him. Yesterday, for example, he got off in record time to the thought of fucking you on his couch - you on top of him, facing him, legs spread to accommodate his body as you sit on his cock, as he has his fingers in your hair, tugging at it. Then, as soon as he cums and takes a couple of minutes to recollect himself, change the sheets, put them in the washing machine together with his outside clothes and, finally, take that long yearned shower.

It’s become a routine for him, and he’s seriously worried his dick might’ve developed muscle memory by now, because he’d find himself getting hard as soon as he steps inside his place.

Like today.

He’s had the shittiest day at work, and all he could think of was going back home, taking off his clothes, pleasuring himself, taking a shower and then, finally, going to sleep. But as soon as his apartment door closes behind him and he takes off his shoes - he notices a pair of sneakers that most definitely aren’t his.

“Finally!”, he hears your voice, and his head immediately snaps in your direction.

You’re on his couch, covered in a blanket, phone in your hand probably checking your social media and a movie or a tv series playing in the background on Seungmin’s ridiculously big tv screen. It’s not unusual for you to show up at his house - he doesn’t show up at your place that often because you have a roommate, but he leaves alone and doesn’t mind having you over. However, you rarely show up unannounced.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”, you ask, noticing the confused expression on his face, brows furrowed and everything.

“Forgot what?”, is what he says, proving you right, of course.

You shake your head and sigh, but he knows you’re not really mad at him. Otherwise, you’d just start yelling. “Yah, you’re really overworking yourself. That, or you’re just getting old and experiencing memory loss.”, you mock him.

“Hey! I’m the one who makes fun of other people’s age!”, he eventually takes off his shoes and hangs his jacket, coming closer to you. “Now - what is it that I forgot?”

“Today, they released the last season of the series we started, remember?”

“The one with an awful plot and an even more terrible cast?”

“Yah!”, you playfully slap his arm, and he cracks a smile. “But yeah, that one. We said we’d watch it together.”

“You said it.” Seungmin points out. “I had no choice but to accept my fate.”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re no fun. Go change, and bring snacks on your way back!”

Seungmin is back in his living room a couple of minutes later, wearing one of his comfy oversized t-shirts and his beloved grey sweats, and a few snacks in his hands. Chocolate, chips, popcorns, it’s like the guy has a fucking bar in his house, not that you’re complaining. You play the first episode of the new season of the series he absolutely despises, but you want to watch it so bad and he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’d rather jump off a cliff.

And then, the unthinkable happens.

He blames a fucking pointless sex scene thrown into the second half of the episode for no reason whatsoever - but his cock stirs in his pants, semi-hard. He blinks a couple of times and starts to think that maybe, maybe, if he starts to think of ugly things such as an old, naked lady or literally any other things that turns him off, the situation won’t escalate, and his dignity would be preserved and remain intact.

And it seems to be working. For two minutes.

Because then, he feels you squirm in your place, right next to him, and he’s about to complain about it, but as soon as he snaps his head in your direction, he sees you with an hair tie in your hand, attempting at tying your hair in a ponytail to prevent your hair from falling on your face - eyes on the tv screen, fully focused on the episode.

There’s absolutely nothing sexual about what you’ve just done, so why is his cock getting harder? That stupid boner was supposed to go away. But then he realizes - it’s because of that stupid scenario he got off to, the one with you and him fucking on the couch, this very couch you’re both now on. And you had a ponytail in the scenario. A ponytail he’s tugged at too many times in his fantasies. Okay, maybe he has a problem - maybe he’s developed an addiction to masturbation or an addiction to masturbating to the thought of his best friend.

Either way, it’s absolutely unacceptable and he has do something about this absurd situation. However, all he can do now, is place a fucking pillow on his lap and pray to God you don’t notice the way he’s distancing himself from you, scooting on the couch as far away as possible from you.

But you notice. Of course you do.

“What’s up with you?”, you turn your head to face him, eyebrows furrowed, tilting your head to the side.

“What’s up with me?”, he knows he’s absolutely terrible at lying, but there isn’t much else he can do.

“You’re sitting so far away. Look, you took the blanket with you, I’m cold!”, you scoot closer to him in an attempt to get the blanket back.

You pull said blanket with all the brute force in your body, which causes the pillow Seungmin slyly placed on his lap to fall on the floor. He’s not quick enough. You succeed in getting the blanket back, but now his big secret’s out.

“Yah!”, you squeak. “Why are you hard?”

Seungmin should’ve fucking known you have no boundaries.

He places that pillow back between his legs, even if it’s too late now. “Yah, why would you stare at my crotch?”, he whines, embarrassed. “That’s what a perv would do.”

“Yah, how am I the perv when you’re the one sporting a boner in the middle of movie night?”, you’re not really mad or anything - you’re just making fun of him, letting out a satisfied giggle. “Besides, it’s not my fault your sweats leave nothing to the imagination.”, you shrug.

“What are you talking about?”, he’s beyond confused, but at the same time grateful his hard-on isn’t the main subject anymore. Maybe if you keep talking it’ll disappear.

“Everybody knows that grey sweats on guys are like… I don’t know, a very revealing neckline on a girl?”, you try to come up with a similarity.

“I didn’t know that.” He really didn’t.

“But you didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” Seungmin asks.

“Why are you hard?”

Aaaand back to subject Seungmin’s dick. Honestly - what excuse can he come up with that won’t make him look like a fucking creep in your eyes?

“Don’t tell me it was the sex scene.”, you say, dead serious.

“No, what am I, twelve?” Seungmin answers a little too quickly, without putting much thought into what he said. To be honest, that scene was just the tip of the iceberg. He’s not twelve, but he’s just as pathetic - getting hard because his best friend was tying her hair.

“Then what?”, you seem to be enjoying seeing him so flustered. You even pause the fucking episode.

“Nothing.”

“C’mon!”, you insist, clearly having no intention in dropping the subject.

“You know how dicks are! They’re weird, they get hard for no reason!”, he tries to defend himself. He’s not completely wrong, dicks do get hard out of the blue sometimes, but there’s something in the tone of his voice that just betrays him.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Oh, c’mon, we tell each other everything!”, you whine. Why do you care so much anyway? “I even told you that time I mastur-“

“That’s because you have absolutely no restraints and think of me as your fucking personal diary - which I’m not, by the way.”, he interrupts you - thinking of you masturbating won’t help his erection go away.

“Tell me!”, you insist.

“No.”, he protests.

“Kim Seungmin.”

“Using my full name won’t let you get what you want.”, he shakes his head repeatedly.

“Tell me!”

“Fine! It was you!”, he snaps before he can stop himself. All the bickering made him lose his lucidity and now he’s met with a couple of big eyes looking at him surprised.

“Me?”, you ask, absolutely shocked. “What did I do?”

“You’ll think I’m a creep.” Seungmin sighs, lowering his gaze to his hands. Is he really going to tell you? Maybe he should leave out the part where he masturbates to the thought of you - no, he definitely should leave that out.

“I already do, kinda.”, you joke, cracking a smile.

“Not helping.”, he scolds you.

“Sorry, sorry. Go on.”

He lets out another deep sigh, then fidgets with the hem of his t-shirt. “It’s- when you, uh… when you tied your hair.”, he shamefully admits.

You furrow your eyebrows, looking at him confused. “My hair?”, you ask.

He hums. “Yeah, your hair.”, he confirms. “Well, your ponytail.”, he clarifies.

“My ponytail turns you on.”, it’s a statement, but it sounds more like a question.

“If you put it like that it just sounds weird.” Seungmin points out.

“It is weird.”

“Now you’re just kink-shaming me.”, he grunts, annoyed.

“Kink?”, you quirk an eyebrow at him.

He snaps his head in your direction in record time, looking you in the eye. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t have an hair pulling kink, too!”, he shots.

You freeze in your spot, eyes wide open, staring at him. “How do you know?”, you don’t even try to deny it, it’d be pointless.

“I-“ should he tell you? “That night when you felt like, uh… throwing up, you… you asked me to hold your hair and well- I did and you…” why is he stuttering so much? “You moaned.”, he finally admits.

Now, you’re as flustered as he is.

“So you… uh, you imagine pulling my hair?”, you’re not sure you got him right, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought of it already. Repeatedly. And you’re intrigued by the thought.

“It’s all I can think of.” Seungmin shamelessly blurts out, and for a good ten seconds you’re taken aback by his straightforwardness, considering it took you nearly ten minutes to get him to tell you what turned him on in the first place.

You stay silent for a while and Seungmin just wishes the ground would swallow him whole, because he feels like he just massively overstepped a boundary in your friendship, but just as he’s about to say something, you anticipate him.

“So you… want some help with that?”, your gaze falls on his crotch, the outline his hard-on still clearly visible, and you like what you see.

“What?” Seungmin nearly falls off the couch.

“I’ll let you pull my hair.”, it’s clearly a joke, because you giggle right after you say those words.

“You’re such a brat.” Seungmin scoffs, giving you the side-eye.

“Sorry.”, you apologize. “But… I was serious. If you want some help, I’m here.”

Seungmin swallows the lump in his throat as he processes your words. Are you offering… to help him get off? How?

“Wouldn’t that be weird? We’re friends.”, he voices his concern. He’d hate himself if he lost you over a stupid erection.

“We’re two responsible adults who can be mature about this.”, you point out. “I want this, otherwise I wouldn’t offer to help you out.”

Seungmin instantly relaxes. “Okay, then.”

Seungmin’s breath hitches in his throat when you kneel before him without uttering another word, and he feels his soul leaving his body when you place the palm of your hand flat on the tent in his sweats, palming him over the thin fabric. A small sound leaves his mouth when you squeeze him, running your other hand up and down his thigh.

“Take these off?”, you whisper, looking him in the eye from between his legs, and he feels a shiver run through his body.

He nods eagerly, lifting his ass from the couch and hooking his fingers on each side of his sweats and boxers, dragging them down his thighs in one swift motion, freeing his cock, that slaps on his abdomen. Your eyes widen at the sight - it’s big. You already had a feeling he was above average when you palmed him over the clothes, but it’s even bigger than you thought.

Seungmin feels a bit embarrassed to be sprawled on his couch, legs spread and with his hard cock out - you between his thighs, kneeling on the floor, ready to suck him off, apparently. But the feeling is soon forgotten when you wrap your delicate fingers around the base of his erection and lick a long stripe that goes all the way to his tip, before engulfing it in your mouth. He lets out a choked sound, fingers gripping the cushions as you take him deeper, jerking off what you can’t fit in your mouth.

This definitely feels better than his hand.

He kicks his head back and closes his eyes, hissing when you suck a bit harder on hit tip and clenching his thigh. Then, he feels you wrap your fingers around his wrist and he opens his eyes to look at you.

“Can I?”, he asks, as he caresses your temple with his fingers. You nod, with his cock still in your mouth, and he has to bite his lip to hold back another moan. However, you don’t hold back a moan when his fingers grip your ponytail and tug at it. Hard. “Fuck, you’re sucking me off so good.”, he praises you.

You take him even deeper, your own saliva dripping all over his shaft, coating your fingers and his balls as you can feel his tip in your throat. Each time he pulls your hair, it encourages you to take another couple of inches - and he soon starts panting, clenching his thigh and abdomen, clearly close to his release.

You have something else in mind, so you release him from your mouth completely, earning an annoyed groan from Seungmin.

“I was close, why’d you stop?”, he whines, releasing the grip he has on your ponytail but not letting go completely.

“Thought you’d want to come inside of me.”, you say with a mischievous grin on your face. His cock twitches, and you crack a smile at his reaction. “I take it as a yes.”, you smile at him and he nods frantically, his brain short-circuiting.

“I’ll go get a condom.”, he manages to say, with the last bit of lucidity he has left in his body, but you stop him before he can get up from the couch.

“No need, I’m on the pill. And clean.”

He bites his lip and nods, which is his way to show his consent, then crosses his arms over his chest and takes his t-shirt off, throwing it somewhere in the room. You do the same, then slide your jeans down your thighs and then straddle him - wearing nothing but your bra and your panties.

You feel Seungmin’s hand climb your back, and for a second there you think he’s about to unclasp your bra, but he doesn’t stop there. In fact, his fingers reach your hair, wrapping around your ponytail once again, and you let out a whimper.

Seungmin hooks his other fingers on the underside of your panties, pulling them to the side. “Spit on your fingers.”, he grunts, tone demanding. It’s as if something inside of him had snapped. You oblige, collecting your saliva on the pads of your fingers. “Good. Now touch yourself to get you nice and wet for me.”

You’re already wet. Incredibly wet, but you do as he said anyway - absolutely in love with this side of him, so bossy and demanding, and you spread your spit all over your clit and entrance until you’re sure you can take his cock.

“I’m gonna put it in now.”, he says, looking you in the eye, aligning the tip of his cock to your entrance, ready to push inside.

You nod, eager to feel him inside of you. “Please.”

He fills you up in one, slow, motion, parting your wet walls and bottoming out with a grunt, and you moan in response, feeling incredibly full. “Took me so well.”, he groans, then both of your gazes fall to where your bodies meet.

You cross your arms over your back to unclasp your bra, sliding the straps off your arms, getting rid of it - Seungmin bites his lip at the sight of your nipples. So, he cups one of your breasts and squeezes one of your nipples with the pads of his fingers, earning a whimper from you. “You like that, huh?”

“Yeah, fuck.”, you moan. He smirks, then starts leaving a series of kisses on the valley of your breasts, then on your other tit, until he captures your other nipple in his mouth, sucking on it.

Then, he moves his hand from your breast to your hip, encouraging you to start moving on top of him. You do, lifting your hips and then sinking back onto his cock, repeating the same motion again and again, each time a bit faster. He lets go of your nipple to look at you, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, bouncing on his cock - and it’s the most addicting sight he’s ever witnessed.

The fingers that are gripping your ponytail reach for your hair tie, and Seungmin starts to pull it, untying your hair, letting it fall free on your shoulders, before entangling his fingers in it once again, tugging at it with more force, pulling it as he thrusts inside of you, meeting your movements.

“You’re such a good girl, fucking me so well.”, he mutters, not being able to tear his eyes off of you.

You shake your head as a no. “Not good girl.”, you whimper, placing your hands on his shoulder to help you with your balance as you bounce on his cock, a mixture of his and your arousal dripping from your hole, coating Seungmin’s balls and, probably, the cushion. Neither of you seems to care.

“You’re not a good girl?”, you shake your head as a no. "How do you want me to call you?”, he says, panting heavily, feeling his orgasm approaching.

“Slut.”, you whisper, gripping his shoulders tighter.

He rolls his eyes in the back of his head, brain short-circuiting. It’s curious how compatible you are, even when it comes to sex, apparently.

He tugs at you hair tighter, making you wince - he knows you like it. “Such a good slut.”, he feels you clenching around him. “You like it when I call you a slut?”, he chuckles, bringing his free hand to your hip, squeezing the soft flesh.

You nod frantically, biting your lip. “I love it.”, you whimper. Your movements have become a bit unsteady, singling you’re close too.

“My slut.” Seungmin grunts, slamming his hips against yours. “Hungry for my cock - practically begged to suck me off.”, he mutters, but he’s interrupted by a choked moan when your nails scrape his shoulders.

“Min.”, you moan. “Close.”

Seungmin groans, then brings the pad of his thumb on your clit to help you find your release, rubbing it fast, yet delicately. “Cum for me, show me how much of a slut you are for me, for my cock.”, he demands, pulling your hair harder, so hard your scalp actually hurts.

“I’m such a slut for you.”, you pant, and a few seconds later, you’re falling apart on his cock with a loud cry, clenching around him as your orgasm washes all over you. “I’m coming, fuck - I’m coming, Min.”

“Good slut, you gonna make me cum.” Seungmin grunts, close as well, cock throbbing inside of you as he thrusts faster and faster.

As soon as he feels he’s about to cum, he crashes his lips onto yours to muffle his moans and swear words, still tugging at your hair, and then he halts his movements, wanting to savor the feeling of releasing inside of you, coming with four long spurts of his seed.

Your body falls on top of his, you face in the crook of his neck and he lets go of the grip in your hair, enveloping you in a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder. You stay like this for a while, that stupid episode paused on the tv, clothes scattered on the floor and your bodies entangled as you both relive what you just did.

And, somehow, neither of you is scared - you know you’ll figure this out. You always do.

⚑

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