#the smell reminds me that summer is almost here

[erggggggggg]

my house smells like daffodils and the banana bread i just made 🥰

#two of my favorite smells ever #the smell reminds me that summer is almost here #and it was warm and sunny today #i love it so much

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Cherry Pie. aka - Cherry, Part Three.

There are certain things in life that can’t be denied. You’re starting to think maybe you and Steve are one of them.

pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing.

word count - 2.6k

authors note - part three has arrived!! thanks for your patience, angels. thank you for all your continued enthusiasm and support for this series. I love them and I love you <3 as always, please reblog if you enjoyed!! it’s the only way to circulate my fics <3

masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.

“The prettiest girl in the world just walked in.”

“Your mom?”

“Funny, Harrington. Try again.”

“My Cherry?”

Robin smiles knowingly, nodding her head. Not only did Steve automatically associate you with the phrase prettiest girl in the world, but he called you his. Some days, she wished she could slap him square across the face in hopes of waking him up to what everyone else could see so clearly.

“Hi, you two. Working hard, or hardly working?”

You giggle, and the sound bounces off the metal shelves of the Family Video Store. Steve’s mesmerised, stood unmoving with a beaming grin on his face.

“I’m the first, Steve’s the second.”

The boy kicks his coworker in the shin, laughing when she pinches the bare skin of his arm in retaliation.

“Not true.”

Steve takes you in for a second, stuck still in his place. You’re wearing his favourite sundress, all patterned and pretty in front of him. Your lips are glossy and skin glowy, sneakers on your feet a perfect white. The perfect picture of a summer day.

“What are you doing here?” Robin asks, breaking him out of his haze. He snaps back to reality and throws an arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple sweetly.

“I was nearby anyway, thought I’d come in and see if you were busy. And I had to remind Steve to pick a movie for tonight.”

“We’re not watching a romcom.”

“We’re watching a romcom,” you say at the same time as Steve while Robin laughs.

“I better grab the new stock from the back. See you later,” she says, winking at the boy who still has you pulled tight into his side.

He rests his chin on the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your cherry conditioner and vanilla body wash. If Steve gets to heaven, he’s convinced this is what it’ll smell like.

“I finish here at 6, so I can come and get you, or you can wait for me at my place? Your choice, Cherry Baby.”

“I’ll wait for you. I was thinking I’d make us some dinner anyway, ready for when you get home.”

Home. Steve’s brain short circuits, a vision of a domestic life with a white picket fence flashing across his mind. He cups your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Sounds perfect,” he whispers.

You’re a little confused by all this sudden affection, but the last thing you’ll ever do is complain. If he wants to kiss you until you’re dizzy in the middle of this Family Video Store, then so be it.

“I should leave you to get on with stuff.”

“You could stay all day, if you wanted. We could make you wear the uniform and everything - no one would suspect a thing.”

You laugh, nudging his foot with yours.

“As tempting as that is, I have a little more shopping to do. And I have to get ingredients for later.”

You pick up your bag, swinging it over your shoulder as you look at him.

“See you later, Stevie.”

“See you later, Cherry Pie.”

You’re halfway out the door when he calls your name, head whipping around to face him.

“You’re so pretty. You know that, right?”

You look at your shoes, suddenly bashful at his boldness.

“You too, Stevie. Prettiest boy I know.”

You both go about the rest of your days floating on air, high on the giddy sweetness of it all.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Steve almost passes out when he unlocks his front door.

There’s candles lit and music playing softly, the kitchen alive with movement. Something smells delicious, and he can hear you humming along to a song he thinks he recognises as you chop and stir. He can picture it perfectly before he even enters the room, but the sight still knocks him off balance when he finally gets a good look at you.

“Honey, I’m home!”

You spin from your place at the stove to grin at him, petticoat trimmed apron tied around your waist to protect your dress.

“Darling! I’ve been waiting all day for you!”

You curtsy in mock greeting, which makes Steve laugh much harder than it should. He strides over and gathers you in his arms, squeezing you a little tighter than necessary.

“Steven, I saw you a few hours ago. You’re acting like you’ve just returned from war.”

“Forgive me for missing you,” he mumbles into your hair.

You sink into his embrace anyway, tangling your fingers into the back of his shirt and inhaling the familiar scent of it.

“Something smells really good.”

“It’s my famous cherry pie,” you grin, pulling back to look up at him. “Made it just for you.”

“You’re an angel,” he exclaims, spinning you around on the tiled floors. “An angel sent just for me.”

You try to ignore the way heat rises across your chest, his compliments warming your skin.

“Let me take it out of the oven, and then we’ll eat. You must be starving.”

He laughs, because you know for a fact he’s always hungry. You know everything about him. It should scare him, spook him, make him nervous. Instead he hums with the excitement of it, body alive with the anticipation of it all.

Steve changes out of his work clothes as you plate up dinner. He comes back downstairs to see you sat at the table waiting for him, all patient and pretty. He wonders momentarily what he’s done so right in life to be rewarded so greatly.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“So you totally brought me a romcom, right?”

Steve wants to deny it, wants to tell you that actually he stood his ground and stuck to his word. Instead, he says,

“Of course I did.”

And you laugh, all silvery and melodic, because you knew he’d cave. He can’t say no to you, even if he wanted to. You don’t use it to your advantage as often as you should. Steve wishes you did a little more.

“I’ll make popcorn if you get the video set up.”

Snacks made and movie ready, you settle in next to Steve on the couch. The two of you always follow the same routine - you sit separately, a fair distance between you, watching the movie with your hands to yourself. Then, slowly, you migrate towards each other, until you’re pressed together without an inch of space to be found.

The same thing happens tonight.

You end up being spooned by Steve, both of you laying across the couch cushions. Your back is pressed to his front, legs tangled together, his arm keeping you bracketed in to him. He’s hooked his chin over your shoulder to watch the TV, pressing kisses into the skin of your neck absentmindedly every now and again.

The film Steve picked is one you’ve seen before, but you’re not about to tell him that. Instead, your eyes slowly slip closed, the steady rhythm of the boys breathing lulling you into a sleepy haze. He traces patterns over the exposed skin of your stomach with his fingertips, chuckling slightly when you flinch as he brushes a ticklish spot.

Your hips roll back into his as you try to adjust your position, and Steve’s breath hitches in his throat. He inhales deeply, waiting for you to settle back down.

You don’t. You keep wriggling, clearly uncomfortable as you sink further into the couch cushions. Steve tries to help you, strong arm pulling you up and into him. You jut your hips once more, and he can’t help the small groan that leaves his lips.

Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the flashing lights of the TV illuminating the room. The movie is still playing, but you know it’s almost finished. Steve’s arm is tight around your waist, his breathing heavy against your shoulder. You shift your hips to alleviate the pressure on your tangled legs when Steve sucks in a harsh breath, startling you.

He’s warm behind you. So warm. His chest is moving ragged, panting against your bare skin. His fingers grip your thigh tightly for a second, before letting it go and soothing over it.

Oh. Oh.

You’re wide awake, suddenly. Liquid heat spikes its way up your spine, all prickly and electric. You’re not sure what your next move is, but lust is clouding all five of your senses.

“Steve.”

“Cherry.”

“Steve.”

You try to say his name more firmly, but it just comes out as a whine. The sound shoots straight to Steve’s core, his hips bucking into your ass involuntarily.

“You okay?” he mumbles into your ear, grip on your thigh tightening. His fingertips dig into your skin, and you pray you’ll still be able to feel it tomorrow.

“Yeah,” you breathe, but it’s a lie. You’re not okay. You’re on fire, every nerve ending in your body alight with molten heat. You think you might be shaking with it, hoping Steve doesn’t notice.

His hand smooths up from your thigh to just under your breast, resting gently on your ribs. Your heart is fluttering like a hummingbirds wings, frantic and delicate. He can feel it through his fingertips.

“I love you, Cherry Baby.”

You lose your breath momentarily, reminding yourself how to inhale. He always does this, always catches you off guard by telling you he loves you in the moments you expect it the least. It always means more, in times like these. He could have said anything to you just then, but he chose I love you. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry or neither or both.

“I love you too,” you choke out. “So much.”

You grind your hips back into his, grinning when he groans all low and buttery. His hand glides up to cup your chest, squeezing gently as you arch into him.

“What do you want?” he asks slowly. “Tell me what you want, babe. I’ll give you anything. Need to hear you say it. Wanna hear you say the words.”

You let him ramble for a minute, trying to put your thoughts in order. You try as hard as you can, but all you can say is,

“You.”

Steve buries his nose into your hair, pressing a kiss into the space behind your ear gently.

“You’re killing me, baby.”

“Want you so badly, Steve. Please.”

The hand that’s on your chest dances down to your stomach, slipping underneath your sleep shorts. He traces his fingers over your underwear, moaning when he feels them completely soaked through.

“Shit.”

“Stevie.”

He strokes you gently, hips rutting into your back when yours jolt into his hand. Eventually, he pulls your underwear to the side, running his fingers through your wet heat before slipping two inside.

You keen instantly, back arching into him. His lips find home in the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, teeth biting down occasionally to try and stifle his desire. You move your hips in tandem with his rhythm, grinding down to try and find the right spot.

“Yeah, fuck, that’s it. Atta girl. Ride my fingers, sweetheart. Take what you need.”

His voice is like melted honey, all golden and warm. It’s making your bones turn to liquid, sinking further into the hold he still has on you with his other arm. Every inch of you is plastered to every inch of him, not a millimetre of space between you. You’ve never been so connected, both physically and emotionally. It’s like the tectonic plates are shifting, the very foundations of your lives changing right in front of your eyes.

Your chest is heaving, panting like you’ve just ran a marathon. All you can focus on is the white heat building in the pit of your stomach, volcanic and bright. When Steve crooks his fingers, you cry out, tumbling over the edge into a blind freefall with no parachute.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl.”

“You’re so good f’me. Doin’ so well.”

“Ride it out, pretty girl. Fuck.”

“Make a mess, there we go. Just like that.”

You’re not even registering his words, but you know that he’s praising you. He always is. He thinks you’re an angel, sent down from heaven to teach him what love is.

Steve ruts his hips into your back, groaning as he finishes. He can’t even find it in him to be embarrassed. The feeling of you writhing in his hold as you tightened around him was his undoing, whether he wanted it to be or not. He doesn’t mind.

You go boneless, head dropping back into his shoulder. He presses kisses onto your temple, your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can reach. You sigh in contentment, and Steve wishes he could bottle up the sound and take it like a shot of espresso every morning.

“You okay?”

You nod and then giggle, dopamine rushing through your blood. You’re almost lightheaded with it, floating on cloud nine.

“Steve?” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

You turn in his hold to finally face him, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and messy hair. You rest your sweaty forehead against his, panting into his mouth.

“Want it to be you.”

He pulls away slightly to get a good look at your face, eyes a little wide with shock.

“You mean…”

“Yeah. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but if you do, I guess I, um… there’s no one I trust more than you.”

“You know you can only lose your virginity once, baby.”

“I know. Which is exactly why it should be you.”

He grins at you, all giddy and love drunk, bumping your nose with his.

“You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Steve leans in to press his lips to yours, all slow and tender, kissing you as if you have all the time in the world.

Perhaps you do.

“Not tonight, obviously,” you murmur, chuckling under your breath. “Don’t think you could handle that.”

He scoffs, pulling back from you in disbelief.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just came in your pants and I didn’t even touch you. Who even knows if we’ll make it to actual sex.”

Steve pinches your sides, wrapping his arms around you so you can’t escape. You laugh, trying to squirm out of his hold without luck.

“You’re gonna be eating your words, Cherry Baby.”

You shake your head, blinding smile still etched on your face.

“You know what I am gonna eat? My cherry pie. I’m starving.”

Steve groans at the thought of the dessert sitting on the counter in the kitchen. No one does a cherry pie quite like you.

“Hell yeah. Let’s do it. There’s ice cream in the freezer, too. That vanilla bean one you like.”

You peck his lips before standing up on shaky legs, wincing as you do it.

“You good?”

“I’m gonna need a new shirt. This one’s sticky.”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow and he can’t hold in his laughter, the sound of it booming around the quiet room.

“Shut the fuck up,” he jokes as he throws you over his shoulder. Despite your protests, he carries you up the stairs, smacking your ass a few times on the way for good measure.

When he puts you down, he cradles your face gently, looking into your eyes with sincerity.

“It’s me and you forever. You know that right?”

You know what he’s trying to say. I love you. You’re it for me. There never has been and never will be anyone else.

But neither of you are quite ready for those words. So instead, you say,

“I know. I’ve always known.”

And that’s enough, for now.

@psychicnerdcat @allcheesemelts @valerievortex @swiftsgirlfriend @steviespookie @betweenstarsandsatellites @mrsjoequinn @internallysalad @saucypeanuttt @empathyroad @niceskyler @spookysins @theoraekenslover @7minutes-tomidnight @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @livsters @diffrent-spokes @regular-joe-shmoe @ihatepeanutss

for some reason I didn't tag some people from part one in part two... no idea why. sorry!

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x bestfriend!reader #bestfriend!steve harrington #bestfriend!steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x bestfriend reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff

[qrrieterisunnq]

his biggest secrete - Quinn Hughes

quinn!hughes x zegras!reader Summary: You are at the lake house with the Hughes brothers, Trevor, and their friends. One night you all decide to go to the club. Thinking this will be another great night with boys until some guy ruins it revealing your secret. request: yes/no A/N: okay, finally there is the fic I published twice by mistake. I hope you'll like it, i know nobody probably read my talks so, just enjoy it. I'm so sorry it took so long, I didn't have much time. likes are good, reblogs are better &lt;3 gif not mine word count: 5,59K warning(s): yelling, angry Trevor, crying, angst, mad Quinn, hitting, fights, fluff Quinn, unedited, mentions of rape, MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut

masterlist | wip's

Tapping lightly at the steering wheel of your car to the rhythm of the song playing on the radio, you shift the gear, to make your car drive faster.

You’ve been driving for half an hour now, enjoying the breathtaking nature of Michigan. You spent every summer, for the past twenty years, in the lake house with the Hughes brothers. Your parents were great friends with Ellen and Jim, so they took you there every time. You have here even your room since you spent there all summer.

With a smile, you turn to the street where is their house located. As you reached the house, you parked your car on the driveway. As soon as you step out of the car, a pair of hands wrapped around your waist spinning you.

You squeal from surprise laughing, just like the person holding you. As soon as your feet touch the ground again, to turn around only to meet the youngest brother, Luke.

“Lukey!” pulling him in a hug, you rest your head on his chest, breathing in his scent.

“Hey Buba!” he whispers in your hair, planting their kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Lu.” you pull away only to be pulled in another hug, this time from Jack, who spins with you and places you on the hood of your car, laughing.

“Hey, little Zegras,” he smiles brightly kissing your cheek. “How was your ride?” he steps between your legs, Luke sitting next to you.

“Great, but the flight was terrible,” you chuckle. They both look at you, signaling for you to continue. “I was sitting in the seat at the aisle right and next to me was some guy, who was all the flight looking at me and touching me. It was creepy.” you sigh looking them in the eyes.

“You should tell that to the flight attendant,” Luke says, anger in his voice.

“Yeah, but you know I don’t like talking to people I don’t know.” I shrug my shoulders.

Before Jack can say anything Trevor shoves him away, and pulls me in a hug. I wrap my legs around his waist, hugging him tightly. One of his hands is resting on your back and the other is on your head, pulling you tightly to him.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much, sis,” he whispers in your ear, kissing the side of your head, his lips staying there for a while. You snuck your head closer to his neck tear sliding down your cheek.

“I missed you too, Trev. So much,” you whisper tilting your head to look him in the eyes. Smile covering his lips his eyes shining with joy and happiness. He bends down pressing a soft kiss to your lips as he always does. You lean your forehead on him, enjoying the moment with your brother whom you haven’t seen in almost a year.

“Okay, get down, you getting heavy,” he whines letting go of your head and back, you slide down on the ground, his hand swinging around your shoulders hugging you again.

You breathe in his scent, reminding you of the home. The smell of his perfume and his masculinity.

“Oh, look who finally honored us with their presence,” a deep voice comes from the house door. We all turn to the sound of his voice.

And there he really is the one and only guy who owns my heart. Smirk playing on his lips, his hair messy as it always is, my hand aching to run through these curls.

A smile immediately forms on your lips as you make your way to him, trying to be as casual as possible so that your brother and the boys don’t get any suspicions.

As soon as you’re in front of him, you’re pulled into his warm presence, your face dug into his chest feeling his heart racing quickly. You titled my head resting it in the crock of his neck, placing here small kiss, as you made sure no one saw it.

“I missed you, love, it’s been the longest week in my life and I’m not counting the roadies,” he whispered making me chuckle.

“I missed you too Q. I love you,” you whisper so no one hears us.

“I love you too.” he smiles before he pulls away, so guys don’t get suspicious.

“Hey Quinn, leave her alone, it’s our time with her, you have her in Vancouver all to yourselves, so let her enjoy her time with us,” Luke growls at him playfully pulling you away from him.

“Yeah, but she’s on the other side of the town, so I get to see her once in week.” he protests pulling you closer. The funny thing is that you have seen each other every single day since you lived together. You, well Quinn, bought an apartment in the middle of the town so you have it close to college and he to the training, but of course guys don’t know about it.

“And we see her only two months in a year and the few games we play against you or near Vancouver,” Jack says this time earning a grimace from Quinn.

“Okay, okay, I think I’ll take a nap after the flight and then we can go on the lake, hmm?” you raise an eyebrow at them with a smile on your face.

It’s amazing to see your family again. You missed them during the whole season.

They all nod, taking care of your luggage, as you make your way to your room.

“You can place them there in the corner,” I point at the place next to my table. I’ll unpack it later, I’m not in the mood to do it.

You pop down on the bed, bouncing on it slightly. When all your luggage is in place, boys stand in front of you with smiles on their faces.

“What?” you laugh looking at them confused.

“Nothing,” they say at the same time. Trev bends down kissing your forehead.

“Take a nap, come to us when you wake up, okay.” he smiles down at you.

“I sure will.” you laugh. As soon as they leave you get off the bed, taking out clothes to change into. You take off your shirt and bra, only to change into your blue bikini and Trevor’s long shirt. You slip off your shorts and panties, changing into the same bikini panties.

With a smile on my lips, you lay down under the blanket. you open your phone and send a quick text to Quinn before you drift to sleep.

Dove - come to me, make sure guys don’t get suspicious. I’m waiting.💖😏

In a few minutes, strong arms sneak around your waist pulling you into their hard hot chest. You hummed in comfort pressing your ass in their groin, knowing very well, that the person behind you is Quinn.

“Hi, my little dove,” he whispered in my ear, planting small kisses down your neck.

“Hey, Quinny,” you mumble, a smile playing on your lips.

— — — — — — —

“Y/n! Get your big ass in here!!” Trevor shouts from the living room. You’re still in your room, getting ready for today’s night. They made up their minds you have to go to the bar today, so right now, you’re standing in front of your mirror putting on your lip gloss.

Muffled voices from the living room, before your doors open, revealing your hot-ass-boyfriend standing there in a white button-up shirt and grey pants. The first three buttons on his shirt are undone revealing his collarbones.

You smile at him through the mirror, while he’s checking me out.

“Take a picture, it will last longer.” you tease him, swaying your hips seductively.

“You look stunning, my little dove,” he whispered.

“Thank you. You don’t look bad yourself,” you smirk at him. Placing the lip gloss on your table, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you for a quick kiss.

“We have to go, baby. Guys are impatient,” he smirks, placing a soft kiss on your lips. With a smile, you take your phone and purse, where you will in a matter of minutes carry all of their phones.

“Finally!” Jack exclaims. “What took you so long?”

“How do you think I turn myself into this? It takes some time to look like this,” you say in a ‘duh’ tone, making them chuckle. You look at Trevor whose eyes are already on you, his brows furrowed together. “What?” you look at him with confusion written all over your face.

“Nothing, but you could take longer dress.” he points out. You are wearing a black long-sleeved spaghetti dress that ends in the middle of your tights, showing your medusa tattoo.

“Trevor,” you sigh, pulling the dress over the tattoo. “I’m trying to forget about it. It doesn’t help me that you remind me about it.” you swallow hard looking down at your tattoo.

“I’m sorry y/n.”

“Fine, end of your siblings’ love! We have a party to attend!” Luke yells, changing the topic of our conversation.

“Who’s driving?” you look around. Your eyes linger on your hot-ass boyfriend who is already looking at you with a smirk on his lips.

“Me, I won’t drink, I’m not in the mood, besides, someone has to take care of these two.” he points at Jack and Luke, who look at him offended.

“Hey, what are you talking about?” Luke looks at him offended.

“You know exactly, what he’s talking about,” you cock your brow at him. He sticks his tongue out.

“Okay! I think it’s time to take off.” Quinn sighs pushing us out of the house.

As soon as you are out, Trevor runs to Quinn’s car, standing next to the passenger doors, already holding the handle.

“No,” Q shakes his head when he sees what is Trevor up to. “You’re sitting in the back with these two. That’s y/n’s seat,” he says shoving him away and opening the door for me.

Your cheeks reddening at his gesture. You sit in, sending a smirk to Trevor.

“Bitch.” he mouths at me. You love it when Trevor is trying to be mean to you.

“Ass.” you mouth back, grinning. Jack and Luke are already sitting in the back, bickering over something. Trevor sits behind you, kicking in your seat like a kid. Quinn sits down behind the steering wheel, starting the engine.

With a smile, you connect your phone with the car, playing your summer playlist, you made two years ago when you and Luke were bored.

After ten minutes, were at the place. Killing the engine, Quinn steps out, just like the three in the back seat. you stay in the car for a while to reapply your lip gloss. When you’re done, and ready to get out, the doors open, revealing a large hand. You look up, your eyes meeting with big blue eyes, that belong to your lovely man. You smile at him, placing your hand in his, letting him help you get out of the car.

You look around realizing, the boys are already inside the bar, so it doesn’t surprise you, when his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you to him.

“Hi.” I grinning at him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Hi,” he smiles pulling me even closer. “You look stunning, little dove.” I smile up at him, my fingers playing with the hair on his neck.

“Thank you, you look good too, but we shouldn’t be doing this, someone sees us, and my brother will find out, just like yours.” You sigh but pull him closer to you to rest your forehead on his.

“I know, love, but I need to kiss you. I don’t know if I’m able to keep you as a secret anymore. I want the whole world to know you my fucking woman. No one else.” he whispers, nudging his nose in yours.

“Can you wait till the weekend? I want some time with you. To enjoy the adrenalin we have when we sneak around.” you grin at him, as your lips graze his in slow motions while you talk.

“I think I can do that,” he smiles against your lips, giving it a quick peck, before he steps aside. You two make your way in the bar.

You look around, catching a glimpse of Luke’s hair in the box near you. You nudged Quinn, pointing to the place where they are. He nods his head, his hand making its way to my lower back as he leads us to them.

“What took you so long?” Trevor eyes us, his brows furrowed in sharp v. His eyes land on Quinn’s hand, which is still placed on my lower back.

I act like nothing’s going on when our eyes meet and answer his question. “I was reapplying my lipgloss and Quinn waited on me.” I shrug sitting down next to him, Quinn takes a seat opposite to me, at the end of the bench next to Jack.

“Okay. What do you want for drinking?” Trevor looks at me after a while. Jack and Quinn are bickering over something, Luke is on his phone texting with someone.

“I don’t know. Margarita or Tequila sunrise.”

“Okay, I’m going to get it. Guys, you wanna beer?” Trev shouts, Jack and Luke nod sending him a thankful smile. “You wanna water or a non-alcoholic drink?”

“You can get me a mojito,” Quinn says after a short while. Trev nods nudging your legs so he can get out. You let him out, then sat more in the middle of the bench.

Even though you’re planning on dancing later you want your drink first.

You can feel Quinn’s eyes on you as you scroll on your Instagram. After a while, you raise your gaze to meet his beautiful blue eyes.

“What?” you cock your brow at him. He shakes his head biting his lower lips as his eyes travel down your neck as they land on your cleavage.

“Stop it.” you mouth. There is no point in yelling, the music is so loud he wouldn’t hear, and no one would.

His smirk grows wide but disappears when Trevor appears next to you, you’re in front of you.

“Thank you.” You shout in his ear so he hears it. He nods his head, kissing your temple.

You sip from your drink, by the taste figuring out it’s Tequila sunrise. You let out a groan enjoying the taste.

When you’re halfway down the cocktail you stand up, the attention of the boys on you.

“I’m going dance,” you yell in Trevor’s ear. He nods and lets you out. You make your way to the dance floor, swaying your hips on the way there.

You sway your hips to the beat of the music, your hands trailing down your sides, enjoying the freedom you have, the loud music vibrating through your body.

You love parties, not because of the alcohol, but because of the freedom to dance the way you want. After the rape, you were unable to go to any party or any bar. You felt like everyone knew what happened to you and would judge you.

But now, two years after the rape, you have a boyfriend who loves you so much, family and friends who helped you through and most likely you have yourself and that’s all you need.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by two hands sneaking around your waist. You place you hands on them thinking it’s one of the guys, but the hairs on them make you realize it’s none of them.

Abruptly you turn around meeting with a pair of green eyes. You try to get out of his hold, but his hands tighten around your his, drawing you closer to him.

“Get off of me.” You yell at him, trying to get out, but you have no chance against him. He’s 6 feet something by the way you have to tilt your head back.

“Oh, come on, you were enjoying it, the whole time.” he leans into you whispering the words in your ear.

“Let me go.” you try again, your eyes starting to tear, this time grabbing his hand and shoving the from your hips, but his grip tightens even more, causing you to hiss from the pain, tears sliding down your cheeks.

In the moment he’s shoved away from you and you pulled in a hug. Your eyes land on furious Quinn punching the guy in the face as Trevor and Jack try to get him off the guy while Luke holds you in his arms.

As soon as Trevor and Jack manage to pull Quinn

off of the guy he storms towards you, pulling you in a bone-crushing hug. You snuggle your head in his chest, a sob leaving your mouth.

“It’s okay, babe. I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.” he says in your ear, as he pulls you more into him.

“I-I thought it’s o-one you.” you cry in his chest clinging onto him.

“Shh,” he whispers, placing hands on your cheeks as he leans down to kiss you.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” Trevor shouts from behind you, forcing you to step away from Quinn. As soon as you were away from him, Trevor’s fist collided with Quinn’s face, causing him to stumble backward.

“Trevor!” you shout in disbelief standing in front of Quinn.

“Move, y/n,” he growls looking down at you. You shook your head, tears running down your cheeks, making his eyes soften as he unclenched his fists.

“We should go out,” Jack says looking around at the people looking at you.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Luke joins him, pushing you all out of the bar.

As soon you’re out of the bar, Trevor’s hand grabs your arm, pulling you away from Quinn who’s surrounded by his brothers.

“What were you thinking?! Sleeping with my friend behind my back?” he hisses at you through his teeth.

“It’s not like th-” you try to say, but he won’t let me finish my sentence before he starts talking again.

“Don’t even try! I’m not blind, I saw how he looked at you the whole night I just thought I was making it in my mind,” he says, his hand tightening around your arm. “I want you to end it. I don’t care if you just fuck or whatever, end it, now,” he says before he let you and makes his way to Quinn. “And YOU! I thought we were clear about the rules. Never sleep with my SISTER! You promised you would take care of her while I’m not with her, not to fucking FUCK HER!” he shouts at him, his fist landing on Quinn’s nose this time.

“Trevor!” You shout in shock, running to Quinn who holds his nose, blood dripping on the ground.

“For fuck’s sake, what is wrong with YOU!” You shout out tears start to form at the edge of your eyes. In every situation, that someone is mad because of you, it’s hard for you to hold tears in. Jack and Luke are Holding Trevor so you can take a look at Quinn’s nose.

As you grab his face in your palms, you hear how’s Trevor trying to get out of the hold of Jack and Luke. You raise Quinn’s head, his nose covered in blood just like his mouth and chin. Tears now running down your cheeks as you reach into your purse pulling out tissues to wipe out the blood.

“Y/n,” Quinn’s voice comes out as a whisper but you ignore it as you wipe out the blood. “Baby,” he whispered taking hold of your hand with the one that wasn’t covered in blood. “Hey, don’t cry,” he whispers looking into your eyes with a pleading look. “It’s nothing. I’m okay.”

“Don’t fucking talk to her!” Trevor’s voice comes from behind you. You turn slightly behind you, only to catch a glimpse of fuming mad Trevor who’s still trying to get to us.

“I will talk to her as much as I want and whenever I want for fuck’s sake. She’s my girlfriend.”

Quinn says making himself clear and loud.

“And she’s my sister!” Trevor says this time in a calmer voice as he sees the tears on my cheeks.

“Okay! Both of you stop! Can we go home and do this at home? People are watching!” you sigh not daring to look at the people shooting us glances.

Trevor looks around sighing at the sight of at least ten people watching us and whispering. He nods and strips out of the boy’s hold before he makes his way to the car. You turn back to Quinn wiping away the rest of the blood so he looks normal when he drives us home. You pull out two tampons from your purse.

“No, you won’t do that!” Quinn states as soon as he sees what you’re holding.

“Yes, I will. Now please shut up,” you say uncompromisingly opening the tampons and sticking them in his nose holes.

“I look ridiculous,” he sighs shaking his head. Luke came to us, letting out a chuckle as soon as he saw Quinn. “Oh shut up Moosey!” he shoves him away, grabbing your hand and leading you to his car, where’s already Jack and Trevor.

Trevor clenches his hands in fists as soon as he sees our intertwined fingers. You try to let go of his hand, but Quinn tightens his hold on your signaling you to not.

You know he’s done hiding, but you don’t know if he realizes that he’s just provoking Trevor or is aware of it. You squeeze his hand, smiling at him. He opens the car letting us all in.

As we all sit in the car, uncomfortable silence surrounds us. Trevor sends death glares to Quinn through the review mirror.

This is going to be a long ride.

— — — — — — —

“Trevor, can you please listen to me!” you shot at him when he got out of the car pacing to the house. You run out of the car after him.

‘I don’t wanna listen to any of the shit you want to tell me,” he yells making you flinch. “You are sneaking behind my back with my best friend, like some whore!” as soon as the words left his mouth, guilty is written all over his face. “Y/n I-I didn’t mea-”

“Yes, you did,” you choke out feeling the tears sliding down your cheeks again, for the third time tonight. “You meant it and you know you did,” you swallow the sob in your throat as you take a deep breath. “I-I know it wasn’t right to not tell you right away, but I was afraid you would react this way.”

“Fuck, y/n I really didn’t mean to say that,” he whisper, his hands running through his hair.

“You did, Trevor. You meant it. You know you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it. And I hope you realize I don’t deserve these words.” you say before you make your way upstairs to your room.

As soon as you’re in your room, you lock the door, and let out a sigh. The tears spilled over the edge and ran their way down the cheeks. You let out the sob you were holding in, the whole time you were talking to Trevor.

You lay down on the bed and curl up in a ball, letting the sobs out.

Ever since you and Quinn started dating, you knew Trevor would react badly, but you had no idea that he would react this badly.

You know you should’ve told him, that you and Quinn are a thing but you were afraid of how he would react, and what would he do. And you were right.

You don’t know how long you’ve been lying here with your thoughts, but a light knock on your door interrupted me.

“Baby, it’s me,” Quinn’s quiet voice sends shivers down your spine, and another sob escapes your mouth. “Can I come in?” he asks, his voice calm and sweet.

“It’s locked,” you whisper, knowing he probably didn’t hear it.

“Y/n, baby, please, open the door,” he sighs when he tries to open the door. “I want to be here for you!” he pleads. You can imagine the pout he has on his face.

With a sigh, you wrap yourself up in the blanket as you make your way to the door unlocking it. The door swings open and you are embraced with a tight hug.

He wraps his hands around your shoulders and neck to keep you in him. You wrap your hands around his waist, as a sob escapes your throat.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers, smoothing your hair. “Trevor will cool down by tomorrow and we’ll talk to him, okay?” You nod your head, breathing in his scent. “I love you, baby,” he whispers in your ears.

“I love you too,” I murmured in his chest. He pulls away from me, leading me to bed and lying down with me.

“Go sleep, baby, we’ll deal with this tomorrow.” he kissed my forehead, tucking me more into him. I don’t really know how long we’ve been lying until my eyes closed and I fell asleep.

— — — — — — —

The next morning, you’re sitting at the table with the three brothers. Trevor is still sleeping, which is normal, he won’t be up until ten.

You’re sitting next to Quinn, who has his left hand placed on your tight, as his thumb draws small circles on your skin. It’s his habit. He learns that it helps you when you are nervous, but I think sometimes, when he does it, it’s more for him, to keep him calm and less nervous.

When you woke up, Quinn wasn’t in bed. You panicked, that maybe Trevor saw him, and something happened. You quickly got out of my bed and headed down, only to find the three brothers making breakfast.

You’ve to say they overdone themselves. This is the best breakfast you had in a week. Quinn’s usually the one who cooks, which is perfect because you’d be able to burn your whole kitchen. But because he came here a week earlier than you, you were left home alone with a small amount of food, so you were stuck with take-out and KFC.

“I…uhm…I have to ask you, okay,” Luke blurts out in the silence just in the moment when you shove another bite in your mouth. “How…how have you two…you two been a thing?” he asks pointing between us with a fork.

You and Quinn share a glance before he clears his throat. “Uhm, we’ve been together since the end of the last season.” Jack’s and Luke’s jaws drop.

“So, that’s why you had that little talk with Jamie?” Jack’s face light up with realization, as you’re in confusion. You turn your head at Quinn who’s sending diggers to Jack.

“What talk?” you ask, your full attention on Quinn as you let go of his hand. He scratches the back of his neck, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Oh it was nothing, just told him to stop acting like an asshole when he’s around you, that you’re not interested.” he shrugged, looking down at his plate.

“Really, Quinn?” giggle escapes your mouth. “You were jealous? Why? You know me and Jamie are just friends. Seriously he flirts with everything that has boobs and pussy.” placing your hand on his tight you give it a squeeze.

“I know, but we were together for two months and I was scared, okay?” he says looking deep into your eyes. You just nod, because you know that Quinn hates talking about his feelings in front of other people.

You were about to ask, what’s today’s plan, when Trevor’s figure stops in the doorframe. His eyes roam the room before they land on your hand on Quinn’s tight. You know you should’ve probably taken it off, but what’s the matter when he already knows?

He cleared his throat looking up at Quinn’s face. The bridge of his nose is purple, and the bruise abound his left eye is starting to show up.

“I’m…ugh…I’m sorry how I reacted, yesterday,” he mumbled looking at Quinn.

“‘S okay, I should’ve expected it,” Quinn nods with a small smile on his lips.

“Yeah, well, can we maybe talk about it after breakfast?” this time his eyes divert to yours.

You look away and nod. “But if you wanna act like an overprotective asshole, then I have nothing to tell you.” you look him dead in the eyes.

“I won’t,” shakes his head. You nod signaling him to sit down and eat.

The rest of the breakfast was silent, only quiet whispers between Luke and Jack about hockey. When you all are done with breakfast, you take the plates and make your way to the kitchen. You place them in the sink, preparing yourself to wash them. You know you can simply put them in the dishwasher, but you don’t want to have that conversation with Trevor.

“Y/n,” speaking of the devil, Trevor’s voice sounds from behind you as you stop in your movements. “Can we please talk?” he let out a sigh, you can hear his bare feet hitting the floor as he makes his way to you.

“Yeah, I just do the dishes,” you mumble as you want to continue washing, but his hands stop you, catching yours.

“The dishes can wait,” he sighs when he turns you around, but your eyes look anywhere but him. “Please?” you finally look up at him, the desperation in his eyes clear.

“Fine,” you dry your hands and walk over to the table where is Quinn still sitting, this time with the phone in his hand. “But you will listen and won’t say a word until we’re done, are we clear?” you look at him as you sit down next to Quinn, who puts the phone down as soon as he sees me.

“Okay.”

You look at Quinn asking him silently if he wants to start. He turns his head back to Trevor who’s already looking at him.

“Okay, first of all, I love your sister and I won’t leave her just because you don’t like we’re together,” Quinn states firmly making no room for Trevor to argue. “And second, I’m sorry, that I broke the rule, but you can’t control who you love.”

Trevor’s eyes wander to you, asking you silently if it’s true.

“I love him too, Trev. And you know how much I hated your stupid rules since the beginning.” you sigh, feeling the rock fall from your shoulders as you finally tell him.

“I don’t want to say that I can imagine how you feel, so I won’t, but believe me, when I tell you, that your sister is the woman of my life,” Quinn confesses. Your eyes grow wider at the words that left his mouth. You know that Quinn loves you more than himself and hockey, but hearing it come in this way, felt different.

Trevor nods, looking at me. “How long…when did you two..?” he stumble over his words not knowing how to ask.

“Year, since the end of the last season,” you say, taking a hold of Quinn’s hand. He interlock his fingers with yours placing your hands in his lap.

Trevor’s eyes went wide and his mouth opened and closed in shock. He stands up, and one of his hands goes to his jaw as he stands in front of the glass door.

You look at Quinn as you stand up, he lets go of your hand and gives you a reassuring smile. You slowly walk to Trevor and stand in front of him. His eyes immediately fell on yours as tears started to form in them. Your heart aches at the sight of the tears, you wrap your hands around his waist hoping you’ll bring him some comfort.

“I love him, Trev, really do. He’s the only guy who doesn’t see me as thrash after he gets to know what happened to me.” You whisper leaning your chin on his chest, looking up at him.

“I just want him to hurt you,” he whispers back leaning his forehead against yours. “I won’t forgive myself, if something happened to you again.”

“He won’t, Trevor. You know he won’t hurt me. In any way, he’d no trike Jos-”

“Don’t talk about that shit.” he inhaled sharply.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“‘S okay,” he sighs kissing your head. “Hughes!” he calls for Quinn, who’s at your side in a few seconds.

“If you hurt her, I swear I’ll cut your dick and show it deep down your ass.” he threatens him with a serious expression.

You’re about to scold him, but Quinn outrun you.

“I won’t. I love her, Trevor.” Quinn says in a serious tone. Trevor stays silent for a while before he pulls Quinn in a hug.

Well, maybe the night in the bar wasn’t a disaster after all.

#nhl #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #vancouver #vancover canucks #trevor zegras x reader #luke hughes x reader #otp prompts #nhl hockey #luke hughes #jack hughes #trevor zegras

[coeurify]

I have no idea how this would fit into an storyline but I am a hoe for fake dating. Imagine fake dating with abby and it slowly becoming too real

UGH YOU GET ME FAKE DATING IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES!!

⋆˚✿˖° now, abby anderson had a problem. specifically a blonde, brown eyed loud mouthed man of a problem. owen fucking moore. she had broken up with him in the summer time, little explanation given to the ass of a boyfriend other than that she needed to “find herself.” (not that she needed to give any.)

⋆˚✿˖° but owen? oh owen didn’t accept that. so from the very moment abby had broken it off, to when the air began to smell like fall.. he pestered abby. asked for a reason, begged for another chance (despite HIM going around with damn near every girl on the WLF compound.)

⋆˚✿˖° things came to a head at a get together in one of abby and owen’s mutual friend’s apartment style quarters. mutual friend who also happened to be your roommate.

⋆˚✿˖° abby and owen fought all night, abby’s cheeks red from embarrassment and anger, eyebrows furrowed together. “why can’t you just take no for an answer owen?“ the cup in her hand crackled a bit under the pressure when the man scoffed. “because you never give me a real answer!” abby’s arms crossed at that, searching around the room. quickly, and maybe a little impulsively, she shrugged. “i’m into someone else now.”

⋆˚✿˖° owen just couldn’t accept that, his arms thrown around dramatically. “so you like another guy? that’s why you wont give me another chance? you know i can treat you better.” that sentence alone reminded abby just why she hated being with him so much, but again that fast moving brain of hers spoke before the thought could finish, finger pointing in the direction of the first person she found.. you. “it’s not a guy. it’s a girl. im not.. into your..” abby made a motion, “species anymore.” sure, it was sort of true. abby recently realized she probably had a thing for girls, but you particularly? she couldn’t count on her fingers the amount of conversations she had with. “i like her.”

⋆˚✿˖° you, who’s head poked up, mouth full of slightly stale chips, having heard the whole conversation. abby anderson, beautiful, funny, madeyouweakintheknees, abby anderson was into you? and not straight? surely not. you swallowed harshly, deciding to play into whatever game abby seemed to have set on the floor. you made your way over, an award winning smile on your face as owen’s mouth dropped open further than a damn infected. “You like her? as in girls?”

⋆˚✿˖° honestly, you probably caused more trouble when you stood near the two, “abs!” you grinned, “you forgot your jacket here.. cmere ill grab it for you.” and then your hand is wrapped around her tensed bicep, the stiffness likely caused by her pure shock you even played along. still, she used it as an out from the devil with blonde locks, shrugging almost apologetically at owen before letting you whisk her away.

⋆˚✿˖° and that night, after everyone but you and abby had stumbled out of the cramped room, which was still humid and heavy, you made the plan. with a pen that had little ink left, scratching against the water damaged pages of the notebook you tucked under your pillow, you wrote the words “project get rid of owen moore.” which ok, in retrospect sounded really bad. but you were a little tipsy.

⋆˚✿˖° the plan was easy. play the role of abby’s first girlfriend, convince owen she was totally not into him or men anymore. what did you get out of it? a spot on the top dog abby anderson’s patrol team. something you had been vying for this year. abby agreed, although a little hesitantly. she promised she had picked you only because its who her pointed finger found first. not any actual attraction. you swallowed down the hit to your ego that brought.

⋆˚✿˖° and honestly? the plan went on pretty steadily. you were a damn good fake girlfriend if you had to admit it, and abby didn’t hate being around you. in fact, she really enjoyed being around you. she enjoyed how easily your fingers reached down, tapping on her palm to fing a way to hold her hand whenever one of owen’s posey was around. she enjoyed how you leaned in whenever owen passed by, your lips on her ear, whispering anything you knew would have her smiling. a fake smile of course.

⋆˚✿˖° you two had some pretty strict rules. no kissing, no extreme touchiness, absolutely no spilling to anyone this was fake, and the most important.. no real feelings. you had come up with a backstory, one you two had studied together. (you two met in the training room after your roommate introduced you two and totally hit it off. abby got you a spot on her team next to her and manny, and feeling bloomed from there.) abby added in a few details she knew would piss owen off.. and you sealed your lips shut to follow the rules.

⋆˚✿˖° the first few weeks were easy. you liked spending time around abby. you enjoyed how she smiled, you laughed at all the jokes she cracked (for the fake dating points of course..), and you loved training with her. you had to ignore the shiver her hands on your shoulders or waist gave, knowing it was just to help your position. “you have to fix your stance if you plan on fighting scars..” abby huffed.

⋆˚✿˖° the problem started in october. a month and a half into your fake dating plan. tens of lunches spent alone together, a handful of new hair styles you begged to try on abby, and around 5 missions out of the base, in. there was a party, one you demanded the two of you go to one day as you lounged on abby’s bunk— watching as she cleaned up manny’s mess across the room. “if we dress up together, owen will totally finally get off your case,” you assured, bringing a loud sigh from the blonde. “oh my god.. fine.”

⋆˚✿˖° you went as a angel and devil, simple enough to easy stitch together some devil horns for yourself and an angel halo you found in an old broken down store in the city for abby. no way did you admit the trouble you went for to find it to abs, especially not as she easily pulled her shirt off in front of you, totally clueing you in to where the nickname came from as she shoved on the white teeshirt.

⋆˚✿˖° see, the no kissing rule was an important one, but vodka made everything seem less important, and owen was awfully loud that night, scoffing any time you smiled and leaned into your angel, head band tilting off your head, which abby fixed with a grin. “you two act more like friends than people fucking each other,” owen scoffed as he pressed by you two, the words pounding in abby’s ears over the loud mingling voices.

⋆˚✿˖° “kiss me,” abby called over the old cd that played on the speakers, her cheeks red with anger— blue eyes flicking around. “what?” you laughed, thinking back to rule number 1. “i know we said no— no kissing but i just.. oh my god just kiss me,” abby muttered, her large hands gripping your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss, one she was sure owen was watching on to. one you melted into, sucking her lip in between yours.

⋆˚✿˖° that had been a breaking point, ragged breaths and heated necks as you pulled away. it lead to more excuses with less validity being used when the two of you stared at each other’s lips. stepping down the stairs of the base, eyes catching on someone who just looked like owen. “kiss me,” abby muttered quickly, and you wasted no time to turn your head and fill your nose with the scent of pine as you leaned in.

⋆˚✿˖° the no kissing rule crossed off right before the no touchiness one did, that one had been scribbled off completely when abby began pulling you into her lap in group functions, one soft hand rubbing up against your side as she whispered in your ear, “jus’ for show.”

⋆˚✿˖° just for show of course, but you screamed into your pillow for so long that night you almost thought the walls of your room would crumble down along with the barrier you put between you and the blonde.

⋆˚✿˖° kisses and touchiness turned to nights spent in abby’s room, mornings waking up and having abby’s shirt thrown at your face. “wear that, owen got it for me when we were dating.” sure, you probably should be ashamed to be wearing the clothes of a girl who didn’t like you, but the frown on owen’s face made it worth it.

⋆˚✿˖° that last rule, the one that didn’t have pen strokes over the letters, the one locked behind awkward coughs and side glances, well you weren’t sure who broke it first. you dont know why feelings came into play, but you sure do know it happened.

⋆˚✿˖° you felt it first when abby didn’t talk to you for a few days. you saw her across the stadium with nora, her head tilted back lightly in a laugh at something the other girl said. that was the first time you felt the needle sized ache in your heart, one that only ripped further when owen shoulder checked you on his way by, “better get your girl. she slips away easily.”

⋆˚✿˖° maybe that rule had been broken when abby stormed into your room, met with the sight of you on the couch with some other blonde girl, an old tape of a southern movie mid way through when anderson scoffed and demanded the girl get out. she did so in a hurry, scrambling for her sweatshirt as a frown grew on your lips. “abby what the fuck?” you scoff, watching her eyebrows unfurrow lightly. “you can’t have other girls over! it fucks with our plan,” she accused, though she stumbled lightly over the words. “she’s just a friend, abby.”

⋆˚✿˖° however, the night you sat in your bed, breath heavy and eyes stinging as you broke through the paper with the pen, scratching over the words “no real feelings,” that came in the end of november.

⋆˚✿˖° your head was pressed into abby’s shoulder, yawning and closing your eyes as the movie played on a big sheet, a biweekly occurrence in the WLF base. abby had pressed to your cheek, placing a kiss to it that had some sort of butterfly attack take fruition in your stomach. you two didn’t even know if owen or his friends were around, and they for sure were not the reason of abby’s hand linking into yours as you two walked toward her room later that night. you both seemed to realize that when you reached her door and she leaned forward just lightly, as if to kiss you.

⋆˚✿˖° she cleared her throat, licking over the lips you wanted to capture again. “i think-” she said suddenly, squeezing her eyes closed. “i think owen really believes it now.” you could feel your heart sinking to the empty stomach that laid below your chest, knowing what came next. “i think we should break up.” abby finished, quick to add, “fake break up.”

⋆˚✿˖° you nodded along silently to the story she built still standing in her doorway. miscommunication, arguments, differing plans, the whole shebang— anything to make the breakup believable. you agreed, but the moment her door shut, a half smile and thank you sitting on her lips as the door locked, you felt the tears prick your eyes.

⋆˚✿˖° you wiped quickly at the tears, your hand slapped over the aching chest you swore betrayed you. you sucked in shallow breaths, shaky hands finding your own door as your vision went blurry.

⋆˚✿˖° as your pen broke through the white sheet of paper, you cursed your own heart. you cursed it for being so easy to rip from your chest, presented on a platter for a blonde who only saw it as a fake replica. you threw the notebook across the floor, hand slapping over your mouth so your roommate wouldn’t wake as you sobbed into it. surely you had been the only one to break that rule, but that didn’t matter now.

⋆˚✿˖° but you were wrong. not that you could know that. a five minute walk away, abby breathed out slowly as her fingers scraped though the braid she was undoing, an odd stinging pricked at the corner of her lashes. she knew she did the right thing. she knew it as soon as her lips searched for your own at her doorway tonight. so why did it feel so bad? why did her hands tremble as she pulled out her blanket and climbed under it, squeezing her eyes shut.

⋆˚✿˖° if this was all fake, why did the break up feel so real?

#rins reqs ❀. #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson fic #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fluff

[mvltisstuff]

meet me at our spot - c.f

summary: after a text from conrad asking y/n to come over, she could never say no.

conrad fisher x reader

a/n: soooo i’m like a year late to the tsitp game… but i just finished it and i cried like a baby omfg and conrad’s #1 protector!!

conrad (10:45 PM)

come over, i’m on the dock

the second the notification popped up on her screen, she was out of bed. she was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, laying in bed but not being able to sleep. she’d been the one to paint a smile on conrad’s face this summer, and susannah knew that. she was happy to have y/n over whenever she could, noticing oldest son’s face light up when she walked in.

y/n was conrad’s soldier. she fought battles for him when he felt like he was too weak to do it himself. he cried on her and his best days were spent with her. the second they kissed last summer, he knew they were in it for the long run. no one could point out a cause for conrad’s recent misery. all they wanted to do was find a light for him in this tunnel. y/n was well aware that he had been struggling. he wasn’t opening up, but she knew that just being there next to him in bed was enough for him. no one has ever gone through the trouble of loving him so much, instead of just reaching over for a condom. he felt trapped everywhere he went, and the dock is where he decompressed. y/n always found him there, the only person he really wanted there. belly and jeremiah had come out there, but something about y/n’s hand in his made his heart balance.

as much as he wishes to forget all his thoughts, he was so happy with her all the time. she was like an eraser to the spelling mistakes and a bandaid on the cuts. she was more than just a girlfriend to him, she was a lifesaver.

y/n decided to just walk over to the fisher’s beach house. she hadn’t driven, knowing he’d probably want her to stay the night as well. despite the sun being out of the sky, the air was still warm and wrapped you in like a hug. you could smell the salt of the ocean and the damp grass in their yard. the sky was clear, just the high crescent of the moon reflecting on the water. something about it was therapeutic, reminder her of the boy waiting for her in the backyard.

she shuffled through a few patches a grass before carefully making her way down the dock to meet conrad. she greeted him as he had a joint in between his lips, lighting it up before releasing the smoke. “hey,” y/n says, sitting down next to him.

“you came,” he replies, almost sounding surprised.

“of course i did,” she grins. she takes the joint and places it between her own lips, inhaling and then blowing out a puff. the dock smelt like weed, but it was no secret that they’d been smoking. besides, susannah did it with laurel all the time. “you ok?”

“yeah, just wanted to see you,” he looks into her eyes and smiles. “i couldn’t sleep.”

“explains the pot we’re smoking. i couldn’t sleep either.” she hands it back to conrad. “even if i was sleeping, you know i’d come to you whenever.”

“i know. i’m always just eager to see you in person.”

“why?” she questions, teasingly. she knows the answer, but wants him to do it for himself. he leans in, pulling the joint back and landing a passionate kiss on her lips.

“because i can’t kiss you like that over the phone.”

she blushes like a middle schooler when her crush just looks at her once. like they haven’t been seeing each other since last summer and like she isn’t the only thing getting him out of bed in the morning. she looks deep into his red eyes, admiring every thought and feeling inside his beautiful head. “i’m always here for you, conrad. winter, spring, summer, and fall, i’ll be there.”

his lips curl into another thrilling smile, wrapping his arm around her as they pass the joint around a few times. they sit there for a while, glaring at the calm ripples in the water. it was just before midnight when they checked his phone again, seeing the bright numbers illuminate their faces. he gives y/n a mischievous look. “are you hungry?”

she directs another look of confusion to him, “what are you saying, fisher?”

the two stumble inside, stoned as they walk into the kitchen to take out a box of mac & cheese from the cabinet. they look over to jeremiah and steven, both slumped on the couch with their controllers on their stomach and the TV on a screensaver. “don’t wake them up, they’re gonna want some!” conrad attempts a whisper, but his small giggles pass through instead.

“shut the fuck up, we’re trying to be quiet,” y/n replies. as soon as she opens the drawer to get out a pot, a few of them clatter around and steven shuffles in his sleep. they both crouch down on the floor in hysterics until they hear the light snores from steven again.

“don’t worry about jeremiah, he’s slept on the bench at six flags once,” conrad says, peeking over to the two sleeping teens on the couch. they slowly fill the pot up with water and wait for it to boil. they don’t turn the timer on, just calculate the times on their phone as the water almost boils over to edge.

“shit, i told you to watch the water,” conrad says, turning the burner down.

“no, we both agreed i was gonna look at the phone.”

“it’s whatever, baby, just pour that cheese in here,” conrad requests after straining the flavorless pasta out of the water. they both pour each others bowls before running upstairs to conrad’s room. “we fucking did it!”

“finally, oh my god,” y/n speaks, sitting down on his bed as she places her bowl on his nightstand. “wanna watch shitty reality tv?”

“what type of question is that? of course, i want to,” he says sarcastically, throwing his hands up in the air before laying down on his bed and pulling y/n into him. her head was on his chest as his arm wrapped around her. they watched some old reruns of the kardashians before they were both eventually knocked out on his bed.

the sun had finally risen, and everyone else was up and ready for the day. they’d been eating their breakfast, and the kids were asking where conrad was.

“i’ll go check on connie, i’ll be right back,” susannah says, sweetly as she walks up the stairs she walks in to conrad and y/n on the bed, their bowls abandoned on the floor as her head is on chest, and his arms were around her. susannah laughs and debates whether or not to shake them awake, but she just nudges conrad a bit as he stretches and opens his eyes. “hey, we’re making breakfast if you want to join us?”

“oh, yeah. i’ll be down in a minute. she was tired, i might let her sleep for a little longer,” he says, looking at y/n.

“of course, she’s always welcome, connie,” susannah leaves the door open a crack and goes back downstairs. if y/n made conrad happy, then y/n made susannah happy.

#the summer i turned pretty #belly x conrad #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher fic #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher smut #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher oneshot #jeremiah x reader #belly x jeremiah #steven conklin #belly conklin #susannah fisher #laurel conklin #jeremiah fisher #cam cameron

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader PART ONE [35K] another year at summer camp, more broken kayaks, a change of plans, a lot of wondering. meet us in the afterglow.

Tell me that you're still mine

The drive was the same, if not quieter. 

The roads hadn’t changed and maybe the trees were taller, the sun was still too bright, too warm, a little mocking considering your mood. Your car was still shit and it still protested when you took corners too quickly. 

The sign welcoming you into the forest was the same, a little weather worn, familiar and like home. The car park was emptier than usual, but then again, you’d never arrived this early before. Robin was by a delivery truck, hat on backwards despite the way she squinted into the sun to see you roll to a stop. 

She grinned, waving but you saw the confusion there and your stomach dropped and twisted, that same awful feeling that had sat in the pit of your stomach for the last month. 

Camp Upside Down seemed far too quiet when you finally opened the car door and set a foot on the old pine needles. Like something was missing. 

“Hey,” Robin rushed in with a hug, warm and sweet. “You’re here early.” She gave that same frown, lips set into a confused smile as she looked through your windscreen, at the empty passenger seat. “Where’s Steve?”

You swallowed, the pit in your stomach opening up into a yawning thing, a wide open canyon that swallowed everything nice. It rolled, a storm between two cliffs and it made your bones ache. Acid touched your tongue and it only burned more when you tried to push it back down. 

“Uh,” your voice broke, just a little, enough for Robin's eyes to widen. “We broke up.”

——————

“What happened?”

Robin hadn’t wasted much time, closing your car door for you before taking you by the hand. Your bags were left in the trunk and neither of you looked at Hopper’s office cabin, eyes set ahead as you let the girl lead you through the trees. 

The paths were the same, worn down and more dirt than gravel, and they twisted through the oak trees in a way you knew like the back of your hand. The lake was on your left, eerily still, the kayaks stacked to the side. Nausea rolled in your stomach like waves. 

“I— we— fuck,” you were laughing, a wrecked, desperate sort of noise that didn’t match the way your eyes were watering and Robin looked back at you, more serious than you’d ever seen her. 

“C’mon,” she murmured, squeezing your hand. She walked a little quicker, down the path and past a fallen log, through the empty cabins that would be bursting with kids and noise and laughter in two days. “Almost there.”

She already had keys to your cabin, the door opened to air it out, the familiar smell of pine hidden under the mustiness of the last year. There were faded outlines on the walls, marks from sticky tape that would never come off, a reminder of the photos and the postcards that lived there over summer. 

You knew if you pulled out your bedside table, there would be etchings on the back of it, lines made from a penknife that wasn’t yours, a name next to your own, a heart drawn around the letters. 

The cabin you’d spent five years in suddenly didn’t feel like yours anymore. 

But then Robin had you by the shoulders and she looked so worried, brows drawn together and you wondered if you counted the freckles on her nose, that maybe you could stall the conversation that was about to happen. She drew a finger over your cheek instead, catching a tear you didn't know was there. 

“Tell me everything.”

[AFTERGLOW BY TAYLOR SWIFT]

You’d know something was wrong when Steve had called you. 

It had been late enough that when he asked you to come over, you’d frowned and made a joke about a booty call. But the boy hadn’t laughed and he didn’t answer when you asked what was going on. 

So you made an excuse to your parents and said you wouldn’t be too late, slipping out the front door in your pyjama shorts and a camp sweatshirt that had Steve’s name stitched on the front. Your bare feet were stuffed in your sneakers, uncomfortable and too cold despite the way the weather in Hawkins was starting to warm up. Your car grumbled as you drove to Steve’s like it knew something, like it was warning you.  

Steve met you in the driveway, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, his hair messier than normal, like he’d been running his hands through it. When you killed the engine and smiled at him through the windscreen, he smiled back, but it wasn’t the same. 

Something was wrong. 

“Hey,” you’d greeted him warily, hands out to reach him, pushing on your toes to kiss his cheek. 

He’d caught you off guard when he turned, your lips skimming over his skin until his mouth met yours with a neediness you hadn’t expected. His nose was a hard press to your cheek, his hand squeezing yours like he was scared you’d disappear, his breath mixing with your kiss in a huff that seemed full of an emotion you really couldn’t place. 

“Steve?” You whispered when he eventually pulled back, gaze heavy and brows knitted together. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

He tugged gently on your hand then, taking a step back. “Let’s go sit out back, yeah?”

The lights that came through the Harrington’s kitchen windows let you know his parents were home, an abandoned dinner left on the dining table, half eaten but the wine glasses were empty. You let Steve lead you to the sunloungers, dusted off and taken out of the pool house for the start of summer, the newly cleaned pool pouring out heat and the smell of chlorine, steam swirling in the evening air.  

The sky was lilac, a violet kind of twilight that made the first of the fireflies linger at the edge of Steve’s backyard fence, right by the treeline. The hum of the pool generator was the only sound and it set you on edge. 

“Steve, what’s wrong?” Your voice came out a little weak, anxiousness creeping up your chest and neck in a dangerous heat, the kind that prickled your skin and made your throat feel too tight. 

The boy was sitting across from you, your knees bumping his between the loungers, both of your hands clasped tightly together in your own laps. You wanted to reach out to him, but something told you that you couldn’t, not like you used to. 

You’d only seen him last night. A kiss against the side of your car, his knuckles under your chin, sweeping your jaw as you both laughed into open mouths, whispering about how his parents were due back from the airport any minute, how’d they’d catch you both in their drive, lovesick and melted together. 

What had happened?

You watched Steve blow out a breath, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pushed himself to speak. “Uh, my dad got me a scholarship.”

You blinked. “What?”

Steve cleared his throat, his voice rough, like he’d been yelling, like he’d been crying. He leaned back, hands pushed into fists on the seat cushions. “Yeah, my dad came back and told me he’d gotten me into a Finance course. Full ride.” Steve barked out a laugh, like he didn’t believe it. 

“What?” You couldn’t help repeating yourself, brows stitched together in confusion. “Finance? That’s— that’s not what you wanted— wait, how?”

Steve made a face, nose wrinkled and he stared at the ground. He shrugged. “He had an old colleague that knew the Dean. He pulled some strings, I guess.”

Your stomach dropped and lurched. A sardonic laugh crept up your throat that you tried to tame, a choked splutter coming out instead. You shook your head. “You mean he flashed his wallet.”

Steve groaned, his hand running through his hair, making more of a mess of it. “Babe—” 

“Are you doing it? Finance? Steve, that’s, that’s the last thing that interests you! Why are you even telling me this? You can’t be serious. Tell me you’re not serious?”

Steve dropped his chin to his chest, eyes closing. He looked like he was in pain. “It’s in Arizona.”

You’d always heard the expression, of someone’s blood running cold. You’d thought it silly, a weird and twisted exaggeration. Up until now, anyway. Your body turned icy, a sharp chill that ran through you and it made your bones feel brittle, delicate enough to splinter. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. 

“Arizona?” You mumbled it, a clumsy thing in your mouth that didn’t seem like a real word, too bulky to wrap your tongue around. “Steve—?”

“The scholarship is for Arizona State.” 

The fireflies on the edge of the yard had gone and the purple skies were inkier, too big above you and despite the lack of clouds, you still couldn’t see any stars. Your throat was getting tighter. 

“Arizona? Arizona. Steve, that’s, fuck, that’s the other side of the country. What? You’re not actually considering going, are you?”

“Princess,” he said it without his usual warmth, the affection still there but Steve sounded tired, drained. “It’s paid for. It’s all - shit - my dad’s organised all of it.”

You laughed then, an awful, bitter, nasty sounding thing but it was only to cover up the fact that you were ready to cry. Tears pricked hot in the corners of your eyes and your voice was sharp, biting. “So, what? Daddy’s decided then, yeah? That’s it?”

Steve flinched before straightening up, shoulders rolling as he prepared himself for the fight he knew was coming. You pretended not to see that his eyes were glassy too, matching yours. 

“It’s a good opportunity, alright? I can—”

“Bullshit, Steve!” You snapped, rising to your feet because you couldn’t sit there and listen to what was about to leave your boyfriend's lips. “Don’t feed me the same lecture your dad drilled into you, okay? This can’t be what you want. No, I know this isn’t what you want!”

“What am I supposed to do, huh?” Steve’s voice got a little louder, taking over the hum of the pool, the insects that were buzzing from the bushes. “Turn it down? Spend the rest of my life in this shitty town, wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to be doing? Hoping that one day, maybe Keith will be kind enough to promote me to weekend supervisor?”

“I don’t know!” You were pacing, moving away from Steve to walk circles around the loungers, your gaze hardening when you saw his mother at a window, the curtains quickly drawn. “I don’t know, okay? But we were supposed to figure it out, we were supposed to do it together.”

You broke then, a hiccup breaking from your throat that turned into a sob that not even your palm could muffle. Your breath stuttered into your hand and the tears fell hot and fast, salt gathering between your fingers. Steve crumbled, shoulders dropping he was in front of you, hands reaching around your wrist to pull it away. 

“Shit, princess, no, no, I know,” Steve blinked, water gathering at his lash line, turning you blurry, the pool a mosaic of blue and white. “C’mon, come here.”

He had you sitting again, nudging himself into the space between your legs, kneeling in front of the sunlounger. His thumbs were frantically trying to catch your tears, his hands cradling your face as he made soft noises, hushing you, soothing you. 

“We still can, alright? Listen, baby, listen,” Steve seemed a little frantic now, wide eyed as he tried to calm you, hands cupping your jaw, thumbs stroking under your reddened eyes. “You can come too, we can work something out, we can get a place and—”

“What?” You squinted at the boy, confused. “Steve, I don’t want to move to Arizona. There’s nothing in Arizona! Not for me, not for us! My, my family is here, my job is here, fuck, we were saving up, we were gonna move and get our own place.” The tears were falling again, breath catching in your throat and panic clawed at you, vicious and unrelenting. “A place somewhere pretty, remember? Somewhere by a lake, with— with mountains and a huge garden—”

You broke off as Steve cursed, sniffing and only letting go of you to swipe at his own cheek, doing his best to pretend that he wasn’t crying too. 

“You don’t have to go,” you let your forehead drop to his shoulder, face pressed to his chest where it smelled like his cologne, like mint and cedar and home. “You don’t have to leave.”

A splash hit your head, warm, another following when Steve let his face hide in your hair. Tears. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then don’t.”

“I have to go.” Steve sounded broken, breath ragged and voice cracking. You didn’t dare look up at him. Not yet. “My dad— my parents. They said if I’m not getting myself an education, then I gotta find myself a place to stay.”

You moved them, head ripping back so you could stare at the boy, anger crawling up your chest. It simmered, a burning heat that felt almost unrecognisable. “Then leave, fuck, Steve, babe— you don’t have to sit and be blackmailed into this!”

Steve swiped at his face, broken down and tired, the bags under his eyes becoming more obvious as the evening grew into night and the pool lights sharpened his features. “It doesn’t work like that. Where am I gonna go, huh? We haven’t saved nearly enough, not for a deposit on some shitty apartment, never mind anything else. It’s just— Arizona… it’s the only solution right now.”

You shook your head, face crumpling and you tried not to cry again, but it was no use. Your cheeks felt too hot, vision blurring as you watched Steve sit back onto the other lounger, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. 

“You can stay with me,” you sniffed, voice a thick thing, bubbling and sticky with sorrow. This wasn’t happening. This was a bad dream. That’s all. “You can move in with us, until we save. We’ll work something out.”

Steve let out a huff of laughter, sad and a little mean. It landed on the patio between you both and you watched him shake his head. “You know that’s not realistic,” he swore under his breath, lip trembling. “Baby, I want to make this work, I do, but your parents— and you have your aunt staying with you all, and it’s just… it’s not gonna work.”

It felt final, the way he said it. 

You stood again, shooting to your feet as if suddenly the idea of sitting too close to the boy was causing you pain. Maybe it was. 

“So that’s it?” You laughed through your tears, a sharp, pitched noise that didn’t sound like it was coming from you. You sounded mean, cruel. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop. “Daddy just writes a check and you jump? He has your future planned out for you and you just… go along with it?”

“That’s not—” Steve’s eyes flashed, dangerous. A warning you took no heed of. 

“Yes it is, Steve! That’s exactly what’s happening! Fuck me, right? Fuck us?”

Steve reached for you, a hand trying to catch yours but you moved back, head shaking, eyes wide. “You don’t want to study Finance, you don’t want to move to Arizona. But you’re going to ‘cause your dad is a fucking bully and he’s somehow convinced you that you need a piece of paper and some letters by your name to make you a man.”

Steve grinned, a flash of his teeth more than a smile, and he stared right past you, jaw flexed. You hadn’t argued with the boy like this before. Biting remarks and cruel words sure, but not in such a serious way. Not about something that could end you both. 

“You think you know?” Steve shot back, “you think you’ve got it all worked out? What am I supposed to do, huh? Yeah, he’s an asshole, but he’s still my dad, princess. He’s, fuck, he’s trying to help, okay? Am I just supposed to stay in this same town and save and save and save until maybe, just maybe! We hit forty and we can leave? Having a college degree will help me. It will. Finance, I don’t know—it’ll at least get me a good job.. One that’ll pay well.”

“That’s your dad talking,” you told him, voice impossibly sad. “None of that ever mattered to you.”

Steve didn’t listen. “This is what’s best, alright?”

“No, it’s not, Jesus, Steve, just listen to me!”

“If— if you don’t wanna move, we can do long distance. I’ll visit, you can come on holidays, we’ll make it work.” Steve sounded as panicked as you felt, talking too fast, like he could fix it if he just kept throwing out suggestions. “It’ll be okay.”

Another sob ripped from you as you spun away from him, head tipped to the sky as you tried your best not to yell. Frustration leaked through the cracks of your anger. “I’m not letting your dad dictate our future.” 

Steve paused, breath caught in his throat. You heard him step closer before he stilled. “What?”

You closed your eyes as you spoke, like it would help. Maybe it would hurt less. “I’m not letting your dad decide our lives. Not mine, anyway.” You turned, watching Steve turn blurry from your tears. His cheeks were pink, eyes glassy, his bottom lip still trembling. “You want to be apart? For what, four years?” You hiccuped, sniffed. “Steve, please don’t go. Don’t go. Not for something you don’t want to do.”

The boy took your hand, clasping it tight as it hung from his in the space between you both. It felt huge, the distance, a wide open thing. 

“Tell me you want to do this and I’ll support you, I swear,” you told him, choked up but determined. “Tell me you’ve always wanted to study Finance, tell me you’ve always wondered what it’d be like to live in Arizona and get a job at a desk where you punch numbers onto a screen. Tell me all that and I’ll support you the whole way. Tell me this is what you want, not what your dad wants.”

Steve was silent. His cheeks were damp. It was the seventh grade science fair all over again. 

“When do you leave?” You whispered. 

He let go of your hand. 

“August.”

He watched you turn to your car, a five second delay as he realised you were walking away, away from him. Steve chased you across the drive as his parents watched from a crack in the living room curtain, shouting your name with a choked up voice, panic making his words crack and break. 

He held you in the driveway, your arms wrapped around each other uncomfortably tight, an alarming fear in the air around you both. It felt awful, heavy, like the end of something that wasn’t yet finished. So you tried again, tears running down your cheeks, pouring openly as you begged, asking him to stay, to try with you, promising him it would all work out and this wasn’t the life that he wanted, you knew that, Steve knew that. 

Didn’t he? Right? Right?

But the boy was shaking his head, swiping a hand meanly over his eyes as he brushed away his own tears, trying his best to get you to understand that he didn’t have a choice. He dropped his voice, an agitated whisper as he hissed about families and business, expectations and being written out of wills, written out of a family name, how money was supposed to equal happiness, and maybe his dad was right, maybe he needed to get a job that required a suit and tie, and maybe - just maybe - he could live a life like his parents. Money in the bank, a big house, a fat cheque every month. 

That’s what being a Harrington was, right?

Right?

You sniffed, lip quivering, brows raised and your voice mean. “Yeah? Is that what you want, Steve?” You stepped back, a hand on your car door. “You want to be just like your dad? Get the briefcase and the business cards and fly out of town every week? Maybe you’ll pick up a trophy wife in Arizona, huh? Then find a girlfriend in another state and hope your kids don’t find out? Flash your wallet and make problems go away? Have a son and make him feel as shitty and empty as you do?”

Steve was silent. And then, an ugly smile, a smirk that was cold and a little dead. “Sure, princess, that’s exactly what I fucking want. And hey, fuck, maybe I don’t have a choice in this, but at least I’m getting out of this town. Can you say the same? Weren’t you supposed to be saving for college too, princess? What happened to that, huh? Reality is real ugly, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you,” you laughed, angry and sad and in no way amused. “We were supposed to get out together.”

“I told you to come with me!” Steve barked out, sharp, an almost yell. You tried not to flinch. “Fuck, god, you could come with me… we could do this together.”

“It’s not together! Jesus, Steve, can’t you see that?” You were beyond frustrated, hands balled into fists by your sides before they flew up to grab at your head. You were in disbelief. Was this happening? This was happening. “None of this is us! Not for us, not planned by us, not wanted by us! This is all planned by him!” Your hand shot out to the front door of the Harrington’s house, grand and regal and dark behind the window. “He’s dictating it all, throwing money and hoping it lands, just so he can say his son went to college!”

Steve was stone faced, eyes on the tarmac drive.

“I don’t care if you go to college,” you whispered, watery. “I just want you to be happy.” 

‘I want you to stay with me.’ You didn’t say it. 

Steve didn’t answer but you saw his shoulders shake, miniscule, and then the streetlight caught the tear rolling down his cheek, flashing. He didn’t stop you when you got into your car and drove away. 

—————

Robin was wide eyed when you finished, kneeling on your unmade bed with you, the sheets folded and sitting at the foot of it. Her hand was still holding yours, fingers twisted together, her thumb running over your palm. She sucked in a breath. 

“Shit.”

“Shit,” you agreed. 

“So it’s over?” Robin asked, letting go of your hand when you flopped backwards, head hitting the pillow. Your own one was still in the backseat of your car, a brand new pillowcase on it ‘cause the old one somehow still smelled like Steve. “That’s it?”

You shrugged, staring at the ceiling until the beams of wood blurred together and you sniffed. “I guess, yeah.”  

Robin nudged you, crawling up the mattress until you shifted, leaving enough space for her to lie next to you on the narrow bed. You were shoulder to shoulder, head sharing the same pillow and you could smell her sunscreen, the lemon and lavender perfume she always wore. You turned into her, nose pressed to her shoulder, revelling in the comfort it brought. 

“When did this happen? How long has it been?” 

“Three weeks,” you mumbled into her shirt, the corners of your eyes stinging again, tears making your throat thick. You were shocked you had more in you, all you had done since that night was cry. “Feels like it’s been a fucking year.”

“And you haven’t spoken since? Is he definitely going? Fuck, I can’t— Arizona?”

“Fucking Arizona,” you agreed, sighing. “I tried to call him the night after. His dad answered, said he was in the shower and he’d tell him I rang.” You sniffed again, pressing the heel of your palm to your sore eyes. “He never called me back.”

“Dude,” Robin sounded morose, your pain now her pain and she dropped her head on top of yours. A small comfort, considering. 

“Dude,” you agreed. You sighed, world weary and already tired, despite only being awake for four hours. “Do you think I blew it out of proportion? Was I too harsh?”

Robin opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it again, thinking it over before she spoke. She smacked a kiss to your forehead before talking, her voice soft and more gentle than usual. 

“I think you’re totally right. Steve doesn’t wanna study finance, or go to Arizona. Shit, he once thought Dustin’s pocket calculator was some kind of gaming console. But I know he struggles with his dad.” Robin sucked in a breath, wary. “And I know his dad is a certified asshole, but that little scrawny version of Steve at the science fair? He's still there, y’know? And he probably still wants to make his dad proud.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I know. I just don’t get why.”

Robin shrugged. “Me neither, but that’s on growing up with somewhat normal parents, I guess. I know he loves you though. A lot. Maybe he’ll change his mind.”

You were openly crying now, tears soaking Robin’s shirt sleeve, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her lips were against your hair when she mumbled, “You don’t wanna go to Arizona with him?” 

You sat up, chest heaving, hands swiping clumsily at your face to rid yourself of your damp cheeks, your swollen eyes. Your breath stuttered, a gasping, awful sound because it hurt being told that Steve loved you. It ached to be reminded. “No.” You were final about it, voice softening only when you continued. “Fuck, I thought I’d follow him anywhere you know? We were saving up, working stupid shifts and we had this stupid map and— and I would laugh at him ‘cause he’d circle these weird places no one had heard of, said we’d buy a house there and get a dog and… if I move to Arizona with him, we’re just starting a life that’s going to be dictated by his dad.”

Robin looked sad as she gazed at you, listening quietly, her feet resting against your knees as she curled up by the headboard. She nodded, knowing. 

“Because Steve will graduate, right? And then his dad will be the one to set him up with interviews and jobs, and fuck, maybe this new Steve will even join the family business - which, by the way, I know he doesn’t wanna do.” You sucked in a breath, wide eyed at the possibility of this kind of future. “We won’t get a dog, ‘cause his mom says animals don’t belong in a house, and I’ll be left at home to press all his suits, with like, six kids that all look like the husband I don’t even get to see anymore, because he’ll be on business trips with his dad and dudes called Tony and Chase and he’ll meet a girl with a name like Britney, and you just know she was head cheerleader when she was in college and—”

You were cut off abruptly, Robin’s hands pressed to your cheeks, squishing them a little as she stared at you, concern in her eyes. “Babe. Breathe.”

You blew out a shaky breath and tried to smile, but it was watery and weak. “So what’s been happening with you?” You tried to joke. 

—————

The rest of the staff arrived in drips, Eddie’s van parked dangerously close to Billy’s shiny Camaro, Eddie cackling and flipping the other boy off when he snarled obscenities about his paintwork. Nancy and Robin had picked up Chrissy on the way, Argyle following in a new VW bug, sunflower yellow with giant, green plants painted on the side that he told Murray, ‘s’just nature, my dude.’

 There wasn’t any sign of a maroon BMW. 

And then eleven o’clock came and everyone had to pile into Hopper’s cabin. The man was sitting behind his desk as usual, already looking tired as he watched you all trail in, taking up too much space. You’d managed to squeeze yourself on the old sofa between Robin and Nancy when the door opened at the last minute. Eddie trailed in with a guilty smile, another boy behind him. 

Steve.  

You felt Robin tense beside you, patting your knee when you slouched into the couch cushions a little further. The soft smile Eddie sent you as he passed told you that he knew everything too. 

The two boys sat across the room, perching on the windowsill and Steve didn’t look at you. In fact, he didn’t look anywhere but the old carpet, his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked as tired as you felt. His hair was a mess, like the wind had caught it, one curl sticking up from his forehead and you wanted to reach out and fix it for him, stand between his legs and let him touch you, let him give you a kiss as thanks. 

Fuck.

Everyone shuffled awkwardly, glancing from you to Steve and back again, each staff member wondering why you weren’t sitting together like you normally would. Even Murray was frowning, holding an open bag of trail mix, peering at you over his glasses. You looked away. 

“Okay, welcome back, glad to see some of you have managed to avoid jail time for another summer. Congrats!” Hopper stood with his clipboard, shooting a glance at Eddie, who grinned, smug. “You all know the drill by now, so let’s get into it. I’ve got a five ton delivery of Lucky Charms that nobody asked for to deal with.”

Murray took front and centre then, busying himself with paperwork and staff files. “Okay you bunch of delinquents, look alive, roll call!”

It went like it always did, Murray listing off familiar names, assigning them back to their usual stations, reminding them that they needed to hand in their up to date first aid certificates and that staff uniform was mandatory and not a matter of opinion. 

Billy, lifeguard duties. Robin, kitchens with Bob. Jonathan, photography - and if he had time, could he help Hopper work on the website design for the new summer? Argyle, wood shop. Nancy, crafts and more time in the office with Joyce, so she can learn the ropes with admin stuff. Jason, lake games. Chrissy, gymnastics. 

“Edward,” Murray announced, turning to hand the boy some sign up sheets. “Music. We’ve moved you to a bigger cabin for your lessons this year, we got way more sign ups than anticipated. Keep it up.” Murray clicked his finger and pointed at the boy, like he’d almost forgotten something. “Oh, and tell your girl we’re all proud of her. An architectural internship in Philadelphia is no small feat.”

Eddie grinned, chest puffed out, cheeks pink and looking full of pride. “Right?” He agreed. “She’s gonna be running her own firm in no time.”

“Harrington, Hawkins, you’re both on games—”

You couldn’t help it, it rose up like panic, acidic and bitter, bile in the back of your throat. “Can I be placed somewhere else?”

Everyone stared. Murray choked on a piece of trail mix, a too big pumpkin seed that hit the wall near Argyle. 

Your eyes met Steve’s and you saw the flinch of hurt there before his brown eyes hardened and his jaw tensed. He stared hard at the floor, toeing at the carpet. 

Murray looked confused, scanning the list of staff members to see if it were possible, but Hopper interrupted, frowning. He was gruff about it, gesturing to the schedules in the other man’s hands. “These have been written for weeks kid, we’re not fucking about ‘cause of a lovers tiff, we’re all adults here—”

“Actually,” Murray interrupted, gaze flicking from you to Steve and back again. He levelled you with a stare that looked like a challenge, a dare, a question. Like he was testing you. “We could do with someone else on the lake this year. More kids. You’ve been on life guarding duties before, right?”

Oh shit. You nodded. 

Beside you, Robin exhaled, a curse under it as she pulled her cap down low, hiding under the brim of it. Across the room, Nancy stared at you, wide eyed. “What’re you doing?” She mouthed. 

“Up to date on first aid? CPR?” Murray continued, ignoring the tension in the room. 

You could hear a pin drop. “Yeah,” you muttered. 

Eddie swore. 

“Great!” Murray was too cheerful, whacking his pen off of the clipboard. “Congrats, Hargrove, you’ve got a buddy for the summer.”

It was awful, the way your stomach sank, the way Billy cackled, white teeth flashing as he made a show of looking you up and down. It was gut wrenching, the way Robin looked at you with sympathy, the way Steve was tugging a hand through his hair and looking anywhere but at you. 

Everyone filed out, back into the sun, collecting new staff shirts and sets of keys for the gym, the music room, storage cabins and equipment cages. Hopper held up a hand to stop you, gesturing to the couch. You sat back down, heart racing as he did the same to Steve, not speaking until the last person had left. 

The jar was still on his desk, sticky label over sticky label, each one with a new name on it, everything from ‘kayak money’ to ‘therapy cash’ a scribbled out note from Eddie that said ‘lovebird fundz.’ Your stomach tumbled over, a sticky, hot nausea creeping over you when Steve sat down too, right up against the other side of the sofa. 

Hopper leaned against his desk, already looking world weary. He sighed, running a finger and thumb over his moustache before pointing at the obvious space between you both. “Listen, I don’t make a habit of getting into my employees personal lives, and I don’t need to know what happened but—”

“I’d be interested in hearing, actually,” Murray interrupted. 

Hopper ignored him. “All I wanna know is that you’ll be working together like professionals, when the situation calls for it, alright? No funny business. No arguing. No fighting. No breaking anymore of my goddamn kayaks.”

Steve was picking at a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt and you were staring at your nail beds but when the man cleared his throat, sharp and jarring, you both nodded. 

“Good.” Hopper nodded, “get going then, get settled and all that. I don’t wanna hear any trouble.” The man made a point of glancing at the empty jar on his desk, a fresh piece of tape on the front, yet to be labelled. 

It took two seconds for Steve to round on you, your shoes barely hitting the grass outside, Eddie, Nancy and Robin bearing witness to the explosion. They stood off to the side, sat balancing on the porch railing of the medical cabin, pretending they couldn’t hear. 

So Steve made sure his voice was loud enough to reach. “Really?” He all but yelled, “lake duties, huh? A summer with Billy fucking Hargrove? That’s what you’d rather deal with than me?”

You were quick to fire back, a familiar fuse lit inside of you as you snapped, eyes flashing as you went toe to toe with Steve. It made your heart hurt, knowing this argument was going to end without a kiss. “Oh, grow up, Steve! You really wanna spend all summer with me? Wanna hold hands and tell me all about Arizona? Show me your class schedule and talk about the weather there?”

The words were nasty tasting as they left your tongue, metallic and coated in invisible armour, meant to protect you more than hurt the boy. But it did the latter more than the first, Steve’s jaw clenching as he stared at you. 

‘You didn’t call me back,’ you wanted to say. You wanted to yell it, sob it. ‘Why didn’t you call me back?’

“I’ve to grow up? That’s real cute, princess, you’re not even gonna try and be civil about this? Go back to being friends?”

You wanted to laugh at that, but the tightness in your chest might’ve been tears and you weren’t willing to let those out in front of Steve. You couldn’t stop. Poison dripping from your tongue, costing your teeth, sharp and barbed. You just kept talking. “Yeah, like we were friends before.”

Steve scoffed, nodding. “You’re right. We were never friends, were we?” He backed away, his eyes trailing over you like a reflex, like he couldn’t help it even now. “Have fun with Hargrove, princess, enjoy your summer.” He stalked off, sunlight hitting off his shoulders, making his hair turn auburn. Eddie jumped off the railing to trail after him, both boys heading towards the lake as Eddie sent you a regretful look over his shoulder. 

Nancy and Robin approached as you did your best to even out your breaths, a pain catching between your ribs that felt all too familiar, an ache that had lived weeks for weeks now. It had wrapped around your heart like weeds, vines with thorns, squeezing at you until you wanted to cry. You sniffed, head ducked from your friends view. 

Someone’s hand pressed between your shoulder blades and you looked up to see Nancy, a sad smile there. “I’m supposed to be working on the cabin groupings, but, uh,” she raised her brows at Robin, “I have a couple of bottles of wine hidden in Jonathan’s trunk. Why don’t we grab a few and pretend we’re not on the clock…”

You nodded, pretending there weren’t tears nipping at your eyes as you watched Steve’s retreating figure, the boy kicking angrily at a rock on the ground. 

Tell me that we'll be just fine

You didn’t see Steve again before the kids arrived. 

The two days before the official start of camp were spent hauling out the equipment, dusting off crash mats and kayaks, pumping up the sad, deflated balls and hoping to god the old dock would last another year. The June weather came with the usual force, blue skies, cloudless after sunrise, burning away with the morning haze until all that was left was an endless heat that lingered into the night. 

Camp Upside Down without the kids was fireflies by the shoreline, feet in the lake after lunch, breakfasts in your cabin, stolen banana muffins and fresh peaches, music that toed the line of too loud before bed. 

It still felt like home. But it was a house with a room missing. Steve’s lack of presence hurting like an open wound. You caught glimpses of him here and there, between the trees, on the edge of the lake, helping Eddie lug amps and drum kits from one cabin to another. 

Jealousy flared when you saw him talking to Chrissy outside the gym, a friendly distance between them both but it twisted in your stomach like a knot, sickly and unwelcome. Robin had dragged you away by your elbow, telling you that you were being stupid and, shouldn’t you go talk to him?

“If he wanted to talk, he would’ve called me back, remember?” You reminded her sullenly, walking towards the middle of camp together to prepare for the hoards of buses and cars that were soon to flood in. 

You stopped talking as you joined the cluster of staff members at the unlit fire, the unofficial heart of the camp. The logs were already arranged around the pit, ready for s’mores and stories. Steve was standing between Eddie and Jonathan, staff shirt sunbleached and loose around his frame, his jeans cuffed at the ankles to get some relief from the morning warmth that would only climb higher. 

Chrissy was with them, ponytail bobbing animatedly, smiling too pretty. You’d never had a problem with the girl before, in fact, you’d even call her a friend. But she reached out and slapped playfully at Steve’s arm when she laughed at something he said, and suddenly you were wondering how deep the lake was. 

Maybe Steve would sense that you were staring, maybe he still knew when you were near, ‘cause his head shot up and his gaze found yours immediately. He didn’t look away and neither did you, but he frowned when you lifted your chin, defiant. 

“Hey, uh,” Nancy appeared by your side, looking uncomfortable as she said, “you know you’re wearing his sweater, right?”

“What?” You looked down, the forest green sweater suddenly swamping you as you realised it definitely wasn’t your own. Steve’s name was stitched on the front, small and neat across your heart. You felt your cheeks burn. “Oh, for fuck sake.”

That’s how you ended up arguing via the kids, the campers arriving in a flurry of colour and noise, yelling about lost rucksacks and the youngest crying as their parents drove away, consoled by Joyce and some animal crackers. 

Max Mayfield found you in the midst of the chaos, tapping your shoulder as you turned around with your clipboard, interrupted from taking note of Will Byers new allergy medication. 

She was holding Steve’s sweater, looking at you unimpressed. “He said he doesn’t want it,” she sighed, already bored of the back and forth. 

“What?” You squinted at her, disgruntled and confused as to how Steve could reject his own sweater. “Why?”

The redhead rolled her eyes, shrugging. “I don’t know! He said that you should keep it.”

Panicked, you shook your head, coaxing the girl back into the crowd. “No, nuhuh, tell him I don’t want it. Lucas, hey, Sinclair!” You waved down the boy, confiscating the slingshot that was sticking out of his pocket as you did. “Go with Max, it’s important.”

And while you got rid of two kids, another came barrelling from out of nowhere, arms wrapped around your waist. You caught the attacker with an ‘oomph,’ your hand on the back of a familiar head of curly hair. Dustin Henderson stared up at you, a little taller than last year, but eyes just as innocent and earnest. 

“Is it true?” He whispered, shell shocked. “Steve said—”

You groaned quietly, eyes closing briefly because this was exactly what you didn’t want. You nodded, smiled tight and tried to look sympathetic, patting at his head. “Yeah, listen, it’s just—”

“I’m a child of divorce!” He wailed, interrupting whatever explanation you were about to give him and garnering far too much attention from bystanders. 

Before you could peel Dustin off of you, Max and Lucas reappeared once more, Steve’s sweater still with them. You sighed, wondering if this was how the entire summer was going to feel. 

“Yeah, he won’t take it,” Lucas explained and you groaned when Max tossed it over your shoulder. You hadn’t worn it since the night you’d walked away from him, throwing it in your case instead of yours, an accidental nightmare. It still smelled like Steve, you weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed before. “Steve says he doesn’t want it.”

Over the heads of the kids, you found Steve, uncharacteristically stone faced as he listened to something Joyce was saying. He was nodding, not really listening, ‘cause his eyes were on you and he watched you take the sweater off your shoulder. You couldn’t bring yourself to let it drop to the forest floor, you just couldn’t. So you tied it around your waist and tried to pretend it wasn’t there. 

—————

[WORK SONG BY HOZIER]

Eddie found you bright and early on the dock the next morning, a carton of orange juice offered. 

You smiled and said your thanks, knocking shoulders with him as he stood next to you, the water lapping at the old planks, the sun making the sky tangerine. “Her majesty has risen early,” he quipped, not looking at you as you both pierced your straws through the little carton. “Can’t sleep?”

You shrugged, staring out at the lake, hoping the day would be quick so you could fall back into bed. You craved sleep, longed for your head to hit your pillow each night in the hopes that you wouldn’t dream about a summer before where you could spend it with Steve. It hurt more waking up in a place so familiar, so important to what you once had with the boy. 

“You could say that.” You smiled, but there wasn’t any humour behind it. You could feel Eddie watching you from behind his curls, big brown eyes earnest, worry rolling off of him in waves. “How’re you, Eddie? How’s your girlfriend? Missin’ her yet?”

Distract distract distract. 

The boy nodded, sucking noisily from his juice box, citrus in the air. “I’m good, yeah - we’re good,” he added. “Got an apartment downtown together, we’re getting by. Hop let me use the phone yesterday, let her know if arrived, y’know? She’s doing good…”

Eddie nudged you again, an affectionate touch. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, your throat too tight. So you bit down on your straw and waited until the carton was empty, orange juice tasting too bitter against the toothpaste still on your tongue. “Yeah,” you sounded tired. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, sweetheart,” Eddie said kindly, his voice still quiet, matching the morning. “You volunteered to spend the summer side by side with Hargrove, I don’t think you gotta lie to anyone.”

You blinked, not surprised when tears blurred your vision. The sky melted into the lake, white-blue into peach, pink clouds nothing more than cotton candy, the lake reflecting it all back. “It would just suck, you know?” You explained, whispering. “To be with him all day and not—” 

Touch him, kiss him, hold him. 

You swallowed, the motion a struggle. “—it just, it would hurt. And I don’t want it to hurt any more than it already does, so…”

Eddie didn’t say anything, not right away. But he let his free hand drop between you both, covering your own. His fingers didn’t twist between yours the way Steve’s did and his rings were cold against your skin. It didn’t make your stomach summersault and there wasn’t a scar on the back of his hand when your thumb touched it, but it was nice all the same. 

Kind, caring. Worried. 

“He’s hurting too, you know,” Eddie murmured, fingers squeezing gently around yours. “I know you’re mad at him, that you hate he’s leaving—”

You bit down on your lip at that, hard enough to taste metal, glassy eyed and turning to Eddie. You shook your head, suddenly feeling a little manic. “No, no, fuck,” you sucked in a breath, trying not to cry. “Well, yeah, I hate that he’s leaving but— Eddie, shit, it’s his dad. He’s letting his dad decide his future and he’s doing everything he used to say he hated and- and I don’t know why.”

Eddie’s brows knitted together as he watched your lip tremble and he nodded, scrubbing the hand that held his squished juice box over his face. “I know,” he admitted, “I know. I asked him, but he’s just talkin’ bullshit. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Says it’s best for him, or some shit, keeps talkin’ ‘bout six figure salaries and, well, fuck if I know.”

“S’like he’s been brainwashed,” you mumbled, feeling very much like one of the younger campers as you said it, juicebox in hand. You wanted to stomp your feet and cry, you wanted to yell at Steve until he snapped out of it. “Like his parents came home and suddenly managed to convince him that he needed to do everything he hated.”

Eddie’s lips twisted, downturned and sad. “He said he’d get thrown out the house. Cut off. Sounds like emotional blackmail more than brainwashing, sweetheart.”

You sniffed, turning back to the lake so you could swipe at your eyes. “Yeah,” you croaked. “It does.”

You stayed with the boy until the sky turned blue and the clouds rolled away, the tannoy signalling it was time for breakfast. The camp came alive minutes later, kids clambering out of cabins, half dressed and with one shoe on, racing for a seat with their friends, hoping they’d be lucky enough to get some pancakes before Bob ran out. 

Then Billy was sauntering towards the lake, already shirtless, red shorts and a whistle around his neck. He grinned as he approached, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, biting noisily into an apple. 

“Been waiting long for me, darlin’?” His voice was a drawl, raspy from the morning, from the cigarette he probably hung out his cabin window to smoke before his shift. 

You rolled your eyes and didn’t gift him with a response, silently thanking Eddie with a bump of your hip to his. Eddie seemed to puff out his chest a little as he passed the other boy, his smile anything but friendly as he narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Piss her off, and we’ll have a problem, Hargrove,” Eddie’s voice was soft and lilting, an almost sing-song, but the warning was clear. 

Billy merely grinned wider though, sharklike as he brought his hand to his chest, feigning innocence with a gasp. “Who, me?” He tsked, frowning at Eddie. “Don’t know what you’re gettin’ at, Teddy bear. And besides, she’s not your girl.” Billy turned to you and smirked. “In fact, last I heard, she’s not anyone’s girl, seems like fair game to me.”

You shook your head at Eddie who’d taken a step back towards Billy in response. ‘Not worth it,’ you mouthed. 

So Eddie glared instead, his gaze only softening when he turned back to you one final time. “I’m in the music cabin all day, if you need me,” he said, “and Steve’s gonna be by the pit.”

The rest was unsaid, but understood. Loud and clear. ‘If you need him.’

You didn’t argue, you just nodded. 

Billy didn’t speak again until Eddie was out of sight, a few kids racing towards the dock for their swim lessons, for their turn being taught how to control a kayak. He grinned at you as the small stampede started clamouring around him for life jackets. 

“We’re gonna have fun together, princess, I can already tell.”

—————

You and Billy, in fact, did not have fun together. 

The boy was boorish and mean to the kids, lazy when it came to actually working and he constantly made jokes about letting the campers drown. He spent much of the morning and afternoon on a deck chair, legs spread wide and his eyes closed behind his glasses, his skin growing more tan by the hour. 

“Why do you even work here?” You’d eventually snapped at him, exasperated and breaking your vow of silence. 

“Money ain’t bad, free food and well, I get to spend my time with you, babe.” He’d winked at you, sliding his glasses down his nose before pushing them back up again. 

You somehow managed to stop yourself from kicking his chair into the lake. 

The rest of the day went like that, ignoring Billy and the murderous thoughts he invoked, all while attending to the kids and making sure they didn’t swallow too much lake water. And when the session was coming to an end, Lucas had convinced you to jump in too, the water warmed only slightly by the sun, the skies above it turning back to tangerine as evening set in. So you jumped off the end of the dock, sandwiched between kids, El’s hand in your right, Suzie’s in your left. 

And when you let the water roll over your head, feet barely touching the bottom, you wondered if you’d be okay soon, if by some miracle, you’d wake up tomorrow and the ache in your chest would have stopped. And if it hadn’t, you wished someone would tell you when. And maybe that same person could tell you what you were gonna do with your life too. 

Your hair was still damp when you walked into the mess hall for dinner. Most of the kids were finished, running past you with yelled ‘hello’s’ as they made their way back to their cabins, pockets stuffed with treats they’d no doubt hide for midnight snacking. 

One table was still occupied, most of the staff tired and lashing across the benches, just starting their dinner. Steve was between Robin and Eddie, a few slices of pizza on his tray that he didn’t seem interested in. You thought about turning around, going to bed hungry. You thought about being entirely pathetic and sitting at a table all on your own, preferably on the other side of the hall. But Nancy caught your eye and waved you over as Bob handed you your plate with a smile. 

It was awful, the way the conversation trailed off as you approached, eyes flicking between you and Steve and back again. But the boy kept his head down, nodding at something Eddie was saying, and Jonathan slid closer to Nancy for you, letting you sit next to him. 

“Did we mean to go for a swim or was the idea of a watery demise better than working with Hargrove?” Jonathan joked, his eyes kind as he smiled at you. 

You snorted, picking off the greasy pepperoni that dotted your pizza slices, grimacing when Eddie held out his own plate for them. “The kids wanted me to join them,” you explained, “but now that you mention it, lake sludge and the possibility of a leech or two seems better than another day with Billy.”

Robin frowned, concern knitting across her features. Her nose was already a little burnt, her afternoon off spent napping under an old oak tree behind the gym. “He wasn’t too creepy, was he?”

Your eyes met Eddie’s over the table and you shared a look. He shrugged, letting you know he wasn’t going to say anything. Not that it would have mattered, you decided, Steve hadn’t looked up since you sat down, his fingers busy making knots out of a paper straw wrapped. 

“Nah, no more than usual,” you assured her.

You took a bite of your pizza, if only for something to do, the awkward quietness making your anxiety gnaw at your chest and your bubbling stomach made you wrinkle your nose at the pools of grease the pepperoni left behind. It seemed more unappealing than usual. 

Jonathan noticed. “Oh, here,” he pushed his own tray towards you. “I have Hawaiian leftover if you wanna—”

“She’s allergic to pineapple.”

The voice came before you could speak, ready to explain the same thing. Everyone turned, looking at Steve as he looked at you, a small frown on his face, as if he was annoyed that no one else seemed to know that. 

“Oh,” Jonathan looked horrified, quickly pulling the slice away from you. “Shit, m’sorry, I didn’t kn—” he was talking to Steve more than you, because you still hadn’t said anything, too busy looking at Steve with your mouth agape. 

But it didn’t seem to matter, ‘cause the boy stood up suddenly, eyes just barely finding yours before he tossed his own tray on top of the trash cans and headed outside. The huge doors slammed shut, echoing in the silence. 

No one spoke, glancing between each other and the tabletop as you groaned, your hands covering your face. You weren’t going to cry. You weren’t. 

And then, breaking the silence, Robin: “So, we’ll plan a meal schedule then, yeah?”

—————

The first week of camp quickly bled into the second, the days going by slow and lazy by the lake, the older kids happy to be watched diligently as they paddled around on the kayaks. Each boat had been checked over for any cracks and splinters that might’ve occurred the year before. You held a sandcastle competition with the younger group on a hot morning, lakeside in the grainy sand that was more in-depth than you imagined it would’ve been. 

You ignored Billy throughout, leaving him on his deck chair with his sunglasses and whistle, pretending you didn’t hear him scoff when Steve walked by, your eyes tracking him with his own group until he disappeared behind some trees or another cabin. 

The summer got hotter and you felt lonelier, longing for the familiarity you felt when Steve was nearby. You missed his touch on your back, a hand there when the kids were around, chaste enough that no one squealed and yelled about cooties. 

You missed spending nights in his too small bunk, music playing low, feet touching under the sheets. 

You missed seeing him across the camp, surrounded by kids who loved him, waiting for him to lift his gaze to yours, ‘cause no matter what, he always seemed to know when you were close. You missed the way that even after two years together, your stomach would dip and swirl when he inevitably winked at you, boyish and charming, a promise of a kiss later when he could get his hands on you. 

Now, you either ignored each other or argued with each other, egos in the way, stubbornness winning over silence when you both fell too easily into your old ways. You both found that winning a fight against each other was much harder to do when you couldn’t make the other person concede with a kiss. 

But at the end of the second week, a whole new kind of emotion took over when you saw Steve and his group come back from a hike, a smile on his face as he chatted to the camp counsellor next to him. 

Strawberry blonde hair, tied up in a bow, pink this time. 

Chrissy. 

It was awful, watching them together, hands swinging side by side, not touching in the slightest, but far too close to it for your liking. You watched Steve say something, making Chrissy laugh, a musical giggle that had your teeth set on edge. You forgot what you were supposed to be doing, new logs for the fire pit frozen in your stagnant arms. Nancy must’ve noticed, ‘cause she looked up from the pit at you, face screwed up in confusion. 

“What’re you doing—? Oh.” She watched your face fall, eyes studying every move as the two led their kids back into camp. “You know it’s not like that, right? Steve and Chrissy… it’s not— it’s nothing.”

You heard none of it, logs clattering to the forest floor, a mumbled excuse to Nancy about how you’d be right back and then you were taking off across the pathways, heading for a cabin that you hoped would be empty. The crafts room luckily was, the door shutting behind you, the tables clean and void of glitter, for once. 

[DON’T LEAVE BY FAITHLESS] 

You perched there, collecting yourself, wondering once again when it was going to stop fucking hurting so much. But your thoughts weren’t yours for very long, interrupted by the door opening again. You were ready to tell Nancy you were fine, that it was just a headache, a bee sting, anything. But Steve walked in instead, wary as he looked at you. 

No one spoke, the silence deafening and the closer Steve moved, the more you could smell his aftershave, the same one still lingering on the sweater he refused to take back. He was more tanned already, cheeks freckled from the sun, flushed from his hike. He was staring at you like a wild animal, scared to get too close. 

So he stopped a few feet before you, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, the cuffs of them a little dust covered from his hike. He looked good, awfully so, as pretty as the night you left him in his driveway and it fucking ached to look at him. 

You wouldn’t cry. 

“Uh, Nancy said you were upset.”

You blinked, his voice reverberating through you like a fifty watt amp. You buzzed with it, forgetting what his voice sounded like when he wasn’t yelling, arguing, when he was talking only to you. 

You sniffed and lied. “I’m fine.”

Steve knew better than that. He looked like he wanted to come closer, one heel digging into the old carpet, debating on stepping forward. He didn’t. “Look, Chrissy and I—”

“I thought you were supposed to be hiking with Argyle?” You interrupted, unapologetic. You sucked in a breath, heart on your sleeve, openly vulnerable and waiting to be hurt. “The rota said Argyle.”

Steve shrugged, cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah, I was.” He looked at you, eyes nervous. “But Chrissy showed up at the safety meet, said she’d swapped ‘cause she wanted to plan something for a gymnastics competition the day she was scheduled.”

You just stared at the floor. 

Steve whispered your name, a crack in the middle of it, his voice awfully familiar. He sounded so much prettier when he wasn’t trying to hurt you. “It’s not like that. It’s not.”

You shrugged, staring at a piece of broken off crayon that had been squished into the floor forever ago, a sickly green that wouldn’t come out. You stared at it until it blurred. “It’s not any of my business, Steve, it’s fine.”

You practically heard the boy frown. “What do you mean it’s not your business, prin— I’m not interested in Chrissy. You’re— we only broke up a couple of weeks ago, I’m not exactly looking for something new.”

It hurt to hear him say it, even though you knew it already. But something about Steve’s words made it seem more real, more final. So you tried to keep your expression neutral as you finally lifted your gaze to meet his. 

His jaw was set tight, brows ticking up to meet in the middle, like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Are you still going?” You asked, and god, you sounded small, scared. You hated it. “To Arizona. Are you still going?”

Steve nodded, jaw tensing. 

Something inside of you shattered all over again. You blew out the breath you’d been holding, smiling tightly, like it hurt to look happy. “Well, don’t let me stop you from another summer fling, like I said, it’s nothing to do with me—”

“Another?” Steve's voice hitched up, confusion and anger leaking in. “What do you mean another? Is that all we were, is that what you think? A two year summer fling? That’s real cute, princess.”

He said the pet name the way he used to, sarcasm mixing with malice, no affection behind it and it made you square your shoulders. It was like a battle call and you were ready for action. 

It hurt less to fight. 

“I didn’t say that,” you bit back, “don’t twist my words, Harrington.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Is that why you wanted to work with Billy, huh?”

“Oh my god, get real,” you laughed, sliding off of the table so you could shove past the boy. “You really think that little of me?”

Steve’s hand caught your elbow as you tried to head for the door, a touch you knew well. He wasn’t rough about it, but he pulled you back with ease, your body against his as he set you with a look. You knew he was mad, you’d pushed too many buttons and this time, you couldn’t kiss his anger away, you couldn’t push yourself up against him and whisper pretty apologies as you loved on him.

Fuck. 

“You started this,” he reminded you, “clearly you think I’m ready to forget all about you and jump into Chrissy’s bunk so don’t—”

You slipped up then, unable to help it, ‘cause Steve was staring at you with hard eyes and all of a sudden you couldn’t help but imagine him with Chrissy in her cabin, the lights off as he pushed her against her desk, moaning when she wrapped her thighs around his hips and gasped out his name…

“Please don’t.” It ripped out of you in a sob, tiny and cracking. You pressed your lips together so no more noises would come out, eyes turning glassy even though you tried to stave off the tears. “Please don’t do that. Don’t jump into someone else’s bunk.”

‘Please don’t forget me,’ is what you really wanted to say. ‘Please don’t forget about us when you leave.’

You felt too warm, exposed, blinking back tears and trying not to show the hurt but it was too late. Steve knew what you meant, read between the lines and watched tears gather at your lash line. You were too stubborn to let them fall but he softened, the anger leaving him in a rush of adrenaline until he felt tired, sore with it. 

Steve let your arm go, hand trailing down until fingers brushed your wrist. He stepped back, eyes on the wall behind you, blinking until his own eyes stopped watering. 

“I won’t,” he promised, words coming into a soft gasp, like he was shocked that you think he could’ve. 

Words unsaid hung in the air, glittering with the dust motes in the sun, slipping between the shadows from the trees across the walls. 

I miss you, I’m sorry, don’t leave me, I love you. 

You sniffed again, eyes on the floor, shoulder to shoulder with the boy and not wanting to move away. “I have your sweater,” you whispered.

Steve shrugged, wondering if you could hear his pulse, how it seemed to thump in his neck, his chest. It was an awful thing, heartbreak. No one told him it would ache this much to see you, to be so close and not hold you. 

The boy’s gaze dropped to your lips, saw the shine there and wondered if you’d still taste like cherries, or if even after so little time, that had changed too. 

“S’alright,” he mumbled. “I have an extra one.”

“It’s yours,” you replied, your bottom lip wobbling again. Steve didn’t know how to stop it. He looked away. “I shouldn’t have your stuff anymore.”

He frowned, knowing you were right, hurting all the same. “Did you bring yours?” He knew the answer, knew how you could get disorganised when you packed, bleary eyed in the early morning hour before camp. You shook your head. “Keep it. In case you get cold.”

And then he left. 

The second week went by the same, melting into the third with climbing temperatures and the threat of rain that never actually fell. You stayed away from Steve, tried to smile civilly when you did get too close, bumping into each other at mealtimes, on walks with the kids as you passed each other on the trails. 

Will Byers was a little taller than last summer, but he still took your hand at the front of the crowd, looking up at you with a sad smile. “My mom always says it gets easier,” he told you, whispering it like a secret. “Eventually, you don’t have to think about it too hard anymore. She says it’s like maths.”

You laughed at that, a watery thing that made you smile and squeeze the boy’s hand. And that night, around the campfire, you snuck him an extra marshmallow for his s’more, winking when he beamed at you. 

Even when I lose my mind

The staff party was an impromptu thing, thought of by Jonathan and Argyle, encouraged by Robin, alcohol run courtesy of Eddie and his van. 

You hadn’t wanted to go, thinking there couldn’t possibly be anything worse than spending your time off the clock with Steve in a small cabin, or huddled around a fire by the lake. But Robin insisted and the promise of wine lured you in, the idea of numbing the ache that still hadn’t left more inviting by the minute. 

Then Nancy was at the cabin door, a staff shirt swapped for one of her boyfriend's sweaters, bottles of wine in her hands. She gave one to Robin, twisted your fingers with her own and then you were being led through the woods, to the split in the shrubs that only the counsellors knew about, the tiny, hidden trail that led to a patch of sand that was far away from the dock and Hopper’s office window. 

There was a fire going, a pile of shoes by the rocks, people treading water up to their ankles, music playing from a boombox that crackled with static at the same time the flames popped on the logs. 

It was fine until it wasn’t. It was nice until the wine became too much and the lake started to blur with the sky and suddenly, there were stars on the sand, fallen and forgotten and everyone danced over the top of them, left feet tripping over right.

You swayed, head pounding to the beat of the bass and the forest seemed to tilt on an axis as you left your shoes behind and slipped off into the night. You were tired, tongue coated with tequila that Eddie made you shoot with him, stomach swirling with bad beer and jealousy whenever Chrissy wandered close to Steve. 

Nothing happened. Just like Steve said. But you wanted to drop yourself in the boy’s lap and press your nose to his neck, find the spot that made his hands grip your waist a little tighter, dozing there until he’d laugh at you, sticky sweet and fond, telling you it was time for bed. 

So you took yourself there, unnoticed by the rest of your friends, all of them too busy, too drunk. The shadows between the trees were dark but the lights on each porch led you home, back to your cabin that smelled like lavender body spray and spilled vodka, the raspberry remnants soaked up with a bath towel, forgotten on the floor. 

You tripped up on it in your mission to get to your bunk, bare feet cold and hazily. You wondered where your shoes were. But you stripped, struggled with your sleep shorts and dug under your pillow for the sweater you knew you’d folded there. 

It was forest green and too big, and it smelled like the boy whose name was stitched on the front. You hiccuped and pulled it on, asking yourself with a mumble, why was the cabin spinning? You thought maybe it was the pizza rolls you had instead of a proper dinner, ‘cause it certainly wasn’t the alcohol. 

Of course it wasn’t.  

And then, teary eyed and suddenly overwhelmed, you gasped, a heaving breath that stuttered into a sob. You groaned, eyes closing, your head thumping on the cabin wall as you fell back into your pillows. Your stomach gurgled, rolled and dipped. 

You absolutely were not going to be sick. You hated being sick. 

You were not. Going. To be. Sick. 

Your body made a sound of disagreement. 

“No,” you whispered to yourself, sitting up to take some deep breaths. It didn’t really help, a too hot flush rushing over your chest and up your neck, settling over your cheeks until it was so warm you were cold. “No, no, no.”

You didn’t really think about how much time had passed since you left the party. It could’ve been twenty minutes, maybe two hours. The night was still dark, with the morning not in sight, the skies above just as inky as before. But when you opened the cabin door, there weren’t any stars on the ground, not anymore. 

You didn’t know how long it had been since you left the beach, but you knew it had been five long weeks since you walked away from Steve Harrington and his backyard. 

So you went looking for him. 

Bare feet, cold and damp in the moss, sticking to the wilder parts of the woods, drunkenly complaining when you stood on something with thorns. You would’ve been a sight, a sure way to receive a warning if found by Hopper or Murray, but you found you didn’t really care. You wondered if the boy was still at the lake, if anyone was. 

The moon was still high and the stars were back where they should be but when you stopped too long to look up, the world swayed a little, your stomach jumping with it. 

You groaned, mumbling a little about the toadstools by the trees, how you needed to not squish them, ‘cause Argyle would be mad. And then there was a familiar cabin set back from the path, the lights off and cloaked in silence. You walked up the porch steps anyway, remembering to knock, not walk in, even when the alcohol made everything cloudy. 

You waited, stomach churning, breath bated, lips turned down into a too dramatic frown, but you had decided you didn’t want to be drunk anymore and you certainly didn’t want to be alone. The silence stretched on, loud enough that it buzzed and you hiccuped again, tummy jumping in protest. You hushed yourself, curling the too long sleeves of the sweater into your fists, ‘cause you decided you needed something to hold onto. 

You absolutely were not going to fall. 

You wobbled, bare feet standing on top of each other, toes squished, a curse on your lips. Steve opened the door. 

He said your name, surprised but warm, fond like he used to, the way you wanted him to. Your gaze shot up, toes forgotten about as you took him in, soft and sleep, hair a riot, chest bare. 

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing? Are you okay?” He’d noticed your absence soon after you’d left, your shoes forgotten on the sand. But Robin had disappeared too, so he assumed you’d left together. The lake didn’t hold much interest for him after that. “Is something wrong?”

You wanted to laugh at that, you wanted to tell him everything was wrong. 

But instead, you hiccuped, nose wrinkled. “I feel sick.” Another hiccup, a small groan to accompany it. “And I don't wanna be sick.”

Steve frowned, that soft kind of grumpy where his brows crinkled together and he looked at you with too much concern. His hand cupped your elbow, too gentle, like he wasn’t sure if it was allowed. But the world righted itself again with his help and when you stumbled, just a little, Steve sighed. 

“Okay,” he said, mostly to himself. “C’mon.”

He led you into his cabin, the space still dark and smelling like boy, like his aftershave and Eddie’s, the tangerine peels that Steve had left at lunch, the cherry twizzlers Eddie stashed in his desk drawers. Steve flicked the lamp on, a flicker that turned into a dim glow, too weak to make your eyes hurt but you squinted anyway. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” you complained and you sounded panicked, the floor dipping and tilting as you walked. 

Steve’s hands found your shoulders, wide and warm and taking up so much space. He led you to his bed and sat you on the edge, his sheets still warm from where he’d been lying, half asleep and thinking about you. 

“You’re not gonna be sick,” he told you, pushing you back until you were comfy, kneeling before you to scrub at your poor, dirty feet with a towel. He fussed, inspecting your soles for injury. “Jesus, you could’ve cut yourself, you dummy.”

“I might be sick,” you replied, morose. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do,” Steve huffed back, keeping in the laugh he wanted to let out. “You’re never sick. S’like your superpower.”

You paused, as if remembering. He was right. But still, you felt unsettled, skin too warm and clammy, but the idea of taking off your sweater - Steve’s sweater - wasn’t an option to you. At least, not to drunk you. 

You blinked as the boy rolled socks over your feet, too big and sporting a soccer team logo that you hadn’t cared to remember. You wiggled your toes, eyes still a little unfocused. 

“S’like I have clown feet,” you murmured and Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Alright, stay there.” 

He disappeared only to come back seconds later with a bottle of water, not quite ice cold, but cool enough that you chugged it with enthusiasm, gasping when you finished it. You blinked again, lashes fluttering until the cabin came into a clearer view, if only just. Steve was leaning against his desk, arms folded and smiling like he couldn’t help himself. 

He’d slipped a t-shirt on when you weren’t looking, a threadbare thing that was stretched out at the collar and you knew from wearing it to bed too often, that there was a hole in the hem. He looked softer than ever, that kind of sleep mussed that you loved, where he looked like summer and Sunday mornings, long lies and breakfast in bed, toothpaste kisses and the promise of a day being lazy. 

Your heart hurt as much as your stomach. 

“Better?” He asked. 

“A little,” you nodded, head feeling too heavy to be on your neck. You slumped, socked feet curling under yourself, your head falling to the foot of Steve’s bed. His sheets smelled like him and you groaned like it was an awful discovery, your eyes closing in protest. “M’sorry.”

Steve didn’t acknowledge your apology, but he did come to sit by you, up by his pillows where he could watch your chest rise and fall, lips parting as tequila flavoured sleep tugged at you. 

[COPING ALL ON MY OWN BY BELUGA LAGOON] 

“Why’d you come here, princess?”

You were sure you smiled at that, the soft way he said his name for you. Maybe you hid it, maybe Steve didn’t notice. He definitely did. “Didn’t feel well, Stevie.”

“No, I know, but—” 

“Wanted to feel better,” you sighed, as if it were obvious. Maybe it was. You yawned, cheek rubbing against the comforter, the cloying, sickly heat you’d once felt slowly disappearing. “So I needed to come see you.”

Steve didn’t say anything. Didn’t think he could, not when his throat felt tight and you were stretching a leg out, bare and with an already bruised knee from doing god knows what. His fingertips brushed over your ankle and he received a soft sigh from you in return, lips curling into a sleep smile as you felt your eyes shut. 

“You always make me feel better,” you added, feeling the need to explain. 

Steve’s hand wrapped around your ankle then, warm even through his socks. You hummed, a sleepy, upset sound, soft enough that it made Steve’s heart stutter and he clung to you a little tighter. 

“M’so sad that you’re leaving, Steve.” 

He heard his heart break, he was sure of it, the boy sucking in a breath as he tried not to let his emotions out. It wouldn’t have mattered, you were drowsy, still too drunk, face pushed to his sheets and your foot in his lap. But you didn’t look as peaceful anymore, brows stitched together, lips downturned. 

“I don’t want you to leave me.” 

The boy sniffed, lips parting with a gasp because he was crying before he realised, silent tears rolling down his cheeks that you couldn’t see and he nodded, swallowing hard to keep himself in check. “I know, princess,” another heaving breath, “I don’t wanna leave you either.”

Your face crumpled a little more then, leg stretching out until your toes dug at the soft of Steve’s stomach and he smiled, watery eyed but just so pleased that you were close. That he could touch you. 

“Then why are you?” You asked him, quiet and gentle and so much softer than you’d asked before. There wasn’t any yelling. It felt more dangerous this way. “Why’re you leaving?”

Steve swept a hand up your calf, careful and wary, waiting to see if you shoved him away. You didn’t, you curled into him instead, pushing your leg into his touch, seeking out more and you sighed when he tucked his thumb behind your knee. He drew hearts there, on the sensitive skin, and smiled when you shivered. 

“My dad,” Steve explained and his voice sounded a little wrecked, croaking and splintering. 

You hummed again, knowing, your eyes still closed as you said, “Don’t tell him, but, I don’t like him that much.”

The boy snorted at your honesty, not seeing much point at reminding you that he was already very aware of that fact. You’d never tried to hide your dislike for the man, speaking politely when spoken to, but keeping it short and civil. You always made a point to place your hand in Steve’s under the table at dinners, squeezing his when his father droned on about futures and business deals and how spending six weeks at a camp in the middle of nowhere didn’t get people places. 

“I don’t like him all that much either,” Steve whispered back, like it was all some sort of secret. “In fact, I don’t really like him at all, right now.”

You opened your eyes then, blinking at Steve in the low light. You saw his flushed cheeks, his red rimmed eyes, the tears that he’d not yet managed to swipe away. 

“Steve,” you mumbled his name like you were going to cry too, fumbling clumsily to your knees so you could make your way up the bed, letting him catch your hands when you reached for him. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, not questioning it when you folded yourself into his arms, his face finding the crook of your neck like he always did. Your hands knitted into the mess of his hair and the boy wasn’t sure how someone could feel so happy and so helpless all at once. You were in his lap now, bundled there with his socks and his sweater, smelling like campfire smoke and you. “I’m really fucking sorry, princess. I don’t know if I said that yet.”

You shook your head, tequila and wine colouring your edges but Steve had his arms wrapped around you tight and he still smelled the same, like cedar and mint and sunscreen. “I miss you,” you mumbled, voice wavering as you blinked away tears, not noticing how they fell into his hair anyway. “I really miss you and m’sorry too, I— I don’t know what to do.”

Steve nodded, like he knew what you meant. Maybe he did. Maybe he understood all too well what it was like to feel lost, to be somewhere that felt more like home than his house did, yet still feel like it wasn’t the same as it used to be. 

He wrapped his arms around you tighter. He shouldn’t have said it, knowing that tomorrow you’d both wake up and he’d still be leaving for Arizona in less than two months. He shouldn’t have suggested it, even with Eddie’s empty bed, the boy probably passed out in a hot boxed van with Argyle and Jonathan.  

He shouldn’t have said it but he did. 

“Stay?” His breath stuttered, a messy thing, as he pulled back and gazed at you. He wanted to lean in, rest his head against your own. But that was too much, too dangerous. “Stay tonight?”

He only meant to sleep, to lay next to each other and let the other be held, maybe for one last time. The idea of it stung, but the way you nodded and lay your head against his chest felt better, an overwhelming surge of dopamine that tricked you both into thinking everything would be okay. 

Maybe that was just the tequila. Maybe it was just the feeling of being close again. 

So he shuffled you both until he was against the pillows and you were against him, legs tangled and head on his chest. You hands made fists in his soft shirt, fingers twisting there like you were scared to let go. Steve thought maybe you were. So held you a little closer, his hand cupping the back of your neck and his nose skimming over your hairline, the closest thing he’d get to kissing you. He couldn’t cross that line, you were both drunk and god, he’d never recover from it. 

He wouldn’t be able to leave you if he got to put his lips to yours again. 

“Alright?” Steve asked, a whisper that stirred the baby hairs by your forehead and you nodded. 

“Feel better now,” you slurred tiredly, nuzzling your cheek against his chest, sleep dragging at you. “…hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?” 

“Why didn’t you call me back?” 

The boy frowned, wondering what you meant. Call him back? When? When did you call? “What?” He tried to crane his neck to see you, but you’d pushed your face into his shirt, lashes fluttering. “When? What’re you talkin’ about?”

You didn’t answer, breath evening out into soft puff, your body lax against him. 

“Princess?”

You were asleep. 

—————

You woke up before Steve, slipping out of his arms and his bed before he could wake, the early morning hour and last night's beer keeping him pressed into his pillows, eyes closed, lips parted. 

You stood aimlessly in the middle of the cabin for minutes too long, Steve’s socks sliding down your ankles, his sweater smelling like him more than ever.His chest had been pressed to your back all night, his nose buried in your hair. Eddie’s bunk was still empty, a sigh of relief leaving you your lips as you realised that there was one less person to explain to. 

Robin was going to have an aneurysm. 

Your face crumpled all over again as you watched Steve one last time, heart beating too fast for such an early morning hour. He’d taken to hugging a pillow in your absence, nose pushed into it, eyes closed and lashes fluttering, like he was dreaming. His hair was a mess, wonderfully so, and you fucking ached to run your hands through it, to sooth back the strands that fell across his forehead, to kiss the skin you revealed underneath. 

You didn’t. You couldn’t. It would hurt too much. 

So you left. 

The pain behind your eyes distracted you just enough from the fact you still didn’t have shoes. Steve’s socks gathered pine needles and dirt as you tried to tiptoe down the pathways, hobbling past any particularly muddy areas. The camp was still asleep, only the birds just waking up, that ultraviolet morning light creating navy shadows between the trees, birdsong starting from above the canopy. 

You guessed it was about six o’clock, maybe earlier, maybe five. There was no sign of anyone stirring, the curtains in each cabin still closed against the rising sun. So you paused at one of the crossroads, looking left and right as you decided what you wanted to do. 

It would be mean to wake Robin, your cabin door far too old and squeaky to allow a silent entrance and honestly, the idea of your own bed didn’t entice you nearly as much as Steve’s had done. You wondered if Bob was in the kitchen yet, if there was food to be scavenged, something that would soak up the tequila and beer that was rolling around in your empty stomach. 

Unsure, you headed towards the lakefront instead, socked feet trailing through the damp grass, morning dew collecting at your ankles. You were seriously rethinking your life choices, swiping a hand over your face as you tried to bring yourself back to life. You should go back to your cabin. 

You should go back to your cabin and tell Robin you fell asleep in your car, or something, fuck, in a tree, you didn’t care. You should go to bed and sleep it off and never talk about how you ran to Steve Harrington ever again. 

He was your ex. He was leaving. You were only going to keep getting hurt. 

The other side of your brain told you that it wasn’t his fault, that he was trapped, stuck, as helpless about the situation as you felt. You remembered him telling you that he missed you too and that he was sorry. 

There was a really fuzzy recollection of him whispering that he didn’t wanna leave you. 

You kicked a stone, groaning through pressed together lips as you realised too late - you still didn’t have any fucking shoes. 

“Hawkins.”

Fuck. 

Murray stood in neon gym shorts and the most ancient camp staff shirt you’d ever seen, sweatbands around his wrist and his glasses hanging from a beaded chain around his neck. His socks were pulled way too high up his legs but shit, at least he had shoes. 

“Murray. Hi,” you waved a little awkwardly, toes pushed together and hands dragging at the hem of the sweater as if you could hide the fact you were wearing sleep shorts and a top that was most definitely not yours. “Nice morning for a run, huh.”

He stared at you blankly, eyes catching your lack of attire. He sighed, turning around and waving for you to follow. “C’mon.”

It was surprisingly easy to follow Murray to the mess hall, his keys clinking together in the quiet as he unlocked the kitchen door. The place was still empty, the metal worktops gleaming, the overhead lights humming to life when they were switched on. 

Murray turned to you, shrugging, his arms held out to the full refrigerator, the large cooker, the overflowing pantry. “Pancakes?” He asked and there was a small smile on his face when you nodded. 

It was even easier to tell the man everything, perched on a countertop as Murray donned one of Bob’s white aprons, the material tied in a bow over his running shorts. He listened and nodded as you ranted, flipping pancake after pancake, stacking them on the plate beside you, only interrupting to coax them into your hands. 

And when you were finished talking and your socks were almost dry, Murray nodded to the fork in your hand, the still full plate of food. “You done?” He asked, not meanly— just, well, just like Murray. You huffed, nodding. “Good, eat.”

So you did as you were told, dipping your breakfast into the puddle of syrup, eyes closing briefly as you chewed, the hit of sugar helping the impending hangover. You both ate in silence, Murray leaning against the kitchen sink and when you were both done, he handed you a large glass of water and waited until you drained the last drop from it. 

“So, you want my advice?”

You stared at the man, unsure. Did you? 

“Couldn’t hurt, right?” You shrugged, defeated and tired. It couldn’t ache anymore than your head, or the hole in your heart. “Lay it on me.”

Murray smiled and shook his head, rinsing off the dishes as he spoke. He was serious about it, surprisingly so, his voice losing that usual sarcastic cadence, his gaze set on the sticky plates before him. 

“You love him, right? You don’t have to answer that. It’s fairly clear to see.” Murray sighed, like telling you this was tiring, like this was all old information. “And he loves you - that’s even more obvious. And I don’t know a lot about what you guys get up to back at home but… I’ve met Steve’s dad before.”

You frowned, confused. “You have?”

“Years ago,” Murray noted. “Think it was Steve’s last year as a camper. Think he’d come second in the relay race or the boat contest, or something. Anyway, before pick up, we did an award ceremony. Steve came up, got his little plastic medal, waved out to the crowd. His parents were actually there - usually it was some nanny in a black car, y’know?”

You did know. You’d see the same woman at school, handing Steve his backpack and lunch, kissing the spot on the crown of his head where his mom should have. 

“Kid was proud as punch. Ran over to his parents waving this stupid medal around. His mom gave him a hug. His dad saw that that little piece of plastic was silver and not gold, and well…” Murray trailed off, a furrow between his brow as he remembered. “I think the chief had to go over and remind Mr Harrington that it wasn’t the time for a family dispute. And that his son had worked hard and was a damn good kid.”

It sounded so familiar, so much so that it hurt. You’d seen that kind of thing before, even now when Steve stood as tall as his dad. “What did his dad say?” You asked, not really wanting to know the answer. 

Murray turned and smiled at you, but it was sad, coloured blue by the story, the memory. He wiped his hands on a towel and sighed. “He said he wasn’t interested in a second rate kid. That Harrington’s were winners.”

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t need to. You were left with the stickiness of maple syrup on your fingertips, on the flat of your tongue, but something still tasted bitter, a sensation that made you wrinkle your nose and frown. 

It tasted like guilt. 

Tell me that I'm all you want

You didn’t see Steve for the rest of the day. In fact, you didn’t see him until the next afternoon, late into the Sunday, once the sky was pink and purple and the kids were eating s’mores around the fire. 

You felt awful for leaving him in his bed alone, the covers thrown back where you’d slipped from his side and snuck out the door. Murray’s words had only made you feel worse as the hours stretched on, but you had convinced yourself it was the hangover, the sour taste of last night's beer. And when Robin had finally cornered you, you avoided her gaze and her questions, letting her shake her head and tut at you until the bell for dinner rang. 

And the next day went the same, turning corners and weaving through woodland paths in the hopes that Steve wasn’t around the corner. Because you didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know how to fix it. Maybe he wouldn’t be mad, maybe it didn’t really matter - because he was still leaving, right? This didn’t make a difference, did it?

But then you saw him by the fire pit, head and shoulders taller than even the oldest of the kids, handing out Graham crackers and telling Max she wasn’t allowed to play with the fire. You caught his eye without meaning to, unable to pull your gaze away and you thought about smiling, you thought about going over, you thought about saying sorry. 

For everything. For all of it. 

Until Steve’s pretty face contorted into a scowl, his eyes narrowing into a glare that you hadn’t seen directed at you in years. He looked pissed. Worse, he looked hurt. But he was doing his damn best to cover that upset with anger, lips curling at you until you glared right back. 

“Jeez, did we travel back in time?” Mike Wheeler appeared at your elbow, his hand held out for the giant marshmallows you were supposed to be handing out to your group. “Why do you and Steve hate each other? Again?”

“That’s none of your business, Wheeler,” you replied witheringly, making sure you squished his marshmallow as you handed it to him. 

“They don’t hate each other,” Dustin materialised at your other side, melted mallow dripping down his fingers, sticky sugar coating his hand. He looked up at you from under his curls, wide eyed and earnest. “Right?”

You looked down at the boy with sad eyes, a smile that was even sadder. You shrugged and pulled at a curl, watching as it bounced back. “Right,” you told him, even if you weren’t sure you believed it yourself. 

“My mom says that all couples go through their differences,” Suzie joined your group, two sticks at the ready, waiting to spear her marshmallows on for roasting. She grinned at you toothily, one missing after an incident with Max and a dodgeball. “She said it’s normal. But then she drinks a lot of wine and sleeps a lot so she forgets in the morning.”

You didn’t really know what to say to that, so you stared at Suzie with a strained smile and nodded anyway. “Sure, exactly. Yeah.”

“I heard Steve’s moving away,” Mike chipped in again, blissfully ignorant to the way your frown returned at his words. “Will he work at a new camp in Arizona?”

“What?” Dustin was aghast, chocolate dripping to the forest floor without him realising. “No! He can’t!” He spun back to look at you, as if you could fix it all. You wish you could’ve. “He can’t, right?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you stood amongst the kids and stared at Steve through the crowd. He wasn’t smiling, shoulder to shoulder with Eddie as they continued to hand out snacks, and whenever the boy looked up and caught your gaze, the furrow between his brows reappeared. You thought about Steve in a new state, across the country in a dorm room that had a bed you’d never sleep in, one that was open to other girls, girls you’d never know about. 

Maybe there would be another camp, there’d certainly be another job. And there would be classes and lectures, campus coffee shops and student bars, all overflowing with new people to meet. Maybe Steve would find someone there, someone he didn’t hate at first, someone who he could flirt with, someone who didn’t know about his parents, his past, his daddy’s influence. 

Maybe he’d be happier there. Without you. 

Dustin was still looking at you, waiting for a response. You tried to smile, you did. But it was tight and watery, and not believable at all. “I don’t know, bud,” you shrugged. “It’s… whatever.”

If Steve could decide that he didn’t care anymore, that he could go back to glaring at you across the forest, you could too. What did he expect you to do? Wake up in his arms and suddenly decide that you were okay with moving to another state? That you were happy to obey his fathers orders, just like he was?

It didn’t make a difference. Nothing would change. It didn’t matter. If Steve wanted to play enemies again, fine. You’d give as good as he did. 

—————

When Dustin and El found you later that day, you were glad for the distraction. The lake had been quiet after swimming classes, the forest shrouded in shadows after heavy clouds rolled in, hiding the sun. The two had run towards you from the centre of camp, sneakers kicking up dust as you watched them, ignoring how Billy was trying to edge closer, fingers teasing at the straps of your swimsuit. 

You’d told him to leave you alone, you’d told him to fuck off. You’d even tried to ignore him. Every option only made the boy grin wider. So you left your post on the dock and made your way towards the kids, smiling up until you saw their worried faces, panic in their eyes. You moved faster, meeting them by the shoreline, concern growing like a knot in your stomach. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, already searching over their heads for some kind of danger, for an emergency. 

“Will needs help!” Dustin urged as El grabbed your hand, tugging at you, waiting for you to follow. 

“What? What’s wrong? Where is he?” You were already running with them, following them past the mess hall, past the gym, towards where the cabins grew older, damp and unused, overgrown with vines and weeds. 

“Uh, an allergic reaction!” Dustin yelled. 

“Asthma attack!” El told you at the same time. 

You slowed, just a little, your pace stumbling at each answer. You looked down at the girl, her flushed cheeks and wide eyes, wondering if you’d heard them both right. “Wait, wha—?” But then Dustin was grabbing your other hand and pulling you with determination, feet tripping over fallen branches until a cabin came into view. 

Lucas and Max were standing outside of it, waving their arms like they were trying to flag you down, as if you could miss them.

“He’s in here!” Lucas told you, worried scrambled with what you thought was panic. “We think it’s a snake bite. Maybe a tarantula!”

Again, you stopped, looking between the four kids with confusion wrinkling your features. “What? A tarantula? Guys— shouldn’t we get Hopper? Someone needs to—”

“Mike and Suzie are getting him,” Max assured you, smiling too sweetly as Lucas and El placed their hands on your back, pushing you towards the door. 

The cabin was dark, most of the windows boarded up, broken glass on the forest floor. Why the fuck was Will in there? Before you could ask, you were shoved one final time, the door slamming shut behind you. You made a sound of protest, turning to wiggle the handle but it was already locked.

“Guys! What the hell!” You thumped on the door with a fist, rattling the wood until the old hinges squeaked in protest. It wouldn’t budge. “Are you kidding me?”

 There was nothing but the sound of birds, insects that buzzed and the distant sound of kids on the lake. “Guys! Dustin! I swear to god, you’re gonna be in so much trouble. I know this was your idea—”

The rusting of leaves, a twig snapping and then more voices. Hushed whispers that were interjected with another voice, an older one.

Male and annoyed. 

No. 

The cabin door opened abruptly and before you could barge your way out, another body was shoved inside, clumsy and disorientated. The figure was tall, broad shouldered and wearing a camp counsellor shirt, the forest green cotton sun bleached and faded. The boy’s hair was a mess, his cheeks already freckled from the sun, his brown eyes squinting into the dim light as he adjusted out of the sun. 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“What the fuck?” Steve stood in the middle of the empty cabin, scowling at you even through his confusion. But the door had already been slammed shut again, the metallic clunk of a deadbolt sliding into place. “What’s going on? Those little shits told me they found a fucking bear cub.”

You rolled your eyes, stomping over to the door to bang on it again. “There’s no bears in Indiana, Steve, we’ve been over this.” You huffed when Steve swore and suddenly the cabin felt five times as small. “Dustin! Max!”

Silence. 

“Then how’d they get you here, huh?” Steve spat, marching over to one of the boarded windows, doing his best to push the planks free of the rusted nails. “Did they tell you Hargrove was wet and waiting or something?”

You stared at him, gaze withering as you attempted to ram your shoulder into the door. It did nothing but bruise your arm and your ego, the wood refusing to move. “Get over yourself, Steve. Just because you’re happy to let Chrissy follow you around with her pom-poms out, doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump the next guy I see. Lucas! I know you’re still there! El, open the door!”

The space outside the cabin was silent and for a horrified second, you were almost sure the kids had left. 

“I told you, it’s not like that,” Steve growled, slamming his palm into the board one more time. 

“Yeah, well, despite me being repulsed by Billy Hargrove for the last five years, you don’t seem to get that it’s not like that either,” your voice was poisonous, your glare just as deadly. “So let’s not play that game, Harrington.”

Steve let out a bitter laugh, forgetting about his escape plan to round on you instead. “Oh, so it’s Harrington again, is it?”

[EXILE BY TAYLOR SWIFT FT. BON IVER]

It felt awfully familiar, the sharpness in his tone, the mocking laughter, the way he glared at you. ‘Cause despite the anger, the annoyance, the frustration, a tension was still there that you’d recognised from your first year at camp with Steve. 

A feeling that followed you home to Hawkins, one that greeted you every time you bumped into the boy in the supermarket, every time you spotted him at the pool, the arcade, the bowling alley. A tension that fizzed and popped, your own personal storm that crackled everytime Steve Harrington was near. 

Except now - just like the beginning - you weren’t able to do anything about it. 

“I can think of names that are a lot less nice than that,” you snapped back, turning away from the door to face him. “Take your pick, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you would, princess,” Steve was closer now, toe to toe, another achingly familiar position. You could smell his cologne, his sunscreen. You could see the way new freckles had gathered across the bridge of his nose. “No need to get bitchy about it though.”

All thoughts of kissing him, of lunging forward and pushing your lips to his to try and end this mess - to fix it - left your head at his words. You gaped at him, anger rising, blood boiling. Steve looked at you like he knew he’d overstepped. 

“Bitchy?” You repeated, your voice getting higher in pitch and volume. “About it? It?”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“What’s ‘it’ Steve?” You steamrolled him, arms crossed over your chest as you took another step forward, your converse kicking at the toes of his sneakers. “Our breakup? I'm not to get bitchy about that?”

“Hey, you’re the one who broke up with me,” Steve shot back, an accusatory finger pointed in your direction. “So don’t act all high and mighty about it.”

“I broke up with you?” You scoffed, letting the annoyance buzz at your skin like a swarm of wasps, anything to stop yourself from crying. “You’re leaving, Steve. You’re leaving me, remember?”

“You left me the other night!” Steve burst out, throwing back his response like it was suddenly a competition, a contest to see who hurt the other more. To see who’s heart was the most broken. “You left. I woke up, and you were fucking gone, so don’t start yelling about being left alone.”

You weren’t sure who was winning. 

“You’re moving across the fucking country!” You yelled, finally snapping, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. “You’re really, really leaving me.”

You took a step back then, and another and another, clumsy through the cabin until your back hit a table. Steve’s hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach out, like he wanted you to hold onto it. He didn’t move. 

“What do you want me to do?” Steve said, his voice more serious than you’d ever heard it. In fact, he sounded a little like his dad. “You want me to say no to him? Huh? D’you want me to say fuck it to the last opportunity I’ll probably ever get? Want me to stay unsuccessful with a shit job and a shit wage and just hope one day I can do enough for you? For us?”

Your eyes turned watery at that, despite the anger his words ignited in you, the frustration. “You’ve always been enough for me, Steve.”

The boy came closer then, like he’d wanted to. His footsteps were unsure, nervous and slow, but when he realised you weren’t backing away, you weren’t running, he was suddenly toe to toe. He was taller, tall enough for you to have to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze and you didn’t try to hide your tears. You held your head proud instead, refusing to look away. Your stubbornness made the boy smile, a little knowing, a little sad. ‘Cause he wanted to wipe your eyes, sweep his thumb under your lash line and pull you close. 

“So what do I do, princess? Rip up the acceptance letter and mail the pieces to my dad? Hope he doesn’t kick me out of the family? Hope I have a bed to go back to? Do I get down on my knees for you here? Do I beg for you? Do I ask you to be mine again and hope to fuck that what ever comes next works out for us? Do I go back to Family Video and wait for you to work out what you wanna do with your life too?”

Steve wasn’t teary eyed like you were, but his expression seemed worse. His brows knitted together, his gaze helpless, sad, worried. But his hands were frantic, suddenly on your waist and pulling you close, chests bumping, his fingers twisting into your shirt.

“Do I kiss you now? Do I fuck you over this table and call you princess? Tell you that-- that,” Steve choked on his words, shaking his head at you like you were the one asking for him to say it. To admit it. “To tell you that I love you and it’s gonna be fine no matter what?”

You could help but feel the pull in your stomach at his words, the hook there that seemed to be tied to the way Steve kept his hands on you, your body pressed against his. He leaned in and you kept your eyes on his, noses bumping, lips hovering. It seemed so long since you’d last kissed him, years and years and years. You wondered what would happen if you gave in, if you pushed yourself onto your toes and pressed your mouth to his. Would it fix things? Would it change his mind, would it change yours? Would it make you feel better, even just for a second?

“Are you happy?” you asked the boy instead and you watched his bravado crumble in front of your eyes. “Are you happy about Arizona? About college? About finance and your future and leaving?”

Steve let go of you and stepped back, his warmth and the smell of his cologne fading. You should’ve stopped talking, you should’ve pulled him back and kissed him one last time, let him pull off your clothes, clumsy and desperate, you should’ve begged for him to make you come one last time, you should’ve made him feel so good that he’d never forget the way you felt wrapped around him. 

“Would you be happy if I came with you? If I let your dad buy us some condo in Phoenix? If I went to college too, to study a major I didn’t want? Maybe get a job in an office where I gotta wear some tight, little pencil skirt and too high heels, but shit, it’s good money, right?” You were breathing harder now, trying not to cry, trying not to give in and say fuck it to all of it. “Would that make you happy, Steve?”

‘No,’ he wanted to say. ‘No it wouldn’t.’ He wanted to tell you that he wanted none of that, that none of that would make him feel any better. He wanted to yell out and kick the wall, kick the door. He wanted to grab you and pull you close, ask you to kiss him until he felt better, until he had enough courage to tell his dad that he wasn’t fucking following his rules. Until he felt brave enough to take your hand and let the pieces fall where they may.

Instead, he turned and made his way to the door, opening it easily, like the kids had heard enough and realised that this wasn’t going to work. Steve stopped then, his back to you as he paused in the doorframe, the forest empty and quiet before him. Like it was waiting for him, like you were. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Steve murmured sadly. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” 

“I just want you to be happy, Steve,” you whispered back. “I want you to do what makes you happy.”

Steve walked away. 

—————

Steve didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to get away from the cabin, from you, from the way you looked at him, the way you sounded. Like you were broken and hurt and it was all his fault.

Like he couldn’t do anything about it. 

He passed the kids who were lingering by a broken log, kicking stones and looking guilty. Steve didn’t say anything, just tried to smile a little sadly at Dustin when he mouthed an apology, eyes wide and sad. 

The wild roots and the overgrown bushes eventually gave way back to the normality of the camp, well worn pathways and the sounds of the lake. If you’d followed him, Steve didn’t know, he didn’t hear, he didn’t look back. His father’s voice was in his head, an echo from weeks before, a mantra about what it took to become a man, six figure paychecks and the white picket fence dream. 

He didn’t want to go to Arizona. He didn’t want to leave you. 

Steve kept walking. 

A fast car, an office with a view, a mahogany desk, a custom leather briefcase, a pretty wife and a prettier secretary. Kids you didn’t talk to, a cheque book you could bargain with, a house that was bigger than your neighbours, a pool out back that was deeper than everyone else’s. 

Steve kept walking. 

A promotion, golf on the weekends with your boss, business cards with your name embossed in gold. Arguments at Christmas, couples therapy on your tenth wedding anniversary, a secret email address for the woman nobody knew about. 

Steve kept walking. 

A life like his dad’s, his parent’s. 

“Is that you, Harrington?”

Steve groaned, turning to see Billy walking up the dock and towards him. The kids in Billy’s swim group were just leaving, variations of soaking wet and shivering as they all ran past Steve with towels bundled around their shoulders, greeting him with enthusiasm. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Steve huffed, levelling the other boy with a glare that told the other counsellor that he was less than pleased to see him. Steve waited until the last camper ran past them, stumbling towards the mess hall with wet feet. “Don’t cream your pants.”

Billy grinned, that wide spreading smile that made him look more dangerous rather than friendly. He was spinning his whistle from one finger, shirtless and tanned, sauntering towards Steve like he had all the time in the world. “I’ll try not to,” he snarked, eyebrows raised. “But word on the street is you’re the one who’s not gettin’ any.”

“Get fucked, Hargrove,” Steve snarled, immediately on edge, shouldering his way past the other boy so he could continue walking to god knows where. Maybe he’d find Eddie. Maybe he’d let him sulk in the corner of the music cabin. 

“Always trying,” Billy answered gleefully, ignoring Steve’s bad mood. “What about your girl?”

Steve stopped. 

“My bad, she’s not your girl anymore, is she?” Steve didn’t need to turn back around to know Billy was still grinning. He could hear the laughter in his voice, the pleasure at his twisted words. “Either way, I’m pretty sure she’ll be gagging for it by now, right? You guys were always at it. In the gym, your cabin, fuck— I bet she’ll jump on the next guy who offers—”  

If Steve was surprised he let Billy talk that long before launching himself at him, well, so was Billy. Steve’s fist landed on the other boy’s jaw with a crunch, a satisfyingly, sickening noise that only urged Steve on. He managed to grapple at the boy pushing him over until Billy tumbled into the dirt, skin smeared with wet sand and pine needles. 

It didn’t take much for Steve to land on top of him, anger and frustration coming out as quickly as the blood from his knuckles. He managed to aim one more blow at Billy’s nose before the boy pushed him back, the breath knocked from Steve’s lungs as a fist caught his cheekbone, a crack resonating through his face, making his head buzz, his ears ring. He let out a yell as he tried to bring his knee up, catching Billy in the groin with it, pushing him back even as Billy tried his best to push Steve’s head into the forest floor, pine cones piercing his shoulders, his neck, his cheek. 

And then the pressure was lifted from his chest as Billy was hauled away, tattooed arms lifting the boy off of Steve, Eddie yelling obscenities as Billy thrashed. 

Steve scrambled up, launching himself forward without a care, ignoring Eddie’s warnings as he raised his arm again to try and land another hit but Jonathan caught his wrist, wrenching him backwards. 

“Fuck, man. Let it go, yeah?”

Steve was panting, blood on his knuckles, a split in his cheek that was angry and red, pine needles and sand on his shirt and in his hair. “You didn’t hear what he was saying,” the boy managed to ground out. “What he was sayin’ about, about—”

“She’s not your fucking girl, Harrington,” Billy yelled, cursing when Eddie elbowed him in the side, never letting go of the hold he had on him. “The only person you’re gettin’ fucked by now is your daddy—”

Steve managed one more hit, a crack to Billy’s nose that Eddie winced at but said nothing. Unfortunately, Hopper had a lot to add to the conversation as he marched towards the group, yelling before he was even within hearing distance, moustache twitching as the campers that Steve didn’t even see, parted as he got closer. 

“Harrington! Hargrove!” 

Eddie and Jonathan stepped back from the accused, hands raised to show their intact knuckles, how their hands were clean, not bloodied. 

“My office! Now!”

—————

Eddie jumped up from where he was lying on his bunk when Steve finally entered the cabin. The boy was flustered looking, knuckles wiped clean of blood but the cuts on his fingers and face were angry looking, red and fresh. 

Hours had passed since Hopper had led the two boys into his office, both covered in blood and pieces of the forest floor, glaring at each other as they walked into the cabin.  

Steve stripped off his dirty shirt as Eddie eyed him warily, dropping the comic he’d been reading in order to sit at the end of his bed and wait. When Steve finally pulled on a clean staff shirt and sighed, Eddie threw him an ice pack that he’d managed to wrangle from Joyce’s office. 

“Did he fire you?”

“He offered me a job.”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

Steve groaned, letting himself fall onto the bed, his hands scrubbing at his face, hissing when he caught the Billy inflicted cut on his cheekbone. “He offered me a fucking job, dude. Didn’t even yell.”

“Like, a new job? An actual job?” Eddie moved to the end of Steve’s bed, shoving at his friend's legs until there was enough room for him to sit. “What the fuck?”

“He dealt with Hargrove and told him to walk it off,” Steve murmured, wincing when he brought the ice pack to his face. “Then he sat me down and asked me what the fuck I was playing at. He wasn’t even mad about the fight, he told me he’d heard about Arizona—‘bout my dad.”

Eddie just waited, breath held as he wondered where this was going, if Steve was going to crack. 

“He said it was a real shame I wouldn’t be back next summer and that it was an even bigger crime that I was listening to Michael Harrington.”

Eddie’s mouth fell open and he picked at the bedspread, suddenly feeling awkward. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Shit. Told me he knew my dad from school, apparently they played football together or somethin’. Said he was sad that I was doing something I didn’t wanna do.”

Eddie paused then, waiting. Waiting for Steve to admit it to him the same way he’d get to admit it to himself.  “What did you say?”

“Nothing at first.” Steve shrugged. “But he sat and stared me out like some kinda cop and fuck, I dunno. I started rambling.”

With raised brows and an expectant expression, Eddie waved his hand at the boy. “About?”

Steve squirmed, pink cheeked and embarrassed. He stared at the bedsheets, shrugging. “Everything, I guess. Anyway, he said he and Murray have been planning to open this kids club thing for a while, some kind of community centre. S’open seven days a week, all through the year. Not just summer.”

Steve stood up then, pacing, his hand going to his hair to pull ag the strands and Eddie had to turn to watch him, up and down, up and down the cabin. 

“He wants me to run it.”

“Shit,” Eddie was quiet, shocked. 

“Shit,” Steve agreed. 

“Like, a manager?” 

“Yeah, like a manager. Full time.” Steve let out another sigh and he sounded tense. Stressed. “It’s in Shelbyville.”

Eddie let out a low whistle, flopping back onto the space Steve had vacated. His head hit the pillows and he smiled, unable to help himself. “That’s near Hawkins, right?”

“‘Bout a half hour out,” Steve confirmed. 

“Hell of a lot closer than Arizona, huh?”

“Yeah, sure is.”

“So, he offered you it, just like that?” Eddie snapped his fingers and stared at the beams across the ceiling, not sure how far he could push Steve. “No degree needed?”

“No degree needed,” Steve repeated. He sounded dazed. “Good pay, healthcare, dental, pension. Everything. Hop said he thought I’d be really good at it. That he couldn’t imagine asking anyone else.”

Steve didn’t say anything about how his manager’s words made him realise that his dad didn’t know him at all. Less than he’d originally thought. 

Silence took over, just for a few minutes and Steve did the same as Eddie, flopping down onto the other bunk with a soft ‘oof’, his arms stretched out the mattress and his eyes trained on the ceiling. In the quiet, he could hear the kids by the lake, wrestled into order by another staff member, someone who sounded like Nancy. A whistle blew, shrill and sharp and then splashes, happy shrieks. Steve lay until the sun warmed his face, until he had to squint and sit up, the cabin filled with that golden kind of light that only appeared around dinner time. 

The same light hit off Eddie’s rings, silver turning even brighter and rainbows bounced off of them, tiny and scattering across the walls when Eddie moved. He sat up when Steve did, both boys peach and pink coloured in the sun. 

“So, what’re you gonna do?” Eddie finally asked. He said it softly, like he was scared to ask, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. 

“I’m not sure,” Steve replied honestly and he didn’t try to hide the distress on his features. He felt tired, too heavy. A little lost. “But I don’t want to fucking go to Arizona.”

PART TWO

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot

[rebelliousstories]

Jasmines and Vanilla

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2,869

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: A certain smell catches Reid’s attention in the bullpen.

American poet Diane Ackerman once said, “Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains.”

There was absolutely nothing remarkable about today. It was a paperwork day, which meant staying in the office. No flying on the jet to go stop an unsub in some other part of the country, or hopping in their government issued SUVs to find them on their home turf. The whole BAU team was stuck in the office and it was glorious. Having just come home from a case the day prior; everyone was excited about having a paperwork day to relax.

“Ugh, don’t get me wrong, I love these days where were not jet-setting across the country. But why do they always feel like they pass by slower than when we are going all over on the governments dime to stop bad guys?” The bored voice of Emily Prentiss called throughout the bullpen.

“An increased dopamine rush to your brain increases your internal perception of time. But dopamine and adrenaline cause such similar reactions inside your brain, it has the same effect leading to you feeling like time passes much faster when we’re in the field and-” Spencer was quickly cut off by the aforementioned agent.

“I really should know better than to ask after all these years.” Reid cast his eyes back down to his paperwork and felt embarrassment creep up his neck. In all honesty, he should be used to that after all these years but it still never got any easier to have someone shut him down. Turning back to his paperwork, he ignored the scoffed chuckle from JJ and tried to recenter himself.

There was no unusual sounds from the area heard for a while after that. Or maybe there was, but Spencer chose to bury himself in his work so that he would be less likely to go on an embarrassing factual rant. He did not know how long he kept his nose buried in the case files on his desk, but he knew what drew them out of it. A collective confused noise from the women around him, and perfume.

It was unlike anything he had smelled around the office, and it caused his head to perk up. In walked a woman around his age, yet much smaller than him, even with the heels she had worn. Her hair was curled up and out of her face, reminding him of the victory rolls worn during World War II by the working women of the era. In fact, her entire look reminded him of that era. She wore a type of secretary’s uniform from the era, had on red lipstick that complemented her features nicely and a winged eyeliner that drew attention to them.

A visitor’s pass dangled from on of the lapels. She was obviously here on purpose, but for what purpose, no one knew. But what drew him in, was that smell; the smell of her perfume. It was intoxicating to him. How he was this way about a woman he had never met before, let alone knew the name of? All he knew was that she had enraptured his senses in less than a minute, fifty-six seconds to be exact.

Heels clicked into the bullpen, and a tidal wave of color followed. It was almost comical seeing Penelope standing next to Derek, who had opted for all black for his relaxing day in his office. The clicking stopped shortly after the pair locked their eyes on to the new woman out in the middle of the floor.

“Who is that?” Garcia squeaked out, unable to pull her eyes from the mystery woman. Morgan’s eyes were glued to the same place, but he went to go introduce himself to her.

“Haven’t got a clue, baby girl. One sec.” He made his way down the stairs to where everyone was confused. But before he made it to her, Derek’s eyes caught on to something even more interesting than the visitor. It was the look on the resident genius’ face. With a smirk, he strutted to where the other man sat and placed his hand on his shoulder. Spencer jumped in his seat and looked to who had startled him out of his own thoughts.

“You should go introduce yourself, pretty boy. She looks a little lost.” The younger man pursed his lips and shook his head in defeat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” While Spencer tried to turn back to the case files, his eyes kept flickering up to the young woman.

“Well, I think I’m gonna go introduce myself to her then.” And with that, Reid was forced to watch the spectacle of the enigma that was Derek Morgan in action.

“Hello, miss. Is there something I can help you with?” He stuck out his hand and waited for her to notice him. She looked down at his hand and offered a wave instead of reaching for it.

“Hi. I’m looking for Aaron Hotchner. Do you happen to know where he could be?” Her voice flowed like honey and Spencer was in heaven. He really needed to get a grip on his senses.

“Um, yes. I do. He’s up there, but you know Dr. Reid here could show where he is exactly. I’m running late for a meeting but I’ll be around if you need anything else.” Said Dr. Reid was starting to panic. Morgan was walking her towards his desk. Was his hair acceptable? Was his perpetually crooked tie still crooked? Was he slouching? She was getting closer and closer, and he could smell her perfume more heavily.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid. Reid, this is… I didn’t actually get a name but I’m sure you’ll introduce yourself.” And with that, the suave agent left the two youngsters alone with each other. But they were not alone. Eyes stared at them from women all around the bullpen who were treating this like a mid day spa opera.

“Hi. I’m Reid, um Dr. Spencer Reid.” He raised his hand in a wave as he stood to greet the woman.

“Hi, I’m,” cut off from her introduction, was a deep voice sounding through the pen.

“Honey, is that you?” Mystery woman turned, and let out a bright smile at Aaron Hotchner who stood at the top of the stairs right outside his office.

“Hey. I was looking for you. I’ll be right there.” She turned back to the young doctor before her.

“It was nice meeting you Dr. Reid.” She turned to leave, but there was a moment that she hesitated. Spencer saw this, and without warning, or the ability to stop himself, he spoke.

“Did you know that in the Middle East Jasmine is typically called, ’Queen of the Night’ because the cooler temperatures and darkness allow the blossoms to emit a greater concentration of their scent? Also, the buds of the Jasmine plant are far more fragrant than the fully bloomed flowers?” As soon as he finished, Spencer cringed. He could not believe himself. Here he was trying not to make himself look like a fool in front of this mysteriously pretty woman, but that flew out with window with his big mouth and infinitely bigger brain.

“I did not know that. I’m quite shocked you picked up on that note. Everyone always smells vanilla.” With her body turned, Reid could not help but to profile her. Her shoulders were relaxed. One foot pointed towards Hotch and the other one him indicating that she wanted to keep her conversation going yet needed to turn and leave him. A soft smile let him know that she was genuinely interested in the conversation and her eyes sparkled at the knowledge that someone took the time with her.

“That’s because jasmine is not incredibly common in the perfume world, nor the botanical world. It’s a member of the olive family, although no one associates the two. Vanilla however is a far more common scent and is easier to use in bulk quantities to mask other fragrances.” He rambled. However unlike his colleagues, friends, family, and other women he had been interested in, she really seemed to appreciate his knowledge.

“Well, Dr. Reid, I always love learning new fun facts. Hopefully you’ll have some more for me when I come back out?” She looked towards him hopefully, and slowly turned to leave, keeping her eyes on him till the last second.

“Yeah. Definitely.” Spencer felt himself get giddy at the thought that she wanted to hear more fun facts when she came back. She wanted to come back. It almost felt to good to be true. He watched her ascend the stairs and get pulled into Hotch’s office before he returned to his paperwork. But the women of the bullpen and his team refused to let him forget that. Reid turned his face to where he felt the stares coming from and confusion twisted his features.

“What?” He was genuinely confused at their shocked faces. Emily’s jaw was on the floor, and JJ stared at him like he grew a second head. Penelope on the other hand just looked plain dumbfounded.

“What? What do you mean ‘what?’” Prentiss was the first to speak up.

“You talked with her.” Garcia spoke softly, trying to get over her shock.

“Well, she was nice and Morgan did kind of place her at my desk.” He tried to find himself lost within the papers on his desk, but it was in vain. Garcia marched her way over to his desk, and took the report out of Spencer’s hands to stare at him dead in the eye. He let out a noise of protest but that was overridden by the colorful woman’s own statement.

“Oh, you are smitten.” She stated so plainly.

“No! No, I’m not. Give me my report.” Spencer tried to take it from her hands but she stepped out of his way before he could take them back.

“His voice went up! 187 has got a crush on the mystery woman!” Her giddy tempo made the agent in front of her purse his lips in frustration. Reid stood up and tried once more to swipe the file, but was unsuccessful yet again.

“Garcia, give it back. I am not smitten nor do I have a crush.” He tried to protest, but even to him, his words sounded false.

“Oh, you are, my dear boy wonder. You’re blushing. I haven’t seen you blush in ages!” Penelope turned back to her female agents to gauge their reactions on her revelation. Spencer took this opportunity to take back his file with a snatch and go back to his desk.

“Spence, it’s fine to think she’s attractive. There’s nothing wrong with that.” JJ tried to reassure him in her motherly tone, but he still squirmed in his seat under the attention.

“I’m fine. There’s nothing going on. Sure, she’s pretty. But that’s it.” And with that, Spencer stuck his nose quite literally in the file that he was holding to get away from the scrutiny before him. However, he was unable to get away from it long, before he smelled jasmine’s again.

“I really appreciate you doing this dad. It means a lot to me.” Her voice carried through in the same way it had before. But now he was confused. Why was she calling Hotch dad? He only had one child, Jack.

“Anytime, honey. You need to come over for dinner at some point. Jack misses you, you know?” Now, everyone else’s attention was on the pair before them. Aaron’s hand helped her down the stairs and across the stair from her shoulders. He seemed to notice everyone’s eyes on them and turned before they made it out of the glass doors.

“Oh and this is, at least some of, my team that I was telling you about.” Everyone stood up to greet the woman standing near their unit chief.

“This is Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia, our tech analyst, and Dr. Spencer Reid.” Aaron introduced them one by one. And in that order, everyone shook her hands and greeted her with warm smiles and kind words.

“Doctor? What kind?” Her words held genuine intrigue, and Spencer could not help his smile from taking over his face.

“Um, the academic kind. I have three PhD’s.” A smile on her face overtook it in the same way it had his. Their eyes stayed locked onto each others, and neither felt the awkwardness of maintaining direct eye contact for that long.

“Everyone, this is my daughter.” He said her name, but everyone stopped for a moment and could not process this information. That hit everyone like a freight train.

“But, you don’t have any children other than Jack?” Garcia said so slowly that everyone could tell she was trying to wrap her head around the information before her.

“Well, when Haley and I were around seventeen, we got pregnant. But, realized that we were not in any capacity to take care of a child before we were out of high school or into adulthood. So we gave our daughter to a lovely couple that couldn’t conceive. We kept in contact and got regular updates throughout her life.” Aaron looked at his daughter with such adoration, everyone could see it.

“Now, she is about to finish up her second degree, and wants to go into law enforcement. Specifically, she’s thinking about joining the bureau and needed a letter of recommendation.” The words his boss said piqued Spencer’s interest.

“Second degree? What are the in?” He asked, trying to keep his voice level, but everyone could hear that tinge in it.

“My first was a PhD in criminal psychology, after getting a minor in psychology. Now I’m working on a BA in religious studies.” Reid was liking this girl more and more the more she talked.

“Oh, I could totally help with getting you into the bureau. I’ll give you my number and you just let me know when you put in your application. I can totally make sure you get into whatever department you want.” Garcia offered, her bubbly personality shining through her bright smile and fast hand movements.

“Garcia.” Hotch warned her with his tone.

“Totally legally, of course. I’m not doing anything that would jeopardize either one of our jobs. Nothing illegal, sir. Just want to help.” She stepped back just a little bit and held her hands in front of her to calm herself down.

“Well, I’ve gotta get going. I’ve still got work to do at home, but I’m hoping that I can see everyone here again.” She waved at everyone again, but stopped when she turned to the doctor in the room. Walking over, Spencer’s hands got all clams no matter how often he wiped them on his trousers. He could feel his heart beat out of his chest. Smelled her perfume getting closer. Jasmines and vanilla never seemed so enticing to him.

“I really want to continue our conversation from earlier. Maybe we can talk PhD’s or something similar. Here,” she handed a small card to him, “this is my number. Maybe we can meet for coffee sometime?” Hope laced her words, and Spencer felt giddy as he took the card from her hand. Their fingers brushed against each other and chose not to draw attention to the spark that flew.

“I’d really like that. Thank you.” He smiled at her, and ran his fingers over the ink on the business card in his hands. Aaron led her out of the glass doors afterwards, and everyone appeared to resume their work. Except, they did not. In fact, they watched Spencer return to his desk and set the card down within view.

“Pretty boy. My man!” Derek returned from where he watched the interaction with glee from the sidelines, and clapped the young agent on the back. This was now the second time today that he had done that.

“Spence got himself a date.” JJ sounded impressed and amused, and Morgan was eating it up. Beaming from ear to ear, he returned his attention to the man who just wanted to get some work done.

“Shut up.” Reid dismissed them quickly and it appeared to work. Although that may have also been because Hotch had just walked through the glass doors once more and no one wanted to be reprimanded today. All the agents dispersed, leaving the young doctor alone with his paperwork and thoughts.

However, his thoughts were overtaken when he could still smell that same perfume she had been wearing earlier. Spencer’s eyes drifted over to where that card laid perfectly against his desk. Bringing the card to his nose, he smelled perfume on it. It was still as intoxicating as when she was here. Setting it down, Reid turned back to his paperwork, and worked for the rest of the day in blissful silence. He knew that he would be smelling that perfume yet again, and soon.

“Scent is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived.” Helen Keller

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #rebelliousstories

[carolmunson]

out on the moonlit floor. (older!modern!eddie)

part six of who knows how many orange colored sky set list

you and eddie walk down to the piers at brooklyn bridge after you both meet up for dinner a couple nights after your embarrassing drunk sleep over. you both spur on conversations about each other over icecream -- and when you get home, you both share more than you expected. inspiration from this series comes to you in part by: @loveshotzz 'all i really want is you' series. wanting to fuck that old man. and readers like you.

tw: discussions of minor character death, drinking some alcohol, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), some vague talk about BDSM, couples first time, reader cries after sex

songspiration: kiss me | six pence none the richer

Now that the humidity broke it was almost a little chilly over by Brooklyn Bridge Park tonight. The water from the Hudson slapping against the posts of the first pier, each little wave winking when it caught the light of the moon. Manhattan sparkled across the river, glittering in both of your eyes while you walked toward the fireboat station turned ice cream parlor. Kids run around with sticky hands and mouths, shrieking and giggling with each other while parents look onward. Other couples walk hand in hand down towards the other piers -- some still under construction.

The air is warm but in a comforting way -- a reminder that fall is on the precipice, peeking itself out in hints so that you want something pumpkin flavored in early August. Eddie's hand is warm and clammy in yours, the silver bands on his fingers warmed by your touch.

"I never come down here," he says, looking around, "Why don't I ever come down here?"

You shrug, "I dunno -- are you a big water guy?"

He scrunches his nose and shakes his head, "Not really -- Steve'll drag me to the beach a lot when he visits and I'm fine with the beach but -- I'm not like, a beach guy. Or a river guy, or whatever. Lakes, sure. Ponds, why not?"

"I love being near the water," you say, leading him into the boathouse. You get in line behind at least ten people, all savoring their dog days of summer with an ice cream cone. It's warm in there, all the fans do is blow around the smell of sugar and cream, waffle cones off the press. He lets go of your hand to lay it gently on your shoulder to guide you through, heated skin to heated skin.

"I can love being near the water," he offers.

"Yeah?" you turn your head to look at him, his cheeks flushing. You look so pretty like this, he thinks. A little warm, a little slick on your skin. In your pretty summer dress that he hadn't seen yet. The soft quirk of your brows when you ask.

"Yeah," he nods, "For you? Of course."

You roll your eyes, taking a few steps forward as the line moves, "What looks good to you?" You pass a sticky menu you to him that he squints to read, apples up his lifting up to hide his eyes. You pull his glasses from the worn collar of his shirt, clearing your throat while you tap them against his knuckle.

"I can read it, baby," he mutters, distracted by the descriptions in light ink on white paper hidden behind a foggy sheet of plastic.

"You're gonna give yourself a headache," you chide. He rolls his eyes this time, taking his glasses and tucking them back on his collar. He passes the menu back to you.

"I already know what I want."

"Sure you do."

You walk out together, him with his Sweet Cream & Cookies cone and you with you Salted Crack'd Caramel in a cup. He's had two bites of yours and already regrets his decision.

"Well if you could read the menu then you probably would've got something more exciting," you tease, pulling your cup away when he reaches again.

"I mean this is good but it's boring," he pouts, "I'm not a boring ice cream kind of person."

"Is Steve?" you ask, his head tilts at the question, turning to you.

"Steve?" he repeats, "Why're you asking about Steve?"

"That's who Big Guy is in your phone, right -- with the little muscle emoji next to it? Your buddy Steve?" you smirk at him, his tongue pressing against the back of his teeth.

"Yeah, that's my guy," he nods, "You know how I said he always drags me to the beach when he visits?"

"I do," you nod, a spoonful of ice cream resting on your tongue before you swallow leaving a coating of mocha, sea salt, and caramel behind.

"He's visiting soon," Eddie smiles down at your lips closed around the plastic spoon, "I'm really excited for him to meet you."

"Do you think I'll like him?"

"I think...Steve's a boring ice cream person," he laughs, "Always gets like -- butter pecan or something. You think I'm an old man? Wait until you meet this guy."

You both laugh with each other like mean girls on the playground.

"Is he um -- is he doing okay? I know you mentioned a few weeks ago that he lost his wife," you're shy while you approach the subject, you could tell it weighed heavy on Eddie to talk about it.

"I think..." Eddie starts, taking a lick of his ice cream while he considers it, "I think he's doing okay for being almost half a year out. I um, I stayed with him for the first three months -- moved him into the house they bought --"

"She passed before they moved," he explains when your brows knit in confusion.

"Oh," you nod along, face relaxing so he can continue.

"Moved him in -- I think he cried for six days straight. We didn't even sleep, just laid on his couch and watched Fever Pitch like, eighty five times in a row," he looks out at the water while he recalls it and then smiles, "Which is so weird considering he's a Cubs fan."

"That's so niche," you giggle before softening, "You're a good friend."

"He'd do it for me," Eddie shrugs, "He's already done like so mu--"

Before he can finish, two runners speed by, knocking him in the shoulder. You both watch his cone fall in slow motion towards the blacktop of the walk way.

"Sorry," the guy calls out while he continues on, barely looking back over his shoulder while he goes. The neon yellow of his running sneakers become little flecks as he gets deeper towards the tree covered walkway on the other side.

"Hey, fuck off and DIE, asshole!" you call after him, a grit in your voice that Eddie hadn't expected to hear. He can't help but laugh at your anger at his expense.

"Hey, hey," he starts, newly free hands resting on your shoulders, "Easy killer."

"There was plenty of space for him to run," you seethe, "He's a fuckin' asshole."

"It's okay," he promises, face relaxed, "It's okay."

"It's not okay," you sigh. You hold your half full cup and spoon out to him, "Have mine."

"But then you won't have one," he says, "I'm not taking yours."

"You already know you like the flavor," you insist, "I'll grab myself another one, I need a water anyway."

Eddie looks at the ice cream and then you, one dimple creasing when a side smile pulls at his lips, "Okay."

When you come back with your new ice cream he's settled down on a bench directly across from the Freedom Tower. You can see all the lights across the water from the Seaport, water taxis and mini dinner cruises coming in an out of dock in the haze of a midsummer night.

"Before Sandy, this used to be a weird sad looking mall," you say, sitting next to him, "And there used to be a really good restauarant called Red -- I loved it cause they never carded me."

"You go to college here?" he asks, you nod.

"I liked the mall cause there was a Bath and Body Works and a Christmas in New York store. I'd go in there every time I was homesick -- just felt cozy for some reason," you shrug.

"But the new stuff there is cool too," you say, taking a bite of your ice cream, "It's definitely like -- for rich people."

"Definitely for rich people," he agrees, his spoon sneaking over to your full cup, his empty one next to him. He steals a bite, letting the flavor savor on his tongue.

"Come on, why do you keep getting amazing flavors?" he sighs. You hold the cup tighter to yourself, a smile working on your lips.

"This one is just for me," you chide, "If you want more go get more."

"Nah, I just wanna taste it one more time," he says smoothly, quietly, leaning in. His hand finds your cheek, ducking in for a long slow kiss, "There we go."

Speechless, you just shake your head and take another bite when he breaks away.

"No, no, I think I need another one -- gotta get the full flavor profile," he smirks, loving the sounds of your giggle when he leans in again for another kiss. He gives you three loud smooches on the lips, enough to make a few people roll their eyes but neither of you notice. Too wrapped up in each other to really care.

Eddie's apartment is as it always is -- it smells like him, the walls are covered in knick-knacks and framed posters. Maximalism at it's finest -- organized chaos -- but somehow streamlined. You leave your sandals in the hallway, barefeet hugging the cold hardwood from the AC.

"You know what I could go for right now?" you ask. He looks up with his brows raised, putting his wallet and keys in a bowl by the door. He'd forget them otherwise.

"A mezcal marg," you say, "I'd fuck up a marg so hard right now."

"Well lucky for you," he starts, walking over to the bar cart behind the dining room table, he lifts up a bottle of Del Maguey Vida, "I have mezcal."

"Yay," you let out quietly, not too far off from our quiet cheer when you were wasted in his kitchen last week. You can tell he used to bar tend by the way he mixes drinks, how he slaps the mixer and shakes it, how he eyeballs the liquor. It's not long after you've situated on the couch that he comes over to you with your drink.

"Here cutie," he says, carefully passing it to you from behind the couch and walking around it with his own. The first sip confirms he's made these a million times, wonderfully smokey and salty, refreshing and fruity.

"Oh no," you laugh, "It's really good."

"I'll make you as many as you want," he takes a sip and settles down next to you, arm outstretched behind you, "Thank you."

"Why're you so good at everything?"

"Me?" he quirks his brow, "Nah, I'm just -- I have a lot of experience with like, mundane shit."

"No, no, you're like -- you're good at a lot of stuff," you nod, "Give yourself some credit."

You feel bold even though you've only had two sips of the margarita, but it gives you some courage nonetheless, "What else are you good at?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well --" the cat catches your tongue for a moment, suddenly unsure if you want to bring it up. But then again, he's already seen you at your almost most pathetic.

"I saw those handcuffs in your room the first time I was here," you start, "You good at tying girls up?"

He blushes hard, laughing off the embarrassment, "S'cuse me?"

"I'm serious," you laugh, "Are you good at tying girls up? Is that the kind of stuff you're into?"

"I -- wow -- um," he bumble through words trying to find an answer, looking down at his drink and then looking at you and back down again.

"I -- yeah," he shakes his head, surprised at his own confession, "Yeah, I'm -- I'm into that kind of stuff. Not like, not all the time -- but for some partners, sure, yeah." "So you are a little freak then," you tease.

"Maybe," he shrugs, "By the look on your face though it looks like you might be really interested in that."

You shrug back coolly, another sip of your marg giving you a moment to consider, "I can be."

"Yeah?" He leans back on the couch, legs spread open while he looks you over. He keeps his eyes on you, sipping slowly on his drink while he does. You start to get shy under his gaze, exactly what he was waiting for, "You think you could handle it, sweetheart?"

As expected, you roll your eyes, "Ew."

He puts his drink on a coaster on the coffee table, coming back up to give you a kiss, "You don't think it's ew."

"I know," you nod, letting his lips trail down your jaw to your neck and back up again. Unafraid, you crawl back onto his lap like you did the first night you were there. His hands wander more freely, sliding up and around your thighs, listening to your sounds and how you like to be touched. When you roll your hips he doesn't stop you this time, he lets you do it, savoring the relief he gets every time the pressure meets his hardening cock in his slacks.

"I'm not," Kiss, "Gonna do that," Kiss, "Tonight, though."

"Oh," you smirk, holdhing his face in your hands while you look down at him, "Are we gonna do it tonight?"

He blushes again, chastising himself for assuming what you wanted, "No, no, only if you want to. And I want it to be nice and like -- I want it to --"

You lean in for one more slow kiss to shut him up, he groans into it, "I want to."

Eddie gulps, looking up at you with a nod, "I'll um...I'll meet you upstairs."

He watches you get up and head towards the small spiral staircase, his mind buzzing a mile a minute. He collects the glasses and puts them in the fridge for later, cleaning up a bit while his hands nearly shake with nerves and excitement. Just as he's about to make it up the stairs he sees his phone start to buzz on the coffee table. Steve.

And normally he never does this, but for the first time in months he clicks 'Ignore' before heading up the stairs behind you.

You undress after him, trying not to gape at his body, trying to ignore the way it drives you insane. His tattoos dance with each move of his waist and arms, each flex of his thighs. He takes his time making his way over to the bed, sliding the throw to the floor when he sits on the edge of it to watch you.

Your dress comes off slow -- he beckons you forward to stand between his thighs. Neither of you speak while he cups your breasts in his hands, squeezing softly. You let out a quiet sigh when his lower lip drags against the top curve, pressing into a kiss. Moving to the next to take a nipple into his mouth, wet tongue sliding over it while his thumb teases the other.

Your hand reactively reaches for his head, pleasure starting as a line up your neck and down to your pelvis -- a whimper coming out of you involuntarily. He gives a final flick of his tongue before pulling your underwear down to your knees, letting them fall to your ankles. He looks up with a smile and a kiss to your lips, "Lay down for me."

He doesn't have to ask you twice, kicking kicking your panties off and sliding onto his bed. You lay back against the soft comforter and look up at him while he kneels over you, eyes gleaming while they take you in.

“Peach you’re…you gotta be fucking kidding me,” he lets out with an airy laugh. 

You look up at him while he lets his eyes roam over you again, suddenly self conscious. You cover some of your chest with your forearm, tucking in on yourself. 

“No, no baby,” he coaxes softly, “Show me, show me you.” 

You reluctantly release, it had been a while since you were fully naked in front of someone. You grimace when your arms fall back flat on the comforter, hands daintily laying just above your head. He bites his lower lip, the pink in his cheeks flushing to a soft red. His hands reach up to the sides of your rib cage, eyes on you for silent permission.

“Jesus,” he says under his breath. His hands slide down carefully, cascading into the dip of your waist and up over your belly. One finger tip traces a stretch mark just above your pelvis that you wished he hadn’t noticed — that you forgot you had. His hands continue their journey over your hips to the tops of your thighs — your body warm and welcoming to his touch. 

“You are gorgeous,” he whispers — partly to himself, partly to you. 

You lean up on your forearms and look down at yourself briefly, “Yeah? You think so?” 

“I uh – fuck –” he shakes his head in disbelief before leaning forward to kiss you, “I really think so.” 

His lips come in for a long peck, settling himself over your calves, forearms and biceps flexing while he leans on his hands to steady himself on the mattress. He breaks away to kiss your neck – gentle, only a few before placing one soft kiss to your chest – working his way downward. He kisses the pad of fat on the peak of your ribcage, down to your stomach, right over the stretch mark that you wish you’d forget about now. He kisses the other side of your belly, mouth and breath warm while he does, eyes blown like he’s mapping you out. 

You revel in the quiet, watching him savor you, adjusting to sit on his knees between your legs. He bends down like he’s praying, lips blessing the top of one of your thighs. He bends one of your legs up and out, kissing the inside of your knee. 

“Please,” you whisper down at him. He kisses the inside of your knee again, feeling your weight shift in the bed while you open your legs further. He looks down between your thighs, brows tilting in awe at the sight of you bared for him. 

“Push up on the bed a little, honey,” he instructs, so quietly you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t so close. If the rest of the apartment wasn’t so still. You slide up on the comforter while he adjusts the pillows behind you, “That’s good? You comfortable?” 

You nod breathlessly, his smile making you melt the more you see it in the light of his lamp in the corner. He kisses you again, hand reaching up behind your neck to pull you to him while you let his tongue into your mouth. It slides against yours with needy precision, wanting to get as close to you as possible while he does. When you part he lets out a shaky breath, nuzzling your nose. 

“You okay?” you press your forehead to his. 

“Yeah I’m just – I think I’m nervous,” he laughs, “You’re makin’ me nervous.” 

“Why’re you nervous?” you ask, pulling back to look at him. 

“I dunno. I guess I just,” he leans back, “I’m never normally thinking my way through it. At least I haven’t for a while.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Like I was just taking people home to fuck, then they’d leave,” he shrugs, “I’m like…I’m taking my time and I wanna make sure it’s like – the best sexual experience you’ll ever have.” 

“Sexual experience,” you repeat back in a tease, he puffs out a breath with a roll of his pretty brown eyes. 

“I’m trying to be meaningful here,” he asserts, “M’trying to like – make love to you.” 

You giggle again at ‘make love’ but cover your mouth, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry – I’m not making fun of you. That’s very sweet, Ed.” 

He tinges an embarrassed pink and settles back on his knees, hands running through his hair. 

“Baby,” you soothe, coming up to smooth your hands over his shoulders, “I’m sorry. I promise I’m not trying to make you feel silly or embarrassed. I’m nervous, too.” 

“Baby…” he repeats back, a boyish grin pulling up on his lips, “I’m not a baby.” 

“Yeah you are,” you nod, kissing his cheek, “You’re such a baby.” 

“Thought I was an old man,” he says, that blushy grin still plastered on his face. 

“You can be both.” You lay back against the pillows, watching him take a settling breath before coming back down to meet you for another taste of warm kisses. He lets himself press a loving kiss to your cheek before dipping down to leave intentional kisses down your sternum, following his map from your rib cage to your belly, the top of your thigh, the inside of your knee. Neither of you speak when he kisses the inside of your thigh, letting him part you right before his tongue starts to flick dutifully over your clit. 

Your quiet gasp makes his eyes flutter closed, feeling you settle down into the pillows while his lips open over you, nose resting on the pudge of your mound. His tongue works steadily, working you while your legs bend and creep upwards, thighs to your chest. One hand reaches up to squeeze the inside of one, spreading you apart a little further for him. You feel the warmth of the back of his head as he leans to the side against your thigh, tongue dragging up over and over before moving right back to center. 

“More,” you sigh out, starting to whimper, hips reacting to each flutter of his tongue. He start to suckle, eyes flicking up at the sound of your voice. He nods while he works, one hand coming up to slide a finger in either ease – he’s not surprised. 

“Oh!” you squeak out, the little quake in your thighs makes him huff a laugh. 

“Does this feel good?” he asks against your skin. He kisses your other thigh why he waist for an answer. You nod down at him, breaths picking up while his finger dips slowly in and out. 

“S’really good,” you slur out, the tingle in your belly rising to an electric buzz. 

“D’you like getting eaten out?” he asks, starting again. His middle finger pushes in with his index this time with mild resistance. 

“Hmmm-yes,” you breathe out at the slight stretch, feeling him hook into you once his fingers push the hilt. You push up on your forearms and then your hands, the pleasure making you dizzy while you look down at him. 

“Don’t stop,” you whisper. He obliges, head down and determined, sucking and teasing, the soft flick of his tongue getting you closer and closer. His fingers pulse, pushing in and in and in, the pads of his fingers pressing on your core that makes heat run through you. You aren’t sure if you’re numb with pleasure or you’re flooding over his finger, the buzz is becoming overwhelming. Your heart hammers, his fingers working in a controlled steady rhythm – too grown to know that when a girl’s about to cum you don’t speed up, you stay the course.

“ShhhitI’mgonnacum – ohmigodI’mgonnacum.” 

His lips break away from your clit as you start to come undone, a smirk prevalent on his face when he leans in to kiss you through it. You moan so loud into his mouth it’s almost a cry – a prayer to God that you make it out with all your senses. 

He feels the gush of your release over his first and middle finger, leaking plentifully into his comforter. He smiles when he breaks away from you — soft kisses on your cheeks while you shiver.

You flop flat on your back with a deep breath, shutting your eyes while you push air out of O shaped lips. 

“You okay?” his low gravelly voice settling in your chest. You nod, a little hazy, shifting over a wet spot under your limp thighs.  “Ugh.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, knowing that you can feel what you left behind. He squeezes your calf with a soft chuckle, “Just a lil’ mess, baby. D’y’need a minute?” 

You nod, another deep breath, peeking through your heavy lids to watch him stretch over you while he clicks on another light. The sconces above his bed glow golden and soft above the both of you, glinting against his silver jewelry like a fire. Eddie’s form shifts the mattress when he lays next to you, rough palm smoothing over the top of your stomach to the opposite dip in your waist. 

“That was uh…” 

“Yeah…”

You lay there with each other, eventually finding the strength to move onto your side to face him. He’s confident now that you came, more sure of himself – he knows he can make you do it again. 

“Don’t give me that look,” you chide. 

He giggles darkly, face splitting smile pulling his cheeks up, “M’not giving you a look.” 

“You are giving me a look.” 

“M’just…you know – It’s always good to know you still got it,” he shrugs, falling onto his back. He tucks his hands behind his head, elbows splayed out on either side, biceps flexing, “And I still got it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you still got it old man,” you laugh, tucking yourself under his arm so that your head lays on his chest. You look down the expanse of him, fingertip tracing one of his tattoos that flows down to his lower stomach. His cock twitches, kicking up at the gentle touch so close to his pelvis. You let out a soft hum when one of his arms comes down to wrap around you, kiss pressed to the top of your head. You tilt up, noses brushing while your fingers still trace, searching lower until the scratch of stubble from week old manscaping finds you. 

You kiss him first, moving out from under his arm, propping yourself up on your elbow while you guide him. He grunts out a low groan when your hand finally wraps around his cock, offering him steady strokes, giving him a type of relief he’s deeply needed this past month and some change. It’s not long before his fingers wrap around your wrist to put you back on the mattress, hard and leaking, desperate to be inside you. Your eyes linger on it while he leans over to grab a condom from his bedside table drawer, he smirks while he rolls it on. 

“Ready?” he asks, cocky, tossing the foil packaging off the bed. You nod hurriedly, grinning while he props your hips up under a couple of his pillows. 

Another kiss and he’s parting your legs again, fingers sinking into the fat of the back of one of your thighs while he guides himself down the slick slit of your core. He goes slow, tip teasing your clit before sliding down to your entrance. He’s concentrating, but he still flicks his eyes up at you beneath his feathered bangs before starting to push. 

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

He eases in, you feel the stretch immediately, legs springing up tight towards your chest. One, two, three short even thrusts before you’re slick enough to accommodate him. He pushes in slowly, both of you sighing in pleasure when he splits you open to the hilt, your legs parting further. His other hand meets your lonely thigh, gripping tight while he starts at a steady rhythm, head lolling back for a moment then coming back to center.  

“Baby…” he starts, a growl of a grunt coming from his chest, “You – oh, honey – you feel so good, so — oh fuck...” 

You can only respond with choked ‘uhn! uhn! uhn!’s at every thrust, the head of his cock plunging deep at this angle, nearly brushing your cervix. His kiss is welcomed when he lets go of your legs to lean forward over you, propping himself up on one forearm, hand  on your cheek. 

“That’s good? This feels good?” he pants into your mouth. 

“Mhm,” you whine, “You’re so deep.” 

“I know,” he coos, “M’really deep. You like that?” 

“Yeah,” you squeak when his thrusts become intentionally strong and slow. 

“Feelin’ me?” he asks, tip of his nose running along your cheek, forehead against your temple. You nod, groaning while he continues, holding his hips in place after every plunge into your core. His cologne and scent of his hair products blend together in a dark spice that makes your mouth water, eyes fluttering closed when you hear his breaths become gravelly – each one its own growl. You can barely think, your mind’s not able to keep up with the pleasure of where his cock keeps hitting, how full you feel, where his free hand wanders, how he kisses your neck. In the haze you realize that he likes this, he likes being in control. 

Your body bounces against his hips when his thrusts start to pick up in speed, not fast like a jackhammer, but fast enough that the buzz in your belly becomes a vibrant hum. He gives you a final sloppy kiss on the neck and then the lips before leaning back up for more leverage, gripping your waist just above the flare of your hips. 

“Look at me,” he huffs out, more of a command than a suggestion. Your heart rate quickens at the sound, bark and bite while his fingertips squeeze you. Your eyes snap to his like magnets, like when you first kissed after your date in the park. 

“God,” he groans, “S-so – fuck – pretty.” 

His next thrust hits a spot that makes you see white, a whimper choking out of your throat. You grab his wrist, whining, “Ohmygod there, right there.” 

“There?” he teases softly, slowing down to slowly drag his cock in and out. He hits it again at an achingly low speed this time, but the pleasure is just as delicious. 

“Yes, yes right there – please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying please for, what you’re asking. You just need to feel this, you need him to get you there. He quickens his pace, the slick and sloppy sounds of skin hitting skin and ragged breaths disrupting the quiet of the room. Tears pool in your eyes in pleasure while you cry out, back arching into each snap of his hips. 

“More, more, more,” like a chanting prayer flows out of you, spurring him on. His heart thumps in his chest while he looks down at you, your face contorted, the way your breasts bounce. He resists the urge to reach down and clamp over your neck when you bare it to him, pushing yourself against the pillows. He busies himself by gripping your thighs again in a bruising hold, holding steady at a pace that clearly feels great for you but feels amazing for him. Eddie bites his lip, the sight and sound of you sending him reeling. He’s getting close, hips starting to stutter while your walls loosen a bit to accommodate him further, you’re already soaking his pelvis – you’re gonna cum, he can feel it. 

You can feel all your sounds in your throat, kneels pulling together as the vibrant hum in your lower belly becomes a vibration. He doesn’t stop, grunting and huffing like a bull with each thrust while he tries to hold back. He pulls your knees apart to make space for him, chest to chest while he pumps in a little bit faster. Eddie’s mouth takes yours hungrily, greedily while he lets out an aching moan. 

“Fuck – fuck - shit,” he growls, eyes clamped closed while your noses rest against each other. He keeps going, fucking you through his orgasm despite his shaking arms. At this position he can adjust to go a little deeper, and when he does you gush. He keeps going, feeling the pulses of your walls over his cock, a confident grin puffing out tired breaths. 

You grip his biceps when he does one final hit that sends you over the edge, thighs and hips shaking when he does. You feel it in your whole body, goosebumps rising like you can’t handle it, back nearly aching in an arch that settles back down. Your moan turns into a cry – a real cry. You shudder while your body comes down, tears pouring down your cheeks and you can’t quite get yourself to settle down. 

“Oh, honey no, did I hurt you? Are you okay?” Eddie swallows, voice back to soothing comfort while he eases up, “What’samatter? Did you not like it?” 

You wipe your eyes but the tears still come, you shake your head no. Embarrassed from blubbering you try to cover your face but he smooths your hands away, “What’s wrong, Peach? Please talk to me. Was that too much? Was I too rough?” 

“N-no,” you laugh a little, “Sorry, this is r-ridiculous. I’m – m’okay.” 

“You don’t look okay,” he says. He settles on his calves, easing you up to sitting – with some coaxing he gets you straddled in his lap. The exhaustion from your orgasm distracts you from the stickiness between your thighs, the uncomfortable wetness leftover between your legs. You feel sleepy and soggy. 

“Did I do something?” he asks again, hands cupping your cheeks while his thumbs swipe away oncoming tears. 

“N-no it was ju-just really intense,” you swallow and cough, another sob racking through you, “J-just came really hard.” 

He nods, looking at you intensely, “Do you just want me to hold you?” 

You nod back and without a second though he pulls you tight into him, bringing you both back down sideways on the mattress. He lets you let it out, running the backs of his fingers along your back until you start to calm down, sobs shuddering down into sharp breaths, to normal ones, to slow. 

“A little better?” he asks, quiet and sweet. You nod with your eyes closed, cheek squished against the comforter. Eddie smiles, easing the condom off his now softened shaft and tossing it in the bin under his night stand. He soothes you for a while, sitting on the side of you and running his palms over your back and thighs, over your calves, selfishly over the swell of your ass. He puts pressure on your lower back, between your shoulder blades, the top of your neck. 

“This is really nice,” you croak out, feeling the warmth of his hands cascade gently over you. 

“Sometimes it’s nice to just get worshiped, huh?” 

You nod again, breaths steady, “Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” he confirms, “You deserve it, don’t you?” 

“I do,” you smile. 

“That’s my girl,” he coos. My girl, my girl, my girl. 

It echoes through the both of you, the declaration – the claim, but neither of you say anything.In fact at this point, it looks like you might’ve fallen asleep. 

Eddie takes the throw that had been pushed to the floor and covers you up for now, he’ll wake you later for pajamas and water and a snack. For now he figures you should just rest, you look so cute like this – all worn out ‘cause of him. He quietly slips on a pair of socks and gray sweats and pads his way downstairs to make you something, swiping up his phone to see two missed messages from Steve on his screen. 

Big Guy💪👔 37m ago Did you just bitch button me? 

Big Guy💪👔 37m ago What the fuck?

Big Guy💪👔 36m ago Photo notification. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, opening his phone to his texts. His eye roll stops when the picture of Bandit curled up on his bed by the sliding door pops up. Eddie said the bed was way too big for him, but Steve insisted he’d grow into it. 

Eddiesorry dude, i was busy. u around? 

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago Taking Bandit on a night walk. You okay? You have a show tonight? 

EddieNah.  🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago Hell yeah dude 😎 Congrats! 

Eddiethanks man.just putting something together for her for when she wakes up.

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago fucked her to sleep lol 

Eddie gotta change my middle name to nyquil 😎

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago so it was good huh? 

Eddie i’ll tell you all the horny details tomorrow but honestly dude? i might end up loving this one. 

He wakes you up later leaving gentle kisses on your forehead, set of his comfy clothes in his hand for you, “Made you a little snack downstairs, you hungry?” 

You stretch, nodding, feeling a dull ache in your hips and inner thighs. You frown when he eases the throw off of you, forcing you to stand up and get dressed. Eddie’s scent is prevalent on his clothes, enveloping you again when he does the same with his arms. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you assure, looking up at him, “Now, don’t get a big head about this or anything – but that was easily some of the best sex I’ve had in my life.” 

He lets go of you, shrugging with a smile and tilt of his head, “What can I say? I –” 

“I said don’t get a big head,” you warn, stifling a giggle, “Don’t you go around bragging about it either.” 

“Okay, okay, I won’t, I promise,” he holds his hands up, leading the way down the stairs. 

“Not even Steve.” You follow him down, body taking over to lead you to the snacks he laid out on the counter of the island. 

“Not even Steve,” he repeats, picking up his phone again. 

Eddie she just told me that this was the best sex she’s ever had in her life lol i’m the fucking man

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago you da man 😎

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #older!eddie #older!eddie munson

[mythunderstorm]

Angie gets a mom | MS47

mick schumacher x fem!reader

word count: 980

summary: Mick loves you. Angie loves you. Time to make you her mom officially.

warnings: none?? maybe one swear word lol

masterlist

It is summer break for Formula 1 and after months you guys are finally visiting your parents in your hometown again.

The weather is currently not really summer-ish, it’s cloudy, not too hot and sometimes it rains a bit but you don’t mind. It reminded you of autumn, a season which you dearly loved so the combination of your favorite season and being able to spend lots of time with Mick was absolutely amazing.

You’re awoken by the sound of wind blowing, taking a look at the clock you realize it’s still early. Too early to get up, you decide, so you move closer to your boyfriend hugging him tight. Spending time with Mick is probably your favorite activity, no matter what you guys are doing. Soon, the second half of the season begins so you have to cherish every moment with your lovely boyfriend.

You’re almost back in the land of dreams, when suddenly you can feel soft tapping against your leg. Turning your head you spot Angie, trying to get your attention.

„Oh Angie, you wanna come cuddle?“ you say while making room for her to squeeze between you and Mick. „Good Girl, come here.“ You adored cuddling with Angie, she was just so soft and sweet.

„I think at this point she might love you more than she loves me.“ Mick suddenly says, after letting out a yawn.

„Oh sorry baby, did we wake you?“ you say, ignoring what Mick just said.

„No, it’s okay. I love waking up next to may favorite girls.“ he says, kissing you on the forehead. You only smile, enjoying this calm morning with your loved ones.

About half an hour later Angie gets a bit restless, a sign that it’s time for her morning walk. After brushing your teeth and changing your clothes into something that’s appropriate for the weather, you and Mick start walking to the small forest near your childhood home. Your parents were still sound asleep when you guys left, so you wrote them a note, telling where you and Mick went incase they wake up.

„I love this. I wish we could go on walks like this every morning.“ Mick suddenly says, making you lean more into his side.

„I‘d love that too baby, but you love your job aswell. And now walks like this are something special, so enjoy it and look forward to our next visit here“ you smile, kissing his cheek. Mick signs, he knows you’re right. He loves racing and he loves working for Mercedes but most importantly he loves you. So he only gives you a quick kiss on the lips, enjoying this moment like you said.

Angie enjoys it too, she’s running around, taking in all the different smells but is still staying close to you two. Her excitement makes you giggle.

„Anything funny sweetheart?“ Mick absolutely loves your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he has ever heard.

„I‘m just happy that Angie is enjoying herself so much.“ you say in a gentle voice. „Sometimes i feel like she’s our firstborn, just my little baby which I want to be happy and pleased at all times.“

Mick can only stare at you. He loves you so much, it’s insane. Hearing you say that makes him even crazier about actually starting a family with you. And now is the perfect timing to do the first step.

He already asked your father. It was really important for Mick to have your dad’s blessing and after he said that it would make him the happiest dad ever to have Mick as his son in law, the young Schumacher thought everyday about the perfect moment to pop the question.

And now, seeing you so happy, enjoying this calm morning walk with Angie while holding his hand, rambling about nature and how much you love being here with him, he knew. He knew this was the moment.

You, being blissfully unaware about what’s going on in your boyfriends head, continued walking and rambling about everything that came to your mind until you realized that Mick stopped. Turning around you looked at him with a questioning look, tilting your head. „Everything okay, Micky?“

Mick just looked at you, his eyes being so full of love and adoration that you started to blush under this intense gaze. He took one step towards you, until he slowly started to get down on one knee.

„Oh my god…“ you mumble, tears starting to form in your eyes.

Mick smiles. „Darling, you’re my home“, he starts. „I love you more than life itself and I can’t believe that I managed to get a girl like you. You are absolutely perfect, perfect for me. I don’t deserve the love you give me everyday but I am willing to show you for the rest of our lives how much I love and appreciate you. You‘re the perfect mom for Angie and the perfect wife for me. Soo..“ Mick clears his throat briefly, the tears that formed in his eyes are now rolling freely over his cheeks. „y/n/n, will you marry me?“ your boyfriend (for now) asks, fishing a dark blue velvet box from his pocket, showing you the most beautiful ring you‘ve ever seen.

You are absolutely baffled. You would have never expected this to happen today, maybe someday, but not today. But you know your answer, you knew you wanted to marry Mick two month into your relationship.

Happily you throw yourself into his arms, kissing him all over his face while mumbling „yes, yes, yes“ between kisses. Mick laughs, hugging you close. „I love you Micky, oh my god I- fuck I‘m speechless!“ you giggle, while more tears are streaming down both your faces.

„Now you’re going to be Angies Mom officially“ Mick quips, making you even happier.

You’re going to marry the love of your life.

#mick schumacher #ms47 #msc47 #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher imagines #mick schumacher drabble #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 fluff #f1 x reader

[thatsdemko]

mess around and find out - j.hughes

masterlist

requested: y

pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader

prompts: “you're the worst at keeping secrets. how long did you think you could fool around and make ridiculous excuses without me noticing it? ”

warnings: secrets + nsfw actions mentioned (but no nsfw content)

a/n: i did not disappear from writing… just the hockey community 🫣… feedback is always appreciated xx my requests are currently open!

lukes friend. you could’ve sworn your whole life of being his friend, Jack only ever saw you as that and nothing more. things changed when you got older and his mind wasn’t full of making it big, he relaxed once getting a contract and settling in Jersey. it’s then when he realized he needs more than just hockey as a future, he needs someone.

it’s perfect timing, you’re sitting in the hot tub, Quinn across from you, both of you drinking the summer evening away while Jim cooks burgers on the grill. jacks helping Ellen in the kitchen when she mentions how quiet he’s been. it’s not like him to be so silent, but his eyes don’t move from you.

“you hear me, jack?” Ellen touches her sons arm to get his attention, he nearly knocks over the salad he’s been mindlessly tossing. her eyes followed where his were, and she just shakes her head, “don’t ruin Luke’s friendship, honey.”

he doesn’t want to, believe him he doesn’t. but the way the evening sun glows against your skin, it’s impossible for him to force those thoughts down.

so that’s how it starts. the endless summer sex, growing marks, and scratched up backs somehow all wound you into a relationship. you’re the one thing Jack looks forward to every time he comes home.

“it’s lonely here without you.” his pout grows on the screen, giggles escapes your lips. you couldn’t believe you had turn the once fuck boy into the softest and sweetest boy. he’s so different than he was when you first met him, he used to be so cruel and mean you could’ve sworn you never would’ve been like this. times really do change.

“I’m coming in less than a week!” you held up your pinky reminding him of the promise you made, and the expensive plane tickets jack had begged to purchased for you. you’re not sure how you’ll get away with this, Luke has both of your locations, and he knows there’s not a single one of your family members in the state of New Jersey. it’ll be tough to sneak this one by him.

“so what’s your excuse to visit?” he asks, he can’t recall the amount of absurd excuses he’s used to sneak past his younger brother all summer. you think Luke hasn’t caught on— like he doesn’t know Zumba classes don’t actually happen at eleven at night— but he’s a lot smarter than you both give him credit.

“haven’t thought of one yet, got any ideas?” you ask, hearing the sound of your bedroom door click open and immediately you hang up, tossing your phone somewhere in your bed. this isn’t the first time luke has shown up to your place unannounced, and usually you carry on your conversations with your family members, but jacks different. he cannot know.

“why are you so jumpy?” he laughs, two bags of your favorite carry out in his hands, while balancing plastic cups full of lemonade.

“I’m not?” you say, but it came out more like a question. you move to the floor where he’s setting up the food and you hear your phone buzzing. you know it’s jack, but you can’t answer. not with Luke around.

he scoffs in response, “please, you think I don’t know you?” he shakes his head, he knows something’s up, he hasn’t seen you this happy since getting into the university. he can’t place a finger on what it is, but he’s going to deep dive tonight. it’s the reason why he’s over in the first place.

you smile happily pulling out the coney dog and unwrapping the foil, the smell of the chili and mustard hitting your nostrils as you dig in. It almost makes you forget your phone is ringing.

“for the love of god just answer it!” he reaches upwards and before he can grab it, you spill the steaming chili down your sweatshirt reaching for the phone. jacks name and picture lights up the screen, making you quickly dim the brightness. you hope to god luke didn’t see the hearts around his name and the picture you’ve chosen as his contact.

“just my mom, I’ll call her back later.” you turn your phone off, tossing it back in your bed, once again, before going to change into a new shirt. while rummaging you find one of jacks hoodies, it has been so second nature to slide it on that when it’s over your head, your eyes are met with Luke’s confused ones.

“so you do have a thing for the number eighty-six?” he points to the stitched numbers on the right side of the chest, now reaching to pick up your phone. he slides open the call and is greeted to his brothers face, “how stupid do you think I am to not know you guys are dating?”

“dating?! no—“

“you're the worst at keeping secrets!” luke cuts him off, eyes darting between you and the screen. you’re practically frozen in place. you’re afraid if you move it’ll all become reality. like your best friend didn’t just find out you were fucking his brother on the side.

you didn’t think Luke had noticed something was up. jack lives across the country, you would’ve thought this secret would be easier for him to keep since he doesn’t see his brother as often as you do— and you swore your life to jack that you wouldn’t say a peep, but maybe your face did show a delighted expression every time his name came across your phone.

“how long did you think you could fool around and make ridiculous excuses without me noticing it?” Luke looks at you and before you can answer he’s cutting you off, “I know you didn’t go take karate lessons at 3am over the summer! I saw you both at the same place.”

you sigh, hoping his rant is over. there’s nothing you can say, you feel bad and a little bit sorry. you’re sorry that he’s the last to know the truth, but you promise you’ll always be his friend first. you promise to tell him the important stuff first and jack second, you want nothing to change between you two.

“I’m sorry you had to find out last.” jack says watching Luke’s eyes dart back to the screen, a flush of anger rushes over his face.

“Quinn knew before me?!”

“I gotta go, I’ll see you in a couple of days, y/n!”

#hockey imagines #hockey #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fanfic #luke hughes #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes blurb #hockey blurb #nhl hockey #hockey imagine #hockey blurbs #hockey x reader #hockey fluff #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl blurbs #new jersey devils #hockey fic #New Jersey devils imagine #New Jersey devils blurbs

[calummss]

20 Reasons To Love You | Klaus Mikaelson

part one: 1920s Love : masterlist

summary: after your encounter with the original vampire, he asks you to the school dance. your salvatore cousins try to get in the way but you’re tired of being protected. you are starting to like the so called original vampire, but is it an illusion or the real deal

pairing: fem! reader x klaus mikaelson

words: 3.1k

a/n: part 2 is finally out. i love this piece so much because just like the first the reader is confident but unsure at the same time and i think that accurate describes me and many others. here’s to my fellow klaus mikaelson lover that love him as much as i do (not possible). enjoy!!

‘I’m here to take you to the 1920s, love.’

You stood at the door, too many words racing through your mind.

‘I don’t have a dress, I— well I never expected to go so I never bought a dress.” You sighed, each word becoming more airy as you managed to take him in. ‘I don’t have a dress…’

Dark blonde hair, pink plush lips, a white suit that fit him like a second skin. He was handsome. More handsome than you’d ever say out loud, the rumours of his behaviour and actions not scaring you, but making you tone down any infatuation that could be drawn out.

‘I thought it best you’d wear an actual dress from your decade,’ He nodded one of his witches over, his arms engulfed around a light pink box, a white ribbon decorating it. ‘I saved this for a special occasion.’ He smiled at you. ‘I think today is it.’

‘Original?’

‘Original.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ your eyes never left the box, ‘I would ruin it. It’s too precious.’

He gave his witch another silent order who pushed past you to walk into the house.

‘Hello?’ You shouted at her but she was long gone.

Klaus took a closer step, so close the smell of his perfume hit you softly, ‘Do me a favour and wear it, darling. You could only do it justice. We don’t have much time now. Change.’

‘But—‘

‘No buts.’

‘Fine,’ you sighed as you took hold of the dress box, your cheeks starting you shake the apples of your cheeks, smiling ear to ear as you finally held it in your hands. ‘Wait for me.’

‘Do you even have to ask, love?’

Returning a smile you hurried away, the dress screaming to be worn as you couldn’t believe that your frame would wear something so beautiful and of such good quality from decades ago. A decade that had long been your favourite. Wearing a piece of history, brought to you by a vampire everyone seemed terrified out of their minds.

When you finally got the dress on and fixed your hair as well as jewellery, you headed back downstairs. Your heels carrying you differently; at least you thought. Klaus still stood by the entrance outside, eyeing something in the front yard.

‘How do I look?’ You called out, his head turning in an instant.

‘Like the sparkles of an ocean on an early summer morning.’

Your heart fluttered. Never had you heard anything so romantic. Whenever you asked someone they simply said pretty. Barely paying attention to the way you looked but Klaus, Klaus looked at you like a canvas. Paying attention to every detail like he was an artist, captivated by his creation. Ready to hang it up to admire it all year around.

Arriving at Mystic Falls High School you already saw that the grounds had empty liquor bottles laying on the ground, waiting for someone to trip over. You almost were a victim. As for the people in this crowded area, they reminded you of the beer bottles: empty and pretty useless. But they were carefree; unaware of the reality that was Mystic Falls.

Every girl looked similar. All wore short flapper dresses and headbands only the colours differentiating them from one another. They looked beautiful but repeativness got boring fast. You however shined. A white satin gown, thin straps, insinuating your chest, the fabric gently hugging your curves as it pooled at your feet. Paired with a beautiful pearl necklace and a white fur scarf that completed the look. Simple but classy.

Walking up towards the entrance, you locked eyes with a certain someone you tried to ignore the entirety of the evening, but he saw you. The glare in his eyes causing you to stop in your tracks, his raven hair that blended into the night coming closer.

‘Didn’t expect to see you here, Damon.’ You mused, your right arm hooked with Klaus’, your other hand on his shoulder as you smiled at Damon.

‘Go home.’ Damon stated, his eyes drilling holes into your soul.

‘You don’t get to tell me what to do.’

‘Actually I can,’ he smirked, his stupid grin spreading heat through your limbs. ‘I am your legal guardian.’

‘Only ‘cause you killed Uncle Zach,’ you snapped, taking your arms from Klaus’ body, stepping closer to Damon, asserting yourself against him. ‘Not very guardian like?’

Damon’s head scanned the surrounding area, making sure no one could listen in. ‘Don’t cause a scene, Y/n.’

‘Don’t patronise me.’

‘Again,’ he tried suppressing his voice, ‘don’t cause a scene and go home.’

‘No.’ You snapped. ’I am going to my school dance which by the way I have more of a right to be at than you, and enjoy dancing with my date.’

‘Date from hell…’

‘Well then he isn’t much different from you after all,’ you placed your arms back in Niklaus’ arm, giving Damon a sarcastic smile. ‘Move.’

Damon didn’t move, instead he stepped closer, his eyes continuing to stay on you, his lips pressed together.

‘You heard the lady,’ Klaus said. You didn’t look at his face but you could tell he was smirking at Damon. ‘Move, Damon.’

Klaus and you stepped past Damon, walking towards the entrance, the music increasing in volume as you stepped through the door.

Down in the gym, people were already dancing. Music blasting through the room, balloons, tinsel and much more of the decorations the walls and floor carried that you dragged yourself to every Tuesday and Thursday, dreading to move. Rather wanting to participate in every girl’s favourite subjects: English and history. Walking towards the dance floor you saw Damon walking up to Alaric, their eyes on you as soon as Damon whispered something and you knew that their eyes would follow your every move.

‘What are they saying?’ You asked Klaus, your eyes still on the pair as you started swaying in rhythm. Bodies close as you felt the warmth of his body.

‘Talking about various ways to ruin our night and all the ways they can kill me.’

You pushed your tongue against your teeth, staring straight ahead into Klaus’ shoulder. ‘Damon, I know you can hear me,’ you started to whisper. ‘Leave me and my dating life alone. I’m 19 years old, not six. And don’t you dare try to ignore me or roll your stupid blue eyes at me because I will rip that little smug of your face.’ You turned around to see Alaric and Damon go towards the punch table, visibly irritated on your behalf yet still they took the hint and backed off for now.

‘I knew there was a reason I liked you.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Don’t hold back on my account.’ He chimed. ‘Feisty women are my weakness.’

‘I’m feisty?’ Not a word generally used to describe you.

‘Hmm, also confident; unsure; great company; an amazing dancer and best of all, not intimidated by me since the second you met me and found out who I was.’

You hesitated before speaking. Was it rude to ask such an invasive question? Would he answer it? Would it spark his mood to change?

‘Why is everyone so afraid of you?’ You asked in a careful tone, not sure if the vampire would switch up on you.

‘I do terrible things.’

‘People do terrible things all the time.’

‘I created new sins.’ His deep eyes gazed at you, his soft plumpish lips leaving every word ingrained into your mind, begging to know what his lips would feel like lingered onto yours.

‘Such as…?’

‘Let’s not get into it, love.’

‘I can handle it.’ You separated your body from his, staring up at him. ‘I have heard what you have done but I’ve also seen your actions: listening to me, talking to me and making me feel interesting, getting me a dress to a school dance I wasn’t planning on going to.’ You smiled slightly. ‘That takes a heart to do.’ You placed your hands above his chest, tapping lightly with an almost jestful tone. ‘And you have a pretty strong one.’

Klaus gazed at you ever so gently, his eyes flickered to your lips as his mind turned hungry at the thought of your kiss. Not craving the taste of warm blood, freshly pumped out of a human vein. No. He craved you in a way that was unfamiliar to him. Klaus wanted you to be close to him, to feel your heartbeat so close it would beat in union with his. To feel your lips on his skin, the taste of your skin without the blood. The thought of tasting your blood left an uncertain feeling in his stomach; quease mixed with disdain. He didn’t want to hurt you or leave a scratch on your skin. All he wanted was the moisture of his lips to sit upon your skin. Light, gently, accepted.

The sound of music faded when you realised you were leaning in. His eyes felt like paralysing poison as you inched closer. Your heart beat in your throat when his face came closer too. He too wanted this. You could feel his breath ricocheting off your face, and when your lips met the music stopped. His lips kissed you gently, coming back for more as one his hands slid towards your face, holding you delicately as the other went down to your back to support you. Your hands moved to his head, grabbing a handful of hair as you parted your lips to let him get a better taste of you. Your mind was blank, your stomach filled to the brim with butterflies that duplicated every second he was touching you; flattering their tiny wings as the space to move began to decrease. Every kiss grew more passionate. Air was flowing out, barely catching breath as he felt like the air you were supposed to breathe all along.

Separating from his touch you let yourself breathe, your chest falling and rising as you held his eyes, too beautiful to be true. Eyes that belonged to a killer that just held you like you were the most delicate flower.

‘Can we go somewhere more quiet?’ You leaned in, your social battery slowly decreasing as you craved a quiet and still place to be with him.

Klaus brought you to his mansion he bought a few weeks ago, saying he was to stay in Mystic Falls for a while. His house was filled with artworks of the most incredible artists. Each piece crafted to perfection.

Guiding you to a back room you took notice of different materials and colours. Canvases and easels to hold them up. One painting was finished by the look of your eyes. It stood on an easel in the middle of the room, close to a candle light that shined just enough to admire the painting.

‘May I speak out loud my interpretation of this painting?’ Your eyes scanned the framed piece, the candle gently casting a light above the painting. ‘I know that artists want to be understood as they pour their thoughts and feelings onto the canvas, yet someone else saying out loud what the artist was too cautious to say themselves, can evoke an uncomfortableness. That someone truly understands them is more often an artist's greatest fear.’

Klaus stood by your right shoulder, silently gazing at his painting from behind your frame. His silence, his breath, made you turn your head to the side. Just enough to catch his breath on your cheek, just enough to let the corner of your mouth tip curl, allowing you to feel his intimacy.

‘I suppose the painter felt lonely whilst crafting their piece. The way dark colours engulf the lighter ones. The way the colours meet but never mix,’

His hand gently brushed along the curve of your shoulder, giving you the insight of Klaus’ guard let down when he was immersed in his art.

‘Careful and precise strokes show me the delicacy behind the fragile thoughts that are meant to be the painter’s release. The small firefly, so tiny its illuminating glow is barely caught with the first impression of the painting, is fascinating to me. Despite the painter’s sadness and pain, there must have been something in the moment that compelled them to leave behind something so coruscating. Something tells me that the painter is trying to find their way. Whether it be to themselves or to someone.’

‘The way you analyse art, Y/n, is beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?‘

‘I suppose I find beauty in darkness quite fascinating…painting or painter,’ you placed your gloved hand on top of his. The warmth of his skin pervasively fighting through the silk fabric.

‘The firefly I must admit is you. You are the firefly in my thoughts. You glow amongst the darkest part of my mind. Just the mere thought of you makes me feel like I am a different man even if I don’t want to change…’

You turned around and gave Klaus a sweet but quick kiss. ‘You don’t have to change. I like you for who you are and I must admit, this night has made me realise just how much I actually like you. It feels fast but safe at the same time.’

Klaus returned it with another kiss. ‘Normally I like a chase but I simply need to be yours.’

‘Would you ever draw me?’ An innocent question, soft- eyed waiting for a response. A small smile sweeping across his face.

‘I actually already have,’ he said, his cheeks a fair rosé, barely noticeable to anyone who didn’t pay attention but you, how you took notice of every detail that made him him.

‘You have?’ You grinned. ‘Why?’

‘I mostly paint things that mean a lot to me,’ he took a look at his paintings. ‘Mostly landscapes…and you…’

It warmed your heart but you didn’t show, only the palm of your hand pressing into your other, love overflowing your body.

‘I suppose one day I should return the favour, though I cannot promise you’ll look anything like the real you.’

Klaus let out a laugh, his eyes smiling like the crescent moon of night that shone over his garden outside. Eyes sparkling like the stars.

‘Would you like another dance outside?’ He asked, noticing your longing look at the porch, illuminated by fairy lights that left a magical feeling within you.

‘I certainly would.’

Holding out your hand you followed him outside, the slight cold breeze nothing but relaxing as you swayed with Klaus again. This time it felt nicer. Alone, just the two, surrounded by nothing but darkness and crickets of the summer night giving your silence a nice touch of tone.

‘I want to give you something,’ Klaus searched for something in his pocket. When he finally pulled it out he continued to say, ‘This vial contains vampire blood.’

You stared at the vile, red liquid calming floating behind the glass.

‘It’s my brother Elijah’s blood.’

Doe eyed and furrowed eyebrows stared back at him, ‘Why not yours?’

‘If I could, trust me I would. For a vampire there’s nothing worse than blood sharing with someone’s partner,’ he held your gaze. ‘But if I gave you my blood, little one, you would die.’

‘I don’t understand? Why would I die?’

‘Well here’s some information only my family and one witch know…I’m a vampire and a werewolf. A hybrid. If I were to feed you my blood you would die the next day. Bad blood.’

‘Oh,’ disappointment covered your words, weirdly enough bummed that it wasn’t Klaus’ blood you would be carrying around to protect you in case you needed it.

‘This blood is here for whenever you decide you want that change in your life you talked about.’ Klaus’ finger grazed against the skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. ‘I like you, Y/n and I won’t compel you to take it. I like you and if I could I would spend eternity with you. I know it hasn’t been long but you feel good for me.’

Your lips caught his. ‘Of course I will wear it.’

‘Make sure to keep it safe.’

‘I will.’ You hand found his face, giving in once more into temptation, his sensation too good for you.

You played with the vial between your fingers, a wave of warmth rushing over you as you realised just how much you liked Klaus. But as much as you liked him it was getting late…

‘I think it’s best that I go home. It is late and Damon and Stefan are probably going crazy…’

‘I’ll take you home.’

Klaus dropped you off just before the door, watching as you safely entered the Salvatore house. And before the door even closed you could hear Damon’s taunting voice echoing through the halls of the boarding house.

‘Where have you been?’

‘With my date.’ You carelessly threw the keys to the side, walking past Damon to try and get into the kitchen to get something to drink.

‘You can’t date him, Y/n.’ Damon growled, his eyebrows pulled to his eyes as his voice grew louder. ‘He’s a bad person.’

‘Who cares?’ You uttered, pouring yourself a drink as you watched Damon pace towards you.

‘I care!’

‘Since when?!’

‘Since always!’

‘Damon,’ You breathed. ‘I love you, I truly do but are you so blind to not realise that you too are a bad person? You used Caroline; killed Lexi, Stefan’s only friend; Uncle Zach? Why can those actions be excused by literally everyone yet apparently Klaus is where we all draw the line huh?’ Words spilled from your lips as the pit in your stomach started to burn a ball of annoyance. ‘Because he shows no remorse at all? Newsflash neither did you and just because you feel it now doesn't make your actions any more excused. I like the way he is. I like the fact that he is a bad person but a good person to me. Someone that finally pays attention to me!’

Damon stayed quiet, his face obvious to the hypocrisy that everyone was participating in yet he was still angry at you and the fact that you were capable of making your own decisions no matter how bad or good they were.

‘If he hurts you don’t come crying to me,’ Damon turned around to walk away.

‘Oh please as soon as I cry because of anyone that person ends up hurt. If you’re trying to pretend not to care about me, good luck.’

‘You wish.’

‘Ah fuck,’ you whinced, a wave of pain shooting through your finger.

Damon’s vampire speed brought his feet back to you, your hand in his as he took a look at what pained you.

‘Told you so,’ you mocked.

‘Ass hat.’

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson imagines #klaus mikaelson blurbs #klaus mikaelson blurb #klaus mikaelson headcanon #klaus mikaelson headcanons #klaus mikaelson fic #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson smut #klaus mikaelson angst #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson x you #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x y/n #tvd #tvd imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries #mikaelson family #mystic falls #joseph morgan #tvd fanfiction #tvd fandom #tvd universe #the vampire diaries imagines #klaus mikaelson is the loml 🩷

[animeomegas]

Hello! Recently I'm having Haku brainrot.

Can I request Haku spending his heat with his Alpha. It didn't need to be NSFW(maybe they are cuddling in his nest🥺🤧) honestly, I just want to spoil him and kiss him lmaoo

(Understandable, anon, I too am often plagued by brainrot XD)

Post-Heat Relaxation with Haku

Sometimes, your mate reminded you of a cat.

Not all the time, of course. He loved swimming, smelling his herb garden, and he quite frankly thrived in freezing temperatures, likely due to a side effect of his bloodline limit. In those regards, he was very human.

And yet now, as you watched him lounge on the window seat, naked and stretched out, languishing in the sun, you couldn't help but draw a comparison.

Haku had a kind of aura that drew others in, lulled them into a sense of security and safety, like a siren at sea, and as his mate, you were not the exception to that power.

You were supposed to be cleaning up. Only one of the two large bags of nesting supplies were clean, and none of the back up supplies were out yet, but Haku's power was too strong. When you heard the little contended purrs that he was letting out, you simply couldn't resist approaching him.

"The nest is almost ready for rebuilding," you said gently, crouching down by the window seat and resting your cheek on the smooth, warm skin of his bare waist. You pressed a kiss there and Haku hummed in delight.

"There's no rush, I'm quite happy here." Haku stretched languidly, grumbling pleasantly at the stretch. "The sun is so lovely today."

Yes, you thought, amused, definitely a cat.

"Not as lovely as you."

Haku smiled, his stomach jumping in amusement under your cheek. You pressed a couple more kisses to the heated skin before sitting upright. His hair was still damp from his earlier bath and you couldn't resist running your fingers through it, careful to avoid tugging on any tangles.

"How are you feeling?"

"Amazing," he breathed, closing his eyes again.

"Are you sure?" you asked, still stroking his hair. "Your heat was more intense than usual this year, and if I'm tired, you must be."

He laughed lightly, "I'm sure I'm fine, stop worrying so much, silly." He turned his gaze back towards the window, seemingly happy to gaze at his much loved garden.

You remembered the first ever nest Haku had built when he moved to Konoha. Well, you hadn't been allowed inside it at the time, but you remembered him speaking about building it inside his wardrobe. Wardrobe's weren't an uncommon place for omegas to utilise for nest building, but for Haku it had been a sign of his anxiety in a new place.

Now, here, he seemed so much more at home, where nature bled through to where he was nesting, where he could bask in a cool summer's breeze and warm patches of sunlight. The idea of him being contained in a small, dark wardrobe didn't feel right at all.

You had provided this den, this home, for him, and he felt safe here. Your omega felt so safe, he could lay naked, in front of an open window, at one of his most vulnerable moments. Your stomach clenched, as every instinctual part of you purred in delight.

"Just call me back over when it's time for me to rebuild the nest," he said, yawning. "I might take a nap here."

You ran your hand from his hair, down his body, appreciating the subtle curves and grooves as you went, "Okay, darling, have a good nap."

"I will." His beautiful eyes fluttered closed. He was the picture of contentment.

You nuzzled into his neck, placing one final kiss on his newly refreshed mating mark, before stepping away to continue washing the soiled fabrics of his nest.

#haku #a/b/o #omegaverse #x reader #alpha!reader #hcs #headcanons #omega haku #reader insert

[loveshotzz]

Here’s a little preview of everyone’s favorite Tamagotchi Daddy 😚 and an appearance at the end by your fave bartender.

Whatta Man Masterlist | Rick’s Party Playlist

as a reminder my blog is 18 +

Sheer curtains sway with a pink glow from the flashing sign outside your apartment, the nip in the October air makes goosebump dance across your exposed skin from the crack in your bedroom window. The summer heat came and went like it always does but not the cute bouncer you took home the first warm night of the year.

Weckx-N-Effect’s ‘Rump Shaker’ spills through the boombox in your living room where Steve stands in front of your long mirror, dressed as John Dalton from Road House, you hear the pitch in his voice deepen,

“Take the biggest guy in the world, shatter his knee and he’ll drop like a stone.”

Rolling your eyes at the line you’ve heard both him and Patrick Swayze deliver all week long, you adjust the white and blue trimmed high waisted basketball shorts that hug your curves before tugging down the cropped Tune Squad mesh tank that matches. Straightening your bunny ears, you turn around to inspect your tail, bubble gum pink glossed lips turning up into a pleased smirk with the height the white platform sneakers on your feet give you. Humming in approval because you know Baby Spice would be proud, your shoulders wiggle in excitement as you apply another layer of gloss before smacking your lips loudly.

“Hey Doc, you got the goods earlier right?” The bouncer calls out.

His boots sound heavy on your shag rug making his way towards the bathroom and even though you saw his outfit earlier, when Steve’s handsome face appears next to yours in the mirror with a wide grin, you still flutter around nothing. Dark emerald eyes turn black as they drink in your costume, and you're almost positive yours look the same admiring the thick patch of hair on full display in his white loose fitting button up. Long sleeves rolled up to his elbows with the top three undone just like Dalton’s.

The extra button reveals more than usual, including the silver chain that dangles from his neck. It shines under the dark curls that cover his chest when it hits the bright lights above you, matching the belt buckle attached to the black leather that holds his tight fitting jeans to his waist. The ivory of his shirt makes his permanently sunkissed skin glow, thighs pressing together when he licks his full lips, moles moving with his cheeks when he grins.

“Jesus, you look - fuck, why’s the tail doing it for me?” Finally breaking character, he runs a hand through his hair, the ring wrapped around his middle finger catching your eye in his reflection.

“Stop calling me that or everyone is going to think I’m Bugs Bunny.” You huff and his lips twitch at your pout, “and if by goods you mean, the Roadhouse soundtrack, yes I picked it up from your friend Robin.”

Turning around, you lean against the sink, the reminder of your promise to recreate the sex scene with him tonight has you giving him an extra exaggerated roll of your eyes, a smile lighting up your face despite yourself. Steve’s big black boots cross the threshold, thick rubber soles squeaking against the rose colored tile, he closes the small distance to stand in front of you.

The warm smell of his Calvin Klein CK One cologne lingers fresh on the cotton of his shirt, along with the faint hint of your hairspray when he stole a spritz when he first got to your apartment. The cinnamon from his Big Red is hot on his breath, the whites of his teeth showing in a grin as he pushes the gum to the other side of his mouth with a tongue that was between your thighs just a few hours ago.

“I’m sorry baby, I’ll stop. I can’t help it when I’m in character you know?” One of his big hands comes up to your face, long fingers spreading across your jaw tilting your mouth towards his. The bouncer takes in your done up features in the light, and the pucker of your glittery lips, looking at him like you needed to be kissed. “No one is going to think a pretty thing like you is anything other than hot.”

“Good.” You try to say it with more conviction, but the way he keeps looking at you like he wants to eat you alive makes it come out quiet.

“Oh yeah?” He questions with a quirked brow, his boots moving the one step left to stand in the space you made for him between your legs. The tip of his nose runs along the bridge of yours, his other hand finding a new home on the plush curve of your hip to pull you even closer. The denim doing nothing to hide just how much your outfit was affecting him.

“I’m gonna have to follow you around all night aren’t I? Gonna make me abuse my power and kick anyone out who even looks at my girl like they got a chance huh?” Steve mutters his threat against your lips, the tips of his fingers digging into the dip in your cheeks bringing your mouth to his.

The strawberry of your gloss is sweeter than it was thirty minutes ago and it makes him groan when his kiss turns possessive, tongues meeting in the middle when he licks into your mouth. Your hands find their way to his chest, your palms finding the warm skin of his chest, the blunt ends of your nails dragging through the dark thatch of hair. He nips at your bottom lip when he lets you go. Pink glitter staining his when he pulls away sticky, eyes blown wide feeling the way your leg starts to lift over his hip, daring him to come back for more.

He tuts at you with whatever self control he has left, letting his hungry gaze drop down to drink up every dip and soft curve on display for him. Your back arches under the heat of it and Steve catches the puffy tail resting perfectly on the curve of your ass in the reflection. His responsibility to get downstairs in five minutes doesn’t seem so important anymore.

“I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you.” He sounds almost angry, and pride swells in your chest.

His hand slides from your waist, fingertips tips dragging down the soft dough of your thigh making the hem of your shorts bunch up when he hooks them under your knee. He accepts your dare with a roll of his hips, his grin turning salacious when you gasp.

“That’s kinda the point, duh” the giggle that leaves your mouth is breathy as he ducks his head down to the crook of your neck to suck a fresh bruise where the previous one he left last week is almost healed, “oh my godddd.”

His lips curve against you, the hint of stubble along his jaw tickles as he makes his way with greedy lips to all the sensitive spots he’s discovered over the last few months, including the new one he found the other night right below your ear. He nips at the soft skin when your fingers tangle themselves into his hair with a harsh tug at his roots, the back of your calf pressing against his ass encouraging him more.

“Earlier wasn’t enough, my girl needs more attention doesn’t she?” His taunting comes out next to the shell of your ear, the deep baritone making you shiver. “It’s only been a few hours and you want me that bad again, huh?”

Your eyes hit the back of your head when he rolls your earlobe between his teeth. Another tug to his hair, a whine pushing past your pink lips trying to get more of anything he’ll give you.

“Come on baby, don’t be shy.” He hums pulling away from your neck, finally letting go of your face to squeeze at the fat of your ass propped on the sink, long fingers playing with your tail. “Tell me, I wanna hear it.”

The song on the radio changes, and Mase’s ‘What You Want’ encourages the next grind of your hips.

“Gonna make me beg for it Steve?” You pout looking up at him from under your lashes, relishing in the way you feel him twitch in his jeans at the thought. One of your hands trails down the muscles of his stomach, biting your lip when they twitch under your fingertips, adding more to the growing problem in your underwear.

The incessant high pitch beeping of both your tamagotchi’s cuts through the tension like a knife, making both of you freeze and you catch the way his eyes widen, the color coming back at the realization of their need to be fed.

“Steve, I swear to god-“ Your disbelief is quickly cut off by the bellowing voice of a certain bartender from outside your window.

“Hey! Asshole! I know you’re up there. Get your dick in your pants and get down here and help! It’s fucking Halloween!”

Eddie sounds like he’s already at his wits end, and you swear you hear him say ‘before I fuckin’ kill Rick’ as the bar door creaks open before slamming shut behind him.

#my writing #whatta man #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagines #bouncer!steve

[vincentmatthews]

♡~OC Asks~♡

{Please specify which OC the question is targeted to, for people who may have more than one. Thank you and have fun💕}

{Safe questions}

🦋What is their favorite season?

☕️What is their favorite coffee/tea?

🍓What is their favorite fruit?

🍿Favorite show/movie?

🧁What's their dream date place?

🎀Do they have something they collect? {Stamps, rocks, stickers, etc}

🐾Do they have a pet? What are they, and what's their name?

🌿Do they like camping or road trips?

🍋Do you have a song that you associate with them?

🥞What breakfast dish instantly reminds them of home or being a kid?

🍕What's their guilty pleasure food?

🥝Do they have a food allergy or food they hate?

🍉What is their favorite summer food?

🎄Favorite holiday?

🎃What would their Halloween outfit be?

🎁What is something they keep like: a souvenir, a keepsake, or a family heirloom; that means a lot to them? Why is it so important to them?

🧸Do they have a stuffed animal or item they've kept from when they were a kid?

🍷What is their drink of choice? Both alcoholic and non-alcoholic?

🔪Say they were put in a classic 80s slasher/horror setting, who would they be? {Example: The killer. The dude who dies first. Etc.}

🍄Say it's their love interests' birthday, how would they celebrate it?

🎟Say they go to a fair/carnival, what fair treat would they get to eat, and what attraction would they like the most?

🌊What is a phobia of theirs?

🐁Do they find a creature cute, that normal people don't? Such as spiders, rats, snakes, sharks, etc?

🦴Have they ever broken a bone or had any sort of major injuries before? If so, what was their ailment?

🍰What is their favorite dessert?

♥️Favorite color?

🎈If they could travel anywhere, where would they go?

🌻Favorite flower?

🦝What do they smell like?

🍞What smell reminds them of home or better days?

🧿Do they have a superstition or belief? Such as "black cats bring bad luck", belief in ghosts, tarot, crystals, meditation, etc.

🥰Tell me about a time they'd get romantic with someone {keep it pg-13 please}

💫What do they wish on shooting stars? What is their one wish they want to come true?

🪴Free Space for your own question~♡

🔮Random Question chosen by the poster~♡

{Spicy Questions}

🌶Where have they almost been caught having sex? And what were they almost caught doing?

🩵Do they bite or leave hickies on their partner? And do they leave them where people can see it? Or do they hide them and press on the marks when they're in public?

🍇What is their sexuality? And what is their "type"?

🍼Do they have kids? Or are they willing to have any?

🍾What's the the kinkiest thing they've done while drunk at a party?

🍪What is their dirty name for their partner?

🥀Do they have a favorite position?

🧨If they could screw anyone without any consequences, who would they choose?

🎉Say it's their love interests' birthday, how would they celebrate it~?

🌽Have they ever done a dirty video before? Either alone, or with others? If so, has anyone ever "found" it?

🥑What are some of their random kinks/fetishes?

🥥How vocal are they, during sex?

🍐Say they wanted to look sexy for their partner, what sort of outfit would they wear?

🍑How did they react to having their "first time?" And was their partner understanding if they were nervous?

🥧Have they ever had a one-night stand when they were drunk?

🐹What "pet" names do they like being used for them? {Babe, Kitten, Puppy, Mutt, etc.}

🐺Tell me about their first time trying bondage~♡

🔥Do they get turned on by strange things, such as fire, chaos, blood, etc?

🧀Are people with piercings and tattoos a +1 on them being attracted to them?

🐧Do they have a safe word? What is it?

💉Have they done drugs before? Which ones? And are they addicted to anything?

🌹Tell me about a time they'd get romantic with someone {you can add the kink here}

💋Do they kiss first? And do they bite their lips if they're mischievous or aroused? And do they bite their partner's lips when they try and pull away?

🍀Free Space for your own question~♡

🎲Random Question chosen by the poster~♡

#Sorry it's so long I've been working on this for a while #oc ask thing #oc asks #oc questions #oc prompt #oc #ask prompt #cyberpunk oc #I made this for y'all but please feel free to ask me~♡ #Only if you want that is 🥺👉👈

[fizee]

Non Disclosure Agreement 📃🖋️

Naoya x Reader | 3.3k | 18+ only!

Includes: female!reader, femdom!reader, man ass getting ate, submissive!naoya (mostly).

Content Warnings: consensual sexual asphyxiation, blatant cheating, prostitution, casual sexism.

Part of the Jujutsu Journal collab hosted by @ayyy-pee, thank you so much for including me! A big thank you to @mysteria157 for beta'ing extensively for me, as well as a couple of my close friends, and a big happy birthday to (you know who you are)

Naoya hates the rain.

Even in the summer months it’s less refreshing to him and more of a nuisance- sticky, damp, and everywhere. It pitters and soaks into his clothes and he would have brought an umbrella- if this was a place where anyone cared about getting rained on.

It's not.

The hotel is dingy and not worthy of the sad little three star review rating it managed to gain. The pavement he steps over is cracked, and the entrance he steps through is worn. Whatever. It suits his needs, even if it makes his clothes stink. He’d never get recognized in this part of town.

He gives the front desk clerk a cursory glance- feeling snide at the state of his wrinkled shirt and miserably nonchalant disposition. Naoya doesn’t have to check in, nobody does here. But he drops cash on the desk and keeps walking, not caring if it’s too much or too little.

You had already texted him the room number. He wonders if a place like this even has an elevator.

He turns down the hall and is only mildly surprised to find that there is, indeed, an elevator, despite this place only having three stories. It’s got trace amounts of rust. It squeals when the doors slide open.

He glances at his watch, tapping the screen to pull up your text. 36. He scoffs to himself. You and your third floors. Something about feeling unsafe on the first floor, which is stupid. He’s never understood that about you.

He finds the room quickly, ignoring the fact that as he gets closer, his collar feels tighter. It’s been too long since he’s seen you. He swears he can smell your perfume over all the mildew in the disgusting sixty year old hallway carpet. The perfume was his choice, of course. A birthday gift. You had almost refused it, saying that you don’t take gifts from clients and blah blah blah. He’s not one to look a horse in the mouth, so he had made you suck his cock to earn it. It does smell good on you.

He knocks quickly, six short thuds on the door. He doesn’t bother to try the handle, he knows it’s locked. He gives a quick glance at the hallway around him when he hears the door unlock, and watches the handle turn.

“Mr. Zenin.” You greet him with a graceful smile. He rolls his eyes and walks past you into the room, not wanting to linger in the hallway.

“You’re late,” you accuse sweetly. “A half hour late, to be precise.”

“Put it on my tab.” He grumbles. You just smile, approaching him and helping him out of his coat just how he likes, smoothing your hands out over his back as you do. You hook the coat over the crooked little hanger that juts out of the wall, looking stupidly bespoke on outdated wallpaper.

He takes a seat unceremoniously in the faded pink chair sitting opposite the bed.

“This place is a dump.” He says. He eyes your clothes- pink and flowy, opaque but not thick enough to hide your shape. It flows over you like water, and his collar feels tighter. You smile gently and walk over to press your palms into his shoulders from behind.

“Dumps keep secrets.” You murmur. His hair smells good. You press your face to it and kiss him gently.

“Far cry from Aman,” He complains, reminding you of the hotel you had met each other in, all the way across the world.

“God, I haven’t thought of that place in years,” You run your fingers in the dips of his collarbones, laughing gently, “You were the only sober one at that party, stuck out like a sore thumb.”

“And you were the only whore not hanging off a man’s neck.”

“What can I say?” You undo the top few buttons of his shirt to expose his skin to your warm touch, “I’ve got… refined tastes.”

He hums. His watch dings once but he doesn’t bother to check it. He runs a hand over his jaw, reminiscing of how you had looked in that party room, full of investment cucks and coke addicted businessmen and glittery, shimmering whores. You seemed to almost glow under the dim lights, alone, calling to him with your gaze.

He sighs.

“Long day?” You ask.

“Long month.” He mutters bitterly. “You didn’t return my calls.”

“I was on vacation.” You dig your fingers into his trapezius soothingly, finding the spots that make him melt gooey like butter.

“Since when do whores take vacations?”

“Since filthy rich married men started paying them extra.”

He snorts. He reaches up and grabs your hand, pressing his mouth to your warm fingertips.

“Did you miss me?” You ask playfully, ducking your head to giggle in his ear, “Or did you miss my-“

You’re cut off when he grabs your face and holds you so he can plant a slightly slobbery kiss on your lips. Your glossy red lipstick smears on his mouth. He has his belt unbuckled by the time he releases his hold on you, but you frown for a moment.

“I thought you didn’t drink?” You had definitely tasted the alcohol on his tongue, but drunk he did not seem. Far from it. He’s looking up at you with an icy clarity.

“I don’t.”

“Mhmm. Does Mrs. Zenin know?”

“You’re a cunt,” he says, but there is no real bite behind it. “A stupid cunt. Suck me off.”

“Is that really what you want?” You snake around the chair, putting yourself in his lap. It’s a bit awkward with the bulky, ugly chair, but you manage to press the very core of you where he's most sensitive. Your hands drift up his chest and rest at his neck, and you lean in to whisper against his mouth.

“You’ll have work for that.” You kiss him gently. “Unless, of course, you can ask nicely for once.”

His mouth pulls into a half hearted sneer but his cheeks glow pink. His eyes meet yours and his pupils are wide and dark and calm, two tiny black lakes.

His silence is his answer.

“You really did miss me,” You murmur sweetly, bringing your hands up to press around his neck, thumbs securely pressed on either side of his windpipe. You press hard. His face slowly goes red. His hips jerk in pavlovian response. You can feel the hard length of him against the curve of your ass, begging to be free of his pants.

He gasps finally, Inhaling quickly through his constricted throat. He doesn’t avert his eyes from yours, looking at you desperately while you grind against him and tighten your grip on his neck even more. His hands grab at the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white. He tries to keep his breathing even, but it comes in quick, needy huffs.

“I hope you can be good for me tonight.” You coo. You kiss him. He whines, attempting to chase your mouth when you pull away, but you keep an iron grip on his neck, preventing him from moving more than an inch.

You give him one more hard press into his lap and you can tell he’s already close, and so soon! His eyes are slightly glazed, drool threatening to drip from his open mouth. You'd bet all the money he’s paying you that he’s already leaking if you reached and touched him.

You release him suddenly, rubbing over his shoulders while he gasps for a full breath. He keeps his palms firmly to the chair, resisting the urge to grab you and hold you to him and ruin the ridiculously expensive pants he’s got on.

You slide off his lap and stand to soak in the view- the red streaks chasing over his neck, the tent in his pants.

“Stand up. Clothes off.” You tell him, dropping your robe to the floor. You don’t strip down like he begins to do, instead leaving the matching slip covering your body.

You hum in approval as he removes his shirt, eating up the lovely shape of his body. He’s always taken care of himself, almost obsessively so. His pants are next to go, and then the non descript black briefs.

He averts his eyes as he stands before you, nude. His erection twitches in the cold air.

“Got some tanning done, did you?” You step in and pet over his taught stomach, grazing low to tease him.

“Malibu.” He says, some of that snide returning, “and you could have come with me if you’d returned my calls.”

“I remember that. Some of your twitter fanboys posted about it. I doubt Mrs. Zenin would have appreciated me coming with you on a family trip.”

“Wasn’t really a family trip.” He grits out as you feather over his hips, his thighs, appreciating what a specimen he is. “The boys stayed with the nanny the whole time. And she just-“ he grunts when you reach lower and touch his balls, avoiding his cock alltogether, “She’s a prize tuna, I’ll give her that. Not like you.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s an extra six hundred if you want me to listen to you badmouth your wife. Get on the bed.”

He looks like he's going to say something, mouth parting and brow furrowing. You peer at him warmly, your pupils as blown as his. He closes his mouth, deciding not to say whatever was knocking around in his head, and climbs onto the bed without fanfare.

You watch him closely, enjoying the view of his nude body splayed out and primed for you to play with. He’s flushed everywhere he’s sensitive- his face, his chest, his cock. Without stimulation you see it already going half soft, so you kneel onto the bed over him and place your palm against his head. He gasps and jerks, grabs your wrist but quickly loosens his grip and just holds you there.

“C’mon,” he pleads. Though he’d cuss and whine if you described it as pleading. He ruts himself against your palm, his teeth dig into his lower lip. It's not enough but it’s also too much. He’s always been sensitive.

“You could ask.” You say, knowing he won’t. You pull away and his fingers twitch with the need to take himself in hand.

“You’re a bitch.” He says. “Evil fucking bitch.”

You laugh. It’s a light and gentle thing. He doesn’t think about how nice it sounds.

“You really know how to talk to a lady, huh?” You press on his shoulder, making him lay back fully.

“I can hardly call you a lady.” He’s got a hungry look in his eyes. He looks good laying there- hair slightly ruffled, cheeks pink. It’s a sight you’ve seen a dozen times but you’ll never grow tired of.

He lays still, waiting. He glowers at you while you make him wait. You come up near his head and sling a leg over his neck.

“Maybe this will shut you up.” You hike up the slip you wear and grin down at him. No, of course you’re not wearing anything underneath it. He doesn’t hesitate to grab your thighs and shove his nose into the neat curls there and lick a hot wet stripe into your core.

You’ve been wet and swollen for a while. It’s nearly conditioned. You feel a slight tingle every time he calls you, wanting to see you. Wanting to fuck you. But now you’re soaked, your cunt wetting his face without shame, arching your back when he finds your clit and sucks on it desperately.

You lock your thighs around his head, cutting off nearly all the airflow he would’ve managed to get before. He likes it. You reach behind you and grip the base of him, feeling him twitch and pulse. He suckles on your clit til you’re keening- and right as you squeeze his cock a little harder and your hips jerk a little more desperately, he shifts and his tongue delves deep into your dripping hole, licking and practically drinking you down. You make a choked little whimper, so close to release.

You grab his hair and hold him beneath you, grinding your cunt into his mouth and nose and eating up every muffled noise he makes. His tongue works hungrily, desperate to please you, delving as deep as he can into your cunt and searching out the spots that make you gasp and moan sweetly for him.

He swipes his tongue just right, and you fall over the edge, grunting and whimpering and twitching all over.

You roll over from on top of him and he gasps wildly, hair ruined and mouth wet and swollen pink. He just looks at you as you gain your breath, your insides gooey and warm and pulsing with aftershocks. He gives you a small, coy little smile.

“I guess I’m not the only one who was missing it.”

You shove at him playfully, all pretense falling away for a moment. You sit up to clear your head, not forgetting that he’s still hard, and leaking, and needy.

“Turn over. Hands and knees.” You tell him. His blush returns tenfold. He glances away from you in tentative embarrassment, though it’s obvious that what he’s hoping for isn’t going to be damped by a little thing like shame. He doesn’t have to be a shameful creature with you.

He does as you command, rolling over and propping himself up on his elbows and knees, his back already slightly arched. You’re definitely appreciating the view. He hides his face from you.

“Oh, wow.” You grin. “Smooth as butter, huh?”

“Shut up.” He snaps, his voice muffled by the pillow. You take a moment to really see the view of him- his tight pink hole is smooth and perfect, obviously recently waxed. Or maybe even lasered. You never know with him. You run your fingers over him, light as a whisper, dragging a caress over his cock to his balls and finally to his hole. It twitches. Cute.

“I should take a picture, pretty as you are.” You say. You grab his cheeks in each of your hands, spreading him fully.

He mutters something about our NDA, something about you being a bitch. You don’t really pay any mind as you lean over him and spit out a thick glob of saliva over the tight ring of muscle, making him gasp.

He goes perfectly still In anticipation, his dick jerking with every lick you apply to him. You drag your tongue against his perineum up to his hole- he tastes clean, like only salt. You know he’s obsessive with how he grooms himself. Saliva slowly runs down, leaving a trail of wet across his balls.

You slip your hand under him to grab his length to give him one long, smooth pull, earning a tiny little whimper from him. You plant your mouth fully on his hole, tongue rubbing circles into the muscle. You jerk him off slowly, too slow to ever bring him to completion. He whines and twitches under your touch and you feel a throb deep in your core for the way he’s trembling.

You bring your head away from him earning a slight wet pop as your mouth breaks the seal it had over his hole, leaving your drool to cool on his heated skin. You slide your hand over his cock faster, gathering up his precum to make the slide easier, your grip is intense and tightens more around the base, pulling down and milking him like some breeding stud. His hips begin to move in the air, and the noises he makes, muffled by the pillow, are throaty and low. You know how he sounds when he’s close, how he shakes with the climb, and when he nears his peak you abruptly pull away to deny him. He groans loudly in frustration and need, and finally looks over his shoulder to glare at you, his fucked out expression not hiding his irritation.

“I don’t want you ruining the sheets.” You say. He catches on immediately, sitting up and grabbing you to put you under him. He practically rips the slip from your body, the fabric strains and the stitches pop, pulling it up and over your head so he can press his flushed skin against yours.

You almost protest, you actually did like that dress, but he kisses you with teeth and growls something about buying you a new one. He grabs your breasts roughly and you feel the length of him pillowing itself against your lips. But he doesn’t do more than that, rutting against your cunt and swallowing your noises with his mouth. He whines.

“Naoya,” You say, when your hot tongues part, “Naoya-“

He grabs your hips and positions you perfectly to plunge his aching cock into your slick heat, as desperate as an animal, and just as rough.

The sudden intrusion makes you cry out in pleasure, his thrusts coming in quick, needy bursts. He presses his sweaty brow into the pillow under your head. His hands hold your waist like a lifeline, his need ramming inside of yours, jerking and twitching and hot and wet. He kisses your cervix with every pump, leaving you breathless and needy.

But you know he can’t finish properly like this. You can see it when he pulls back to look at you, his face flushed and his mouth open and drooling. You wind your hands around his throat and squeeze, blocking his air and turning his noises into tiny pathetic gasps and wheezes. It doesn’t take long. His hips stutter and he finally, finally finds what he’s looking for, tipping over and cumming so hard he stops even trying to breathe. You feel every drop of him rush out to paint your insides, his cock throbbing hot within your liquid-warm walls.

You release his throat and he takes a sharp, ragged inhale, his body locking up with the rush of oxygen and endorphins. His cock pulses inside of you again as if his balls aren’t spent completely, and you feel his cum finding its way to the entrance of your hole and spilling out around his length, way too much to be plugged up inside.

“Fuck,” He grunts, “fuck.”

You hum and run your palms up his sides and down his back where you can reach as he pieces his senses back together. He pulls from your core and you hiss in strange pleasure and slight soreness.

He rolls to the side and slumps on the bed, breathing deep and enjoying the afterglow. You wiggle your hips, feeling him leak out of you even more, thick and warm.

You’re both silent for a few minutes. His watch dings right as you turn to touch his chest, his arms, run your fingers over the angry red on his neck.

He glances at it. Groans in pure discontent.

“Work?” You trace his nipple with an idle finger.

“Yes.” He sits up, glancing over the mess of the bed. “I’ve got an eight o’clock tomorrow, apparently.”

“You can’t cancel?” You shift and stretch, not missing how his eyes graze over your body. “You’ve already booked me for twenty four hours.”

“No.” He says, simply. “Obligations… responsibilities… I don’t know, whatever bullshit you want to call it.”

“Do you want a shower?” You lean over and press your smeared mouth to his shoulder, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I mean, of course it’s disgusting, but you don’t want to go home smelling like… well, you know.”

Naoya breathes, long and deep. Then he looks back at you.

“You getting in with me?”

A/N: “Tuna” is a term in Japanese hookup culture that can be equated to a ‘pillow princess’ in an extreme sense. There’s nothing wrong with being a pillow princess, but I personally believe it’s not something this Naoya is particularly into.

Thank you so much for reading!

#JujutsuJournal #Naoya Zenin x Reader #Naoya x Reader #jjk #x reader #fem reader #Reader x Naoya #naoya zenin #jjk naoya #jujutsu kaisen #i don't even fw naoya that much tbh #fizee.post

[feyreswaterybowels]

Shadows Dance 🐦‍⬛ (#3)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) has been taken by Jarek, being held hostage. She starts plotting to take him out.

Warnings: references to implied sexual assault.

Word Count: 1.3k

1 | 2 | Part 3 ↓

I stumbled as Jarek let me go roughly and I steady myself looking around. The house is large, and I’m not sure what court we’re in. I search for a window to get a clue, any clue at all but they’re all covered with thick drapery.

The foyer we stand in has dim lighting, everything is dark maroons, grays and blacks. Heavy chandeliers hang above, adorned with red crystals. There’s a large staircase in the middle directly across from a large set of doors, a corridor on each side.

“Welcome home,” Jarek breathes close to my ear and I jump, not realizing he had gotten so close to me.

“This is not my home,” I nap, taking a step away from him, reaching for my dagger only to find its sheath empty. Jarek’s laugh echoed around me.

“Did you think I would be dumb enough to leave any weapons on you?” He cocks an eyebrow at me, lifting his hand and twirling the dagger around. I don’t know when or how he got it but I fight to bare my teeth at him. That dagger had been a gift from Azriel on our 70th anniversary. “Your powers won’t work here either, girl. I’ve had a powerful ward placed on this house. Only my powers work here.”

I tried to reach out for Az, to let him know I’m unharmed but there was nothing there. I freeze, stomach twisting painfully. I couldn’t find our bond.

“Oh, yeah,” Jarek grins, “you won’t be reaching your mate here either. After all, how could I take you as mine while you’re connected to another? That simply wouldn’t do. Now, my servant will take you to your room. Get you cleaned up and out of those hideous clothes. You are to be down for dinner within the hour.”

A girl appears then. Dressed in a long maroon servants dress, black apron tied to her front. Her golden skin reminded me of those from summer court, her eyes were almost black and her dark, curly hair was pinned up at the nape of her neck.

She gestures for me to follow her and I approach.

“What is your name, dear?” I ask softly, her eyes widen as if shocked that I’ve spoken to her.

“She cannot speak so don’t try. Her tongue was removed when she was caught stealing,” Jarek speaks, voice dismissive. I raise my chin in anger.

“I would like to know her name,” I responded defiantly, this poor girl.

Jarek rolls his eyes to look at me. Watching silently for a moment before sighing—realizing I wasn’t going to let it go.

“Gianna.” He spits it out as if he hates to say it. I turned back to the girl, her dark eyes glossy, when was the last time she heard someone speak her name? And for it to be said with such hatred?

“Come, Gianna, I will follow you now,” I speak to her, kind and soft. I can see her gratitude, and can tell she wants to say something but she can’t. I give her a reassuring smile before gesturing for her to lead the way.

I hear Jarek scoff behind us but I ignore him, vowing that when I get out of here Gianna will be coming with me. She will make a wonderful addition to Velaris.

We go up the stairs, then down a long hall that twists and turns all different ways. We finally come to a stop, Gianna opens the door and I step inside.

I watch as she sets to work bustling around the room, lighting the fireplace, fluffing pillows before heading to the adjoining bathroom. I hear the water and smell the bath salts. I sigh, shaking my head before heading that way. There is a dress hanging to the left of the bathroom and I want to rip it to shreds. I undress without a bother before sliding into the bath.

Gianna retrieves my clothes but I gesture for her to come over.

“Where are we?” I whisper, barely heard over the running water of the bath. Her eyes widen slightly before looking behind her. “Blink once for yes, twice for no, okay?” I ask, just as quietly.

She gives me a small head nod and I’m relieved.

“Night Court?” Two blinks.

“Day? Dawn?” Two blinks.

“Winter? Summer?” Two blinks again. Fuck we’re far from home.

“Autumn?” One blink from wide eyes.

“Did you know my sister? Did you know Sarah?” I ask—one blink.

“Did he hurt her?” Dark eyes filling with was the only answer I needed. One blink. I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Thank you, Gianna,” I whisper, letting her pull away. I see her quickly wipe her eyes before leaving the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind her.

He’s dead. That’s all you can think. Jarek will die. The bastard. To take her sister, harm her, all because of some stupid pettiness. How could he? How could he think I would ever want to be with him?

I need to play along. I need to play along long enough to get him to trust me and then I’ll kill him. Slit his throat. Rip his heart from his chest. Stab his eyeballs. Chop his dick off.

I slip under the water. Letting the warmth surround me. I want to go home. I want my sister. I want to know the name of the little boy who clung to her. I want Azriel. I want my family.

Only when my lungs scream for air do I come back out. I’m angry. I feel my body shaking with it once again. I hate him. I hate him with every fiber of my being.

I let myself be angry. As I wash my hair, bath myself, dress myself. I loathe my reflection in the mirror. I knew why he picked this dress and I hated him even more for it. I do my own hair and make up. I slap on the jewelry that isn't my style at all along with the shoes previously laid out.

I search for the bond again, knowing it’s hopeless but needing to try anyway. Nothing. Damn him.

I approach the bedroom door. Sighing. Relaxing into myself. Play the part. Earn his trust. Make him believe you want him. Then kill him. It’ll take time but I can do this. I leave the room, heading down the corridor. I’m not really sure where I’m going but eventually I find my way back to the staircase.

He’s there, waiting. He takes notice of me, dull eyes darkening, jaw clenching. When I reach him I offer my hand. He seems surprised and I roll my eyes. Gesturing for him to take my hand.

“Lead the way,” I breathe and I feel something tingly in that spot on my arm. The spot he marked me with. I keep my mental shields up. I will not allow him to communicate with me in any way through that bond. He is not my mate. He is not my High Lord or Lady. He is not a high lord at all. He is no one. Nothing.

I have to keep myself from snarling as he speaks, leading me down the corridor to the right of the stairs.

“You look stunning. Exactly like the night of our first date,” He says, looking over at me as we enter the dining room.

I give him a look of feigned surprise. “You remember that night?”

“Of course I do, it was the start of the best three years of my life, before you met him,” He seethed, hand gripping mine hard enough I thought it would break.

I yelped in pain, jerking my hand away.

“My apologies, I still get quite upset over losing you,” He says, leading you to sit at the table. He sits at the head to your left, pours you a glass of wine and you smile tightly in return.

“We have much to discuss, (Y/N),” Jarek starts pouring himself a glass.

You take a sip of your wine, smirking into the red liquid.

Let the games begin.

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel