#like everything feels so close to her body like they’re trying to make a character with a body suit without actually doing it bc supposedly

[guckies]

Hot take I agree with Foolish I don’t like Clove’s outfit either ✋🫥🤚

#i feel like theyre trying to push the genz thing so hard that it comes off as forced and unfitting #i think i would like it better if she had something more oversized #and the necklace i hate maybe if they gave her something that wasnt the crisscroos pattern #like everything feels so close to her body like they’re trying to make a character with a body suit without actually doing it bc supposedly #they’re a minor (dont quote me on that idk really 🤷) but compared to the male agents vs her it feels so weird and not at all rep of a genre #idk maybe ill talk about it better in another post because i might have misworded some stuff #liveblogging #foolish #clove valorant

[fairyysoup]

i can see you

♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

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

Hawkins High, September 1984

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

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

You stare a lot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you wish you could kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hawkins High, April 1985

Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t even think he knew your name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The guy’s a fucking douche.”

“Tell me about it.”

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

“Billy Hargrove?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prom Night, May 1985

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

Except, well.

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.

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

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

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

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

“I’m not sulking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?”

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

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

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

“Kelly Palmer.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I hope not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve Harrington is touching your face.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“STEVE??!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wherever there is, it’s not with you.

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

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

Starcourt Mall, June 1985

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

“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you ready?”

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

What did you say? What did he say?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can dig a few sprinkles.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You like it a lot. 

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

“What? No, I couldn’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I made it up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.

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

Family Video, March 1986

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, right after I last saw you?”

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

“I wish.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And again.

And again.

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

Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.” 

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

Logan Sawyer.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh my fucking god.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great. I’ll have that, please.” 

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

“Are you serious?” Theo snaps. 

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

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

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

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

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

Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”

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

“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”

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

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

“My father owns the company.”

“Right.” God, help me. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”

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

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

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

“You just said-”

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

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

“It was fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t have to ask him twice.

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

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

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

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

“The price.”

“The price.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want him to do it all over your body.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.

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

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

“The ice cream, or the porn?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”

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

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

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

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

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

[xveenusx]

You

Paring(s): JJ maybank x fem!reader

Summary: Request- John b's little sister grew up with JJ. Both boys are protective of her but when John B and Sarah leave on the boat, she only has JJ. She realizes she has feelings for him, not knowing he feels the same.

Authors note: I decided I could give you guys a sprinkle of fluff and slight smut after the last two pieces! This takes place at the beginning of season 2 where they believe Sarah and John b are dead.

Also, someone complained about the length of my pieces. I know they’re long but it’s just my writing style. I like for the readers to feel what the main character is feeling. If the length bothers you, then don’t read it!

_______________

Angry.

That’s how I felt.

At myself. At my dad. At John B.

When we first lost our dad, it didn’t feel real. I waited outside on the steps of the chateu hoping to see him come back on his boat. Suddenly, hours turned to days which turned into months and the hope that filled my chest shrank bit by bit until I no longer sat outside.

Instead, John B and I did what we could. After successfully evading CPS, we decided it was best to lay low. That was the thing about us, we always managed to make the best out of a shitty situation because let’s face it, being born on the cut was shitty situation after shitty situation.

Unfortunately, it felt like the stress had finally caught up to me. Being surrounded by unfamiliar people caused a bitter sense of panic to fill my very core. My anxiety had amplified tenfold as the once out going girl became completely sheltered.

It was safer that way. At least, if I isolated myself, losing someone else won’t hurt as bad as this. Because as long as I had my brother, everything else was manageable.

Losing my dad was tough, almost impossible but at least I had John B.

Until, I didn’t.

It didn’t hit me until I saw the boat capsize with my brother and Sarah in it. I was truly an orphan, in every sense of the word.

My knees had given out as every emotion crashed into my body like a violent tsunami. A silent scream leaving my body as I could no longer hold myself up.

Familiar arms caught me just as I was about to hit the floor, the rain pounded into my skin like thousands of needles. As I drew in a sharp breath, my voice impossible to find, a delicate smell of sex wax and salt filled my nose.

JJ.

“Please breathe. I need you to take a b-breath,” He pleaded, his voice shook in obvious grief. He had just lost his brother too.

I couldn’t seem to do what he was asking. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing for this nightmare to end, but thought after thought slammed into my head repeatedly. My chest squeezed tightly, so tight that I began to claw at it, desperate to relieve the tension.

Yet, nothing seemed to work. I could see him now, his image blurred due to the tears falling from my eyes. His mouth was moving but I couldn’t hear anything.

My fingers slowly started to cramp due to the lack of oxygen from my inability to calm down. The tidal wave known as anxiety pulled me deep, my vision slowly becoming black before my unconscious body falls limp in the arms of my brother’s best friend.

_________

I hated this sign.

My eyes glared at the makeshift headstone my friends made for Sarah and John B that was carved into the tree.

It served as another reminder that my brother left me.

I’ve become close friends with anger and sadness.

Our friends tried to give me a sense of stability and normalcy, one that I’ve been lacking since the moment our dad died. Kie always stopped by bringing left overs from her parent’s restaurant. Pope would help me with my homework and go over scholarship options. I knew he was trying to help me plan for the future, but we both knew he was the only one that could really get out. I welcomed the distraction and tried to enjoy the small bubble I’ve created for myself.

And then, there was JJ.

JJ was special.

He all but moved in to the chateau, never leaving me alone in my thoughts for too long. He took up a serving job at some kook club to feed us and always brought me with him. I would sit in a small corner throughout, his shifts and enjoy his company.

In a way, I think it was for him just as much as it was for me. We had both bonded over the loss of my brother and it caused an invisible string to tether us together in a way that almost felt intimate.

I blew out a breath.

Standing up, I wiped off the dirt from my thighs and flexed my hands. JJ was on his way to pick me up and take me to the annual bonfire here on the island.

When he asked me, my first reaction was an immediate no. I had avoided going near large groups of people since they believed my brother to be a murder, therefore, making me guilty by association. Just the thought of surrounding myself around those people made my skin itch.

But I also knew that we were both desperate to feel the closest thing to normal that we could find.

What he didn’t know was that feeling of normalcy could only be achieved when he was with me. Breathing was easier when he was with me, living was easier.

The familiar sound of a bike engine caused my stomach to flutter with nerves.

“You ready?”

Inhaling deeply, I turned around to see JJ leaning against his bike looking every bit as handsome as the first time I laid eyes on him. He was grinning, something he reserved just for me, with a toothpick on one side.

If he was here, then I’d be able to do anything.

“I go where you go.”

JJ’s blue eyes shined at my words. He shot me his infamous smirk that nearly caused the butterflies in my stomach to erupt.

“You got that right. Get on the bike, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

My brain was my biggest enemy. It had a tendency to disrupt whatever sense of peace I had and destroy it with every self sabotaging thought I’ve ever had.

In this case, my brain wanted to know just how many girls sat there before me.

Noticing my hesitation, JJ raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “What’s up?”

“I just don’t want to get cooties from all the girls you let on this thing.”

He rolled his eyes. “Get your ass on the bike.”

My feet moved towards the bike as I mumbled under my breath. Stopping in front of him, JJ brushes some loose strands of my hair out of my face before grabbing the helmet that was on the seat.

I reached for it but JJ shoved my hands away, shooting me a flat look. Huffing, I stood there as JJ placed the helmet on my head, tightening the strap under my chin.

“Why do I have to wear a helmet and you don’t?”

“Because you matter.” His response was immediate.

Speechless, I said nothing more as he continued with the unnecessary pampering before he finally let me on the bike. Revving the engine, JJ kicks up the stand before reaching behind and grabbing my arm, settling it around his waist. He tapped my thigh twice to signal we were going and we took off.

I clung to his body, watching as the greenery blurred into one large mass, my thoughts doing the same.

You matter.

You matter.

You matter.

But what did that mean? What did it mean to him? What did I mean to him?

Because, I knew exactly what he meant to me.

There were small moments we shared. Our eye contact would stay on each other for a beat too long or his hands would linger just a minute longer than normal.

I knew, at least for me, our friendship had reached a very blurred line. My feelings for him seemed to consume me but I couldn’t tell how he felt. No one ever could, JJ didn’t let them.

He would say things like this that would completely throw me out of the loop. So we settled into a routine, one that resembled a relationship yet we weren’t in one.

The familiar cackle of the fire and shouts of excitement signaled that we were close to the party. Unease leaked into my bloodstream as I flexed my fingers into JJ’s shirt, the nerves sky rocketing.

JJ parked next to some truck but my focus was broken. My eyes jumped all over, taking in the scene all while trying to remind myself to breathe. People were shot gunning while others were playing beer pong, kooks and pouges alike.

Everyone was laughing and smiling, but it all seemed foreign to me. This was what I used to do, when things weren’t as complicated and dark as they were now. It felt almost wrong to go dancing and drinking when my life was in shambles.

A small touch to my wrist pulled me out of my thoughts as I turned to face JJ. A look of concern painted his face as he pressed his fingers against my wrist, checking my pulse.

“JJ, I’m fine.” I said exasperated but secretly, I adored how he took care of me. It made me feel like to him, I was different than all the other girls.

I just couldn’t decipher if he took care of me out of obligation to John B or because he actually cared for me.

He picked up this habit after I passed out in his arms. JJ always brushed his fingers against the inside of my wrist, just to double check that I wasn’t going to pass out again.

My anxiety was yet another monster I had to tackle after I lost John B and JJ was the only one that could calm me down. He weighed me down like an anchor.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his fingers lifting my chin causing my eyes to meet his.

His gaze ran over every inch of my face before a small satisfied smile played his lips.

“Do you believe me now?”

JJ shot me a wink, before cupping my face gently. “I’ll be back with tequila, don’t move.”

A small laugh left my mouth. “JJ, I don’t hang out with anyone else.”

“I’m all you can handle anyways, baby.”

My stomach dipped at the term of endearment. Laughing it off, I shooed him away and within seconds people were calling out his name, tugging him into their groups.

He seemed relax—happy even—to be surrounded by familiar people that I’m sure made him feel normal. I wanted him to have that, god, did I want him to have that.

So I ignored the nausea that nipped at my throat and spent the next five minutes looking around, hoping to spot Pope or Kie with no luck.

JJ deserved some time that didn’t involve watching me.

Only, I didn’t expect him to disappear for the rest of the night.

Hours later, I pushed passed the sweaty, overheated bodies as the bass of the music trembled through the air rattling my chest. The mass of bodies caused a layer of sweat to cover my body the further I went into the crowd. Intense rap music was being blasted instantly getting a reaction by the drug induced people around me.

Just by a simple sweep of the overcrowded property, I gave it a solid half hour before the cops showed up.

A large figure stumbled into me, beer sloshing onto my top. I gasped, stepping back slightly wincing at the cold liquid dripping down my stomach.

"Sorry," He slurred before stumbling back into the mosh pit of raging teens.

A familiar laugh rang out and almost immediately my body reacted to it. It was odd. After years of hearing his voice and his laugh, you would think I'd have gotten used to it by now, but no.

The effect he had on my body left me stunned.

My eyes were drawn to him instantly. I blocked everything else out.

His head was tilted back as he belted out another laugh. JJ was leaning against a wall with a hand holding a beer bottle loosely and the other moving as he spoke animatedly to the group that surrounded him.

His sun touched skin complimented his bright blue orbs that shined with a child-like wonder. JJ’s golden colored locks were thick and fell into a messy heap on his head, loose strands brushing against his forehead.

The black cut muscle tee he wore displayed every muscle as he continued to move his arms to accompany his storytelling.

JJ Maybank was a sight for sore eyes.

He was still talking rapidly when he glanced up and locked eyes with mine. JJ’s ocean eyes shined as he shot me a megawatt smile nearly sending me to my knees. He stopped mid-conversation and motioned for me to come over, his eyes once again gleaming with a unspoken level of affection.

I remained frozen. Sometimes this happened. I got overwhelmed by just how much I needed him.

JJ managed to knock me off my feet a solid five times a day. Each time welcomed even more than the last.

He bit his lip, stopping a smile as he bid his friends goodbye and began walking over to where I stood, running a hand through his hair messily.

I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say when a manicured hand rested itself on his stomach, stopping him in his tracks.

“Haven’t see you in awhile. Where ya been?”

Stacey Williams had this thing about her.

What it was, I couldn’t say, but it was enough for JJ to keep going back for more. She was the only other girl in his life that he gave a fraction of his attention to.

That fact alone made me nervous.

Just walk away, JJ. Please just walk away.

Instead, he took a seat next to her and shot her smile that was reserved for me.

People stumble between us, blocking my view but I could still hear them conversing.

“You know me, Steis. I’m here, I’m there. Just doin’ me.”

She let out a giggle causing me to roll my eyes. He’s really not that funny.

“You haven’t been answering my calls. I figured, tonight you could come over and we could talk.”

My stomach tied itself in knots at the silence on his end. It was almost like he was contemplating going.

“I -I can’t tonight. I came with John b’s sister.”

I winced. That’s all I was to him?

I could see Stacey lean forward and slip her hand along the open slit of his muscle tee. “She follows you around like a lost puppy, JJ. It’s almost sad if it wasn’t so weird.”

I saw him shake his head. “It’s not like that, we’re both just dealing with everything the best way we can.”

Stacey rolled her eyes before she took a sip of her drink, “JJ, your hot but please tell me you’re not that blind. The girl is basically in love with you.”

Judging by the way JJ froze, I now knew that I misjudged every interaction we’ve had to this point. He didn’t even notice how I felt.

“What-I mean-no. She’s just a girl that needs help. I mean, come on. She’s just John B’s sister.”

The only thing more humiliating than finding out the person you want doesn’t want you, is finding out they were only there for you because of an obligation.

I wasn’t special to him. I was just John B’s little sister.

I think another part of me died right there, because yet again, I have lost another person I loved.

But this time, he wasn’t gone, no—he was right in front of me, but he might as well have been a million miles away or six feet under.

Eavesdropping is the quickest way to a broken heart. Words not meant for your ears strike your heart in a brutal assault until nothing remained.

Finally, the crowd that separated us moved and I stood there stupidly staring at him.

Feeling the weight of my gaze, JJ turned his head and his eyes widened before settling into a look of guilt.

I tore my gaze off of him and looked at her. The smug smile she wore told me she intended for me to hear what he had said.

My face heated, and I glanced down at the drink in my hand. How could I be so fucking stupid?

Ignoring the sickening twists in my stomach, I tossed back the strong liquor in my cup. The burning trail the tequila left is the feeling I decided to focus on.

Spinning around, my eyes searched for another cooler, desperate to keep the burning feeling going.

“Shit-Wait,” I could hear JJ shouting for me but I kept moving.

Finding a handle of tequila, I flicked the top off and took a pull. The bitter burn fell over my body with a fuzzy warmth.

JJ knocks the bottle out of my hand.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Since when do you drink like that?” He asked.

“Go away, JJ. I don’t need you to babysit me anymore.”

“Listen, if this is about what I said-“

“You’re free, JJ,” my voice trembled with pain,” You don’t need to waste any more of your time on me.”

I grabbed a red solo cup, sniffing the contents, and just as I was about to chug it back, his hand slaps it out of my own.

“Will you stop fucking drinking that-“ JJ’s baby blues narrowed as he growled at me.

“What are you, my dad? You’re taking this baby sitting gig a little too seriously.”

It was, then I noticed how many eyes were on us. The music was still blasting, but no one was dancing.

My breathing picked up at the sudden attention. I dug my nails into the palm of my hand to distract my body from the ever growing panic that plagued my body.

JJ’s eye clock in on my nervous tic causing his glare to soften. A figure approaching pulled my focus off of him.

Topper strides over with a drink in his hand and a lazy smile. “Hey man-“

“Top, your wearing sandals bro. Step off.”

“I’m just saying man, she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

JJ’s eyes darkened as a threatening smile slowly graced his lips. “Wanna run that by me again?”

“I forgot that you pouges are missing a couple brain cells,” Topper lolled his head to the side and shot me a wink, “Since you’re clearly a bit slow, I’ll spell it out for you. She. Doesn’t. Want. To. Talk. To. You.”

“I dont remember you being this cocky with a gun to your head.” The words were spoken softly but the threat was clear.

A storm brewed in JJ’s eyes as the bright blue was replaced by something much darker.

My heart jumped at his tone and the look in his eyes made me swallow hard. Disgust filled me as heat began to build between my legs forcing me to press my thighs together.

Hands up on surrender, Topper shot me a look before heading back to his friends. JJ’s eyes stayed on him for a beat ensuring that he wouldn’t come back.

When he was satisfied, JJ moved towards me in quick strides making me yelp in surprise.

His ring covered hand grasped my upper arm and tugged me back to his bike. I shrugged out of his hold and crossed my arms across my chest, hoping it’ll keep a safe distance between the two of us.

I couldn’t think clearly when he was close.

“Listen-“

“No thanks.”

“If you would just-“

“Go away.”

“Can you please stop acting-“

“Why don’t you go back to Stacy? I’m sure she’d find this conversation enlightening.” I spat, shoving his reaching hands away.

“I dont want to talk to Sta-“

“Are you sure? You seemed to have a lot to say be-“

“Jesus Christ, would you just shut up?” JJ shouted with his hands in his hair.

My mouth opened and closed in shock.

“You’re the most frustrating person on this fucking island.” He growled, shaking his head in false amusement.

“Then why are you still talking to me?”

“Because it’s you.”

Throwing my hands up in defeat, I let out a bleak laugh. “What does that even mean? Stop pretending you care. Stop pretending to be my-“

“I wasn’t pretending.” He shook his head, the blue orbs pleading for me to understand,”Stacey was just saying shit to get a reaction-“

“She wasn’t wrong.”

He stopped talking and stared at me, almost confused.

My body trembled slightly with nerves as I prepared to finally expose every bit of my heart to the blue eyed boy in front of me.

“What she said—about how I feel about you. She was right. Anybody with two fucking eyes can see how I feel about you, except for you.”

I furiously wiped my eyes stop the tears from falling. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

“But now I know you only see me as John B’s little sister. It’s just humiliating that you chose to say that to Stacey instead of me.”

I was going to throw up. My stomach churned and swayed but I swallowed down the urge.

JJ let out a harsh sound, “I feel fucking guilty, okay? I feel guilty that I don’t see you the way I should. John B was my best friend and now I’m falling for his sister? It’s eating at me.”

“Then leave-“

“Shut up,” He snapped. “You’ve already got to say what you wanted. It’s my turn.”

My throat tightened as I braced myself for his confession.

“I look at you and I have to stop myself from kissing you even though it’s all I can think about.”

His eye contact seared into my very soul. I could feel it pierce my pounding heart.

“So you aren’t the only one that feels something.”

My heart was in my throat as I processed his words.

“But you said-“

“I lied.” He cut me off with a shrug and advanced towards me, clearly fed up with the distance I placed between us.

In a last ditched effort, I put up my hands to stop him in his tracks. I needed to think. I needed to breathe.

“Don’t touch me.” The plea itself was weak at best.

At the sound of my sob, JJ ignores my demand, and shoves my hands away, despite my weak attempt to keep him out of my space.

Instantly, his fingers curl themselves along my wrist and take note of my pulse. He let out a distressed sound from what I can only assume is the pounding of my pulse and whispers soothing words.

Taking in gulps of air, he slowly counts me down to a manageable pace of breathing. My shaking slowly begins to subside and my very focus is just on him.

Resting his forehead on mine, JJ whispers pleadingly, “Please stop crying.”

Another kiss lands on my nose. “I’m sorry.”

His request along with his sweet pleadings, causes my defenses to crumble down. Another sob tears from my chest as I relax into his embrace.

“I didn’t mean it.” He muttered, brushing my tears away with his thumb.

“Then why did you say it?” My words were soft, barely a whisper.

“Because she’s not important enough to know how I feel.”

Our eyes were glued to each other, a deep unknown longing singeing us together.

“You said I was just some girl.”

JJ tilted my head up, his fingers trailing softly along my bottom lip, “I meant my girl.”

“I have a lot of baggage,” I gave him one more shot at leaving.

“Good thing I have a truck.”

“But she-“

He shook his head, leaning down so there’s just a sliver of space between our lips, so close that we were inhaling each others breaths.

“You’re the only one I want.”

JJ bent down, his arms circling themselves directly below my ass, and picked me up causing me to shout out in surprise.

My hands curled onto each of his arms, my stomach fluttering at the flex of his muscles. He set me on the seat of the bike, his large calloused hands gripped my upper thighs tightly sending a wave of heat right to my core.

JJ’s half lidded eyes dart between my gaze and my lips. “Tell me to stop.”

The words never crossed my lips.

He let out a sound of satisfaction, tugging my legs open to stand in between them.

His ring covered fingers danced along the strands of my hair before nesting themselves at the root, gripping the nape tightly, "You’re mine.”

Heat instantly swarmed my belly as I drastically tried to collect my thoughts. My lips trembled as he hovered over me, his figure towering over my small frame.

JJ swiped his tongue along my parted lips before biting gently. Instantly, my body jolted forward and we were chest to chest, perfectly aligned.

My grip on his biceps tightened as I tremble with anticipation.

Finally, he pressed his lips to mine, slowly guiding our kiss. Gripping my hair tighter, he tilts my head sliding his tongue inside.

A small whimper escaped my lips causing a groan to erupt from him. Almost lazily, he pulled back slightly and pulled my bottom lip into his, sucking softly.

White hot lust seared itself into my blood. I let out a whine and pushed myself up, pressing my lips to his, desperate for another taste of JJ.

My blood was pounding in my ears as I tugged him closer. Almost lazily, I teased his mouth open and slid my tongue inside. Humming with desire, I gently sucked on his tongue causing him to flex his grip on my thighs.

JJ pulled back giving me the opportunity to catch my breath. His fingertips left a heated trail along my face as he caressed every inch.

He shook his head, laughing to himself softly,” It’s you. It’s always been you.”

______________

I love sassy JJ. Sorry for the delayed upload, I got into a car accident and am just now starting to get better:)

Please let me know what you think!! Next piece will be yummy smut with Rafe

#jj maybank #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank masterlist #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #obx #obx fanfiction #obx smut #rudy pankow #rudy pankow smut #JJ maybank imagines #outer banks smut #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks imagines #outer banks fanfiction #obx3 #obx jj #obx imagine

[kteezy997]

can i request timmy and reader being costars and they have to film a bit of a spicy scene where they’re supposed to make out and basically dry hump each other. he ends up accidentally making her cum in her flimsy panties under the skirt she‘s supposed to be wearing. he doesn’t notice at first but then he sees the signs, the way she tenses up, how her hips stutter, the more authentic moans than the ones before, the look in her eyes as he kisses along her neck like scripted and one tiny, barely audible whimper of his name. his real name. not his characters name. which surprises him but turns him on like crazy. he ends up getting hard and reader notices after she‘s down from her high. then after the scene they’re really awkward towards each other at first but they end up fucking

Perversion//t.c.

Warnings: smut obvi, degradation, little bit of praise, cursing, light spanking, smoking

There were worse things in life than having to do a sex scene with one of Hollywood’s most promising actors. Timothée Chalamet was often referred to as his generation’s Leonardo DiCaprio. But you had gotten to know him as just Timmy.

You had big crush on him, as did a lot of people that worked with him, probably. He had this way about him that made you feel seen and special. You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t excited about your intimate scene with him today. It may be the only time you’d ever be so close to him. You had to remind yourself that it wasn’t real, though, and that there were cameras and crew members all around.

The director instructed you to get on the bed, lying on your back. Timmy stood nearby, shirtless with a pair of jeans on as he chatted with a producer about the scene. It was dark outside, and the night was dreamy.

The director called action and Timmy climbed on top of you, kissing you upon contact. The directions were to make out and touch each other all over, with some dry humping on his part.

It felt so good being under the weight of him. His lips were soft and gentle, but he devoured you like he was starving. Timmy nestled between your legs. The only barrier keeping him from you was your thin panties you had on underneath your skirt.

His crotch grazed against you over and over as the scene progressed. He moaned, but it was just acting. He grabbed your ass, and groped your boobs.

Your body tensed up. His actions and his sounds were consuming you. You were soaking your panties.

Timmy’s soft hair brushed your cheek as he kissed and nipped at your neck. You felt the wetness of his mouth, his warm breath, and his teeth ever so gently on your throat. He squeezed your thigh, and that was it.

Your hips stirred and you moaned, but it was real. “Oh, Timmy.” you whimpered softly, only for him to hear.

It was then that he looked at you, breaking character himself, and he realized what happened. It was real for you. He made you come without evening knowing. You moaned his name, not the name of the character he was playing.

“Cut!” called the director, “That was great guys. Let’s move on.”

You rested against the throw pillow under your head, and you steadied your breathing.

Timmy stayed still for a second, his hands rested on your hips.

You looked down and saw that he had a hard-on under his jeans.

Without saying a word, he got up and walked directly off the set.

………

Later, there was a dinner for the cast and crew. You and Timmy sat together as usual, as you had become friends since working on the movie together. But it was awkward between you now. You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t want to make it any weirder than it already was.

He was very quiet, and fidgety, nothing like himself. He didn’t talk to hardly anyone. Especially you. You were so disappointed, so scared that you ruined everything. Fucking hormones. Fucking feelings.

You decided to try to give him a compliment, to break the ice. “You were great today, by the way. You always do an amazing job, Timmy.”

“Oh, I can kiss? Thanks.” Timmy snarled in sarcasm. He finished eating and off he went again.

His remark left you feeling even more uncomfortable than before, and you really wanted to make things right. You took it upon yourself to go find him in his dressing room and talk this out.

You knocked on his door, “Timmy? I’m sorry about earlier, okay? Let’s talk.” you begged.

You stood there a moment and just as you were convinced that he wasn’t going to answer, the door opened.

“Hey.” you said, “Can we just pretend that what happened earlier didn’t happen?”

He shook his head, “No, y/n, we can’t.” he answered sharply.

“Fuck,” you sighed, “I’m sorry. I should have controlled myself. But I thought we were friends. I was hoping we could look passed this."

“Well, it’s hard to be friends with someone after they give you a boner, and then all you can think about is fucking their brains out.” his eyes flicked up at you.

Your eyes widened, “What?”

Suddenly, he grabbed you by the back of your neck, forcing you into the room. His mouth was on yours before he slammed the door shut. It was a strange contrast to how he was in the scene. His lips were acting fast and harsh, "Take off your clothes." he ordered, his low voice hardly resembled his natural tone.

Fuck, you wanted this. You wanted him. You'd do anything he said. He let you go so he could lock the door and you began to undress like he told you to.

Once you were down to your bra and panties, he shoved you against a table, "You're still wearing the underwear you came inside of earlier?" In one movement, he unclasped your bra and pulled it off of you.

You let out a huff as he shoved you face down on the table. You whimpered as you felt the coldness of it on your nipples. You placed your hands on the tabletop, and your cheek rested on it.

"Little slut wants to be fucked by me so bad." he grumbled, yanking your panties down.

The air was cold on your soaked pussy. You shuddered at the sensation.

"Holy shit." Timmy said under his breath, he touched your clit, letting his fingers run along your labia.

You gasped as he entered a finger into your sensitive hole, "Fuck." you muttered. You shifted on your feet, feeling so needy, and so dirty.

"You're so desperate. So pathetic." he spat. He shoved in a second finger, pumping them in and out of you. A light smacking sound hit the air between you and him. He rubbed your clit softly, achingly slowly. He did it to tease you, to edge you, you knew it.

You'd take his insults, or whatever abuse he wanted to heed against you. You wanted him so badly. You could feel his clothed boner rubbing against your ass. His fingers were removed from you, and without warning, the palm of his hand came down fiercely on your ass cheek, leaving a stinging pain on your skin.

As you cried in ecstasy, you heard his zipper come undone, and he shoved his cock into you in a matter of seconds.

"I'll fuck you like the needy little whore you are." he growled, pumping his hips into you, his waist slapping your ass loudly.

You moaned and muttered small cries of pleasure. Once his fingers met your clit, as his cock rammed you, it was just a minute before you came. Your legs grew weak, but he held you up. You had no choice but to keep yourself on your feet.

Timmy grabbed a handful of your hair, he didn't pull, but he got you to raise up some. You looked ahead of you, seeing a mirror. Oh god, you could watch him fuck you!

You saw your own reflection as well, your hair was madly disheveled, your skin flushed with color, as well as the skin of your lover. Timmy let out an exhale, and you noticed some sweat on his neck. He didn't look into the mirror; his eyes were fixed on you. He'd alternate between fucking you roughly, and then giving you shallow pumps of his cock. He gave little tugs on your hair, but not enough to really hurt. He was being playful.

He smacked your ass again. The muscles in his torso flexing and bulging as he rocked into you. You felt like you were watching porn, but it was you that he was fucking, so you felt all the effects. It was incredible.

He pulled you closer, your back against his chest now. He let go of your hair and placed his hand on your throat. He pulled you into a kiss. Soft pumps into you now, but he was hitting you deep.

"mmm." you moaned into his mouth.

Timmy slipped his tongue in, letting it roll with yours in a heated French kiss. He palmed each of your tits roughly and nibbled on your bottom lip.

He pulled away from you after a moment, his hands left you, but his cock remained in your pussy. He tapped your hips lightly with his fingers, saying, "Fuck me, y/n."

You then used the little amount of strength you had left to throw your ass back against him. You whimpered loudly as his cock railed your insides. Your butt cheeks slapped his waistline, and you heard him chuckle lowly in satisfaction. He held your hips and started to pull you to him with each of your thrusts.

"Ah fuck, so good." he praised.

You weren't sure what turned you on more: his insults or encouragement.

His fingers met your lips, and you opened them. He wet his fingertips with your spit, then slid his fingers down the front of your body to find your clit again. You couldn't keep moving, so he took over for you, ramming his cock into you as he rubbed your clit. Your body shook with overstimulation, and you came again.

Timmy pulled his cock out of you, and turned you around, and put you on the table. He jerked his cock for a few seconds before his cum busted out in several ropes.

You gasped as his creamy seed collected into tiny puddles on your abdomen. You relaxed against the flatness of the table, trying to catch your breath, coming down from your high.

Timmy muttered some curse words under his breath before leaning over you, his hand planted right next to your head. He smirked and kissed you, moaning onto your lips.

He then walked over and picked up a t-shirt from somewhere in the room and tossed it on you.

You used the shirt to clean up his mess, and you heard the flick of a lighter. You looked over to him and watched as he lit a cigarette.

He closed his eyes, leaned his head back as he inhaled. He blew out the smoke and opened his eyes, catching your gaze.

"Those are bad for you, ya know." you said as you sat up on the table. You couldn't help but smirk at him as you thought about what had just occurred in the dressing room.

"I think you're worse for me." he joked, grinning as he took another drag.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @kpopgirlbtssvt @ducktapebar

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee x reader #timothée imagine #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fanfic

[drabblesandsnippets]

i need to know what happens in drabble #2 after they get home from the airport

Drabble #3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Background: Continuation of drabble #2 where Bucky listened to his girlfriend pleasure herself in the backseat of his car.

Summary: After weeks apart, Bucky finally gets her home to have his way with her.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Explicit sexual content. Slight domination. Praise.

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

She’s still recovering from her intense orgasm when Bucky yanks the car door open, nearly ripping it off its hinges in his haste to get to her. Before she knows it, he's throwing her over his shoulder, his vibranium arm keeping her securely in place as she lets out a squeal of laughter. “Bucky! Put me down!”

“Not a chance,” he tells her, effortlessly carrying her through the door from their garage, kicking it closed behind them. She starts to argue that she can walk when his hand suddenly lands on her ass, the slight sting of the smack cutting off her words, making her yelp in surprise. “Don’t wanna hear it. Stay put so I can get you to bed and fuck you senseless.”

Her only response is to tighten her grip on his shirt and let out a ridiculous giggle. She loves it when he gets like this.

The moment he reaches their bedroom, he tosses her onto their bed, her body landing with a soft bounce, eliciting another happy giggle from her. Their shared look says everything, making it obvious how much they both want this. How much they need this.

A grin lights up his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes as he starts to undress, quickly shedding all his clothes, his pants barely off his legs before he’s joining her on the bed in nothing but his underwear. 

Her body is still buzzing from her recent orgasm, her desire heightened for him, making her desperate for more. She eagerly meets him in a kiss, her thighs opening the same time her lips do, welcoming his tongue into her mouth as he settles against her core.

The groan that comes out of him makes her toes curl, and she lifts her hips, grinding herself against his erection, pleading with him, “Bucky, please.” There are still too many clothes separating them.

Bucky works fast, getting her undressed in record time, flinging each article of clothing over his shoulder with flourish, making her laugh.

He had planned to take his time undressing her, imagined exactly how this moment would go after being apart. He was going to kiss and lick every inch of her exposed skin, tease her, make her beg for him. But, he can’t wait another second. His plans will have to wait until later.

When she’s finally naked, Bucky allows her to pull him back on top of her, his underwear the only barrier between them. For a moment, he lets himself get lost in the feel of her, how hot and wet she is for him, just begging to be touched, licked, fucked.

It takes all his willpower to stop her when she reaches for him, his fingers wrapping around her wrist to pin her hand over her head, the look on his face telling her exactly how this is going to go.

Her fingers flex and she lifts her hips lift again, trying to entice him, but he shakes his head, smirking slightly as he looks down at her. “Pretty sure I already told you what was gonna happen when I got you here.”

She licks her lips slowly, a grin of her own pulling at her lips. “Something about fucking me senseless.” It’s been too long and she needs to feel him inside of her, have him fill her up, fuck her until they’re both spent.

Bucky shakes his head again, his eyes dark with desire and leans close, kissing a path to her ear. When he presses himself harder against her, making them both groan in pleasure, he promises, “That comes later.” Her soft moan of need fills his ears in response, and he continues, telling her, “First, you’re gonna ride my face, Princess.” 

A sudden squeal of his name leaves her when he quickly rolls them over so she’s straddling him, the heat of her pressed against his erection. His hands move to her hips, keeping her against him when she sits up, her hands on his chest as she starts to move slowly. His eyes greedily roam her naked body, his cock twitching at her heavy breaths, her flushed skin, her nipples hard and aching to be touched.

“God, look at you,” Bucky breathes, his words barely audible. He’ll never get enough of her. A million lifetimes with her wouldn't be enough. He wishes she could see herself the way he does. How beautiful and perfect she is.

As the back of his fingers follow a trail along her collarbone, and down between her breasts, she arches her back, moaning softly, her movements making her grind deliciously against him. 

If it were any other time, he’d let her stay like this for as long as she wanted. Let her ride him, use his body, while he worships her curves. But, it’s been too long. He can smell her, and he can’t wait anymore.

The slight twitch of his lips is the only warning she gets before both his hands are on her hips again, pulling her up his body, stopping only when her knees reach his shoulders. 

This is far from the first time they’ve been in this position, but there’s still a slight hesitation on her part and Bucky won’t stand for it. “Do I need to spank you again?” he asks, only half-teasing.

He understands her insecurities, but there’s no room for them in their bedroom. He’ll always do whatever he can to make them disappear, to make her confident and secure. 

She lets out a soft exhale of a laugh and shakes her head in response, letting him wrap his arms around her thighs to guide her closer to his mouth.

“You know the drill,” he tells her, licking his lips, his mouth watering at finally getting to taste her again. She needs no other instruction and immediately grabs the headboard, Bucky’s hands helping guide her into the perfect position over his face.

He lets her hover for just a moment, long enough for him to praise her, remind her how much he wants her. “Good girl. Now smother me with that fucking pussy.”

Fire pools in her belly, and she immediately lowers herself, her body shuddering at the first slow swipe of his tongue. Her moans are met with his own noises of pleasure, his groans vibrating against her pussy, the taste of her making his cock throb, pre-cum already soaking his underwear.

He feasts on her, tasting every inch of her, alternating between sliding his tongue along her entrance, licking her with the flat of his tongue, to circling her clit, letting his lips close over the swollen bundle of nerves.

Bucky builds her slowly, taking his time, his right hand gripping her thigh, keeping her in place, his soaked beard rubbing against her thighs, adding to her pleasure.

She’s no longer making coherent words, her breathy moans and gasps getting louder with each passing second, the tension in her body staring to grow to the breaking point. 

Her fingers strain against the headboard, her knuckles white, her entire body trembling from the overwhelming pleasure. No one’s ever made her feel the way Bucky does, and there’s no part of her that worries about doing the wrong thing.

Sex has never been as fun or as intense as it is with him, and the moment his metal hand cups her breast, his vibranium fingers delicately pinching her nipple, she starts to move against him, riding his face just like he wanted.

Bucky’s moan of appreciation makes her hips buck and his hand on her hip tightens, encouraging her to move as fast and hard as she needs, relishing the way she lets go of all inhibitions with him.

All thoughts leave her, her entire focus on the way his mouth and hands feel on her body, the feeling growing until it’s like every nerve ending is exposed. And then the coil suddenly snaps, taking her by surprise, making her cry out, the intense explosion of pleasure nearly making her collapse.

Her thighs tense around his head and both his hands grip her, keeping her against him, letting her ride out the waves of her orgasm, her pussy pulsing against his mouth.

The sounds she makes, the taste of her on his tongue, the way she screams his name is almost enough to make him come, his hips lifting on their own, seeking friction. 

It’s the last of his concern, though, his mouth never ceasing, refusing to stop until she can’t take anymore. Bucky knows her body better than even her sometimes, listening to her cues, the way her breath changes, the subtle twitch of her body when she becomes too sensitive.

Only then does he let up, pulling her down on top of him, his glistening mouth meeting hers in a passionate kiss, letting her taste herself. He's never loved anyone the way he loves her, and he plans to spend the rest of the night reminding her of that.

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

Thank you for requesting this, I had a lot of fun writing it!

Part 1

Part 3

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky x reader #bucky x plus size reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky smut #bucky x female reader

[am-i-interrupting]

Hi! I love your Hazbin Hotel stuff and I wanted to make a request. If you haven’t done something like this, could you write the Hazbin characters, specifically Vox, Lucifer, Husk, and maybe Lute with an S/O (would prefer fem but G/N is fine) who has bad body dysmorphia? Like, they can never take compliments about their body, always thinking they’re overweight, not eating, etc. If this is too difficult/uncomfortable, totally understand! Would hate to trigger anything. Hope you have a great day/night!

If you like what I’m doing consider tipping me for priority requests & access to characters I don’t usually write for such as Charlie, Valentino, Carmilla, and more.

Husk

Husk will never compliment you in public after figuring out that you hate to be complimented.

That does not mean that he’ll never compliment you.

He will because he truly thinks you’re beautiful.

He simply elects to do it in private so he will be able to explain to you in length why he disagrees.

He wants you to understand why he loves every single thing about you.

Maybe you don’t agree but he will let you know why he thinks it’s all so beautiful.

He doesn’t try to make you love it all like he does but he will at least try to make you accept that he loves it.

Lucifer

Lucifer can’t understand why you don’t see your own beauty.

At least at first.

Then he realizes how close self loathing is close to depression and how they can often intertwine and how hypocritical it is to be so befuddled by your lack of understanding of his love of you & your body when he can’t understand how giving people free will is a good thing in any capacity and wow— he was too hard on you and himself.

Hello, something new to unpack with a therapist.

He definitely starts being more understanding after that revelation.

Not that he was ever cruel but he was a lot more insistent on how amazing you are not understanding that his insistence may not help but could make it worse.

It could make you think he was lying, covering up some hidden disdain with an over abundance of praise like he does with sinners who thank him for free will.

He’s not.

Make no mistake. He truly does love and adore you and every single part of you is amazing in his eyes but he understands.

He lets up on his pouring compliments and his combativeness over whether or not he means it.

He still compliments you but he no longer fights with you.

He just says what he thinks and then goes on, ignoring any expression of disbelief with a small, “A difference of opinion.”

Lute

You cannot dislike her partner.

Not allowed. No one can dislike her amazing partner.

Will spare with you when you disregard her compliments.

She means what she says.

Why would she waste her breath with words that weren’t true when she doesn’t have to?

Everything she says is said because she means it.

You best learn that.

Vox

No, no, no, no.

You don’t love your body? Unacceptable.

“Velvette! A photo shoot is in order right now!” “I’m busy!” “Well, clear you schedule!”

Velvette actually has a way of making you feel a bit more confident without seeming like she’s trying.

The photo shoot actually goes well even if you refuse to look at the pictures.

Of course, that doesn’t last long because Vox puts them up in his office, just too large and gigantic to ignore.

He has pictures of you everywhere because he loves looking at you.

Will kiss every part of you in front of a mirror while saying why he loves every part and forcing you to look at yourself otherwise he’ll stop. He records the entire thing to watch back later.

If you like what I’m doing consider commissioning me for canon/canon stories AND personalized canon/reader stories.

#vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin husk x reader #husk x reader #hazbin lute x reader #lute x reader

[cmncisspnandmore]

Not Coming Home

Pairings: Simon Riley X F!Reader, Plationic!141X F!reader

Warnings: hurt, Angst, Character Death.

The hardest thing John Price ever had to do was tell you that Ghosts has been killed in action.

When you pulled open the door, expecting to see Simon standing there with a smile on his face, only to be met by the solemn face of his captain. Your heart sank, your entire body going cold as he stepped into the room.

"I wish I was here with better news..." Price mumbles as he closes the door behind him.

Your entire body feels detached from your mind, like you're not really here. Not hearing the words that are coming from your husbands superior.

"I'm so sorry... Simon is dead.." Price stumbles out, his own words thick with emotion.

It was at that moment that the world seemed to stop spinning. Everything came to a screeching halt as you processed his words. There was screaming, but you didn't know where it was coming from. Who or what could be making that awful sound?

You sink down to the floor, and only as the door flies open, John MacTavish standing there, with his hand on his gun on his waist. You can barely see him through the blur of tears that cloud your vision. The telltale mohawk the only give away. His face is pale as he stares down at you with blue eyes wide with emotion. That's when you realize that the screaming is coming for you.

Hot tears stream down your cheeks as Price and Soap crouch in front of you. Their hands come out to touch you only for you to recoil from their touch. You shrink back against the wall, as if they were trying to hurt you.

Because they were. Not physically, or intentionally. But the comfort they tried to offer you hurt. Knowing that it would never be Simon who held you close when you cried again hurt. Knowing that they also lost a teammate hurt.

You aren't sure exactly how long you screamed for, huddled on the floor. Your knees pulled up to your chest as the two men who served alongside your husband kneeled in front of you. But eventually your voice gave out, leaving you with nothing but broken sobs in its place.

As morning grew into day, your tears eventually stopped. The silence that settled over the room was worse than the screaming. It felt fragile,like one small word and chaos would ensue again.

Johnny couldn't stand to listen to the sound of your sobs and screams. Each one felt like a knife twisting in his already mangled heart. He wanted to hold you, tell you that it would be okay but he couldn't. Because he didn't know if it ever would be. How could he tell you such sweet lies just to placate himself.

In truth you probably wouldn't ever be fully okay again. Even though you spent years preparing yourself for the possibility that SImon might not come home one day, you never thought it would happen. No one wanted that to come to fruition, but it did and now as Johnny and Price stare at the broken mess of a woman at their feet they don't know what to do. There aren't any magic words or miracles that would bring Simon back to you. 

Johnny stands next to you at Simons headstone, you had one placed even though he was cremated. You couldn't bring yourself to damning him to eternity in a pine box, not after everything he went through. You wipe a tear that trails down your cheek as Johnny wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

“He’d be proud of you ,” Soap whispers, his hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I hope so,” you whisper, wiping your eyes and sniffling. He gently grabs your face in his hands and brushes your stray tears from your cheeks. You give him a small half hearted smile as a small voice calls out to you.

“Mummy! Mummy! I found some pretty purple flowers for Daddies stone!” Your 4 year old daughter calls out as she runs towards you. Her blue dress swishing around her ankles, she stops in front of you and Soap. 

“Oh they’re beautiful, he’ll love them,” you smile crouching down in front of her as she thrusts the flowers into your face. You gently move them from in front of your face as 2 other figures come over the hill. John Price and Kyle Garrck, you give a small wave as they walk up. Your eyes flickering back down to your daughter as she looks at the flowers, gently stroking the petals. “Didn't we talk about running away from Uncle John and Uncle Kyle?”

“Yes mummy, I'm sorry,” she sighs, and looks behind you at the gravestone. “Can I give the flowers to Daddy now?” She looks up at you. 

“Of course Baby,” You smile softly as she grabs Soaps hand and drags him over to the stone.

“C’mon Uncle Soap, lift me up so i can put them on the tippy top! That way Daddy can see them all the way from heaven!”

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod #cod x reader #x reader #simon #angst #hurt #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soapghost #soap cod #task force 141 #141 x reader #cod 141 #tf 141

[hisunshiine]

—wind it back, i’ll take it slow [1/7]

Part 1 of 7 of the Seven Days Series ↣ series masterlist

🗓️ pairing: nurse!jungkook x teacher!reader 🗓️ au/genre: non-idol au, brother’s friend au, fwb, age-gap(reader is older), f2l, fluff, angst, smut 🗓️ rating: M 🗓️ wc: 1,741 🗓️ warnings: emotionally constipated pairing, reader is older, adult worries, growing older, dating younger, time passing and not hitting milestones everyone else is, judgy coworkers, explicit sexual content: praise, begging, light breath play, kissing, unprotected sex, you’re wet wet, creampie, cum stuffing 🗓️ an: as i mentioned in the masterlist, blame @colormepurplex2 for this. This is just the first of seven parts, so it starts us off slowly, easing us into the main pairings in a hopefully delicious way that will open you up for more to come! I hope you enjoy it! Also to blame are  @downbad4yoongi, for helping to expand the characters depth, @heathfritillary-blog for her writing knowledge, challenging me to be a better writer, and of course @peachiilovesot7 and @mrsparkjimin18 for their last minute double checks before posting. ♡ I really hope everyone enjoys this story! 🗓️ summary: “Wind it back, I’ll take it slow, Leave you with that afterglow…” Jungkook has been your best friend since you met him when he was still in college thanks to your brother, Yoongi. Despite your age gap, he easily fell into your world, your life, and your bed…

Taglist: @sizzlingfestpeach @mochminnie @jungkooksmytype

Jungkook yawns, his voice a sleepy cacophony of rumbles and soothing melodies as he details to you about the last-minute patient he had to assist with. As a registered nurse (RN), your friend-with-benefits often wakes you up past your bedtime to crawl in between your sheets, especially if he’s had a particularly hard night on his shift. Like tonight. 

“She just looked so scared, she could barely speak, babe. But I’m glad they rescued her.” Jungkook brushes his teeth from the attached bathroom as you lean in the doorway, watching his shirtless body lean to scoop water into his mouth, swishing it around before spitting it neatly into the sink. “When I left she seemed stable, but this is the part I hate. Waiting until my next shift to find out if the patient made it through the night.”

“You’re a hero, Gguk, even if you don’t always think so. I know you did everything in your power. The rest is up to the universe.” You reach your hand out, connecting your palm gently to his cheek. He leans into it, warmth seeking warmth as his eyes close sleepily. 

“C’mon, let’s go to bed.” He reaches for your free hand, stepping past you to guide you to bed. You blink slowly, eyes readjusting to the dark as you flick the bathroom light off and allow Jungkook to help you climb onto your mattress. You hear him shuck off his sweatpants and feel the dip of the bed as his body joins yours.

“Yoongi’s wedding is this week…remind me that we need to check each other’s outfits, to make sure they’re formal enough.”

Jungkook yawns cutely, trying to actively fight it while answering you, “Yeah, yeah.” Tucking you against his firm form, he wraps an arm around your waist, pushing his leg between yours. You can feel his inhalations as he nuzzles his face into your neck, tickling you. 

“Ggukkie, stop,” you whine, “I’m trying to sleep.”

He huffs, pretending to be irritated. “But, you smell good.” Jungkook holds you tighter, as if melding your body to his so you two become one. The leg between yours lifts higher, until you feel the press of his thigh against your core. “And I want you.”  

It’s slow, the way he wraps both of his arms around you so that his large hands can traverse up your body, fingers mapping your shape until his palms cup your breasts. You love the way his hands hold you—like how a safety belt fits—like you matter. Shaking the thoughts from your head, you maneuver your hands down to shimmy out of your panties. Jungkook shifts his legs to help liberate your thighs from the cotton fabric so he can nestle his favorite body part in between to meet his favorite body part of yours.

It’s always easy for Jungkook to get you wet and dripping as his shaft slips between your lips, his hips rutting as your thighs cockwarm him while he riles you up. 

“Have I told you how much I love your pussy?”

“This week? Seven times.” He leisurely rotates his hips, keeping his cock nestled between your thighs until you can’t stand it and beg, “Fill me up, please.”  

Of course, he doesn’t hesitate.   

Jungkook’s hips roll slowly, your walls suctioning him in deeper as you moan from the penetration. The head of his cock kisses your cervix every time his pelvis meets the meat of your ass cheeks, and his right hand curls up under your arm so that he can hold your neck. A slight pressing of his hand, pressure building as your airway shrinks minimally, sends your heart racing. 

His touch always heats your body, and when he moves his hands from your hip to the apex of your thighs, rough fingers searching for your clit, your body jolts when the pads of his fingers find it. 

“Fuck, Jungkook…” Your eyes roll back as his fingers circle wetly, the sounds of your dripping core and his cock moving in friction filling the room as you moan out his name. 

“I make you feel good, baby?”

“Yeah, don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

He inhales at your begging, and you feel like he grows impossibly harder inside of you. “I won’t, not when you ask so nicely.”

And he doesn’t stop, but his sleepy thrusts aren’t enough to get you there, even with his fingers gliding along your bundle of nerves. You sigh, turning in his arms as he whines at the loss of your walls. 

Rolling you onto your back, Jungkook re-enters you, his body framing yours from above as you lift your legs to wrap around his slender waist. This angle allows him better access, and you leak out around his cock, juices trailing down your body to drip beneath you onto the sheets. His palms frame your shoulders, caging you in as he smirks down at you like the menace he is. 

Looking up at his face, it’s hard to see all of your favorite parts of him in the dark; the scar along his cheek, the beauty mark you kiss beneath his bottom lip, his doe eyes that sparkle like stars when he looks at you. His head drops to your cheek, and you feel his eye fluttering, lashes tickling your cheek as he tries to hold out, so you can cum first. 

“Kiss me,” you gasp out, and he lifts his head up, tendrils of his hair dancing across your face as he positions his lips to slot over yours. His kiss is fervent, open-mouthed with his tongue seeking yours instantly. Each piston of his hips brings you closer and closer to your peak, a music box key being twisted tighter and tighter until there’s nothing left for you to do but erupt. Your walls flutter, and he fucks you through it, every compressing movement setting him up to follow you into ecstasy. 

Jungkook wants to hold out, you can tell by the way his shoulders tense up under your hands as they roam his body. 

“I could die buried in this pussy, babe, so tight.”

“Please don’t,” you half chuckle, half moan, “I wouldn’t be able to look the hospital staff in the eye again.” You bury your fingers into his messy bedhead and tug. His resounding moan is a luscious symphony, notes sending shivers along your spine.

“Let go for me, fill me up.” You sound breathy as you coax him, voice inviting and ambrosial to help get him there. “Gguk, your cock, fuck, so big…” He coaxes a second orgasm from you, and this time he does cum, a mutual climax leading him to collapse against your chest. He’s heavy in a good way, chests heaving as you collectively try and catch your breath.  

“I’ll change the sheets in the morning,” you comment as he pulls out, his cum trying to follow, but his fingers stop the flow, stuffing you full again while his free hand reaches for the tissue box you placed conveniently on the nightstand.

“You sure? I can change them while you pee.”

“What would I do without you, Ggukkie?” you joke as he relents with a sigh and allows you to get up, pouting at you for letting his cum go to waste.

“You’ll never have to find out. I have a shift meeting tomorrow, but fuck it, let’s sleep in!” He calls out the last part to you as you disappear into the bathroom. The rustling of the new sheets being tucked under each of the four corners is only drowned out when you flush and wash your hands. 

Returning to the bed, now covered in clean sheets with a very sleepy muscle bunny under the comforter, you join him when he opens the blanket to show you where he wants you to lay. Curling into the spot, your head on his chest and a leg thrown over his lap, you allow the steady breathing of Jungkook to be the background to the thoughts swirling in your brain. 

Jungkook is one of your best friends, despite the age gap between you. At twenty-six, he’s six years your junior, but your friend group ranges in ages, with Jungkook being the baby. Yoongi, your younger brother, introduced him to your friend group after they met in college, and you’ve been close ever since. You have a similar upbringing, the same taste in eclectic music, a love for karaoke, and a competitive streak that has the group making sure to always put you on the same team for game night. 

And now, the same brother who brought Jungkook into your life, who is also two years younger than you, is getting married. It’s a weird feeling, when you realize everyone around you is doing adult things, and you’re…fucking your best friend, who you aren’t even dating. Would you date him if he wanted to? You honestly don’t know. He’s a great catch! Has a respectable, well-paying job, owns his car, treats you well, is very giving in bed…but to be honest, his age does make you worry at times. 

You remember confiding in one of your coworkers, who works at the high school with you and Yoongi, about Jungkook and she made a snide remark about his age despite gushing over the picture of him you showed her from your camera roll only a few minutes before. It was as if his age changed her thoughts on him and made her look at you differently. It was a strange thing to experience, because you still feel young. Hell, most days you forget that you and Jungkook aren’t the same age. It’s not like you look significantly older than him! Just the other day, you were carded when buying alcohol…

“Shhh…you’re thinking too loud and I can’t sleep,” Jungkook says before groaning when you slap him on the chest. He’s so attuned to you that he can tell when you’re spiraling into your thoughts. You adjust yourself in his arms, letting your arm drape across his stomach. You curl your fingers to keep him in your arms, growing more comfortable as you sink into your mattress and into slumber, wrapped in his warmth.

Jungkook’s fingers smooth down your hair as he hums lightly to you, a small smile gracing his features as your body settling within his arms soothes that small part of him that aches to always be the thing that brings you peace.

stay tuned for “Lemme swallow your pride” coming 8-1-2023!

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2023. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook writings #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #bts imagines #bts #bts reactions #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts smut #bts au #bts angst #bts fluff #hisunshiine writings

[mistydeyes]

𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽!

click me for asks + requests :)

2k celebration! submit an au/prompt from the list now until halloween :)

requests: open! i am in uni tho so it takes me about 1-2 weeks to answer!

pairings status: closed atm!

rules for requests - i love when you send things 💌

note - message me or comment on any one of my works if you want to be added to a tag list :)

I usually post on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays

izzie's fic recommendations - updated daily!

some things about me :)

the basics: 21, she/her, from the us :)

i'm a second year pharmacy student! also minoring in justice, law, and society

along with writing, i also intern at a perfume company and work at as a pharmacy intern

so naturally my pharmacist series is my absolute favorite to write and research!

𝓶𝔀𝓲𝓲 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 - the full masterlist

don't know where to start? here's a few readers' favorites :) ❤️ - izzie’s favorites

��� if you want to peek at all of my writings

S E R I E S

"your prescription is ready for pick-up" - 141 x pharmacist!reader

all of my works and our pharmacist reader

a panacea❤️ - 141 meets the cure to all their ailments

sick day visit - you prided yourself on never getting sick but the day has finally come. as you’re resting in your quarters, a certain group pays you a visit :)

fake hypochondriac ghost x reader (sequel to “a panacea”) - ghost goes to extreme lengths to see his favorite pharmacist

pain-killer fueled thoughts price x reader (sequel to “a panacea”) - price landed himself in the medic tent and his pain killers are making him tell the pharmacist his feelings.

keep your weapons hot and bodies hotter (18+) - stripper!141 x fem!reader (codename: Phoenix)❤️

hunk-o-mania 141 edition - feast your eyes on Delilah's Den's newest male dancers

playboy bunny phoenix edition - an unforeseen guest complicates the mission, now you have to get ready to act as the distraction on stage

the joys of civilian life - 141 x civilian!fem!reader

opposite occupations - while on leave, the boys each meet a civilian that makes their time deployed and defending their country worth it

family moments - 141 x fem!reader

little moments and little voices - precious moments you spend in your home with your husband and children :)

oh, darling, don’t you ever grow up - your husband leaves this world too early and now you have to pick up the pieces with your children

secrets and pointed fingers (requested!)❤️ - simon "ghost" riley

behind locked doors - when the 141 thinks you're the mole, they make sure to extract the information in whatever way possible

empty apologies and avoiding glances - when you return back to base, everything is far from normal

half empty glasses and unchanging perspectives - you try to run away from the trauma at the pub but with a glass in hand, simon finds you

O N E - S H O T S

odd hobbies - 141 x reader everyone has their own hobbies, yours are just unique to 141’s perspective

butterfly effect - 141 x fem!reader they say "a butterfly flaps its wings in the amazonian jungle, and subsequently a storm ravages half of europe." what once was a silly quote now has implications as one action leads to your death.

opposite of a meet cute❤️ - 141 x civilian!reader most people have a cute story as to how they met their significant other but yours is a little more eccentric

V I S U A L S + R A N D O M

random things in pockets and bags❤️ SERIES - what does the 141 carry on them when they’re on leave?

pt i- kyle “gaz” garrick

pt ii - simon "ghost" riley

pt iii - johnny "soap" mactavish

pt iv - john price

E X P L A I N S my series of explaining the various timeline's of the games and characters

simon "ghost" riley's backstory

which modern warfare game should i play first?

some writings from the inbox

medication mixup - the medic unknowingly prescribing you a penicillin has disastrous results due to your allergy

141’s dossier - see what the dossiers laswell gets at the end of mw 2019 looks like! + template

ghost’s doppelgänger - how does the 141 and los vaqueros react to you joining the team? their reactions are even better when you share an uncanny resemblance with ghost

running mascara - 141 x fem!reader harsh words are said and you try your best to run away from the cause. however, everyone needs to face the issue eventually and now the 141 is left to pick up the pieces. initially part of my 1k celebration but i added a sequel as it was highly requested! PART I and PART II

mw2 x reader - my ongoing series of pairing y'all up and writing a short lil blurb about how you met and your relationship

izzie’s 1K celebration! - closed now :) but feel free to look and see some of the prompts + how i answered them

𝓪𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓴𝓼

#tag list #masterlist

[onepiece-polls]

One Piece Shipping War - Grand Finale!

Propaganda under the cut.

Propaganda for Franky x Robin:

Do I really need to explain?

The old married couple who's healthy, Enies Lobby (and all their appearances) are their propaganda really.

It’s all about the maturity!

Their dynamic is perfect and their pasts are so similar. I love the chemistry between them as well as their introduction that helped build the connection and shared history they already have.

they are THE t4t bi4bi ship | franky telling robin "existing is not a crime" immediately puts this at number one for me | they are opposites (bright and loud + quiet and goth) but also they're both so eccentric and silly <3 | THEY WEAR MATCHING OUTFITS

Mom and dad Straw Hat

They are STILL the Mom and the Dad of the Straw Hats, this is the one thing I don't care what Oda says <3 Also their interactions in Enies Lobby and Thriller Bark are amazing.

In my eyes, they are married. Some of my favorite character interactions in the manga/anime and in official art.

Oda had Franky call Robin his wife at least once

Your honor they’re married

I'M GOING TO PUT LINKS IN MY EXAMPLES (Mod note: I linked to the whole post, the propaganda was going to get too long otherwise. But I will copy this line:...) They immediatly clicked in Enies Lobby, Franky saved Robin with both words and actions ("Your existence is not a sin!"), and then she grabbed his balls.

The duality of two kids who were just trying to chase their dream and having circumstances outside their control (the government) take everything they love away from them, but one choosing solitude and the other adopting every other person in a bad circumstance??? I love them. Plus they literally had couple moments from the first interaction.

The ultimate t4t couple idk what else you need theyre iconic

A wholesome ship of a woman who feels the need to be constantly on edge trying to relax and a man who is a 110% himself from the moment we see him. the joy of frobin is the causal domesticity, in many color spreads and especially post timeskip we can see them casually enjoying the others company.

Remember when Franky was in Chopper's body in Punk Hazard and every time he spoke Robin was like "Franky. Stop talking. Do not talk while you're in Chopper's body."

idk like. he's obsessed with her. she's his weird Goth gf and he's her himbo. they have matching outfits. I love them.

Look. It's Franky and Robin. Literally the only two characters that make sense to ship on the Sunny. Their arcs are inextricably intertwined (water7/enies lobby). Also LOOK AT THEM interacting, both during their arcs, but also thriller bark, or post time skip. I love them. Also robin crushed frankys balls.

funny big robot man & analytical smart research lady power couple... silly x smart... himbo x researcher... augh... so good

They are the ship for taxpaying adults your honor I LOVE them they’re literally freak4freak and they share such a fucking powerful arc together (Water 7).

that moment she let him sleep on her lap in punk hazard was sooo cute <3 -- The matching thigh highs and bottoms in film z can NOT be understated. -- Strawhat mom and dad -- Let's not forget the way robin convinced franky to join ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) -- she also indirectly called his balls "treasure" so,,, -- the way their stories are so closely intertwined...they were both keys to destroy the world...the way they instantly connected over that...the soulmate-ism of it all...

they . them. girlboss and malewife. that's it.

She grabbed his balls. He totally liked it.

He's so silly and she loves it. She's so scary and he loves it. She grabbed his balls in public.

They will be endgame trust me. Franky doesn't treat any other girl like he treats Robin. There dynamic in Water 7 and Thriller Bark was and always will be one of the best in all of OP.

Propaganda for Nami x Vivi:

Yes, Nami has a new girlfriend on every island, but her heart belongs to Vivi. Vivi in turn refuses to marry, because her heart belongs with a pirate ❤

THEY’RE LESBIANS! IN LOVE! another point: my friends who are watching OP for the first time came to me and asked “so Nami and Vivi… they’re gay right?” So it’s pretty apparent to even newcomers

I just think they’re neat! And in love. Nami gave up money for Vivi that’s True Love

Anyone who saw them can just tell they’re gay. Like Nami gave up money for her

They're one of the rare lesbian ships in op, they care for each other so much !!

Lesbians

Lesbians

They were so gay that Luffy offered to share food to cheer Nami up when they were separated.

i dare you to read Baroque Works through Alabasta without shipping them. the way Vivi and Nami are so affectionate with each other, and Vivi putting saving her nation on hold to get Nami healthy again ???

Lesbians

Let’s go lesbians!!!!! Ok but actually, I think Nami saw a lot of herself in Vivi (ha) especially when Igaram “died” and then throughout their journey together Nami really encouraged her to open up to the crew. Nami showed Vivi it was ok to ask for help just like Luffy showed her.

Vivi was Nami's gay awakening and you cant change my mind. Nami was in love with Vivi and Vivi def had some kind of feeling for Nami. They were so close and they were more then just 'gal pals'

Lesbian Pirate Supremacy! they clearly care a lot about each other and considering when nami meets vivi she is probably one of the first close female friends she gets to have.

#one piece #frobin #NaVi #namivivi #op shipping war #grand finale #tournament poll

[girltwinklater]

SAM CARPENTER NSFW ALPHABET

not a soul asked for this but here you go gay people (me)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

makes sure you’re comfy before leaving and will MAKE you drink fluids. and if you’re staying over at hers she will not let you leave. cuddling before after and in between is like part of the deal.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

arms arms armsss sam loves her arms. so proud of them. but she’s always been super into hands. likes holding them, playing with them, sucking on your fingers. everything to do with hands.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

it’s like nectar to her. likes to makes sure you’re taken care of first. and then again and again and again. will suck you dry if you let her.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

loves hickies. pretends she doesn’t but loves when you mark her neck and thighs.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

moderately. but she’s learned your body and your sweet spots so she knows every way to get you off

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

doesn’t really prefer one over another, but likes seeing your face. seeing how well she’s doing.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

bro is goofy as hell 😭 sam can’t take anything seriously and it’s funny watching her try.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

she likes to stay trimmed. refuses to get rid of her happy trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

super gentle and sweet when she’s not being silly. loves being close to you and making you feel good

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

in the shower >>>> everything. and lovess handies.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

mommy kink but you didn’t hear that from me

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

your place since you live alone. but the risk of getting caught excites her a little.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

grinding and dry humping. over the clothes stuff. LOVES it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

can’t handle restraints. or knives. the one place she won’t go.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

prefers receiving, but gives expert level head it’s INSANE

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

likes to go slow when she’s topping. making sure you’re okay and enjoying yourself. but will ride you like there’s no tomorrow.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

she’s okay with them. sam prefers taking her time, though.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

she’s iffy about it, but since it’s you it doesn’t take much to convince her.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

sam’s stamina is high as the heavens. can easily go three rounds without breaks. you’re genuinely baffled at how she never seems to get tired.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

she has a few. you like to use them on her sometimes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

she’s less of the teaser and more the tease-ee. you love watching her get restless.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

relatively quiet. small gasps and whines in your ear. the occasional plea when you’re being a tease.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

she loves talking to you in spanish. pet names and praises.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

all i’m gonna say is homegirl is PACKING

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

not too high. the hormones definitely lowered it, but is down for it anytime.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

she has trouble sleeping. will hold you for hours listening to your breathing until she finally does doze off.

and yes i stole this from @finalgirlmeeks mind your business

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #scream franchise #scream #scream vi

[psycholuvrgirl]

sweets! part II

ethan landry x bimbo!oc [winnie adair]

summary: the friend group discusses the rules of the new set of ghostface killings and possible suspects. ethan and winnie play a game.

warnings: mentions of murder, nsfw implication/discussion

a/n: chapter two early as a treat <3

masterlist

Winnie and Ethan approach the group hand in hand. Since the prior night’s events, Winnie had texted Ethan once he had gone home, asking if he would stay close to her during the day. Ethan was more than happy to oblige; walking her to her classes, holding her hand, and even waiting near the bathroom for her. Ethan sits down and Winnie takes her spot in his lap, just as she had last night, and Mindy stands from the bench where she was waiting for them to arrive. 

“Okay, nerds! And Winnie,” Mindy announces, gesturing to the other girl with the mention of her name. Winnie fakes a curtsy, giggling at being singled out. Mindy continues her message, “Listen up! As terrifying as this all is, I’m actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not… calling the killers last time.”

“I called it,” Winnie says, smiling proudly.

Mindy glares at her, “As a joke. You didn’t actually mean it.”

“I was still right,” Winnie says. Ethan puts up his hand and Winnie high-fives him, sticking her tongue out at Mindy.

Ethan can’t help but be a little distracted by the size of her hands. They’re smaller than his, and so soft. She interlaces their fingers and he smiles at the action, their hands dropping to their sides.

“You two are scaring me more than Ghostface can,” Mindy says, her face flat as she looks at them. She clears her throat and turns back to the group, “Anyways. The way I see it, someone is out to make a sequel to the requel.”

“Um, what’s a requel?” Anika asks, putting her hand up to get Mindy’s attention.

“You’re beautiful, sweetie. Let’s hold questions to the end,” Mindy says.

“It’s made up,” Winnie whispers. Anika nods and gives her a thumbs up.

“Stab 1 took place in Woodsboro. Stab 2 took place in college,” Sam says.

“So we think that the killer is trying to copy the movies?” Tara asks.

“That is one possibility. Heroes now in college: check. Suspicious new characters brought in to round out the suspect list and/or body count: check, check, and check,” Mindy says, pointing to the three newcomers to the group.

“I don’t like this,” Ethan says. Winnie leans her head back onto his shoulder, looking up at him.

“You’re telling me,” she says with a smile.

“Ignoring that,” Mindy says, looking away from the pair with a disgusted expression. “It can’t just be about Stab 2.”

“Why not?” Tara asks. Winnie and Ethan revert their attention back to the group.

“It would make sense if this were just a sequel. But we’re not in a sequel, because nobody just makes sequels anymore,” Mindy says.

“Oh Mindy, you nerd, get on with it,” Winnie says, rolling her eyes.

“We’re in a franchise!” Mindy announces. Winnie groans, throwing her body limply into Ethan’s. Mindy ignores the girl’s dramatic display and continues. “And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise.”

“I had a feeling,” Sam says with a sigh. Winnie moves in Ethan’s lap, turning so she can lay on him comfortably. The boy welcomes her to do so, wrapping his arms around her when she’s comfortable. He notices Chad watching them in his peripheral vision but refuses to look over at his roommate.

“Rule one: everything is bigger than last time. Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count. Longer chases, shoot-outs, beheadings. You gotta top what came before to keep people coming back.”

“Beheadings?” Chad asks, looking up at his sister.

“Beheadings,” Mindy repeats. “Rule two: whatever happened last time, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations. If the killers last time were whiny snowflake film nerds with Letterboxd accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be true here.”

“She talks so much,” Winnie whines, looking at Mindy for her reaction.

“Suck on a lollipop and shut up,” Mindy says, a fake smile on her face. Winnie laughs at the girl’s jab, standing up and walking around to stand behind Ethan. She rests her chin on him, wrapping her arms around him from behind. “And rule three: no one is safe. Legacy characters? Cannon fodder at this point. Usually brought back only to be killed off in some cheap bid for nostalgia. It’s not looking too good for Gale and Kirby. Oh, and that’s not even the worst part!”

“Oh, I would love it if you would tell me, though,” Winnie says, acting excited.

“Lucky for you this is the part where she tells us the worst part,” Chad says, looking up from his book for a second.

“The worst part is franchises are just continuing episodic installments designed to boost an IP,” Mindy says, “Which means main characters are completely expendable now too. Laurie Strode, Nancy Thompson, Ellen Ripley, Sally Hardesty, Jigsaw, Tony Stark, James Bond. I mean, even Luke Skywalker! All died so their franchises could live on. That means it’s not just the friend group. Any of us could go at any time, especially Sam and Tara.”

“Wait-- Wait, any of us?” Ethan stutters.

“Yeah.”

“Does… Am I in the friend group?”

“Yeah.”

“Am I, like, one of the targets?”

“Mhm,” Mindy nods.

“Am I gonna die a virgin?” Ethan asks. Everyone looks over at him, their faces contorting with confusion.

“I can make sure you don’t,” Winnie says, leaning her head closer to his with a toothy grin on her face.

“Winnie,” Mindy complains, her pitch a little higher with the disgust in her voice. Winnie giggles, pressing her lips to Ethan’s cheek. A pink, glossy lip print stains his skin and Ethan tries, and fails, to contain his blush. Mindy shakes her head, trying to ignore the affectionate display. “Moving swiftly along to our suspects.”

“Riveting,” Winnie mocks, leaning over Ethan into her bag. He watches carefully as she pulls out that familiar red candy. He wishes she was back on his lap so he could watch her enjoy the sweet treat.

“Ethan,” Mindy says. The boy looks up at the mention of his name, pulled away from his thoughts of Winnie sucking on the lollipop. “The shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky.”

“Why am I on the suspect list?” Ethan asks, “Because I’m randomly Chad’s roommate?”

“Roommate lotteries can be juked. You could have fixed it to get next to us,” Mindy says, earning an eye roll from Ethan. “Besides, you’re weaseling your way into Winnie’s life and I don’t trust that you’re doing it for the right reasons.”

“I’m not weaseling--”

“Weasel,” Mindy declares. She turns to Quinn, saying her name as she does. “The slutty roommate. A horror movie classic.”

“‘Sex positive,’ but… thank you,” Quinn says, more of a question than a genuine thank you.

“Mhm. Um, how did you come to live with Sam and Tara?” Mindy asks.

“I answered their ad online,” Quinn says.

“Okay, say no more. You’ve already implicated yourself enough,” Mindy exclaims.

“It was an anonymous ad, Mindy,” Tara says, “And you know we vetted her. Plus her dad is a cop.”

“And that makes it more likely that she’s the killer because having a cop dad is a great cover,” Mindy says, “Do you not remember how these movies work, Tara?”

“I want to leave,” Winnie whispers into Ethan’s ear. He reaches for his bag but is stopped by Mindy pointing at him angrily.

“Sit down,” she says, giving them a stern look. Winnie groans, going around to sit back on Ethan’s lap with a huff.

“Is she always like this?” Quinn asks. Sam does a half-nod, half-shrug in response.

“And finally… Anika,” Mindy says. Anika smiles and blows Mindy a kiss, getting an air kiss in return. Mindy’s smile drops, “Never trust the love interest.” Anika’s smile fades at Mindy’s words.

“Okay! So, we have our rules and we have our suspects,” Sam says.

“But wait,” Ethan says, “What about you guys?”

“I mean, I think it’s pretty safe to rule out the five of us who went through this last year in Woodsboro,” Mindy says.

“Agreed,” Chad says.

“Um, not agreed,” Quinn says, “What if the trauma you all went through caused one or more of you to snap?”

“Yeah, or the fame you got from the killings made you thirsty for more,” Ethan says, “I mean, let’s be honest here, some of the theories online about Sam are--”

Winnie shushes him, but Tara is quick to turn to him, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“You can’t say things like that,” Winnie says, tapping his lips with her lollipop as if she’s scolding him. His eyes are a little wide, but he nods regardless of his shock at the threat from Tara.

“Okay, she’s right though,” Anika says, "I mean, face facts -- if we’re all suspects, you’re all suspects.”

The group looks at one another, silently giving each other looks of suspicion. Winnie raises her hand after a minute, looking at Mindy.

“What?” Mindy says. Winnie drops her hand to her side, taking the candy out of her mouth with a ‘pop’ sound.

“Can I leave now?”

“Do you really believe Mindy?” Ethan asks. Winnie looks up at the boy, shrugging in response to his inquiry.

“I don’t know,” she says, “I think she’s kinda dramatic with her explanations… But there’s also a murderer out there trying to kill us, so I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry and listen to her.”

Ethan nods, “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Why? Do you?” Winnie asks, swinging their interlocked hands between them.

“Oh yeah,” Ethan says. The sarcasm is laced in his voice and he nods, his curls bouncing with the movement of his head. “I totally believe her. Especially when she accuses me of being Ghostface.”

Winnie giggles, hiding her face while she does. She shakes her head a little and looks back up at him, “I knew it was you, Landry.”

“Yeah, I’ve always loved playing games,” Ethan says. Winnie steps closer to him, letting go of his hand and trading it to wrap her arms around his.

“Well if you’re Ghostface, can you at least spare me?” she asks. He looks down at her and she’s giving him those damn puppy dog eyes. She’s used them a couple times with him -- once at a store when she wanted a chocolate bar, another when she wanted a piggyback ride, and a few times when she wanted him to carry her bag. 

“I’ll consider it,” he says, opening the door to the building for her.

“C’mon,” she says, now walking backward so she can look at him. “What can I do to be spared?”

He pretends to think, “Wanna play a game?”

She laughs, “What kinda game?”

“Trivia,” he says. She lets out an ‘ooh’ and agrees to play along with him as they enter the elevator. “What building do I live in?”

“Hortense Tower,” she says. The doors shut behind them and he smiles at her.

“Good, good,” he says. His hand hovers near the columns of buttons, “And what floor?” She smiles, reaching past him and clicking the button labeled ‘3.’ He nods, “And which room?”

“Hmm,” she hums, tapping her chin in pretend thought.

“Times ticking,” he says.

“316,” she responds, pretending not to know.

“I’m sorry, sweet thing, but that’s wrong,” he says, shrugging, “Guess I can’t spare  you.”

“No, please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface,” she says, pouting, “I wanna be in the sequel!”

“It’s too bad, really,” he says, “I liked you.”

The doors open and a few students move out of their way as they exit. Winnie sighs, shaking her head. “Let me try again. Bonus round!”

He pulls out his keys as they approach his door, “Fine, what school do I go to?”

“Oh you love me,” she says. He laughs at her excitement playing the fake game. She giggles, “Blackmore University. Easy!”

“Amazing job,” he says, pushing the door open. She squeals, running over to his bed and jumping onto it. She barely makes it on top, the bed being  quite high up in comparison to her. She kicks off her shoes as he closes his door and drops his things next to his desk.

“I’m a final girl,” she says with a sing-song voice. She adjusts the way she’s sitting, propping herself onto her knees and watching him make his way over.

“Yes you are,” he says, “Congratulations.”

He stands in front of her, both of them just looking at each other. It feels like an eternity of silence, an eternity of just admiring one another; in reality, it’s only a minute. Their smiles fade a little, not with upset, but instead because they’re focused on one another. Winnie scoots closer to the edge of the bed and both of their breaths become shallower, hearts speeding up.

“Ethan?” she whispers.

“Yes?” he asks. His eyes roam her face and he notices the way her eyes keep flicking to his lips.

“I wan--”

He doesn’t let her finish her request, she doesn’t need to. He knows exactly what she wants because he wants the same thing as her. He grabs her face, pulling her into a hasty kiss. She squeals in delight when their lips touch, her arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close to her.

“Eth,” she breathes out into his mouth. He moves his hands to her waist, pulling her closer. Her knees are now over the edge of the bed, on either side of him. His hands grip her exposed skin tightly, fingers digging into the squishy flesh greedily. Her fingers work their way through his curls, gripping the strands of hair for a moment.

The jingle of keys outside the door makes them pull away, much to their dismay. Ethan takes a step back and Winnie straightens out her clothing, fixing her top and smoothing out her skirt. Chad enters the room a moment later, slowing down when he notices the two.

“Dude,” he says, a tinge of exasperation in his voice. The two look at him, feigning innocence. It isn’t till Chad makes a motion around his lips that the feeling of the sticky gloss on Ethan’s face becomes noticeable to the boy. He touches it with a finger, pulling it away to see the glittery substance.

It’s quiet between the three of them, the door still wide open behind Chad. Other students pass by, not knowing the tension that’s thick in the room. They look at one another, eyes flicking between each other in the passing moments.

“I, for one, am not sorry,” Winnie says, breaking the silence, receiving a glare from Chad.

#ethan landry #ethan landry fanfic #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry fic #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x oc #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry smut #scream #scream 6 #scream fluff #scream smut #scream fic #scream fanfic #scream fanfiction #scream 6 fic #scream 6 fanfic #scream 6 fanfiction #scream 6 smut #scream 6 fluff #jack champion

[leejenowrld]

hey saw you’re doing an “ask the characters” for the new jeno fic so i thought i’d ask jeno and yn some questions.

to jeno, what’s your favourite thing about y/n? do you still feel sorry about ghosting her during your exams? what’s your favourite thing to do with her when having sex? has yn met your parents? what did they think of her?

yes! i am, i know a lot of people loved it for mfal so i thought i’d open it up for this :)

jeno — how confident and self assured she is but how her kindness and open mindedness doesn’t come in expense of that. i also adore how talented and committed she is to the things and people she loves, she cares a lot, she’s taught me a lot about what true love should look like and the art of dedication

jeno — of course i do, at the time i didn’t realise how upset it truly made her and i’m annoyed at myself for being so careless with her emotions. so from now on when i’m busy i always try to make time for her and prioritise her, it’s what she deserves, and she does the same for me. i don’t ever want her to feel forgotten again.

jeno — mmmh i love everything about sex with her but i just love when she’s under my complete control, when i’ve got her hands tied or i just tell her not to move her hands or arms and she listens to me because she’s my good girl, when her body is spread out and open just for me, when she squirms beneath me and shouts ‘daddy’ and fuck, the way she looks at me, her eyes wide, her chest heaving, especially right before I tighten my grip around her throat. when i pull her close, spit into her mouth, watch her swallow it down and beg for more. just when she lets me do anything i want to her

jeno — she has! i arranged a dinner pretty early on in mine and yn’s relationship because i was serious about her and wanted to show her that. she was incredibly nervous and shy, it was so cute, she got them the nicest gifts ever and really stressed about what to wear/say/do and how to act but i just reassured her that they’d love her. y/n was super shy at first, just like she always is when meeting new people and in environments where she’s not used to, she’ll always cling to me and it’s cute, she’s cute but seeing her get comfortable after time? breaking out of her shell, becoming more at ease… god, it reminds me of why i fell in love with her. my parents love her, they see how happy she makes me and how blessed i am to have her love and it’s so heart warming to see her get along with my parents. i’m surprised because there’s times y/n will send me a photo and she’s with my mum and my older sister and they’re just doing girl stuff and it’s ??? wow. she is fr the love of my life. the first night i introduced y/n to my family, my mum and dad pulled me aside and told me “you have to marry her.”

#nct dream #nct #nct jeno #jeno smut #jeno x reader #nct 127 #nct dream jeno #jeno #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #lee jeno #jeno moodboard #jeno icons #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct imagines #jeno angst #nct x reader #nct u #fic in your eyes #fic in your eyes ask jeno

[watermelonsugacry]

Did Olivia ever try and make a move on Harry while filming DWD? Maybe she made comments about yn and that kinda made everyone mad, including Florence (since their close friends (maybe they did a movie together🤷‍♀️))

Donuts

A/N: thought it was fitting to post this with everything going on lately. also im back in school so i won't be posting as much anymore...and TYSM FOE 1.6k FOLLOWERS I DONT DESERVE YOU LOVIES 💚

SUMMARY: YN surprises Harry on set while he's filming DWD. (3.2k)

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn

SINCE 2010 masterlist

After a busy week of work, YN had the time to come on the set of Don’t Worry Darling as it was nearing its date for the end of filming.

So with the help of her manager and Harry’s PA for the movie (along with the permission from two of the film’s executive producers), the three women set up boxes upon boxes of donuts and coffee crates where the cast and crew hang out during breaks. Harry was still in his trailer and was reassured that he wouldn’t come out unless instructed to by his PA.

“YN!” 

YN looks up with a bright smile as she sees Florence quickly shuffling over to her in her slippers. She meets the actress halfway and they throw each other in a big hug.

She’s known Flo since YN made her professional acting debut as Jo March in Little Women. YN remembers being quite nervous for the task, but the two women instantly clicked. It wasn’t hard to play sisters on screen because they quickly became ones before their first week of rehearsals were up. They began to spend time together outside of work when they both happened to be free. YN even made it on an Instagram story episode of Flo’s Kitchen once. 

Not to mention that when she heard that the actress was going to play alongside her boyfriend in this new psychological thriller, YN was quick to send her one of the biggest flower bouquets she could find with a note telling her of how she was quite jealous of Harry’s role.

“Flo! ‘Ve missed you.”

“Missed you more, you wouldn’t even believe it.” Florence stresses as she widens her eyes and it puts a sad smile on YN’s face. 

She knows more than anyone how much Flo would like the project to be over with. The actress saw first hand how inappropriate Olivia was being with her friend’s boyfriend, venting to YN about how the director wasn’t even on set for most of the time and how that resulted into her having to pick up the slack. Not to mention how Olivia rewrote the script, making her side character basically become Florence's character and was overall a horrible director. YN knew it was bad when the two main actors for the film, the two nicest—kindest people she’s ever known—talked bad about the movie.

“Oooo, are those donuts?” YN can basically see the hearts form over Florence’s eyes and it makes her chuckle.

“Please, help yourself. They’re for everyone. Thought it could boost everyone's mood a bit.”

“Mood is definitely lifted.” Flo says through a mouthful of pastry. She perks up and raises her eyebrows up and down at the singer. “Are yeh gonna go surprise your man with one of these?”

Arms linked together, the two women walk over to Harry’s trailer as they catch up with one another. YN doesn’t know why, but her palms grow a little sweaty at the thought of surprising him. The couple had spent months together for quarantine but once it was safe to go back to work with some modifications, they’ve both been feeling the separation as nothing less than unbearable lately. 

Either it’s Harry coming to bed in the late hours of the night, cuddling up close to her sleeping body or him waking up to her going around the room to get her things ready to go into rehearsals for a new music video in the early hours of the morning. 

He would rasp out a “Baby?” and her heart would break in two for having to leave him. He would lift his head barely above the pillow, eyes still closed with his lips puckered out. She would run a hand over his hair before giving him a quick peck goodbye when she was running late. 

Sometimes, once she was close enough, Harry would wrap an arm around her waist and pull her back down to the bed, trapping her underneath his warm, sleepy body with a promise of five more minutes.

Florence climbs up the two short steps of the white trailer while YN stays below. She knocks twice before saying, “H? It’s Flo. ‘Ve got something for you.” She winks at YN.

“Coming!” Harry’s muffled voice sounds through the door and it’s already making the butterflies release in her tummy. The door opens and YN stays hidden behind the side of the trailer with a giddy smile.

“Got you a donut.” Florence smiles innocently as she holds it out on a square napkin.

“Aw, thanks Flo.” YN can see his ringless, tattoo-less hand reach for it only for her to pull it just out of his reach.

“Ah ah. If y’want it, y’gotta come out to get it.” She playfully teases and YN covers her smiles with her sleeve covered hands as her boyfriend takes the bait. Florence gets him down the short steps with a chuckle and one left turn has him stopping in his tracks, a bright smile takes over his face and his dimples dig into his cheeks just the way she likes it.

His hair is held down by white alligator clips and he’s already dressed in a button down and navy blue trousers. 

“Hi baby—oh!” YN laughs when Harry immediately takes her in his arms, lifting her from the ground.

Florence can’t help but put her hands over her chest at the sight in front of her. It makes her think about how delusional the director is for ever trying to get with Harry when he’s in a perfectly committed relationship, when he’s stupidly head over heels in love with the woman in his arms. She looks down at her slippers with smile on her face when Harry cups his girlfriend’s cheeks and smushes his lips against YN’s. “Well, I’ll leave you two lovers be.”

YN pushes at her boyfriend’s shoulders but his grip around her figure stays tight. “I see you in a bit, yeah?” YN giggles, still trying to wiggle out from Harry’s embrace. 

“Please. You guys are my only bit of sanity around here.” Florence dramatically stressed and hands over the donut. “Later hubby. Bye wifey.”

Once they see her round the corner, YN turns to her smirking boyfriend.

“Well that was quite rude of yeh.” She playfully scolds Harry, but she can’t hold back the smile that spreads over her lips when he rubs his nose lovingly against hers.

“‘Ve missed you.” He tells her quietly, like it’s a secret that is only meant for them to hear. He knows that he sounds like a love sick idiot but the hit to ego is softened when she mumbles the words back to him with a kiss to his lips. He gives her a nods over to his white trailer before interwining their hands together and leads them inside. 

Once the door closes behind them, YN lets her eyes wonder around the trailer. She sees the familiar items around that she recognizes from their many facetime chats: the floral curtains covering the windows, the make-up chair, the blue couch, the white built-in vanity—the one which Harry wastes no time grabbing her hips to lift her up onto with ease. 

“Yeh look absolutely beautiful today.” Harry says, hands placed on either side of her thighs as he takes in the view in front of him. She isn’t wearing anything special today, just his gray Damn hoodie with a pair of jean shorts. She didn’t even do anything fancy with her hair, letting it down in it’s natural state. 

YN lets out a snort. “I clearly dress to impress.” She says as she brings her thumb up and see that it caught onto a bit of frosting from the donut. He honestly forgot she was still holding onto it as he was clearly to mesmerized by his girlfriend being with him in his trailer. 

Before she brings her thumb to her mouth, he gently takes a hold of her wrist and pushes the digit past his own lips. She can feel his warm mouth lick and suck the frosting off her skin. She sucks in a small, staggered breath at the sight of his green eyes slowly blinking back at her. 

It’s safe to say that the lack of time spent together due to their newly recent busy schedules these past couple of weeks left no time for them to be intimite. During quarantine, mornings lasted a lifetime with slow, lazy sex. Time stalled in the afternoons with doing it on every counter surface, seating area, and bed in YN LA home. And the late nights slowed down time with endless rounds and rounds, experimenting and loving one another until both couldn’t even remember their own names.

He releases her thumb with a soft pop and tilts how head with a smile. “S’tasty.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” He hums, leaning in to meet her mouth halfway only for her to swerve and take a bite out of the pastry. She giggles through a mouth full of donut at his shocked expression. “Yeh mean.”

“Yeh right though, this is tasty.” YN nods after swallowing and her breath gets taken away when he officially gets his mouth on hers again, gently licking the corners of her mouth to taste the frosting there. Before she can deepen the kiss the way she craves, she pulls back with a gasp. “Harry!”

He laughs as his frosted covered finger runs along her jawline. “I am so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to.”

She knows he’s not sorry in the slightest bit by the way he’s smirking at her. And in turn, he knows that she’s not truly upset at him. It’s been so long since they’ve spent some quality time together, either one easing back into their busy schedules.

“Harry,” YN giggles as she feels Harry lick the frosting off of her jaw, a hand gently on her neck to keep her close. “We can’t do anythin’, yeh gonna mess up your wardrobe.”

What might have started out as a playful moment between them quickly brings a tingling feeling in the bottom of their bellies. She doesn’t even realize that she subconsciously opens her legs wider for him to come in closer, feeling him press up against her.

“Well, you can’t do anything to me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still please you, hum?” YN’s chuckle turns into a small whimper when he sponges his lips under her ear, taking her earlobe in between his teeth. “Think yeh can keep yeh grabby hands to yourself? Wouldn’t want to mess up my hair, right?”

YN lets out a soft moan when she feels the hand on her neck tighten its hold, her head thumping back against the mirror as she feels his other hand roam down her body to the place she craves him the most.

She desperately wants to rip the dress shirt from his body, but gripping onto the tops of his shoulders would suffice for now.

“Answer me.” He rasps into her ear and she can feel his hand slowly run up the inside of her thigh, the tips of his fingers teasingly sliding under the fabric. 

“I—”

“Harry! It’s time for your—oh shit! Sorry!” The couples’ attention quickly turns to the trailer door and unfortunately sees the director standing there, eyes wide before the back of her hand hovers over her eyes.

“Shit, m’sorry.” Harry straightens up and clears his throat. Despite having a disliking towards the woman who just interrupted their private time together, he still wants to act professional around her. She is still his boss. “Um, Olivia this is my girlfriend, YN. Baby, this is our director.”

“Hello, I’m Oli—”

“Ms. Wilde. Please, there’s no need to introduce yourself, I already know who yeh are. S’pleasure to meet you.” YN hops off from the vanity with her media trained smile on her face. “V’heard so much about yeh.”

“I can most certainly say the same.” Olivia gives her an over dramatic, polite smile. She gives the pop-star a once over and is taken aback by how effortlessly beautiful she is. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. But I do have to say, I’m a bit surprised to see you here.”

“Catherine and Daria gave me permission to come and observe from the sidelines. I hope that’s alright with you.” YN professionally fakes her concern towards the woman who she watches hesitantly think about it.

“Why not. The more the merrier!” YN lets of a forced chuckle along with the director and Harry has to pinch his bottom lip to hide his growing smile. “Alrighty then, Harry, we need you on set in five.”

“Yes, I’ll be out in sec.” Harry politely smiles and gives the director a nod. And with that, Olivia begins her descend down the short steps.

“It was nice meeting you!” YN calls out of the trailer. Olivia throws a (forced) smile and wave her way before rounding the corner.

Harry watches as his love’s smile turns into her scrunching up top lip into a look of annoyance. She sassily raises up her eyebrows once she catches her boyfriend’s gaze. “Whot?”

“Nothing.” Harry dismisses with a knowing smile before giving her a quick, loving kiss. “I just love you.”

“Yeh better.” She gives him a pointed look but it doesn’t last very by his contagious smirk.

It’s clear to see that as YN goes around to personally deliver the donuts, the cast and crew are just enamored by her kindness, her wit, and her generosity. She falls into easy conversation with the technical crew members who don’t seem to get enough recognition for their hard work. 

She instantly eases the aorua on set as people gather around to grab a pastry and laugh along to whatever YN was saying. The cast are already dressed in their wardrobe, robes over their vintage inspired outfits to avoid any spillage. 

“And then the chatty bloke turns around,” YN tells the little group that’s gathered (safely distanced from one another) around the foldable table, the cast and crew hanging off of her every word. “And it isn’t until then that he sees that I was standing right behind him the entire time!” 

Everyone bursts into laughter and chuckles at her story. Harry just has the biggest smile on his face at his stunning girlfriend. He loves the fact that she’s just being herself and it has everyone soaking up the golden light she’s illuminating. She has had experience being on a movie set, talking and entertaining a group, and just knew how to make everyone feel comfortable and that they belonged.

Even though it had nothing to do on his part, he can’t help but feel a sense of pride by having her here. Harry brings an arm around her waist and pulls her closer to his side.

“And that’s not even the best part because then he—”

“Hate to ruin the fun,” Olivia’s booming voice makes everyone turn their heads in her direction. “But we got a movie to finish up, correct?” She puts on a prissy smile like she didn’t just kill the fun vibe YN brought in. 

It honestly strains YN’s heart to visually see how everyone’s shoulders falter, like they were a bunch of children who’s parents told them to get back to cleaning their rooms. As the cast and crew disperses, they all give her a smile and word of gratitude as they pass her by.

Despite the circumstances of the director’s atmosphere towards the making of the film, YN has to admit how fascinated and proud she is of Harry. She always knew he had a nack for picking things up quickly, becoming a natural in every activity he takes on and there’s no way his ego will ever let him do something half-assed. It’s interesting to see how immersed he gets in his role, how he actually becomes Jack. 

She even almost finds herself reciting his acting partner’s lines from when she would rehearse them with him. 

In between takes, Harry can’t help himself from taking some sneaky glances over to his love standing on the side lines. She stood next to his PA for the film and quickly got along with the young girl, helping her hold Harry’s things and eyes bouncing around the outside of the 50s house set. 

YN even makes playful motion to focus back on his work in front of him only to receive a shake of his head, a smirk sitting comfortably on his face. And YN is well aware of the fact that Olivia’s eyes have been on them the entire time, she could practically burn holes at the sides of the couple’s head. But does that make the two stop their flirty, lovey antics? Hell no.

While they do a scene where Harry isn’t needed for the shot, he wastes no time coming up to her side.

“How’d I do?” He asks, knowing full well that YN doesn’t sugar coat her opinions if it can better benefit him. That’s one of the many reasons why he keeps inviting her back to make his albums.

“Very convincing. Yeh speaking yeh lines naturally. Quite sexy pulling up in that vitage car.” She says, handing him a mask which he quickly hooks over his ears.

“Yeah? Was a bit nervous. Gotta impress my girl, hmm?”

“Yeh always impress me. M’so proud of you.”

Harry slides his hand to hers and smiles when he feels her thumb caress a particular finger. 

"I like this on you." YN mumbles shyly, thumbing over his fake wedding ring, and if he wasn’t standing close to her as he is he would have missed it.

“Hmm, it’s gonna be a real one someday. Gonna get down on one knee, give yeh a beautiful ring and then we’ll have matching ones soon after. Gonna make you m’wife.” 

It used to scare YN when he would talk about their future with such confidence, like he was so sure that she was it for him. It’s not like the two have never talked about marriage either. After all the shit they’ve gone through with their shitty communication skills towards one another, constantly avoiding what they really wanted to say, they wonder why they ever wasted so much time swerving these conversations. It’s a pleasant change of pace to not feel like she was going to puke at how scary their future seemed but to now feel butterflies of excitement.

“Promise?” She blinks up at him with sincerity, wanting what he just claimed as much as he does.

“Quiet on set!” Olivia announces, indirecting targeting more towards the couple on the sidelines.

“I promise.” Harry brings their joined hands to his masked covered mouth and plants a kiss through the layers separating their skin.

Olivia tries to hide her scowl and focus on the scene playing out in front of the monitors as best she can. Yet she can’t stop the boiling jealously in her chest as she glances at the way Harry smiles lovingly down at YN, eyes twinkling in the way she craves he would give to her.

She angrily watches as he wraps an around his girlfriend, pulling her close to his side. He even pinches down his mask to press a soft kiss to her temple.

Taglist:

How can she ever compete with that?

Part 2 Here!

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterflies @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @obsesseddd @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunknown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @reveriehs @rach26022 @thurhomish @perrypughstyles @luvonstyles @mxltifxnd0m @teamspideyman @c00chiemonster

#harry x 1dbandmember!reader #since 2010 series #harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #harry styles x y/n #one direction fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #famous!yn #famous!reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles masterlist #harry styles and y/n #harry styles and reader #harry styles concept

[bones4thecats]

Hi again! I've got an interesting idea for you today!

How would Record of Ragnarok Gods react having to fight/marry a widowmaker(overwatch) reader!

Widowmaker is a really interesting and tragic character in my opinion! She was a ballet dancer, before she was kidnapped and subjected her to an intense program of neural reconditioning, in effect creating a sleeper agent

Shortly after returning home, she killed her husband and vanished.

Widowmaker is the perfect assassin: a patient, ruthlessly efficient killer who shows neither emotion nor remorse. Widow's physiology was altered to improve her aim, drastically slowing her heart, which turned her skin cold and blue, and numbed her ability to experience human emotion. It dulled the pain of what she’d done, while heightening the charge she felt on the hunt.

How the gods react knowing she killed her first husband? How would they react to her title as the perfect assassin? How would they react knowing she can't feel emotion yet yearns to be loved and to be healed?

A/N: I have never played Overwatch, since I’m not that big on video games, so thanks for the description regarding her character! I also decided to do all Hindu Gods because they’re my favorite pantheon. Now, I hope this makes sense, enjoy~~

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🪩 Shiva met you through his wives, as they needed someone taken out, but they couldn’t just stroll up to random human and go, ‘Yeah, ur dead.’

🪩 After that hunt was successful, he had gotten more and more interested in you personally

🪩 It took a while, but you eventually took him as your husband and your blank stare was something he was determined to fix

🪩 He had no idea why your skin was blue, but he figured you were a possible demi-god, or like Kali, you just had blue skin like how he had purple

🪩 When you decided to tell him about everything, his reactions varied;

🪩 For the husband thing; He was kinda freaked out, but he knew you had changed and wouldn’t try hurting him

🪩 Title as the ‘Perfect Assassin’; Like mentioned, he already knew from his wives, so he just relaxed about that

🪩 And the way you yearn to feel things; Shiva was quite the romantic, so knowing you couldn’t show it, yet you wanted it so badly made his heart yearn for you more

🪩 Parvati, Durga, and Kali have been trying to get you to feel things again to the fullest, and they swore on it, with Shiva, they’d succeed

🪩 Oh yeah, and he loves dancing with you! It calms him down after a long day

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

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🔥 He had heard about you, but never met you until Shiva brought you into help scout a rogue God from another Pantheon that was said to try murdering any God that came near them

🔥 Agni looked at you as you nodded and he helped you take the God down, using his fire to burn the guy to crisp

🔥 You and him were a funny match

🔥 He was very warm while you were very cold, so resting with him was one of the best experiences you ever had

🔥 Unlike Shiva, he reactions a lot differently to each incident

🔥 Husband murder; Kinda scared of you, but he accepted it in the end, as it was the only way you guys could continue a healthy relationship

🔥 Title; It’s normal for important people to have big titles, like Shiva’s was the God of Destruction and Dance, which made people turn to look at him. So having you get a nickname that stood out didn’t shock him, in fact, it impressed him more than anything

🔥 Your yearning for closeness; Definitely has the same issue as you, he gets judged by the fire that envelops his body, and because of the flames, he doesn’t get that much physical affection, so he tried hugging you daily no matter what

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🐘 He met you when he was picking flowers for his mothers and father

🐘 Ganesha was spacing out so badly that he didn’t notice a rogue God coming from behind to kill him, so when he heard the sound of a man burning alive, he jumped and saw you come down to finish the job

🐘 You scared him at first, but after getting to know each other, you guys were inseparable

🐘 The women and Shiva allow your relationship to thrive as long as you didn’t go berserk like you did with your last husband, which prompted you to tell him about your past;

🐘 Husband Murder; He won’t judge you for it, but seeing as your past gives you justification in his eyes, and he’ll defend your honor of that from anyone

🐘 Title; Shocked? Yes. He knew you were a good shot, but not that good! Not like he was doubting your ability, but it just made him go;

“ Holy Heaven, my wife is the best assassin in all Pantheons! “

🐘 Finally, the yearning for love; Definitely gives you what you want, he loves affection and nobody can change my mind.

🐘 He does enjoy watching you dance, sometimes joining in himself whenever you ask him too

#Record of Ragnarok #RoR #Shuumatsu no Valkyrie #SnV #RoR Hindu Pantheon #Record of Ragnarok Gods #RoR Gods #Record of Ragnarok x Reader #RoR x Reader #Shuumatsu no Valkyrie x Reader #SnV x Reader #RoR Hindu Pantheon x Reader #Record of Ragnarok Gods x Reader #RoR Gods x Reader #S/O! Reader #F! Reader #RoR Shiva #RoR Shiva x Reader #RoR Agni #RoR Agni x Reader #RoR Ganesha #RoR Ganesha x Reader

[mangekyuou]

can I request some light nsfw hcs with nami, zoro, & sanji ( separately ) where gn!reader pampers their stressed lovers & bathes together with them? :3 & if it's not too much, can this also include pet name usage? ( I.e babe, baby, darling, love, etc ) tysm!

✸  headcanons  %  when you pamper them in the bath.

✸    characters! . . .  nami, zoro & sanji.

✸    cw(s)! . . .  light nsfw. mostly because they’re bathing, nothing really happening. no pronouns used. not proofread. minors dni.

✸    notes! . . .  i tried my best. they were not coming out right i don’t know what happened. tried to fit the pet names in, but that wasn’t working either. i am so sorry. but i hope these are okay. thank you for requesting !!

dealing with the straw hats’ shenanigans every day will definitely take a toll on a person. the amount of stress TRIPLES just by luffy alone

no wonder why nami is so stressed often, and you see it

which is why you decide to surprise her with a bath. not like your usual baths together, no, you went all the way, the whole shebang

the nice lightning, the candles, the oils and bath salts, the bath bomb accompanied by the flower petals, the relaxing meditation music, the matching face masks. it’s like heaven

nami has no problem with letting you take the reins and pamper her, she prefers it. she’d never pass up the chance to be spoiled by you

your touch is soothing to her. feeling the pads of your fingers massaging her shoulders. the feeling of your hands as you lather all over her body and wash away the soapsuds

all the while you’re saying how much you appreciate her, paired with a little teasing

zoro will never tell you when he’s stressed out. he wants to deal with it by himself, even if that means pushing you away

before you he never dealt with his stress in a healthy way. he mostly suppressed how he was feeling and just trained harder

now that you’re around, you’re slowly but surely teaching him to not be so hard on himself and ways to de-stress. bathing with you easily becomes his favorite method

is usually not a bubble bath kind of guy. but he’ll manage just this once

him in the bath, is one of the few times he lets up and isn’t so serious

he lowers his head to let you wash his hair. he could fall asleep peacefully as you scratch his scalp and wash away the suds

he nearly does fall asleep as you massage his sore muscles. you don’t know how he walks around with all these uncomfortable knots

he watches you closely, with nothing but love and admiration. if you notice and wink, he’ll look away blushing

sanji, like zoro, will not tell you when he’s stressed. he wants to be the man you can depend on whenever you need him. even if that means not talking about his own emotions

which you obviously hate and wish he would stop trying to be someone he’s not

when you suggest a bath together, he’s already over the moon. when you tell him you’re going to pamper him, he feels so loved but he wants to take care of you too.

he’ll feel bad for making you do everything unless you assure him that it’s okay and that you want to do this. even though he’ll still pout during your bath

a warm bubble bath, candles and a nice bath tray with two glasses of champagne and fruit for you to share is more than enough for him

by force of habit he’s trying to outdo you with all of his praises. it’ll be the two of you going back and forth on how much you love each other

© MANGEKYUOU.  

#one piece #nami #cat bulgar nami #nami x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #sanji x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro x reader #one piece oneshots #one piece scenarios #one piece imagines #one piece headcanons #night rather than day ── 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘰. 𓂃 ★☆