#they thought they truly managed to screw him over

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [22.4k] A biggie. Best friends to lovers, summer, childhood, pining, crushes, a kiss that wasn't supposed to happen, the last cherry popsicle and three promises.

When you were both eight years old, Steve Harrington handed you the last popsicle and told you he loved you. 

It was the most innocent kind of talk, from the mouths of kids, fresh faced, summer freckles, ankles dipped in the pool and sunburn on your cheeks. 

You weren’t truly sure you both knew what those words meant back then, the depth and meaning that they held. But you said them back, lemon and sugar on your tongue and he’d beamed at you, brighter than the Indiana sun and that was that. 

And that night, when you were camped out on his bedroom floor, the first day of summer vacation and his bed sheets draped across your heads, he shared his secret stash of twizzlers with you, lips tinted red and pinkie fingers linked. 

His eyes were solemn when he whispered to you, the dulled yells of his parents downstairs acting as his backing track. His mom was slurring a little, his dad laughing mirthlessly and something smashed. You had both flinched, moved closer together between the pillows and stuffed animals.

You remember his mouth brushing up against the shell of your ear, hushed promises falling from his lips, the kind that only an eight year old could make. 

Steve Harrington promised you three things that night:

One, he’d always be your best friend. 

Two, he’d always protect you from everything bad and scary. 

And three, he’d never break your heart. 

He only kept two of those. 

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

“I think Jessica is coming over,” Steve said as he handed you a can of soda, the cold condensation on it making your fingers slip over his. 

You screwed your face up and rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses - Steve’s sunglasses - ‘cause it was a rare Saturday that you’d managed to get off work together, seventeen and desperate for time to do nothing with your best friend. 

It wasn’t meant, but you let the sound of annoyance slip from your lips, stretching yourself out on one of the Harrington’s sunloungers. Steve looked at you from where he’d sat himself down by the pool edge, exasperated and somewhat fond. You picked at the edge of your bikini bottoms, peachy orange and still damp from the water. 

You scrunched your nose, looking over at him from over the top of his old Ray Bans as he took a sip of his cola, eyes on you, waiting for you to talk. He knew you wanted to say something, could tell from your face, the way you twisted your lips and fidgeted with your swimsuit. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” 

If you didn’t know the boy well enough, you’d have thought his tone was condescending, maybe even a little mocking. But when you were both fifteen, he’d stood by your side at the counter of the ice cream parlour, watching your cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink when the older guy behind the freezer had winked at you, handed you your cone and called you ‘sweetheart’.  

Steve had called you the same ever since, never getting tired of the way you lit up at it, all soft and full of affection, lips twisted to hide your smile, nose turning pink. 

“I thought it was just gonna be us hanging out today?” You asked, trying to keep your voice level, casual. 

It was silly the way your chest was hurting, an anxious creep across your bones, making your skin too warm in a way that the sun wasn’t. It wasn’t necessarily because you didn’t like Jessica, you didn’t really know, honestly. 

But you’d been in Steve’s life long enough to know that not many of his girlfriends had liked you. It made hang outs and movie nights awkward, a fresh set of eyes on you, watching the way you and Steve interacted, holding back from the way you’d normally touch him, keeping your head off his shoulder, throwing your legs over the arm of the chair instead of his lap. 

You’d go to the kitchen, the bathroom, bringing back more snacks and a drink only to hear the boy being interrogated about how long had Steve known you, didn’t she have a boyfriend and god, why was she always here?

You’d stand with your back against the hallway wall, a packet of twizzlers crushed to your chest as you listened for Steve’s response. It was always the same, sure and strong and leaving no room for argument. It made you feel warm and a little safer, like you belonged in the Harrington house just as much as him, brought up in the large home with its pool and absent parents together, barbecues in the summer, Christmas in the dining room, mom and dads by your sides. 

“She’s my best friend,” he’d always say, “where she goes, I go.”

Some girls put up with it for longer than others, dirty looks given to you out of the car window when Steve would insist on dropping you home too, a messy press of a kiss pushed to your cheek before he made sure you got in your front door okay. 

There were girls that were done after bumping into you in the school hall, a sweater on your frame, the hem almost covering your shorts and god, they’d think, that looks awfully familiar. They’d sit in whatever class they had next, eyes on the chalkboard but their minds trying to decide if they’d seen that sweater on Steve’s bedroom floor before, thrown lazily over the back of his desk chair. 

You’d find them arguing about it at his car after school, voices clipped and raised, drawing a little too much attention and you’d hear your name said like a curse. Steve would let them walk away, hands rubbing at his eyes and when he’d pull himself onto the trunk, he’d find your gaze across the parking lot and he’d smile, a little soft and a little sad. 

But he’d look at you from the driver seat when he was taking you both home, eyes flickering with something else as they dare to roam across your shoulders, your chest. You’d catch him staring, brows raised and your knowing smile would make him blush but he’d tell you, everytime:

“Looks better on you anyway.”

Steve shrugged, looking a little guilty but swung a leg into the pool, letting the water swish around his shin. 

“I know, but,” another shrug, his gaze on the blue tiles, “she’s my girlfriend.”

You sighed, pushing yourself off of the lounger and walking over to the edge of the pool, chlorine and cedar from the garden filling the warm air. You poked a toe to the boy’s side before sitting down next to him, both feet in the water and the garden slabs sun-warmed against the back of your thighs. 

You nudged a shoulder into Steve’s, fighting a smile when he did it back, shuffling closer so your arms brushed together. 

“We haven’t hung out just the two of us in ages,” you told him, trying to sound annoyed but your words came out a little mournful, huffy even. “It’s been weeks.”

You knew it wasn’t Steve’s fault. Between school and both of you working weekend jobs, it was hard to find time to see each other. And since the startling realisation of finding out there were kids with superpowers out in Hawkins, other worlds that held monsters and magic, you figured trips to the cinema were at the bottom of both of your lists. 

“M’sorry,” Steve said anyway, and you hated the way he sounded, like he really meant it, like it made him sad too. “If the kids didn’t need rides to the arcade all the damn time, maybe we’d-”

You rolled your eyes, fond. “You know it’s not the kids I mind, Harrington.”

And that was true. You and Steve had taken your unofficial babysitter roles pretty seriously, and with six twelve year olds to wrangle together, it would’ve been a hard enough job without the threat of impending doom lurking behind every corner. 

You’d grown up thinking monsters only lived under your bed, hiding behind your closet door, and they could be banished with a flashlight, a kiss from your mother, the promise of chocolate chip pancakes in the morning from your father. 

But you’d grown up too fast, seeing things that weren’t supposed to be real and you hated the way you knew how to butterfly stitch someone's skin back together, how you’d seen too much of your best friend's blood. 

He pressed his nose to your shoulder, warm skin on warm skin and he let his teeth graze you, a playful threat of a bite before he sighed, knowingly, understanding. 

“Jess said she likes you,” Steve offered, hands on the grass as he leaned back, head tilted to the sun. He was watching you from under his lashes, the length of them casting shadows over his cheekbones. “Said you had chem together and you were crazy smart.”

You scoffed, laughed mirthless, because the only reason Jessica Preston knew you had class with her was ‘cause she used you to cheat off of you before you moved seats.  

“I bet she did,” was the only answer you gave, because the garden gate was suddenly squeaking and Steve was standing up, splashing water over your thighs as he greeted the girl in question. 

“Jess, hey!” Steve called out, reaching for her and pressing a kiss to her lips. His came away glossy and a little pink as Jessica reached into her bag, pulling out a tube and quickly reapplying. He gestured to you, smiling, “you two know each other, right?”

You grimaced, holding your hand up in some sort of wave before you pushed Steve’s glasses onto your head. 

“Sure,” you said, not sounding sure at all. You stood up, brushing drops of water and small flecks of gravel from your skin. “Chemistry, Mrs Telford’s class.”

Jessica squinted at you, pretty features twisted in confusion and Steve wanted to jump head first into the pool from the awkward silence that had filled the yard. 

“Right!” The girl finally gasped out, all false smiles and white teeth. “Totally! Of course.”

And then, you were dismissed.  

“Steve, there’s a party tonight,” you heard the girl tell him, stomach twisting as you walked past them, grabbing your shorts from the lounger and dragging them up your legs. “Matt’s parents are gone and,” she tapped a finger on his chest, trailing it down his sternum. “So are mine.”

You wondered if you had too much sun, wondered if the heat was what was making your insides bubble, your chest feeling too tight. You found your way into the kitchen, the open patio door doing nothing to curb the same heat that had leaked in from outside. 

You ran the tap, waiting for it to turn freezing before filling a glass and chugging it, back pressed against the counter so you didn’t have to look out the window. 

You could still hear them though. 

“You can pick me up, right? I’ll be ready at eight and then you can stay over at mine,” Jess was practically purring and it made you slam the now empty glass down into the sink a little harder than you meant to. “We’ll have the place all to ourselves.”

“Uh, actually, we’re having a movie night later,” you froze, turning to look over your shoulder to see Steve gesture to you through the window. Jess followed his hand, lips downturned and eyes holding venom. 

“You’re kidding right?” The girl asked, disbelief spilling from her lips. “I’m offering you a night in my bed and you’re turning me down for Back To The Future with her?”

It was actually The Goonies, you’d wanted to tell her, but Steve was licking his lips nervously, eyes flickering between you and Jess and you really wish you could say something to save him. 

You stepped out the patio doors, arms crossed self consciously over your chest. “Steve, it’s okay, we-”

Steve shrugged and he didn’t look surprised when Jessica stepped out of his embrace, glossy lips twisted in shock and annoyance. 

“We’ve had it planned for a while Jess,” he explained, “movies, pizza and-”

“Well come after,” Jess demanded, like it was simple. “Or better yet, just do your stupid movie night some other time.”

Steve looked confused, staring down at the girl as if he was wondering which part she wasn’t understanding. You grimaced, eyes wanting to fall shut ‘cause you knew what the boy was going to say and god, you wished you could hide from it. 

But then he was explaining to her that you were staying over, crashing at his like you always did, like you had done for years. 

Steve said it so plainly that you almost wanted to laugh. In fact, your lip twitched, the threat of a smile pulling at it and you turned, toeing at the grass as you waited for the impending blow out. The boy had an endearing habit of stating the truth with such a sincerely soft tone, almost oblivious to the carnage his honesty could sometimes cause. 

“I’m sorry,” Jessica stated, voice climbing a little higher in volume and pitch as she took in this new information. “I could’ve sworn you just told me you had another girl staying with you tonight.”

Steve scrunched his nose, mouth parting as he wondered what he was supposed to say to that. He floundered, hands gesturing wildly as he tried to gain some control on the matter. 

“Jess, what? It’s not a big deal, it’s not like that.”

And he was right, it wasn’t. Not yet. 

Nothing had ever happened with you and Steve, not when you were pressed together at night, side by side in his bed, moving closer as you slept, pillow creases on your cheeks, hands close to places you shouldn’t have been touching. 

Nothing happened in the mornings either, when you were both soft with sleep, hair mussed and misbehaving, warm hands and toes pushing into the other's skin as you tried to find the comfort of that lazy feeling in each other. 

You’d never noticed him stare at you when you got out of the shower, skin still damp, hair pushed back from your face and a too big shirt clinging to your thighs. He never realised you held your breath when he pulled his top off at night, body warm and solid beside you, fingers desperate to trace a map of constellations across his back, freckle to freckle. 

Your realisation that your best friend wasn’t just attractive, but was pretty, was a slow burn. It came as you aged, an appreciation growing as you did, Steve too. You noticed the boys in your class as they grew taller, filling out, and you didn’t realise the same was happening to Steve until the summer you both turned fifteen. 

You’d spent school vacation at his parents lake house, watched him laze shirtless on the small motorboat, new muscles flexing, drops of water casting tiny rainbows across the tanned skin it clung to. He’d grown his hair out, chocolate brown strands out of control and messy, boyish as it was pretty. You didn’t know what to do with this new information, new feelings, and when Steve continued to throw you over his shoulder, playing in the shallows of the lake, his wide hands spanning the curves of your thighs, your hips, you ignored the burn his touch left behind. 

Jess huffed out a laugh and it sounded dangerous, a little like a threat. She found your gaze, held it until hers dropped to scan you up and down, doing her best to make you feel small. 

“Whatever, Harrington,” she shoved past Steve, shoulder edging into his chest as she headed for the gate. “Ask your little friend to suck your dick instead.”

You burned at her words, eyes wide as you stared at a crack in the patio, refusing to watch as she stormed through the gate, the hinges protesting loudly as it was slammed shut, leaving you both in silence. 

The trickle of the pool filter was the only sound for a minute, maybe two, then you heard Steve sigh, heavy and world weary. You looked at him, feeling a little guilty. 

“Shouldn’t you go after her?” You asked. 

Steve gave a half shrug, already moving to sit down on the lounger that you’d spent your morning on. You joined him, sitting on the end so you didn’t touch, like you weren’t supposed to after Jessica’s accusation. 

“Nah,” he told you, “it’s fine, it’s… whatever.”

You snorted and the sound made the corners of his mouth lift a little, eyes flitting over to you, always interested in what you were going to say. 

“That’s a new height of romance, Harrington,” you mused, foot dipping into a small puddle of pool water. You drew lines and shapes on the dry concrete with your toe, watching the sun dry them out almost instantly. “It’s whatever?”

“I dunno,” Steve sighed, reaching over to pluck his sunglasses back from the top of your head and pushing them over the bridge of his nose. He looked good with them on, you mused, too pretty, too nice. “Wasn’t like we had that much in common.“

“Then why date her in the first place?” You asked, face twisting with annoyance.

Steve had developed a habit in freshman year of dating girls who gave him nothing more than wandering hands in the back of his car, passive aggressive comments when he missed their calls and whiplash when they found out about you. 

A smirk tugged at his lips, a handsome match with his Ray Bans and messy hair and he turned to you, eyebrows raised. 

“You’re a pig,” you muttered, trying to sound disgusted but Steve was pushing his fingers into your sides, hands dragging over your ribs and you were laughing despite yourself, “get off me!”

You were ignored, unsurprisingly, and you wondered if Jessica had made it back to her car yet, if she’d driven away or if she had heard your shriek of delight when Steve suddenly stood and scooped you up. 

One arm was wrapped around your waist, a wide, rough hand pressed against the skin just under your breast, his thumb grazing the of your bikini. The other curved itself on your thigh, your body held tight to his as he ran with you, hurtling you both to the edge of the pool and you pressed your face into his neck when he jumped, bracing yourself for the cool water. 

Steve didn’t let you go until you both surfaced, his feet planted on the bottom of the pool as he pushed you both to the surface. Your hands were around his neck and you gasped, water dripping from your lashes and lips, hair a wet mess and he was laughing. That soft laugh that made any summer day feel warmer than it already was, a laugh that reminded you of fresh lemonade and bedroom sheet forts. 

He let go of your legs before you waist, letting the lower half of your body slide out of his grasp and slide against his, so you were chest to chest, your abdomens pressed together and you almost lost your footing, chin slipping under the water, eyes gazing up at him despite the way the sun made it hurt. 

Maybe it was the way you pressed a hand to his stomach to ground yourself,  feeling the muscles tense under your touch, maybe it was the way you were looking at him, maybe he just forgot he wasn’t supposed to look at you like that. But something happened and Steve cleared his throat, letting go of your waist and allowing himself to fall backwards and under the water. 

He reappeared a few feet away, hair darker and slicked back, eyes a little wild as he looked at you, like you were suddenly dangerous. 

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you. 

You weren’t overly fond of Nancy Wheeler, not at first. 

You couldn’t deny that the dislike you felt for the girl stemmed from jealousy and your own inability to get a handle on your feelings but, you had to admit, she was better than most of the girls Steve had dated before. 

Pretty, smart, sharp and with a keen eye. She liked journalism, the quiet and even you. You shared the knowledge of The Upside Down, bonded over the fear you both felt for her brother and his friends and when you passed each other in the hallway, you nodded, civil and overly aware of all the things you’d both seen together. 

You weren’t joined at the hip and you didn’t love how she slid her hand into Steve’s, or how he kissed her at her locker, telling you he’d catch up with you at lunch. You’d spent months telling yourself you weren’t jealous of Nancy, just that you missed your best friend and you resented the way the girl took up all his free time. 

You missed the way he snuck in your bedroom window, a pointless task and waste of his energy, ‘cause your parents would hear him clambering up their drainpipe, eyes rolling, fond and affectionate, ‘cause it was Steve. 

He’d always told you that he did it for the fun of it, to see you smile when his head appeared over the sill and so you’d help him clamber over the window frame. He’d spend the late hours with you, whispering about nothing and laughing about everything, shoulder to shoulder in your bed until you both fell asleep, sprawled on top of the sheets, his shoes in the middle of your floor and his arm slung over your waist. 

You liked it when the sun woke you early, the curtain still opened from when you’d forgotten to close them after Steve’s sudden appearances, the light pink and peach as it leaked into your room. It painted stripes of light and shadow over your walls, over the boy’s broad shoulders and cheek, the other smushed into your mattress, hair a mess and lips parted sleepily. 

You got to admire him like that, when his eyes were still closed and he was so unaware. Steve couldn’t catch you staring, wondering if his lips were actually as soft as they looked, if he knew how pretty you thought he was, if he thought you were pretty too. 

He still picked you up for school in the morning, his BMW sat at the end of your drive but his clothes were sleep creased, hair mussed from spending the night with Nancy instead, sneaking through her bedroom window and not yours. He still smacked a kiss to your cheek when you parted for class but it wasn’t the same, he wasn’t quite just yours anymore and you hated the way it hurt. 

So yeah, you could appreciate that Nancy was a nice person and seemed to be good for Steve - at least, until she wasn’t - but you didn’t have to like her for it. 

When she broke your best friend’s heart, you’d found him sitting on the hood of his car after school, lips downturned and expression sour, nothing but worry beating in your chest ‘cause you hadn’t seen him since the morning before and no one answered your calls to his house that night. 

But then rumours started swirling around the halls, floating over tables in the cafeteria like wildfire and you couldn’t fucking find him. You saw Nancy in the library during your free period, her head bent close to Jonathan Byers as they whispered about something you couldn’t hear, their hands on the table, fingers too close to touching and Nancy had the right to look guilty when her gaze met your own. 

So you’d marched straight over to Steve and he crumbled a little when he saw it was you, slipping off the hood and letting you usher him to the front seat. He didn’t really hesitate when you held out your hand to him, silently asking him to let you take care of him. 

He placed the car keys in your palm, eyes tired, face sad and you were desperate to fix it. You hadn’t seen Steve like that before and you didn’t know what to do, his pain was yours, your heart beating hard against your chest until you felt like your bones were bruised. 

There were talks of the girl cheating on him, wandering around late with Jonathan and you knew they shared the same worries and trauma that you all did when it came to knowing things the rest of the town didn’t, but you didn’t know what was happening between the pair. 

So you drove him home, listened when Steve told you that he loved her, that he didn’t know how to fix it. But then it was and then it wasn’t, a game of on and off, yes and no, that you couldn’t really keep up with. 

It all came to a head on Halloween, after months of leaving your window open for no one. 

Steve climbed in, startling you, hands finding your bedroom floor before his feet did and when he stood, eyes meeting yours, you wanted to be mad at him. 

It had been a week since you hung out, passing in the halls and waving when you could, exams stressing you out and his time taken up by Nancy and all the parties he seemed intent on going to. He’d given up trying to get you to go with him, sick of it all after the second time, a spare part, third wheel, an audience to his kisses with Nancy. 

But he stood by your bed with the most forlorn expression on his face, features soft and watery and you simply pulled back the sheets, shuffling over to the side that had been made yours when you were both seven, so Steve could claim his. 

The boy toed off his shoes, his jacket falling to the carpet as he shrugged it off and you felt like a kid again when he crawled across your mattress, shuffling underneath the covers and pushing himself against you. 

Steve got as close to you as he could without asking for a hug, his pride already seemingly too hurt to put himself out there, even with you. But he didn’t hesitate when you turned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you, your nose pressed into his hair. He smelled like smoke and weed from the party, a little like Steve underneath it. 

He returned your touch instantly, seeking it out with a desperation that almost shocked you, eager to accept it when it was offered. He tugged you in by the waist, arms wrapped around you and his face pressed into the crook of your neck. 

He wished he told you then, that you smelled like summer and afternoons by the pool, like cherry popsicles and promises and home. But he didn’t feel brave enough, not then, not yet. 

“We broke up,” Steve finally mumbled, voice a little broken and muffled by your neck and hair. “She broke up w’me. Called us bullshit.”

You frowned, confused, pulling back a little in the hopes that Steve would look at you and explain but his grip on your waist only tightened and you patted at his hair, smoothed the almost curls at the nape of his neck and whispered his name. 

“Steve, hey, babe, what?” You received a groan in answer but you persisted, shuffling out of his grasp and gripping his chin with your finger, pushing at him a little pleadingly until the boy looked up and met your gaze. 

“What happened?”

Steve didn’t answer until you pulled the sheets over your heads, your own little bed fort that let the dim light of your bedside lamp filter through, soft and warm and hazy. You let go of his chin, your hand smoothing his hair back from his face and he pushed his cheek into your touch as he spoke. 

“Nancy, it’s over,” he told you, a frown pulling at his brow, “she said the whole relationship was bullshit, that I was bullshit.”

You held your breath, letting him talk as you smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone, feeling him relax into you despite the way he was letting his words tumble from his lips, mixing in with his emotions until he was stuttering over himself. 

“She, she said we were just acting like we were in love?” Steve caught your stare, his eyes confused as he looked at you, as if he could find an answer in your gaze but you just gaped at him. “Said that I only thought I was in love with her ‘cause I was too busy tryin’ to pretend I wasn’t in love with someone else, or some shit like that, I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“What?” You whispered, voice full of surprise because what the fuck? 

“Right?” He answered, indignant and wide eyed. “I don’t know what she was talkin’ about, she would answer me, just told me she wasn’t in love with me and god, fucking Byers took her home.”

“Jonathan?”

You screwed up your face, hardly even reacting when Steve groaned again, pushing himself back into you, his face comfortably pressed into your chest, just above the swell of your breast, his mouth warm through your shirt. 

It should’ve startled you, the proximity, the intimacy, especially after missing him for so long. But it was still Steve, your best friend, the boy that promised to be there until the very end. 

“Why’d Jonathan take her home?” You asked, your cheek pressed to the top of his head as you spoke, the sheets fluttering around you both as Steve shifted, arms wrapping around you more, pulling you until you were flush with his body. 

He couldn’t have been touching more of you if he tried. 

“She was drunk,” he mumbled into your chest, lips moving over your shirt, making the material shift across your skin and it lit you up, body electric and the air buzzing. “I told him to. She didn’t want me.”

You sighed, eyes closing at the pained sound in the boy’s voice and you let him hold you, your own hand taking into his hair, scratching at his scalp in a way you knew he liked. 

“Steve,” you murmured, soft and sympathetic. 

He whispered your own name back to you, his tone the same and it made you smile. You could feel his own against your chest, lips lifting, breath coming out in a small huff. 

“You could still talk to her tomorrow, y’know?” You said conversationally. You hated yourself for trying to fix it for him, for attempting to out the girl back between you both but fuck if you weren’t a good friend. “Maybe she just said all that shit ‘cause she had too much to drink.”

You twirled a length of the boy’s hair around your finger, making it curl. “Was it Jack Templeman’s punch? That dude makes rocket fuel in a bowl, she might have been absolutely wasted.”

Steve shook his head before he pulled back, falling into your pile of pillows and gazing at you.  

“Nah, I don’t wanna chase her,” he said and despite the sadness in his voice, he sounded sure. “I don’t wanna be with someone who thinks I’m bullshit. I mean, I know I’m not perfect, but damn, bullshit?”

You shook your head, gaze hard and you wanted to shake him, to make him understand how wrong Nancy was. 

“Steve, you're not bullshit.” He held your stare, lips parted. “You’re the furthest thing from that, I’m sorry I don’t know why Nancy said that, I wish I could-”

He stopped you before you could continue, a small smile lifting at his lips and he found your hands between the tangle of sheets, tugging you over to him and onto his chest. You lay your head there, protesting when Steve’s finger poked at your cheek, fond and soft. 

“I know what you’re gonna say, sweetheart, and it’s fine.” He sighed, sleepy and weighted. “You don’t need to fix everything for me, not this time, anyway.“

You fell silent, thinking about the times Steve was referring to, wondering if this was finally the year he stopped needing you. The thought made your chest hurt, your eyes blur and you sniffed. 

“My dad’ll be home from that conference soon,” he mumbled softly and you could tell without even looking at Steve that he had his eyes closed. “You can come fight my battles for me then, how’s that sound short stuff?”

It was silly, his words. The way they made you feel. Like you were needed again, important. Like he didn’t wanna face the things that scared him without you. It hurt that after all those years, he still felt like that about his own father but it calmed a part of you to know that he didn’t seem as cut up about Nancy Wheeler as he once was. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, tentative, and you made a face ‘cause god, that seemed like a stupid fucking question. “Will you be okay?” You asked instead. 

Steve hummed noncommittally and you craned your neck to look up at him, smiling when you were proven right at his closed eyes. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as you shifted over him, tucking yourself into his side. 

“I mean yeah, sure,” he murmured, voice dropping lower and rougher as sleep pulled at him. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got you, haven’t I?” 

He turned his face to yours at that, nose nudging at your forehead as he blindly sought out your features, pressing a soft, warm kiss to your temple. 

“M’sorry,” he whispered into your hair and you stilled, swallowing the lump that had caught in your throat. “I’m so sorry I’ve not been around.“

You squeezed your eyes closed at his words, letting them burn until you were sure you weren’t going to cry. 

You wanted to say it was okay, to soothe him, to make Steve feel better but the lie got caught on your tongue and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him something that wasn’t true. 

You shrugged instead, lips twisted to keep them from turning downwards, his words heavy on you because god, you’d missed him so much. 

“I missed you,” Steve whispered and fuck, it lit you up inside. “Like, really missed you.”

He was soft and gentle with it, words brushing against your temple, breath warm, hands twisting in the sides of your shirt, barely grazing at your skin, head butting at yours playfully. 

He was Steve, he was late nights, long days, summer rainstorms, driving lessons, flunking your test, Saturday afternoon drives, feet on the dash, music too loud, smile blinding. 

He was a little bit yours again. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, feeling a little lighter than you had before, eyes falling shut like Steve’s. “I missed you too, Harrington.”

Steve’s breath was becoming slower, chest falling heavy and lazy and you both curled into each other on instinct, sleep pulling both of you together, the same way it did when you were both ten and piled on the sofa, movie still playing. 

“You still my best friend?” His voice was a soft mumble, and you heard the worry there, hidden behind a crack of humour. 

“Yeah, I’m still your best friend.”

—————

You didn’t see Nancy until a week later, and when you did, you didn’t expect her to corner you at your locker, big eyes wide and asking if you could talk. 

You met her after school, walking to the opposite end of the parking lot from where Steve would be waiting on you, perched on the hood of his car as usual. 

Nancy saw you coming, her face a little nervous as she bid goodbye to Jonathan who’d been standing beside her and you watched as they squeezed each other's hand before he took off. 

You raised your brows as you approached, tugging your headphones to sit around your neck and you wondered what Nancy Wheeler could possibly have to say to you. 

The world wasn’t ending, the kids were all safe and she wasn’t your best friend's girl anymore. 

She squinted at you, trying to work out your mood, your emotions but you remained a little stoned faced, wondering if Steve would be pissed if had to see you here. You knew they’d spoken since Halloween, a chat that Steve had said felt too formal and stilted, but the air was cleared enough that they could cross paths when dropping Dustin, Will and Lucas at Mike’s house, an awkward wave exchanged from the front door to the car. 

“You wanna sit?” Nancy asked, gesturing to a bench that sat by the edge of the school line, shadowed by trees that provided a little coverage from the wind that was picking up now that winter was approaching. You kicked at the leaves on the ground and shoved your hands into your jacket pocket, holding it tighter to your body. 

“Sure,” you muttered, following her across the grass, leftover rain sticking to your boots. 

The sky was still blue, a crisp Fall day that turned your nose pink, numbed your fingers and had you wishing for a Hawkins summer, the smell of sunscreen and cut grass replaced with rain and the promise of snow. 

You sat on opposite ends of the bench, bodies turned to face each other and with the safety of your school bags between you both. You picked a dead leaf off the sole of your shoe, waiting for the other girl to talk. 

“Look, I don’t know what Steve’s explained to you,” Nancy said, voice cracking a little with what seemed like nerves. “You know, when we spoke the other week.”

You shrugged, “I mean, not much,” you answered, “but it’s really not my business to know.”

Nancy nodded at that, appreciative, “I guess but I just want us to be friends, you know? I wanted you to understand why I broke it off with Steve. He’s a great guy but-”

“I know he is,” you interrupted, brows pulled together in confusion ‘cause there was never any debate about that. You softened a little when Nancy smiled at you, lips pulled up and eyes a little knowing. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“It’s fine,” she told you, voice lighter than it had been before. “Like I said, Steve’s great… I guess I just didn’t love him the way I should’ve. And maybe that would’ve been a little easier if I didn’t see the way he looked at someone else.”

You frowned, staring at the girl as she looked back at you, silently willing you to catch on. 

“What?” You asked, “I thought this was about you and Jonathan? You can’t act as if you haven’t been glued to Byers hip since this happened.”

Nancy had the right to look guilty, picking at her nail before looking back up at you. “Yeah, no, you’re right. I didn’t mean for what happened with Johnathan to happen… it just did, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

She brushed a curl from her face, bringing her bag down to her feet so there was less separating her from you. The wind rushed at you both, stinging your cheeks and whipping at your clothes before it settled back down and let Nancy speak. 

“I’m not blaming this on Steve, I’m not, and I shouldn’t have said he was bullshit,” she rushed out, “maybe we were just meant for other people you know? And think that, maybe, Steve doesn’t know that he’s already found his person.”

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huffed, “but whatever. I’m just glad I don’t have to hear the two of you arguing every other day.”  

Nancy nodded, smiling at the way you were avoiding her gaze, your mind suddenly racing with what she’d said. 

“For what it’s worth,” the girl murmured, foot nudging friendly against yours, “it would probably make it a lot easier on the poor guy if this girl could admit that she was in love with him too.”

“Alright, yeah,” you stood up suddenly, cheeks flushed and your head a little scattered. “I think you’ve got it twisted Wheeler, but, uh, good talk.”

The girl hid a laugh, pressing her lips together as she watched you gather your bag, eyes shining. Nancy nodded, looking up at you as you stood a little awkwardly. You raised a hand in a goodbye, a small smile lifting at your lips in what seemed like an amicable agreement. 

You stopped before you got too far, the sun in your eyes as you squinted back at the girl who was still sitting on the bench. 

“Hey, Nancy?” She looked at you, eyes surprised. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you happy?” You asked and she was taken aback at how genuine you sounded. She paused, eyes flicking over to where Jonathan’s car was parked, engine idling as he waited for her. 

She nodded, resolute. “Yeah, I am,” she answered quietly and confidently. 

You nodded too, surprised at how it warmed you to hear that. You never wished ill on the girl, you just didn’t like how she broke your best friend, leaving you to put him back together again, piece by piece. 

“I’m glad Steve’s got you, you know,” she called back before you could start to walk away again and her words made your heart stumble. You swallowed, looking at her with parted lips. “He’s lucky to have you.”

And well, wasn’t that a statement to behold?

When you finally clambered into Steve’s car, bringing the chill and some stray leaves from the outside, Steve was frowning softly, concerned by your lateness. 

He looked at your flushed cheeks, pink nose and glassy eyes from the sharp wind and cranked up the heat, pointing his vents to your side too. 

“Where’ve you been?” He asked, voice worried, “I was gonna call in the kids, start a search party.”

You laughed, a little strained after the conversation you had, rubbing your hands together for warmth and you shrugged, noncommittal. 

“I was uh, just catching up with a friend.”

Can I go where you go? 

When Steve got a job after graduation at Scoops Ahoy, it was supposed to mean free ice cream and catching a late showing at the cinema after his shifts. 

It brought you Robin Buckley, Steve in a sailors hat, a new flavour of ice cream every month and fucking Russians. 

You thought dimensions and demogorgons were about as much as you could handle but Dustin came back from camp with a new gadget he’d built, some kind of high tech radio that looked like it was held together with duct tape and paper clips but the thing actually worked. 

It worked well enough to pick up secret codes from underground labs, translated by Robin and well, fuck. Suddenly you were trapped in an elevator that wasn’t actually supposed to be an elevator and Erica Sinclair was going to miss her Uncle Jack’s party. 

You knew Steve wasn’t happy with you, you could tell by the way his jaw was set, the way that he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, and his lips twisted and his gaze dropped when you tried to catch his gaze. 

It made the air in the elevator crackle and buzz, tension on top of tension as you moved around each other, looking for a way out, hardly touching, hardly speaking. Robin twisted her lips, sympathetic, when she caught your gaze, your face flushed with annoyance. 

He’d told you not to come. 

Not out of meanness, or because you had fallen out, simply because he didn’t want you in harm's way. You’d ended up yelling at each other, a hundred feet below the mall and trapped in a metal box because why did it matter when Robin and the kids were stuck there too?

Steve, of course, cared that he had another friend, a thirteen year old and a ten year old to keep safe and he had every intention of doing so. But he couldn’t help but feel sick, his stomach rolling, at the thought of you being put in a dangerous situation. 

You’d told him that he was being stupid, that you weren’t leaving him. You thought you’d seen all the dangers Hawkins had to offer, you could handle yourself, you could help him. 

His worst fears came true when you all got split up, Dustin and Erica hopefully somewhere above you all, on their way for help, for something, anything. 

But then a man came, tall and dressed in uniform, badges adorning his chest, and he took one look at the way Steve stood in front of you when he entered and swung for the side of his head. 

The boy fell backwards, dazed, groaning at the shock and pain of it all before pulling himself off of the floor, body slow and sluggish. He lifted his head in time to see the same man gripping you by the back of your neck, hair fisted painfully in his grasp as he pulled you out of the room. Robin was yelling, swearing as she tried to get a grip on you, her hand wrapped around your ankle from where she was on the floor but you were pulled from her easily, a swift kick sent to her stomach for the audacity of her trying. 

Steve felt his heart leave his chest, plummeting to his stomach, his blood running cold and everything around him slowed down. His vision was fuzzy but he could see the panic on your face, lips parted in a gasp as you tried to get to grips with what was happening. 

Russians. A lab. Under Starcourt Mall. 

He couldn’t move fast enough and he wanted to yell out, he wanted to run. But it was like being trapped in a bad dream, body damp, sheets tangled around his limbs as he tried his best to scream, to move, but nothing fucking happened. 

The door slammed shut before the ringing in his ears could stop and he could taste blood in his tongue, metallic and horribly warm. He made his fists bleed from pounding on the door, knuckles cracked and bruised, voice wrecked from yelling your name. 

He only stopped when the man came back, pulled him from Robin's side and threw more hits to his face, his body. His skin was littered with angry bruises, almost black, skipping the shades of lavender and pink, turning inky within minutes. 

Between each punch, Steve spat out blood and asked where you were, groaning as he spoke. He was ignored, time and time again, until he lost it completely, tried to lash out, fists swinging, legs thrashing and he wasn’t sure if he was crying, or it was just blood dripping down his face but he wanted to sob, desperate for you. 

He was thrown to a chair, tied back to back with Robin as some guy in a white coat threatened him with surgical equipment that looked like it didn’t belong in a hospital and when his eyes fell shut with the weight of his injuries, he wondered if he’d ever see his best friend again. 

You were finally gathered up in what could’ve been hours later, maybe one, maybe five. A guard tugged at your wrists, taped together and red raw from where you’d tried to pull them apart and suddenly you were pushed through the same door they’d taken you from, thrown at Steve’s feet and the yelling continued. 

Who did you work for, who did you work for, who did you work for?

It didn’t end until people were dead and Starcourt Mall was on fire. 

Alarms had gone off, Dustin rushing in with an electric cattle prod of all things, weidling it like battleaxe and telling you all you had to run. You weren’t sure who was supporting who as you all tumbled back to the surface, dripping blood and tears onto the mall floor as Steve gripped your hand with a fierceness you’d never experienced from him before.

But then there were guns, El broken but still fighting, the rest of your friends, concern and confusion written on their faces ‘cause when you had all been fighting Russian Soviets, they’d been fighting Billy, the evil inside of him turning him into something different from the boy you’d seen in the school halls.

You’d held Max when he fell, body bloodied and ripped open, eyes glassy like he’d known what was coming. You left the mall that night with a new fear of loud noises, of fireworks that cracked and snapped in the sky. You knew what burning flesh smelled like, you knew that there was more to be said about monsters, more danger in the world than just the creatures that lurked in the cracks of the earth.

You knew that evil could come in the shape of a man, a familiar face, behind a uniform, a doctor's white lab coat. 

You were tired, beaten, a little bloodied and bruised and your throat was raw after you’d screamed for Steve, fists beating on the door as you went ignored. You heard him from behind the steel walls, his voice as wrecked and panicked as your own and you sobbed when you heard his yells turn to groans, sickening wet thumps of bone hitting bone, breaking up the sound of him calling out your name. 

You sat beside him in the ambulance, hands still clutching each other tightly, fear of being torn apart again ripping through you both. The medic wanted to take him to hospital, to make sure his cheekbone wasn’t shattered, that you both weren’t suffering from shock or concussion but Steve refused, just wanting to go fucking home.

The sky was angry, red and crying, plumes of black and crimson smoke billowing from the broken building and you didn’t know what to do. People were dead and the whole world seemed to be burning. 

But Steve took you by the hand, pulled you to his side as you made sure everyone was okay, as well as they could be considering the circumstances and the boy stood a little numb as he watched you drop to your knees and fold Max into a hug, tears streaking through the blood and dirt on your cheeks when you pressed a kiss to El’s forehead. 

Everyone was a little broken, barely standing, barely breathing and it didn’t seem difficult to continue the lie to your parents, calling them from a pay phone to say that you were okay, you had seen the news but it was fine, you had been at Steve’s the whole time, you’d be home in the morning.

You let Jonathan bundle you both into the back of his car, one of his old jackets thrown around your shoulders as Nancy sat in the front, Steve beside you, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. He dropped you both at Steve’s front door, little to be said between the hour of you as shock and tiredness tugged at your bodies, your heads. Hands were pressed to shoulders, squeezing softly, telling each other everything you all needed to say but couldn’t - not then, not just yet.

Thank you, I’m sorry, I’m glad you’re okay, I’m happy you’re safe.

The Harrington house was empty, as expected and the rooms felt darker and colder than they had before, empty and too big, your harsh breaths rattling too loudly and you could feel a panic building inside you, clawing at your chest. 

It grew when you looked at Steve’s face, dried blood and dark bruises making him look like he was about to fall apart and when you squeezed your eyes closed, you could hear the way he yelled your name, raw and broken.

A sob bubbled from your throat, spilling from your lips and you’d barely taken a breath before Steve was in front of you, arms pulling you into him, a hand around your neck, foreheads pressed together. It was supposed to ground you - and it did, in a way - but the cries still came, stuttered and broken, the heavy kind of sobs that made your body heave with the exertion of it all. 

Steve held you through it, both of you swaying unsteady on your feet in the middle of his hall, shoes streaking dirt across Mrs. Harrington’s white tiles. Neither of you could ask the other if they were okay, ‘cause the answer was obvious but when your tears finally stopped, your face wet and your head sore, the boy took you by the hand and led you up the stairs. 

He walked past his bedroom door, the little slice of heaven you most wanted at that moment in time, the only place in the large house that truly felt like home to you both. It was a surprise when he nudged open the door to the main bathroom, rarely used due to all the ensuites that were accessed through bedrooms but the large corner tub there suddenly looked like a gift from above. 

You felt like a spare part when Steve let go of you long enough to turn the taps, filling the bath with hot water and a mixture of his mother’s expensive soaps and bath milks, sweet smelling bubbles and steam filling the room. 

You found a first aid kit underneath the sink, pushed to the back of the cupboard, unused and when you motioned to the boy to sit on the closed toilet seat, he did without arguing. He spread his legs for you without you needing to ask, standing between his knees with a bottle of antiseptic and some cotton balls, more tears slipping down your cheeks as you mumbled out apologies, dabbing the stinging liquid into his skin.

Steve simply held onto your legs, eyes closed and his hands wrapped around the back of your knees, his thumbs stroking over the sensitive skin there as he whispered back, telling you it was okay, it’s fine, I'm fine sweetheart. 

The cuts on his face didn’t seem as angry, as severe, when you wiped away the blood that crusted around them but the dark bruises seemed mean and vicious against the pale cast of his skin, shock seeping out all the colour from his cheeks. 

He let you press a kiss to his forehead, clutching at the sides of his head, fingers buried in his damp, messy hair and the push of your lips was fierce, conveying everything you wanted to say but couldn’t, because fuck, you didn’t know how to tell your best friend that you think you were falling in love with him. Because how else could the thought of losing someone hurt so fucking much?

Steve left you alone to bathe, skin stinging as you stripped down to your underwear, your body and bones lazy as you pulled at your jeans and shirt. You gave up when you got down to your underwear, cotton pants and lacy bralette mismatching in a clash of cherry print and forest green and they both stuck to your skin as you slid into the hot water. 

You drew your knees to your chest, eyes closed and head pressed there as you let the heat nip at you, cuts and scrapes protesting but it was good to feel something when your head felt numb, your chest hollow. You weren’t sure how long you sat there for but you could've sworn someone was calling your name, a knock on the door echoing on the tiles and your mouth felt too fuzzy to answer. 

Steve could only hear the slow, steady drip of the tap and panic rose in his chest when you didn’t answer him and he had thoughts of you unconscious and slipping beneath the bubbles. 

So he knocked once more, heart racing before he turned the handle and pushed at the door a little, calling out your name. 

He heard the water splash at the sides of the tub, movement at least. But then he heard you sniff, the noise turning to soft sobs and it gripped at his heart, crushed it a little and before he knew it, he was in the bathroom, bare feet on the tiles and staring down at you, tucked into the smallest ball you could amongst the bubbles.

Neither of you spoke as Steve pulled off the shirt and cotton sweats he’d changed into, his own eyes glassey as he left his boxers on, stepping into the water with you, sitting down in the space behind you.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world when he spread his legs and pulled you into them, your back to his bare chest as he wrapped his arms around your knees too, holding you to him. He let you cry like that, head bent over yours, the two of you curled into the water together, steam licking at your skin. You think you felt a tear drop from his eye, warm as it slid through your hair and onto your cheek and the feel of it made you search for his hand, scrambling desperately under the hot water and foam so you could link your fingers through his.

Your grip on each other was as tight as it was when he’d pulled you to your feet after Dustin saved you from pliers and scalpels, the same way it had been when a six year old Steve had helped you up from the playground, knees scraped and front tooth missing after falling from the monkey bars. It was the same touch you granted him when you were twelve and he had to go to the emergency room, his arm broken after falling off of his bike. You’d begged to ride in the ambulance with him and his mom, his ink stained fingers reaching for you, not Mrs. Harrington. 

When you had no tears left to give and the water was turning lukewarm, Steve turned the tap again, let the hot water fill the room back up with steam and soothe your tired bodies. He grabbed a sponge, tapped at your knee until you turned to him, face to face and unbelievably vulnerable. 

But you let him smooth the sponge over the bare skin that he could see, up your arms, wiping away the soot from the fire, the stubborn dried blood that didn’t want to leave. He squeezed warm water over your chest, looking at your eyes and definitely not your bra, the pretty, green lace turning darker against your skin.

He pressed a kiss to your hair when you let your head fall into him, too tired to sit up and when you couldn’t hear the far away whine of sirens in the distance anymore, he helped you stand, the water that was light pink with blood swirling down the drain. He wrapped you both in towels, murmuring the whole time that you were okay, he had you, it was gonna be fine. 

You pulled your favourite shirt from underneath his pillow, tugging it on and falling into his bed, the smell of Steve and home surrounding you in the same way that the sheets did, soft and comforting. The boy clambered in beside you, body stiff and pain settling in his bones but you glued yourself to his side, hands intertwined and pressed between your chests and you couldn’t close your eyes until Steve leaned into you, breath warm and smelling of mint as he pressed his lips to your ear as he told you: “Remember when I promised you that I’d protect you from everything bad?”

You nodded, remembering that cherry flavoured popsicle and the way Steve’s pool looked so much bigger and deeper back then. “We were eight, Steve.”

He hummed in agreement, forehead rubbing fond against your own and you revelled in the fact that you both smelled like the same cotton and lemongrass body wash. 

“We were,” he agreed, voice a soft whisper, cracking a little from the yelling that had ripped his throat apart. “But the promise still stands, sweetheart.”

You opened your eyes to look at them and he looked a little fuzzy as you teared up. But Steve shook his head gently, hand tightening around your smaller one.

“No more tears, please babe,” he sniffed too, as if the entire night suddenly hit him, “I got you now, yeah? I’m never gonna let anythin’ happen to you, promise.”

You slept then, a little broken and fitful, but every time you shifted in your sleep, the boy followed, bodies traversing across the mattress and between the sheets. When you woke in the morning, you had your head on Steve’s chest, a leg thrown over his own, your thigh hitched high over his and his arms were a vice grip around you, his face pressed to the top of your head. 

The sheets were on the floor, a pillow by the door as if it had been kicked and the sun was shining through the gap in the curtain, bright and warm and mocking. The world felt a little different after that night, and so did your friendship with Steve Harrington. 

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all. 

Working at Family Video with both Robin and Steve meant that you got to spend a lot more time with your friends. It also meant that Robin was more privy to watching how you and Steve interacted with each other and it had the girl taking notes on your relationship with the boy like her new favourite science experiment. 

“Look, I’m just saying, he’s not really dated since Starcourt and the boy lost it over you that night.” 

You rolled your eyes, still putting away the videos that were stacked in your arms as Robin followed you up and down the aisles. The store was quiet, a Tuesday afternoon giving you little to do but you’d graduated after you fought a monster and survived the soviets, so applying for colleges wasn’t all that high on your to do list. 

Your parents had taken that news better than Steve’s, both couples perplexed at their kids' choices to stay in Hawkins and work for the summer but at least your Dad had threatened bodily harm against you when you’d told him. 

You eyed Steve who was on the other end of the store, leaning lazy against the counter as he ticked off the delivery list. He looked a little older, like you did, but the stubble on his jaw and the broadness of his shoulders made your lips part every time you chanced a look. 

He was still Steve, but he was a little taller, a little stronger. He was still late night drives and sneaking through your window, mixtapes on your birthday and cherry popsicles in his backyard during the summer. Maybe he flirted a little more with you, comments suggestive and compliments coming easier but you tried not to think about it. When you did, late at night and alone in bed, it made your head spin, your lips part, your eyes close. 

You sighed, turning to Robin to tell her with an exasperated whisper, “we’ve been best friends since pre-k, of course he was upset that I was dragged away by a fucking Russian Soviet, Robin.”

She rolled her eyes at you, stumbling over her own foot as she tried to keep up. Steve glanced up at you both at the noise, brows furrowed as you both froze, eyes a little wide and you waved, hands raised awkwardly in unison. 

“What’re you both doing?” He called out, suspicion lacing his voice and you felt heat travel from your chest to your cheeks. 

“Nothing,” Robin called out at the same time you told him you were fixing the horror section. 

Your voices piled over each other and you wanted to groan, because Robin couldn’t lie to save herself and now you both looked like idiots. But Steve just smiled, fond, and turned back to his stack of papers. 

“I'm telling you,” Robin continued, voice a little lower now, “Steve likes you, like, he likes you, likes you. Why can’t you see that?”

You stopped and turned at her last words, truly taken aback at how sincere she sounded, how confused she seemed. 

‘Cause Steve was still Steve and you were still you and nothing in the world could really change that. Steve had promised you that he’d always be your best friend, and at nineteen, that still seemed like a pretty sweet deal. 

You shrugged, pushing the last copy of Nightmare On Elm Street onto the shelf and you crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling far too exposed at her interrogation. 

“It’s not like that,” you told her, whispering still, “it’s never been like that with Steve.”

She huffed, swiping a finger along the row of videos and blowing away the dust she’d collected. Robin turned, an eyebrow raised. “Would you want it to be like that? ‘Cause seriously, dude, I still can’t believe that, in like, sixteen years of friendship, you’ve never even kissed once.”

You shrugged again, holding back on telling the girl that sometimes you thought the same. 

When you were fourteen, you thought that Steve was going to be your first kiss. Looking back, you weren’t sure why, you just did. Maybe it was a feeling, maybe it was hope, maybe it was just inevitable. 

‘Cause you grew up beside the boy and never once did he feel like a brother, and that had to mean something, right? He held your hand when you watched scary movies, when you crossed the road on Main Street, when it was rush hour, just like your parents had told you to when you were seven. He never dropped your hand, he never kicked you from his side of the bed when the movies you watched together became too much. 

You went through middle school and high school still the same, joined at the hip, still sharing secrets, still holding hands when things got too hard. 

But then one summer, Hayley Collins had a birthday party and you’d been sick, too ill to attend but Steve had still stood underneath your bedroom window, features twisted with conflict as you told him it was fine, he could go without you. You remember telling him to have fun, and to bring you back some candy. 

He did. He brought you back fistfuls of sweet stuff, bags of M&M’s and pop rocks but you didn’t expect him to bring his lips to your ear and tell you a secret you never expected. 

Steve had had his first kiss. A game of spin the bottle in Hayley’s basement with her cousin who was from out of town. A girl a year older, a girl who had pretty blonde curls and a reason to wear a real bra. 

You remembered the feeling when your heart sank and the pop rocks stopped fizzing on your tongue. You wondered why the sugar tasted bitter, why your eyes were suddenly pricking with hot tears and when the boy asked if you were okay, a grin slipping from his lips, you lied and told him that you still felt sick. 

You turned to Robin, a fake smile pulling at your lips as you tried to act casual, as if her words weren’t kickstarting a feeling in your chest that you had been trying so hard to ignore for the last five years. 

You furrowed your brow, turned to the cart that was still full of videos no thanks to your friend, and picked up another pile. You stacked them until they reached your chin, until they gave you a reason to walk to the other side of the stands and take a deep breath.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” you lied, and it felt heavy on your tongue, tasting too sweet and sinful. Because of course you had. “It’s not something that’s crossed my mind.”

Robin saw right through you and you could tell by the way her brows rose and she hid her smile behind a press of her lips. 

“Sure,” she said, voice too light. “Humour me then. What do you think would happen if you did let it cross your mind?”

You stared at her, mouth agape, because what the fuck was the girl getting at. 

She grabbed some of the videos you were holding, The Exorcist close to slipping from its slot underneath your chin and she started stacking them beside you, completely out of alphabetical order, but that was a problem for another day. 

“Just listen,” she said and you hated how she sounded excited. “What do you think would happen if you asked Steve to kiss you?”

She dropped a box, cursing when the corner of it hit her toe but she bounced back up, bright eyes still brimming with all the thoughts that were swirling round her head at once. 

“Cause you know he would, right? Like the poor guy can’t say no to you, he’s never been able to.”

You made a sound of protest, heart hammering in your chest because Steve was still right there, fingers running though his hair, pen between his lips and so completely fucking oblivious. 

But Robin suddenly stopped and spun to face you. She wrapped a hand around your wrist, soft and warm and you could tell she was choosing her words carefully before she said them, a sure fire way to tell that the girl was being serious. 

“There’s a reason that none of his girlfriends have stuck around, babe,” Robin murmured, sincerity lacing every word. “It’s ‘cause he always picks you, every time.”

—————

It had been a week since Robin had cornered you at work, whispering to you about Steve and kissing and god, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

You thought about it when he gave you a ride home after work, sun setting, the day turning pink and casting indigo shadows over his face, the line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. 

You thought about it when he pushed himself into you during Saturday morning shifts, his body lazy as he leant against you, his chest to your back and his head on your shoulder. It felt softer and intimate than when he’d done it before, your mind running wild with the idea that if you turned around and kissed him, right there in the middle of Family Video, he might kiss you back. 

You thought about it when you were lying by his pool, his parents gone, the kids and Dustin’s new friend Eddie starting water fights on the lawn. You’d watch the way Steve watched you, jealous eyes and lips pouted when Eddie soaked you with a water balloon, skin damp, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. You watched how he softened and lit up again, your attention on him when you shook your wet hair over his bare chest and you couldn’t help but notice how his gaze followed the movements you made when you bent to slide your shorts back up your legs. 

So maybe it was for those reasons that you turned to him one Friday night, when it was just the two of you out in his backyard, and asked him why he’d never kissed you. 

It could’ve been the joint you’d been sharing making you feel braver, or maybe the shadows that you were hiding in, the spaces that the pool lights didn’t quite reach. 

Maybe it was the way Steve had been looking at you each time you took the joint from his lips and put it between your own. Hair a little messy, eyes hooded, jaw slack. 

Maybe it was because of all of it. Maybe it was because you were nineteen and growing impatient. Maybe it was sixteen years of build up. Of wondering, wanting, waiting. 

The air smelled the same way it did when you were eight, chlorine and cedar from the trees, that afternoon's sunscreen mixing with weed and smoke. Your tongue was stained red from the popsicle you’d had, Steve’s blue and there were new freckles on both of your faces, noses a little pink from lying out in the sun all day. 

And when the afternoon faded into evening and the sky was lilac, Steve produced a joint with a grin, a wiggle of his brows and suddenly you were lying on the deck together, the pool filter trickling in the background and laughing soft as you blew smoke into the night. 

There was a buzz of insects from the forest that stood behind the house, the faint hum of someone’s music that played from a couple of yards over and you felt the warmth radiate from the boy from where he lay beside you. 

Your bare feet pointed to opposite ends of the pool, one of yours dipped into the water and your heads were touching, cheek to cheek. If you turned to look at him, you knew your lips could slip over his easily and the thought of it made your body fizz. 

He had just plucked the joint from your mouth, thumb grazing clumsy over your top lip, fitting pretty into the dip of your Cupid’s bow when you tilted your head, cheek resting on the patio, the slabs still warm from the afternoon sun. 

“Hey, Harrington,” you sounded quiet and lazy, like you didn’t have a care in the world. But god, your heart was in your throat, pulsing like a warning. “You ever thought ‘bout kissing me?”

If Steve was shocked, he didn’t show it, not really. His eyes widened slightly, joint hanging slack from his lips and he stubbed it out on the concrete before swallowing, hard. 

He turned to you, noses almost brushing and you watched the way his gaze settled on your lips. 

“Why d’you ask?” His voice was a hush, warm and rough. 

You shrugged, boldness faltering because he hadn’t answered your question but holy shit, he was still looking at your mouth, the way your tongue snuck out to wet your bottom lip before you spoke. 

“Just something Robin said,” you told him, nose scrunched. 

Your words made his lips part, nodding in understanding because of course Robin was involved and the girl had been at him too, hounding him in the stockroom at work, calling him out on his obvious crush on your over old, dusty videos. 

But all the boy could say was, “oh.”

And then there was silence, for a second, maybe two. It felt like minutes, like an hour, like the sky was suddenly crashing down on you, as if lavender clouds and the stars were going to bury you were you lay but then-

“I have,” Steve said, quietly sure. You looked over at him as he blew out a breath, “course I’ve thought about it. ‘Bout kissing you.”

“Oh,” it was your turn to keep silent, his admission washing over you like a tsunami sized wave, one that you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep your head above. 

You sat up suddenly, shocking Steve and he leaned up onto his elbows with wide eyes, watching as you turned to face him, legs crossed and knees knocking into his thighs. 

“Why haven’t we?” You asked, bemusement colouring your tone and you couldn’t help but press your hand to his where it lay on the deck. Your fingers brushed over his, a new kind of touch. “Why haven’t we ever kissed?”

You wondered if he could hear your heartbeat, if it was rattling against your ribs as loud as it seemed to be. You held your breath as Steve sat up too, mirroring your pose and crossing his legs until you were knee to knee and looking like a couple of innocent kids again. 

He shrugged, blowing out another breath and he tugged a hand through the front of his hair, making it stand on end. He looked a little wild, like you short circuited him, like you were half way to ruining him. 

The boy’s voice cracked a little when he tried to answer and you wondered if this was okay, if you should’ve asked but then Steve was speaking, his thumb drawing absentminded circles over your bare knee.  

“I’m not really sure,” he said and he spoke soft and quiet, like he was telling you a secret. “I suppose I just didn’t wanna lose my best friend.”

It was the answer you expected. Best friend first, the prospect of a girl to kiss in the background of his mind. You should’ve been happy, you should’ve felt loved, but the idea of never having Steve in the way you realised you wanted him was becoming more crushing by the day. 

“Or maybe,” he suddenly continued, “I guess… I guess I didn’t realise I was allowed to.”

Your lips parted at that, a small bomb dropped in the middle of the Harrington’s backyard. You waited for the pool to empty, for the small wave to hit your back, for the sky to light up but nothing came and Steve was watching you, waiting. 

“You’re allowed to,” you whispered and oh my god, you didn’t feel high enough for this, but you continued, tummy dropping and skin electric. “You’ve always been allowed to.”

You heard Steve’s breath hitch and it only felt natural when his hand came up to cup the back of your neck, thumb pressed to the spot behind your ear and god, he was leaning in and so were you. 

“I just don’t know if we should,” he was telling you but he was still moving into you and his hand never fell away from your face. 

“It’s just a kiss,” you told him, voice shot, lips falling apart and you could smell his aftershave, the leftover chlorine that stuck to his skin and he was summer, he was cherry and smoke and god, he was forbidden, he was yours. “Friends can kiss, doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“It’s really just curiosity, right?”

His nose was bumping against yours, both of your eyes fluttering closed at the feel of the other's breath falling across your lips and you wondered if he’d taste like his popsicle, blue raspberry, sugar and fizz. 

You nodded at his question, too gone to speak and the movement made your top lip brush against his. Sparks against your skin, electric, dangerous and it made you sigh. 

“Steve?” You whispered, eyes squeezed shut like you were seven again and making a wish beside your birthday cake, candles making your skin glow.

He hummed, thumb still pushing against that spot on your neck, “yeah sweetheart?”

“Will you kiss me?”

And fuck, maybe Robin was right because the boy didn’t say no. In fact, Steve didn’t say anything, he just moved into you until your nose was pressed into his cheek and his lips were plush against yours and oh my god you were kissing your best friend.  

He still tasted like raspberry, like you thought he would. Like summer and promises and pool days and a little smoke and Steve. 

It was a slow push of his lips to your own, mouths slanting over each other’s, soft and languid like you both knew this was your only chance. You thought you heard him moan, a soft, low noise that made your chest hurt and when the kiss lingered, you brought your hands to his cheeks, fingers splayed over his jaw as you tugged him a little closer, greedy. 

And when his tongue licked at the curve of your bottom lip, his hand travelled to tilt at your chin, asking you to open for him, you did, no questions asked. You sighed, blissed out, when his tongue slid over yours, a hand falling to fist in his t-shirt, soft cotton crumpled in your hand because you felt like you were going to float away. 

Then Steve was pulling back, chest heaving, forehead pressed to yours and eyes still slammed shut as he gave you another secret, pressed to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the curve of your neck. 

“I always thought you were gonna be my first kiss,” he said it like a confession, like something holy. “M’sorry you weren’t.”

And then he was back on you, lips melted between your own and you knew that the pretty noises that you pulled from him would play like a record in your dreams for months on end. Steve was grasping at your hip, the material of your dress bunched under his hand, making the cotton hitch higher up your thighs. 

You were in his lap, wide hands on your sides, guiding you as you kissed him, lovesick, eyes closed, body buzzing and you fell across his knees, thighs shifting apart to cage him underneath you and oh my god. 

Fuck. 

You sat a little higher than him, knees planted on the deck and his head was tilted back to kiss you as you crowded him. One hand was on your jaw, thumb rubbing against your cheek as he kissed you deeper now, a little dirty and when he pulled a small moan from you, his hand clasped at the back of your thigh, skin on skin. 

You could feel him hard underneath you and it made your head feel fuzzy, your body pleading with you to drag yourself along the length of him, hips rolling, chest heaving. 

When you pulled back, panting, the reflections of the pool were bouncing off your faces, ripples of light dancing across the boy's features, hitting his eyes and turning them caramel. You felt golden when he touched you, skin lit up, the air around you both crackling like a storm was coming. 

Maybe it was still the weed, maybe it was a new found courage, maybe it was just teenage hormones and the thought of seeing each other naked for the first time since you were both four, but when Steve asked if he could take you inside, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. 

It felt different in his bedroom when you both tumbled in, colliding with the dresser as you kissed each other like you meant it, like you’d never do it again. The room felt smaller, darker, softer, more intimate than it had ever been for you and suddenly you felt like a girl at the end of date. 

Steve touched you like you were more than just his best friend and it made your stomach roll, your thighs rub together and you couldn’t quite get over the way his hand spanned the width of your cheek, fingertips grazing your hairline whilst his thumb managed to pull at your bottom lip, eager for more of you. 

It all got a little wild after that, loose change and bottles of aftershave cologne clattering off of the drawers, falling to the floor as Steve picked you up and slammed you on top of it, legs spreading for him to fit in between. Hands roamed up your thighs, pushing at the soft skin there until he hitched a knee up and over his hip, pressing himself into you. 

Your dress came off first, his shirt following, a mix of colours on the carpet and he pressed his lips to the skin he uncovered, mouth over lavender lace and delicate straps. 

It felt desperate, you felt desperate. And when he sucked a bruise into the column of your throat, you keened, high and needy. It made the boy groan, mouth vibrating against your chest as he kissed over the lace triangles covering you, his gaze flicking up to watch you nod at him before he was pushing one aside, tongue smoothing over a nipple. 

It made you grab at his hair, fingers delving deep, tugging in appreciation and you were prepared for the sound it pulled from him, low in the back of his throat and it made his eyes flutter shut. 

“Sweetheart,” Steve huffed out, hands skimming up and down your sides as he pressed his forehead to yours, “I’m gonna come in my pants if you keep that up.”

He sounded wild, unravelled and sharp around the edges. It made you feel full of power, pretty lips and lace and soft skin, and you pressed the softest kiss to Steve’s mouth, his breath coming in harsh pants and before you could ask, you were being manhandled again, legs around his waist and his hands on your ass. 

He sat you both on the bed like that, spread out pretty on top of him, knees pushed into the mattress as you pulled at his belt, holding yourself up as he shuffled out of his jeans. He sucked tiny bruises on your collar bones as your bra was peeled off, nothing but your underwear separating you both and you felt his hands drag down your back, a touch that was so affectionate and soft that it took your breath away. 

Then night seemed slower after that, like time paused for you both, just for you to remember every touch. Like the world stopped spinning on its axis just for you two, just so you would both remember the way the other felt, ‘cause fuck, you had a feeling this wouldn’t happen again. 

“We don’t have to go any further,” Steve gasped, lips barely leaving yours as pushed and pulled at your hips, helping you rock over him, body rolling across his lap. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

But you were ready to climb him, your hands grabbing at his hair to tug him back to you, kisses swallowing his words and telling the boy that you wanted exactly the opposite. 

It was strange how natural it felt, to tug the length of him out of his boxers, the feel of him hot and hard in your hand. You shuffled in Steve’s lap as he palmed you over the lace of your underwear, breath uneven. It didn’t take long for him to tug them down your legs as he slid on a condom, your foot kicking purple lace to his bedroom floor and you suddenly felt like you were underwater; body moving lazy and slow as you lifted yourself onto your knees, Steve’s hands strong and reassuring as you took him in your hand and sunk down onto him.

Neither of you moved, bodies tangled and still as you fit perfectly in his lap, arms wrapped around each other as you panted heavy into parted lips. Steve whispered your name, like a prayer, soft and broken before he pushed his lips to yours, head tilted into you so he could catch your lips deep and slow.

He grunted in surprise when you tightened around him, body clenching on his at the touch of his tongue across your bottom lip and you whimpered, hips beginning to wiggle. This was more than you’d felt before, more than wandering hands in back seats, more than a quick and fast hook-up in a party bathroom, more than fingers under skirts in your bedroom when your parents were asleep across the hall. 

“Can I move?” You ask, quiet, your hands grappling desperately at Steve’s shoulders palming over the muscles there. “I need to move, Steve, please.” If you were begging, you didn’t care, because you felt so full, so tight around him and you couldn’t help but admire the way the boy looked underneath you. 

But Steve didn’t have you waiting long, any teasing long forgotten about ‘cause he felt like he was wound too tight and you felt like fucking heaven around him. You didn’t know your eyes were wet until his thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, breath stuttering and you both gasped and swore when you lifted yourself up, just to rock yourself back down.

He moaned your name so prettily, lips glossy from your kisses and his eyes were hooded, gaze set on you, jaw slack, hands roaming across the expanse of your back as he held you to him. 

You moved over him with purpose, Steve answering with low groans and he pulled soft whimpers from you, your hand catching his face so you could look at him, gazes heavy and hot, pinned to each other. Your thumb found the curve of his bottom lip, tugging a little and Steve moaned when the pad of it slid over the edge of his teeth. “Steve,” you gasped, hips moving messy and the boy grabbed at your ass, helping you ride him a little faster. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, tell me, tell me what you want and I’ll give you it,” he pressed his lips to yours as he spoke, words slipping over your lips, your tongue and god, they tasted sweet. “I’ll give you anything.”

“More,” was all you could manage, breath hitching, eyes slamming shut ‘cause Steve’s hand dropped between you both, skin slick and he pressed his thumb over your clit; quick, hot circles that made stars flash behind your eyelids. “Close?” Steve asked, voice rough and you nodded, moving a little wilder over him, the boy reciprocated, hands holding your hips still so he could thrust up hard into you until you were biting down on the muscle on his shoulder, thighs tensing, eyes tearing up. 

Steve whispered your name when he came, arms tight around you, head buried in the crook of your neck, eyes squeezed shut, hoping and praying that he’d always remember the way you felt around him.

He kissed you one last time that night, bodies still naked and stretched out between his sheets and you didn’t say anything to each other as you caught your breaths, eyes wide on each other. There was a part of you that wished you could have the excuse of alcohol, too messy after some party to remember. You couldn’t blame the weed either, the half smoked joint still stubbed out in the backyard, hardly enough to do anything than let you both share a buzz. 

In the morning, you pulled on your clothes, wrinkled on Steve’s bedroom floor, still smelling of smoke and the boy. You tiptoed around his room, searching for your underwear, your shoes, all while the boy lay on his bed, face down, hair mussed and the white sheets barely covering his waist.

You wish you had it in you to let yourself drop back down into bed with, to have the courage to press a kiss to the freckle on his right shoulder, smooth a soft hand down his spine. But the sun was coming in through the window and your lips were still swollen from your best friend’s kisses and everything was starting to taste like a mistake. 

You didn’t know it, but Steve was awake as you left, eyes open and face pressed into the pillow that still smelled like your shampoo, heart beating wild in his chest but he didn’t move, didn’t call out to stop you. And well, that was that. 

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue. 

You didn’t talk about it. 

A week passed and neither did Steve and before you knew it, you were a month down the line, the feel of your best friend's lips on your skin feeling like a fever dream and you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to forget the feel of him moving against you, inside you. 

It hurt to look at him, for a while. It got worse before it got better, stilted conversations and awkward eye contact, the taste of regret in both of your tongues and all the things you wanted to say to each other were left unsaid. 

But it was fine. 

Steve asked you round for a movie one Friday, videos stacked on the coffee table in his living room, your favourite sweater of his lying out on the arm of the sofa along with red vines and the good kinda popcorn. 

You didn’t push yourself into his side like you normally would and you didn’t know if that disappointed him or not, but when he dropped you off home later that night, the sky was a dark, rosy pink, the lingering smell of rain in the air and he smacked a messy kiss to your cheek before you climbed out of his car. 

It was fine. Until it wasn’t. 

Steve started dating again, one girl, two girls, three girls. Lucy on Saturday, Matthew David’s cousin Paula the next Friday, Cindy from last year's cheer squad the week after. 

You didn’t ask about it and he didn’t tell you, just poking an affectionate finger to the apple of your cheek when he told you he’d see you the next day. You were his best friend, again, still, only. 

It was fine until one Friday shift, when you disappeared into the back room a little earlier than the store closed. You came back out in a new dress, short and pretty, with blush on your cheeks and a gloss on your lips. Robin had wolf whistled, Steve had frowned. 

“Where are you going?”

His tone of voice cut you in half, accusatory and a little shocked. Steve leaned over the counter, a finger picking delicately at a lock of hair that you’d spent too long trying to get to sit nicely. 

“A date,” you told him, voice soft, gaze lowered as you tried to cram lip gloss tubes and perfume bottles into your bag. 

“With who?” Was the instantaneous response, that same tone of voice. 

You saw Robin’s gaze flitting between the pair of you, not privy to the events that took place a month prior, but not for a lack of trying. The girl was perfectly aware that something happened. She just didn’t know what and neither your or Steve had told her anything. 

“Nate Owens,” you told him and god, why was it so hard to meet his eye? “You know, he was on the team with you.”

Steve pulled his brows together, bewildered at your answer. “Yeah, I know him, why the fuck are you going on a date with Owens?”

You heard Robin’s sharp intake of breath and she watched as you squinted at the boy, annoyance on your features. Knowing what was to come, she grabbed the last of the returns and made her way to the other side of the empty store, leaving you two alone.

“What?” You huffed out, exasperated already. Your stomach was tumbling and you hated the way you didn’t know why. Maybe it was first date jitters, maybe it was the way Steve was looking at you, maybe it was because you knew you had absolutely no interest in dating anyone that wasn’t your bet fucking friend. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve grappled for something to say, stuttering over excuses until he tutted and grabbed the stapler, carelessly turning it over in his hands as he told you, “you’ve got nothing in common with him, like, at all.”

You scoffed, pulling at the hem of your dress and smoothing out imaginary creases, you were annoyed, something burning and twisting inside of you. “Sure Harrington, I forgot you choose all your dates based on compatibility and shared goals for the future.”

“He’s a douchebag,” Steve tried again, “he’s only after one thing.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I am too,” you said loftily and you didn’t look for Steve’s reaction, you didn’t want to. You moved from behind the counter, leaving a cloud of perfume in your wake and headed for the door. “Robs, I’ll call you later, ‘kay?”

Before the girl could answer, Steve was tailing you, moving across the store with that stupid stapler still in his hand and he called out your name, making you stop and turn.

“He’s just gonna hurt you,” the boy explained and you hated how his voice had turned a little softer. “You can do so much better than him.”

“Yeah?” You turned fully, chin raised and shoulders set as you locked eyes with Steve. “Who should I date then, Steve? Who’s good enough?”

The air felt electric, fully charged as the boy stared back, lips parting, chest barely moving as if he was holding his breath. If Robin was still there, you didn’t know, your mind only registering the way the boy was still silent in front of you. 

“That’s what I thought,” you eventually muttered, hot tears threatening to prick at the corner of your eyes. “Don’t wait sixteen years to start taking an interest in my love life Harrington, I’ve got by just fine without your advice.”

You’d opened the door by the time Steve replied, voice hot and clipped with anger and something else, a tone you’d never heard him use with you before. “Yeah, well, don’t come fucking crying to me when he turns out to be a dick.”

You laughed humorlessly, your back turned to him as you faced the night outside, the cool air nipping at the heat on your cheeks. You wanted to go home, to chance a look at Robin and silently ask her to clamber into bed with you, if she’d let you cry onto her shoulder as you ate pizza and watched reruns of Charlie’s Angels.

There was also a part of you that wanted to turn to Steve, glassy eyed and confused, to ask why it suddenly felt like you were fighting for the first time since middle school. 

But you didn’t.

You walked out into the night and let the door slam shut behind you. 

If you’d hung around, you would’ve heard Robin slam down the copy of Stand By Me that she was holding, eyes a little angry and disappointed as she looked at the boy and said: “You’re a fucking idiot.”

‘Yeah,’ Steve thought, ‘he knew he was.’

----------

You hated that Steve was right, you hated that Nate Owens was a pig, you hated that he did nothing but look at your chest over the dinner table, you hated that he tried to lean in for a kiss the minute you both got back into his car, you hated that he got pissy with you when you didn’t let him push his hand up your dress, you hated that he told you to put out or get out.

You hated that he left you on the side of the road, a little out of town, at a restaurant that you didn’t really know, dinner paid for with his daddy’s money.

You hated that when you finally found a payphone at the side of a dark gas station, you punched in Steve’s number. You hated that you started to cry when you heard his voice, you hated that he told you was coming to get you. 

Steve found you easily despite your awful directions, and when he asked if you were okay, voice quiet and gentle, you choked out a little sob, feeling pathetic and Steve told you to stay put, that he would be there as fast as he could.

He definitely broke some laws to get to you, flashing through amber lights faster than he was supposed to and when he pulled into the station only twenty minutes later, his heart ached at the way you leaned against the brick wall, half in shadows with your arms wrapped around you, the slight wind picking at the hem of you dress, lifting it from you thighs.

Steve got out of the car before you could move, pushing yourself off of the wall and he hated that your eyes were glassy, that you seemed embarrassed. You let him tug one of his sweatshirts over your head, one he specifically grabbed for you before rushing out of his door, ‘cause he watched you leave work without a jacket and if he’d been in a better mood when you were going on your date - if you’d have been going on a date with him - he would’ve teased you about being cold later.

Steve opened the passenger door, waiting for you to fold yourself into the front of his car and when he got back in, the only light coming from the old neon sign that was flashing red, telling customers that the store was open. 

He wrapped his hands around the steering wheel, squeezing it until his knuckles turned white and he glanced at you, expression almost unreadable.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked.

“No,” you shook your head, and it was true. You’d thrown an elbow into the Nate’s chest when he tried to push you too far, too fast, the sharp point of your arm catching him just below his throat and he’d turned on you, telling you to get the fuck out. “The only thing hurt is my pride, but I guess that’s on me, huh?”

Steve sighed at that, turning fully in his seat so he could face you, his hand coming up to press into your cheek, his thumb running gently under your eye, catching the tears there before they fell.

“Sweetheart-” Steve started, but you were overwhelmingly emotional, everything from the night and Nate and Steve suddenly becoming too much and god, you just wanted to yell with it. 

“What? Is this the part where you say I told you so?” You tried to sound biting, but the words hitched in your throat, fresh tears springing to your eyes. “Why’re you even here Steve?”

You knew why. 

“Cause you asked me,” he answered, simply and that was all there was to it, wasn’t there? “And I’m not gonna tell you shit, I’m… I’m sorry I acted like that early, I dunno what was wrong with me.”

You wanted to press further, you wanted to ask him if he truly didn’t know the reason he acted like an asshole. You wanted to ask if he was jealous, if he wanted you the way you wanted him, if he missed you, if he thought about you when he went on all these dates, if he wanted to kiss you again, if he thought about it all the time, the same way that you did. 

But Steve was still talking, fingers slipping from your face to pick at a stand of hair, playing with the end of it absentmindedly. The car felt too small, too warm and too dark, and you were sure that the last time you were both this close, you’d been in Steve's bed, wrapped around him as he made you come. 

“He didn’t deserve even an hour of your time,” he told you, brows knitted together in a frown. “And you deserve better than Nate fucking Owens, you’re too good for him,” he repeated his statement from earlier and it made you chest ache, your tummy tumble over because god, you wanted to be brave.

“Who’s good enough then, Steve?” You breathed it out, voice almost a whisper because you were so close to losing it, to grabbing the boy by his face and telling him how you felt, how’d fallen in love with him fuck knows how many years ago and you’d only recently let yourself believe it.

He started, wide eyed, lips parted and waiting, the same reaction he’d had back at Family Video. But you didn’t walk away this time, you let out a huff of laughter, no humour in it as you sat back in the seat and started out of the windscreen. The gas station was deserted, the night creeping into a new day, the clock ticking closer to midnight and the light was still flickering. 

It painted you both crimson, eyes brighter than they should’ve been, cheeks rosy. You pushed a foot to the dash, dress slipping up your thigh and gathering in the crease of your leg, showing off way too much skin but you didn’t care.

“I grew up with all the other guys in our grade knowing that I was Steve Harrington’s best friend,” you told him, voice hushed and cracking, “all of them too scared to touch me ‘cause your stupid ten year old ass always threatened to beat them up.”

He was still staring, lip twitching as if he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh or not because it was true. But then he watched a tear slip down your cheek and it caught the light, a flash of ruby before it got caught on your top lip and you licked it away.

“Then in high school, I was a challenge, ‘cause I was still Steve Harrington’s best fucking friend. Boy’s would either be terrified to talk to me or treat me like the best prize they could win. They thought I was off limits, some thought I was your girlfriend and god, Steve, fuck…”

You swallowed, hard, breath catching in your chest and the car was so silent, the boy watching, listening. 

“I never thought that I wanted that, to be anything more than your friend. I didn’t,” you tried to sound convincing, but even to your own ears, your protests sounded weak. “But then you kissed me.”

You looked at him from under your lashes, hands twisted nervously in your lap, his sweater fisted between your fingers and you hated the way it smelled like him, like mint and cedar and smoke and suddenly, it was all too much.

“I know I asked you to,” you blurted out, eyes brimming with tears again, spilling over the line of your lashes and suddenly, you didn’t care about what you said anymore. “But fuck! Robin said that you never say no to me, that you’d do anything for me and god, I just wanted it once, I didn’t know it would go that far that night… I don’t regret it,” you rambled, words falling clumsily over the next and you chanced a look at him, his eyes full of shock but there was a softness behind it, familiar and fond. “I don’t regret it at all, I just-”

You sucked in a breath, let your head fall back onto the rest and let your eyes fall closed before you admitted another secret.

“I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

You kept your eyes closed as you kept talking, the words, the confessions, falling so much easier now that you’d started. The dark made you feel a little bolder, the silence of the boy encouraging you to just keep spilling your heart out, no interruptions.

“I thought that maybe you would feel the same, that you’d say something first, ‘cause you’ve always been braver but then you started dating that girl, then the other one. And maybe I was just stupid, maybe I was wrong,” you sighed, gazing to the side to catch Steve’s eye, a warmth blooming over your entire body, embarrassment, adrenaline and the feeling that you were throwing yourself off a cliff surging over you. “But there was a part of me that thought you’d maybe figure out you loved me too.”

You didn’t know what you expected, really. There was such a large part of you that still believed you were only going to ever be friends, that if Steve wanted more, he would've told you by now. That part told you you were imagining things, that sleeping together was nothing more than an experiment, a product of being high and bored with your best friend. It told you to ignore the way you thought he looked at you, the way that sometimes, you were so sure his touch lingered for longer than it needed to. 

But then there was a voice in the back of your head, a shit, it sounded a little like Robin’s and it told you that the boy before you would do anything for you, anything you asked. And wasn’t that why he was here now? It told you that friends didn’t look at each other like that, that friends didn’t have to untangle themselves from each other's arms each morning, that friends didn’t kiss like you had both done. 

Steve whispered your name then, a hand reaching out to catch yours. 

“You know I love you,” he whispered, voice a little shocked, a little awed. He sounded broken too, like he didn’t know what he was supposed to say, like he was terrified of saying the wrong thing. “I’ve always loved you, you’re my best friend.”

Your heart fell. 

“I- I don’t wanna lose you,” Steve said and he was rambling, falling over his words as his eyes searched your face for something he wasn’t going to find. The softness you’d held in your features was gone. “Babe, you’re my best friend, I can’t lose you-”

“Don’t call me that,” you choked out, your heart racing, your stomach twisting. You thought you might be sick. “Fuck, shit, take me home.”

You pulled your hand away from where the boy held it, your demand sounding harsh and too loud in the quiet of the car. You couldn’t look at him. The red light was still flashing, flickering and it suddenly felt like it was splitting your head in two, like it was pulsing to the same beat as your heart. 

Steve said your name again, pleading, his hand on your arm, silently begging you to turn, to look at him. 

“Can you let me explain? Please, god, I didn’t mean it like that, you have to understand-”

“Take me home, Steve, please.”

But he ignored you, tugging the keys out of the ignition and leaning forward, a hand tilting at your chin to try and a catch your gaze but your cheeks felt too hot and the burn at your eyes told you that you were going to start crying again and all you could think about was the list of boys who were too scared to make you theirs, too happy with a quick fuck in the back of their shitty cars and you never used to care because you were only ever happy with one boy. 

You knew you should’ve let him talk, that you owed him his chance to speak but the burning sensation of embarrassment and rejection was creeping up your spine like poison and you hated it, you couldn’t stand it. 

You panicked. 

You pulled at the door handle, fingers clumsy as you pushed the door open, clambering out with Steve’s sweater still swamping your frame and you could hear the boy calling your name even after you slammed the door shut. 

You made a start for the alleyway behind the gas station, somewhere the car couldn’t follow and by the time you made it a few streets over, you realised Steve wasn’t coming for you anyway. 

You got halfway home before the rain started falling, a pathetic spit that misted into the air and soaked you through. It made your hair stick to your cheeks, Steve’s sweater damp and hanging heavy on your body and by the time you reached home, it didn’t smell like him anymore. 

Good, you thought. 

Because when you were eight years old, Steve Harrington was the first big to tell you he loved you and then he promised you three things:

One, he’d always be your best friend. Two, he’d always protect you from everything bad and scary. And three, he’d never break your heart. 

It took almost twelve years, but shit, the boy finally broke one of them. 

Take me out, and take me home. 

It took Steve twelve years to break his promise to you, but only four days to fix it. 

Which was impressive really, when he spent the first three days agonising over what to say to you. You’d been avoiding him like the plague, worse than the plague, quite frankly. 

He expected you at work the next day, chest sore from holding his breath as he watched the door, eyes tired from staying up all night.

 He’d stayed in that gas station parking lot for too long after you’d left, eyes wide as he watched you leave, disappearing behind the alleyway almost instantly. 

Steve had slammed his hands on the dash, overwhelmed with everything you’d said, admitted to him, with glassy eyes and he fucking hated how he’d made your bottom lip tremble, your breath hitch and stutter as you tried not to cry. 

He’d panicked. 

And you’d left. 

He’d driven home slowly, trying to catch sight of you on the sidewalks that led home, rolling down the streets that looked unfamiliar to see if you were there, trying to find shortcuts. When the rain had started, he’d cursed, no sight of you anywhere and by the time he’d pulled up outside your house, he was relieved to see your bedroom light on, a sign you’d made it home safely. 

He wanted to knock on the door, to climb into your bedroom window and try to make you smile again, to stop you crying because he couldn’t fucking stand it when you cried, especially because of him. 

But the window was shut, a rare sight and he knew it was a hint, a very obvious clue for him to stay the fuck away. He watched your light flicker off, the house bathed in darkness and he’d sat, pushing the heels of his hands to his eyes and cursing himself. 

He should’ve told you, he shouldn’t have been so fucking scared. 

You didn’t show up at work and when he asked Robin if she’d heard from you, the girl had told him that you were sick, had called in early and spoke to Keith. 

“She’s put in a line for the entire week, actually, said it’s a bad bug,” Robin had told him knowingly. “Whatever you’ve done, Harrington, I suggest you fix it.”

Steve didn’t ask how Robin knew, didn’t press her for any more details, ‘cause he knew her too well, knew she wouldn’t tell him shit so he just slammed a video he was supposed to be rewinding on the desk, and sighed, heavy and tired. 

“I know.”

You didn’t answer his calls. With your parents visiting family out of town, there was no one in the house but you and you made a point of refusing to pick up the phone at all. 

Robin would visit, not bothering to knock as she slipped into your house, huffing and humming to herself as she climbed your stairs, barging into your room unannounced. 

She set a careful gaze on you, a lump underneath the duvet, as she dumped your favourite snacks at the foot of your bed. 

“You’re not sick, are you?” You hated how it didn’t even sound like a question, just an accusation. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

And you did, you told her everything from the joint, to your kiss, the entire night. You told her about Nate, about your confession, about the way Steve looked at you when you told him that you thought he loved you too. 

Robin listened, curled up by your pillows beside you, your head on her shoulder and her cheek resting on yours, a bag of Reece’s Pieces between you both. 

“I know that this probably isn’t what you wanna hear right now,” the girl began, patting your hand with her own, “you know, with you being all heart broken and what not.”

You huffed. 

“But I don’t believe for a second that Steve doesn’t love you, that he isn’t in love with you.”

“Robin, please,” you groaned, shoving your face into her arm, because she was right, you didn’t wanna hear it. You’d spent too long trying to convince yourself that she was right, Steve was in love with you, only to blurt out your feelings for him and have him look at you, sheer panic on his face, in return. 

She sighed, knowing it was useless trying to make you see her side of things, so she pushed her nose to your temple, blew a raspberry to the side of your head and stole another Reece’s Piece. 

“Have you spoken to him?” She asked, voice unusually quiet. 

You shook your head. 

“Have you let him try?” The girl said knowingly. 

You shook your head again. 

Another huff, a somewhat affectionate butt of her head to yours and then she turned, shuffling against the pillows until you were face to face. 

“He’s really broken up about this,” she told you and her words made you wanna cry again. “You need to let him explain.”

You sniffed, eyes watering and despite the ache that still lived in your chest, you nodded. 

“‘Cause I don’t think you said things right, y’know?” Robin squinted at you, trying to make sense of what you’d told her Steve had said that night. “He’s a guy, shit, he’s Steve. Communication isn’t his strong point.”

“I don’t know what’s more clearer than ‘you’re my best friend, I can’t lose you’. Idiot or not, he made it pretty obvious that we’re never gonna be anything more.”

The movie that you had both hardly been watching was over, the screen fading to black and the credits rolling. A love song started to play, soppy and too cheery and you grunted, searching for the remote between the sheets before angrily pressing the off button. Silence fell over you and Robin snorted, flinging herself over your lap and looking up at you with a small smile. 

She pressed a finger to the tip of your nose and you scowled. 

“Ever think that maybe he’s just scared?”

Your frown deepened and you stared down at your friend, lips parted at the absurdity of her question. 

“What?” You scoffed. “I’ve watched him take down a demogorgon with a baseball bat, Robin, the boy isn’t scared of much anymore-”

“He also got his heart broken by the first girl he told he loved,” Robin interrupted. “He dates girls that he isn’t really interested in, that are the complete opposite of you. His folks are never around, he’s made his own family out of his friends.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly feeling thick, your chest tight. 

“You're probably the most constant thing in his life, y’know,” she mused, voice unbearably soft. The girl brought a hand up to tuck a stand of your hair behind your ear, the gesture fond. “He’s always had you, maybe he’s just scared to fuck things up and lose you.”

You couldn’t say anything. You didn't want to. ‘Cause that stupid burn was scratching at your eyes again, at the back of your throat and you were so done with crying, you were so over pushing your face into your pillow to dry your face.

Robin sat up suddenly, stretching and bending down to pull on her shoes. She popped another piece of chocolate in her mouth before smacking a kiss to your cheek and you were still silent, bundled up between pillows and blankets in bed. 

“Talk to him, babe,” she told you, heading for the door without any other goodbye, “ I’m sure he’s got a lot to say.”

Fuck. 

You picked and put down your phone six times before you decided to pull on your shoes and start walking. It didn’t take long to walk from yours to the Harrington’s, but you moved at a snail's pace, playing tightrope along the edge of the sidewalk before you stopped at the corner of Steve’s street, heart suddenly ready to burst from your chest. The sun started to set as you waited, hesitating. The sky turned from blue to lilac, tangerine and peach and the air became still. 

You walked up his front path, hand raised, ready to knock. 

It was a sparkler between your ribs kinda feeling, jump off a cliff kind of feeling, take a shot of tequila kind of feeling, risk fucking everything kind of feeling. 

You’d walked away from the boy, his words stuck in his throat, your name dying on his lips and now you were ready to make it up to him. ‘Cause Steve was right, whatever either of you felt, you couldn’t lose him either. 

The idea of rejection hurt, but not having Steve Harrington in your life hurt even more. 

So you knocked. 

Once, twice, three times, but no one answered. His car was in the drive, no parents to be seen and you took a deep breath before you plucked up the courage to open the door like you normally could. 

Your footsteps echoed in the large hallway and the only sound you could hear came from the backyard, the tinny sound of music playing from outside. You found him there, spread out lazy by the edge of the pool, shirt off, one leg dipped into the water and his hair messy from swimming and the leftover heat from the day. 

 Shadows from the tree branches above fell over him, cutting through the gold light, streaks of pink and rose painting his skin pretty and you stood for just a second, watching through the open patio doors. 

You tugged anxiously at the tagged hem of your shorts, the T-shirt you’d tucked into it suddenly feeling too constricting and you wanted to pull at the collar, you wanted to take off running again, because the sight of him hurt. 

Before you could step out into the last patch of sun, Steve sat up, muscles flexing, pool water swirling and he froze, lips parted and staring at you. 

It had only been four days since you’d last seen him, but it felt like far too much time had passed. You hadn’t gone that long without him in years, not since your parents told you that they were taking you to Utah to spend a summer with your grandparents. They’d cut the trip short by two weeks, aggravated and done with their fifteen year old daughter who didn’t shut up about how much she kissed her best friend. 

Yearly trips to the lake house with the Harrington’s resumed the summer after that. 

The boy whispered your name as if he’d scare you off and he sounded tired, sounded a little broken, just like Robin had said. 

You lifted your hand in an awkward wave, stepping out into the yard and into the streak of sun that stretched across the patio. It warmed you, skin lit up, a golden glow slanting over both of you and even from where you stood, Steve’s eyes looked like honey. 

“Hey.”

He stood, a hand raking through his still damp hair, making it even messier than usual and he mimicked you, hand raised, wingers waggling shyly, as if you hadn’t known each other for seventeen years. 

“I was just coming to see you,” Steve admitted and he sounded as nervous as you felt. “I tried calling you. A lot.”

You nodded, feeling guilty and it burned at your chest. “I know, I’m sorry.”

Steve nodded, bare foot scuffling against the slabs and you wanted to crawl back into your bed, already feeling defeated. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this with Steve. 

“I was gonna come round, you know,” Steve started again, gesturing to you, he looked lost, a little helpless. “Before now I mean… I just- I didn’t wanna upset you and you didn’t answer the phone so I just,” he shrugged, looking at the pool instead of you. “I didn’t wanna upset you any more.”

Almost silence; the trickle of the pool filter, the buzz of insects, the sway of the wind in the tree branches. 

And then, “I’ve missed you,” Steve said, voice softer than before. “A lot.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding then, feet moving forward and you let yourself fall into one of the loungers, a space beside the pool that was so overly familiar. 

You looked at the boy then, and god, he was the last cherry popsicle, he was sunshine, he was summer, he was full of promises and all your secrets, he was late nights and early mornings, first crushes and last kisses. 

“I’ve missed you too,” you told him, voice hurting with sincerity. 

It seemed to be all the boy needed to surge into action, because he relaxed at your admission, moving to the other lounger so he could sit across from you, bare knees almost bumping and he was leaning forward, invading your senses and he smelled like chlorine and sunscreen, mint and cedar and boy and summer and Steve. 

“Why’d you leave?”

“I’m sorry,” you told him, eyes suddenly filling with tears because you were so embarrassed by it all. From your outburst to your storming away, leaving the boy sitting confused after he’d come to get you. “I just- I couldn’t sit there and handle the rejection, I never should have said anything, it was so stupid of me-”

You were stopped by his hand reaching out and covering your own, that familiar warmth of his fingers twisting between yours, a wide, rough palm, calloused on your own. 

You looked at him, cheeks warm with your ramblings and he sighed, affection radiating from him as he gazed at you. He didn’t look confused this time, or panicked. Maybe a little bit scared but there was something else there and it shone a little brighter. 

“Sweetheart, I never once tried to reject you,” Steve huffed out a soft laugh, “shit, I don’t think I could if my life depended on it.”  

“What?” You froze, brows knitting together as you replayed the same conversation you both had in the car and you shook your head, confused. “You literally told me I was your best friend, Steve, that you couldn’t lose me.”

“And that’s true!” He burst out, “you just never let me finish!”

He sighed, using his free hand to scrub over his face and he took a deep breath before he faced you again. 

“I panicked.” He said it so simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m so sorry babe but I fuckin’ panicked. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear those words from you, you can’t even fucking imagine how long. I just didn’t wanna mess it up, I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk not having you.” 

A sound of surprise left your lips at his words and you wanted to laugh at the irony of them, ‘cause yes, yes could imagine. But you kept quiet, letting the boy speak, making up for how you didn’t last time. You squeezed his hand instead, hoping it was reassuring enough. 

You watched him lick his lips as he thought about his next words and your brows rose when he suddenly moved, kneeling in front of you and tapping at your knee, silently asking for you to spread your legs and let him in. You did, almost embarrassed by the lack of hesitation on your par but Steve moved into the space tour created for him, suddenly too close. 

You exhaled a little slower, could count the new freckles on his nose, could see the small scar that cut through his brow, the one you gave him when you were seven and pillow fights got too boisterous. 

He smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, a touch that brought comfort and he took another deep breath, readying himself for what he wanted to tell you. 

“I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen,” he said slowly, each word dropping like an atom bomb and you wondered if the earth was shaking. “Maybe longer, I was probably too stupid to work it out before then.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh and Steve grinned at the sound. 

“It took me a little while,” he admitted, gaze lowering as if he were suddenly shy, “I didn’t know the difference between loving you and being in love with you. You’ve been in my life for as long as I can remember.”

His fingers found the frayed hem of your shorts, twisting the strands between his fingers absentmindedly. 

“I remember Nancy telling me that, uh,” he cleared his throat, words catching on his lips with nerves and hesitation, “she uh, told me that I didn’t love her like I thought I did. That I was in love with someone else.”

You inhaled sharply, remembering the girl telling you something similar that day on the bench. You’d been confused and a little irritated at her, defensive maybe, now that you looked back on it. You remembered the way she twisted her lips to hide a grin that she didn’t want to annoy you with, eyes all too knowing. 

“I kinda realised then,” Steve nodded, eyes finding yours from under his lashes and god, you wondered when his face had moved so close to yours. “She was totally right, I just didn’t really wanna admit it.”

“Why not?” You asked, voice a little sad, ‘cause that had been years ago, and you felt overlooked, like so many missed opportunities had passed you both by and god, were the two of you really that stupid?

“I was stupid!” Steve burst out and you laughed, a little sad with watery eyes but shit, you were too. “So I kept dating random girls, anyone, really. Tried to take my mind off you, tried to forget about you in my bed.”

God, the memory made you burn. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” he whispered, still leaning into you, eyes closed like he was at confession. “Asking you out on a date seemed so ridiculous when I already know you better than anyone else.”

Your nose grazed Steve’s, and you let out a small sigh because as much as you were hurt by it all, you understood. You and Steve had seen every movie there was to see, had taken trips out of town to every concert, spent too many evenings at burger joints and ice cream parlours. You probably wouldn’t have guessed you were on a date with the boy unless he was in a tux and there was a chandelier above you. 

And that seemed like a big ask. 

“I would’ve loved to go on a date with you,” you said anyway, cause the idea of Steve pulling up outside your door with flowers in his hand gave you butterflies, tugging at your heart in a way that made you warm. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, blinding and it only widened when you nodded. 

He moved impossibly closer still, cheek to cheek so he could find your ear with his lips, hands moving to your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles on the inside. 

“I spent so long tryin’ to work up the courage to ask you to be my girlfriend,” his admission sounded like his biggest secret yet and you held your breath as he whispered it to you. “So long that years passed and we got older and suddenly the word ‘girlfriend’ didn’t seem enough.”

It was strange, but you knew what Steve meant. The word seemed too arbitrary, too normal, to describe the relationship you had with each other, how you felt about the other. 

“I know,” you told him, voice just as soft and quiet as his. “I’d still like to be yours though.”

His grin was contagious, warmer than the sun that was starting to set, brighter than the rays on the pool and you swore the world was spinning a little faster in excitement, as if the planets and the moon were just as happy as you were. 

“Yeah?” He asked, low and rough, nose pressing to your cheek, lips just brushing yours. 

You nodded, eyes fluttering closed, waiting, wanting.  

“Can we always be this close?” Steve asked, and you melted a little at the question, at that soft sincerity he always managed to give you. 

“Yeah, god, please,” you answered and your voice sounded a little husky, a little pleading because you couldn’t imagine anything else. “Can you kiss me, now?”

The boy swore under his breath, the curse mixing with a huff of laughter and he smiled against you, mouth pressing happy to your cheek and you beamed at him, lashes tickling his skin, both of you warm against the other. 

“Could never really figure out how to say no to you, y’know that?” He whispered, as if he was giving away a secret. Steve let his lips hover over yours, his hands wrapping around the small of your back, fingers playing with your belt loops, pulling you flush with him. Your hands smoothed over his bare chest and around his neck, skin hot with the sun, with being near you. 

“Can I take you on a date?” 

Something bloomed inside of you, wildflowers between your ribs, a new day of summer, a heatwave in your chest. 

“If I say yes, will you kiss me?” you asked, a little bratty, a little teasing. You’d waited so long for both, you didn’t know what you wanted first.

But then Steve was pushing into you, lips pressing down onto your own, his hand along the underside of your jaw as he used his thumb to push a little under your chin, tilting you up to his mouth so he could lick into you, adoration pouring into you. You felt the way he loved you, like the way everyone else saw it. It still felt new, his lips on yours, new in an exciting way, new in a ‘god, I could get used to this’ way.

“Lemme take you on a date,” he said again, a smile on his lips, pressing it to yours and his voice was sunshine but rougher, even warmer and it made you smile that cheek hurting kinda smile.

You nodded. 

“You still my best friend, Harrington?” 

Steve pulled back to look at you, eyes shining. “That and more, sweetheart.” And when he said that, it felt enough. ‘More’.

“You still gonna protect me from everything bad and scary?” You nudged the tip of your nose to his, voice sweet. 

“With everything I have in me,” he answered honestly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, catching your laughter. “Baseball bat and all.”

“Promise you won’t break my heart?” You asked, forehead to his, eyes full of every emotion you felt. Love, excitement, fear, hope, nervousness, adoration. 

“Promise you won’t break mine?” Steve whispered back, a hand on your cheek, thumb grazing over your lip. 

“I promise,” you told him, hands gripping right at his shoulders, running across the nape of his neck, diving into his hair. 

“I promise,” he repeated, and shit, you believed him. 

-----

Ko-Fi ♡

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfic

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — TEEN DAD! GOJO SATORU x FEM READER

The Zenins want Megumi. Gojo isn’t having it.

wc — 1.7k

tags — one suggestive line after “those girls are better off without you” if you want to avoid it, set after 棠, part of teen dad gojoverse, in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together

Gojo’s been in the doghouse since last night. Not literally, obviously - though he might have preferred it if you were there with him, at least. He’d take anything over being kicked out of your shared bedroom and being forced to sleep on the couch. 

If you had it your way, you’d prolong his punishment, but you can’t. Not when, as he told you last night, the Zenins are coming today to wrest Megumi from your custody. 

Fat chance. 

You’d die before you let that happen. 

Gojo’s not too keen on either of those outcomes. For the first time in his life, he’s taking the pacifist’s route and talking it out, though you’re sure his version of talking involves more insults than most people’s. 

He thought about simply having it out with the elders, but it’s not worth it. Not when he has a plan for the future of Jujutsu Society. Not when he has you, Megumi, and Tsumiki. He’s playing the long game. He can’t afford to screw it up now. 

Being a family man really has ruined him. 

Zenin Keiko is a tall woman with a severe black bob and the characteristic Zenin look of perpetual contempt. She’s Naoya’s cousin, alright. 

“Twice-removed,” Gojo whispers to you. “Or illegitimate. Something like that, I can’t remember.” 

“Shut up,” you whisper back out of the corner of your mouth. “She’s going to hear you.” 

Welcoming a Zenin into your home feels like blasphemy, though you suppose Gojo is the closest thing Jujutsu society has to a god. 

Gojo’s unimpressed by her, mostly because he feels like the Zenins are mocking him. It’s not like anyone can take him on, but to send someone who has no battle capabilities feels like an insult.  

Keiko is an auxiliary manager with no cursed technique to speak of besides a weak barrier. It’s a wonder she has the nerve to speak to Gojo. The Zenins truly did not care about her if they sent her as the proxy to undermine your roles as the Fushiguro children’s guardians. In fact, you suspect that’s the precise reason she was chosen - because she’s expendable. 

Keiko, to her credit, shows no sign of fear. 

“I’d like to meet the children, Mr. Gojo. It’ll give me a good grasp of what the situation is.” 

“Hell no,” Gojo outright laughs in her face. “I’m not letting a Zenin near my brats. Your-“

“Gojo.” You squeeze his knee. Cooperate. 

“I’ll go get them,” he says begrudgingly.

The two of you sandwich the children between you on the couch. Tsumiki sits on Gojo’s left. Megumi sits on your right. That way, the two that are most likely to fight are separated. It’s a strategized united front. 

“Megumi, do you like your guardians? Do you like staying here?” 

Megumi looks at you. You smile at him encouragingly - and there Keiko goes, scribbling away in her notebook. She’s probably saying something about how Megumi is so scared of you he won’t answer the question unless you give him permission. 

“Are you sure? Forgive me, but Gojo seems a little…immature for a parent.” 

A direct attack right out of the gates. Gojo objects to this very accurate assessment of his character. 

“He’s fine, I guess,” Megumi says. There’s more scribbling. You’re starting to hate the sound of pen on paper. “I like-“ 

He looks at you. There’s a tiny blush on his cheeks, just the faintest hint of red. More quietly, he says, “It’s fine, cause she takes care of us.” 

Gojo stares at him, slack-jawed. “Are you kidding me? You are one ungrateful brat. Who found you? Who took you in?” 

Tsumiki chimes in, “We like Gojo a lot too! He’s fun.” 

Keiko ignores her completely, focusing on Megumi instead. Your distaste for her grows. 

“Would you say that Gojo has an active role in taking care of you?” 

“Why aren’t you asking Tsumiki anything?” Megumi interrupts. “Her opinion’s important too.” 

Keiko gives him a strained smile. Gojo reaches behind Tsumiki on the couch to ruffle Megumi’s hair. He only tolerates this for five seconds before he shakes his head to get him off. 

“He loves me,” Gojo says. 

“I have Stockholm syndrome,” Megumi says. ‘Help,’ he mouthes. 

“He’s joking,” Tsumiki says nervously.

You’ve given up on making them behave. It’s just not happening. 

Keiko seems to have given up too. Rather than continue prodding Megumi, she turns to Gojo. 

“How often are you home?”

“Basically every day,” Gojo lies. He does try his best, but it’s more like every other day. Such is the fate of the strongest sorcerer. 

“Don’t want my baby all alone, poor little thing.” 

He catches your look and cackles. “No, the other one. My other baby,” and the kiss he presses to your knuckles is so tender it melts your heart. 

Keiko makes an uncomfortable expression. “Please try to stay focused, Mr. Gojo.” 

Megumi gags loudly. Tsumiki pinches his arm to get him to shut up and he yelps. Keiko narrows her eyes and makes another note. 

“I understand how Gojo might take responsibility for the children,” Keiko says, directing her attention to you, “but how did you come into the picture. Are you a girlfriend-“

“Wife,” Gojo interjects. 

Keiko’s entire body does an approximation of what it would look if a human had a screenshot function. 

“Aren’t you children?”

You don’t like Keiko at all, but you respect the balls it takes to talk to Gojo like that. All the Zenins seem to have that death wish of wanting to mouth off to the strongest. Maybe it’s a genetic thing. 

Gojo shrugs. “If I’m old enough for the missions you send me on, I’m old enough to take care of kids, right? How hard can it be?”

You pinch his thigh. “Gojo.” 

“What? It is easy. You just give them a bunch of lollipops and call it a day.” 

Keiko’s writing is now background noise to you. “Are you still doing that? I told you-“

“It’s fine! All kids need sugar to grow. I had a sweet tooth when I was their age.”

“And that’s probably the reason why you still have one now! Except it’s rotting your teeth-“

“It’s not-“

“It is!”

“Don’t be so uptight!”

“How does it look if I’m always saying no to him and you’re always saying yes? It isn’t fair, Satoru. Parenting has to be a team effort.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about you playing good cop, bad cop with him!” 

“Have you gone insane? We went over this! He likes you more than me! There is no good cop, bad cop when he just takes your side every single time.” 

“Excuse me,” Keiko says. She’s somehow managed to look a complex combination of perplexed, annoyed, and satisfied. “Please take care of your lovers’ tiffs outside of this interview. I will say that this doesn’t seem like an environment particularly conducive to raising children, however.” 

“What do you know?” Gojo says rudely. “The only reason you’re even doing this interview is because I’m letting you.” 

Normally, you would tell him off, but in front of the Zenins? You’re a united front. You place a hand on his forearm and look down your nose at the woman in front of you as best as you can when she’s taller than most people you meet. 

“I think you’ve overstayed your welcome,” you say. 

“You agreed to an interview,” she says. 

“An interview, not an inquisition.”

“You can’t refuse a request from the elders without consequences,” she says, as patiently as she would speak to a child. It’s condescending. 

“Are you threatening my wife?” 

When you look to your side, Gojo’s face is shadowed. His eyes are storm dark and frightening. Keiko can’t hide her visceral reaction. 

She forgets her coat on her way out, she’s in such a hurry to leave. Gojo takes it and disappears. 

While he’s away, you let Megumi and Tsumiki return to their rooms. They’re muttering amongst themselves, but you don’t pry. Children need their space, too. You’ll talk to them about it later. 

He’s back within a minute. 

“What did you do with it?” You’re bracing yourself for the answer. 

“I just sent a message,” he says, as cheerily as if nothing had happened. “Think we passed that?” 

“Gojo, I think that’s the first test you’ve ever failed. Did you see the way she was writing during the last twenty minutes? And Megumi and Tsumiki! Every time they said something, she made a face!” 

Gojo shrugs, still so certain of his place in the hierarchy. One day, the elders will get tired of him throwing his weight around like Jujutsu’s one and only tyrant, but not someday soon if they want to keep their heads. 

“It’s fine,” he says. “I’m not going to make Megumi and Tsumiki act like repressed little puppet children just so that they can find some way to snipe them out from under us anyways. Who knows, maybe we’ll teach the Zenins a thing or two about healthy child raising. I hear they have two girls now. One of them has no cursed energy. Should we kidnap some more children?” 

“Like you know anything about healthy parenting,” you snark. “Those girls are better off without you.” 

“Does being mean to me get you off or something?” 

“Do you want to find out?” 

“I would love to,” he purrs, sliding a hand under your shirt just so slightly so his nails prick at your lower stomach. You grab his wrist. 

“Sorry,” you say, your stomach churning at the joke gone wrong. “I can’t.”

He stops immediately. “What’s wrong?” 

“I just- They want Megumi badly enough to go to the higher ups. I know what they do to their children. I can’t let him go there, Satoru. I can’t.” 

“I won’t let that happen.”

“I can’t stop thinking about those girls.”

“Come here,” he says. 

You lean closer to him. He lifts his arm so easily, without thinking. When you slide under it, you fit into him perfectly. 

Now that you’re safely tucked under his arm, you feel sheltered from anything that could happen.  “I don’t want to give the kids to the Zenins. They’re monsters. And they would make monsters out of them.” 

“That’s only if they take them away,” Gojo says, his smile fanged and vicious. 

“And if they do?”

“I hope they try.”

You trust him. 

You know he’ll keep his word. If Gojo says Megumi and Tsumiki won’t be going to the Zenins as long as he’s alive, then they won’t be going at all. 

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

[normansnt]

The prince pt.4

For @skyxqueen8 (:

Sorry it might be a bit short sorry for that but I think its good lemme know how you like it also SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT IMMA TRY AND BE FASTER🫡

Warnings: reader gets beaten up, mentions of Alastor torturing

"Alastor I'll be fine, I truly don't want to bother you I see you're busy."

You tried your best to convince Alastor to let you go out alone. Now, usually he would, of course he knew how powerful you were you are the prince of hell after all, the fact that you don't like to use your powers doesn't hinder you much you use them when you're in danger.

But there have been headlines about you two dating. Vox's doing no doubt, and with the amount of people that Alastor managed to piss off during his years in hell it's really not safe for you out there.

"My dear, how could I ever be busy for you?" He asked baffled as he took a hold of your hand to stop you from leaving.

You turned around and gave him a quick kiss on his lips.

"My love, I will be just fine I can handle myself. I know the news has been full with us dating but to be fair that puts you in more danger than me, who wouldn't want to hold the kings son's lover for ransom?"

You argued back.

And you had a point, Alastor thought.

"Very well then, dear, however do not forget your radio remember you just turn it on and I shall be there as quick as possible."

You kissed him again and then smiled.

"Yes, I know"

He got you a pocket radio when he first saw the news. So whenever you need him you can just turn it to the channel you knew is his and hell be there in a second (idk lets just pretend).

You really weren't going out for anything special, you just wanted to get coffee with your dad like you do every week.

But the people who Alastor has pissed off didn't care much about where you were going they just wanted to make the fucker pay for what he has done. These were the sharks that Mimzy screwed over and Alastor had to clean her mess up. However during that clean up he kinda ate the boss's son and the boss was not please.

You could take on some annoying sharks really, but they attacked sudden. From the dark. While you were listening to music. So there really wasn't much you could do.

They showed you into an alley and started to beat you up with all sorts of junk they could find. You tried to reach the radio but when they showed you to the ground it broke.

This was when you decided to not play the part of helpless little prince waiting for his knight and used your powers to at least scare them away from you, you didn't have strength left to do anything else.

When you stood up, painfully, you reached for the pocket radio Alastor gave you, at least, for the parts of it.

"Fucking assholes" you liked that radio, you listened to Alastors podcast on it.

You knew you couldn't go see your dad in the state you were in you'd just worry him so you headed back home.

It was a hard journey with all the pain you were in but you managed.

You knew Alastor had things to do so you hoped he wouldn't be home. You didn't want to worry him.

"And who, pray tell, hurt my gorgeous little deer in such ways?" You heard the voice of your boyfriend from behind you as you entered your shared quarters.

"AHH, Fuck, Alastor I-I thought you wouldn't be-"

"Answer the question, please"

His voice was different. And as he exited from the shadows you saw that his voice was not the only thing different.

He wasn't smiling. He had a collected expression on his face, a terrifying calmness. You knew it wasn't directed at you.

He walked over to you and put his hand on your bloody cheek. He stroked your cheek with his thumb while you nestled into the warmness of his palm.

"You know those, sharks, that came here after Mimzy?" You asked him. His thumb stopped.

"Mimzy?" His voice was overly static barely audible.

"No, its not her-"

"I will be back soon" he said still overly static. And with that he left, not without leaving his shadow with you to patch you up.

"Shit" you mumbled. You wondered if you should have said anything.

Alastor's shadow made you sit down, and started tending to your wounds.

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

You woke up at 3 am to the ruckus of Alastor coming into you guys's room.

"Alastor" you whispered.

He was bloody all over as he halted on his way to the bathroom.

"Why are you up, darling?" He asked.

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

"What happened."

"Ah-ah-ah dear, I asked the question first." He tried to make the situation lighter.

"Its hard to sleep when your boyfriend is out hell knows where or doing what." You answered with just a hint of anger in your voice.

You took a breath and sighed.

"Your turn"

"Well...dear I don't think you wish to hear the details I know you are not particularly fond of violence, lets just say, I have plenty of new voices for my broadcast, these are going to be longer sessions however, these filths are getting the extra special treatment."

He answered slowly, trying not to anger you further.

You were trying to keep up the strong facade but you just ended your falling into his arms mumbling how worried you were. He hugged you back tightly, holding you to his body.

"I'm sorry, my darling, no harm shall ever befall you under my eye again." He mumbled into your hair.

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

In the following weeks all everyone could talk about was how the sessions on radio demons podcast have gotten hours long, just screams for hours, this has never happened someone must have really pissed him off. From then on, Alastor stayed true to his word, no one dared to lay a finger on you.

#male reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #male y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader

[mochamvgz]

made with love.p.jay

; a warm meal with your partner was all you needed after a hectic month

; park jongseong x reader

; genre: fluff, non-idol au

; warnings: talk of exhaustion

; 0.7k words

; tags: @inkelea @sobun1est @kbookshelf

; divider cr: @plutism (i can't believe I forgot to credit them earlier 😭😭 if you're reading this i'm so so sorry)

you entered the passcode to your studio apartment, letting yourself in after being met with an affirmative *beep*

after carelessly tossing your backpack onto the kitchen counter, you miraculously managed to drag yourself to your bed, collapsing on it right away

thank god it's saturday tomorrow

that was the only thought in your mind at present. you'd had a hectic week—no, a hectic fortnight...or was it a month...? your pre-existing headache grew worse as you tried to recall so you gave up eventually

your eyelids grew heavy and just as you were about to board your train to dreamland, star lost by stray kids started playing from the front pocket of your pants. wait, no, that couldn't be right. pockets don't make sounds...oh, it was only your phone ringing

an annoyed grunt escaped your mouth before you checked the caller id. a tired but genuine smile speak across your face when you saw who it was. you accepted the call and put it on speaker

"how's my girl doing?"

you could almost hear the smile in jay's voice, which, in turn, made your own smile widen. "i'm feeling pretty wiped honestly"

jay knew that, he'd noticed the way your smile didn't reach your eyes these days, how your shoulders seemed deflated, the way you looked as if you could pass out at any given moment. of course, he'd be there to catch you if you did

"have you had anything to eat yet?"

"no...sorry"

jay had expected as much

"want me to come over? i can make you something to eat, and then we could cuddle or watch a movie or something"

"yes please, i could really use your cuddles. only if it's not too much of a bother, of course"

"nothing's ever a bother when it comes to you. i'll be there in 10. wait for me, yeah?"

you hummed in response and hung up with an "i love you" which he mirrored back. his soft voice when he spoke to you always warmed your heart. you dozed off thinking about how you truly had the best boyfriend ever

the clatter of pots and pans jolted you awake

you screwed your eyes shut as a groan escaped you, the blaring headache coming back. you heard someone cursing, probably the same person responsible for the racket that disrupted your sleep

sitting up, you began to rub your eyes when you heard a sequence of frantic footsteps, getting progressively closer, and then a pair of arms wrapping around you

you looked up to see jay with an apologetic expression on his face

"i'm soo sorry 'bout that sweetheart, I was trying to be quiet but..."

you mumbled an "it's okay" while hugging him back. after staying in that position for some time, jay broke the silence

"how about you wash up yeah? i'll be in the kitchen"

you noded, shooting him a smile—which he returned—before getting up and making your way to your bathroom

when you came back out, feeling considerably more rested and energized, you found your bed was made, and your previously-cluttered desk was much tidier. a smile made it's way on your face, knowing it could be none other than jay's work

jay noticed you as you approached the kitchen counter, his face lighting up

"you're right on time for dinner!"

"dinner? don't you mean lunch?"

he tilted his head a little to the side in confusion

"it's 7:00 p.m. sweetie"

"already??? have i been out for that long? why didn't you wake me up??"

jay chuckled, "you looked so cute sleeping, i didn't wanna wake you. plus, you seemed like you needed it"

"fair enough"

by then jay announced dinner was ready so you helped him set the table and sat down for dinner. the noodles he'd made were simply delectable. it reminded you of the way you used to make them with your sister. you mentioned it to him among other compliments

"well, where do you think I got the recipe?" he winked. your mouth fell open. no way.

"i literally love you so much"

"love you too" he replied with his adorable smile

© mochamvgz on tumblr | all rights reserved | do not plagiarise, repost or translate

#k-films #kbookshelf #jay x reader #enhypen x reader #jay fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enhypen drabble #jay imagines #jay oneshots #jay scenarios #jay drabbles #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha fluff #enha drabble #enha scenarios #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong fluff #park jongseong imagines #park jongseong drabbles #enhypen #park jay #enha #park jongseong #made with love—🍜💕 #—mochamvgz #divider by @plutism!!!!

[oddshroom]

𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝙻𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍

Notes: Gojo Satoru truly is a menace not just to you but to Shoko and Geto, infinity is really a curse for others but a blessing for him.

A/N: Reader hates Gojo’s guts

Themes: Fluff, Crack, Love/Hate friendship dynamic, little to no angst, frenemies to lovers

Word(s): 2,037

Character(s): 11,267

By far Gojo Satoru had been the most insufferable person you had ever met in your entire life – and that wasn't even a stretch considering his personality as well.

It only been a few months since you were introduced to the second year students of Tokyo Jujutsu High, Shoko Ieiri had helped a lot when it came to settling in the girl’s dorms. She came off as a casual and nonchalant person, much different from the two idiots where one was more sufferable then the other. The sufferable one Geto Suguru had been more respectable however the down-side had been that he would go along with Gojo’s idea and even add his own mix into it. Lastly Gojo Satoru, the most intolerable person you’ve ever met. He either was always over your shoulder or doing whatever he wanted. His abilities really did make him the most egotistical person to exist.

You never knew what he might do next – but somehow something always happened whenever he was near you. You weren’t sure whether to thank him for it, curse him out, or try and punch the shit out of him.

Currently you had been walking on the sidewalk side by side with Shoko discussing the next mission as well as the possibility of how Gojo could manage to screw you all over. “What if he tries to eat the curse”, Shoko said trying to be shocked while rubbing her chin, staring off into space as if she really was thinking about him eating a curse of all things.

You let out a soft laugh, “I doubt he’d actually try to eat the curse, if anything he might take it on a walk” You paused and put on a serious face, “hm, although I do consider these option something he might do”.

Shoko giggled a bit and patted your arm in comfort, “That’s true, there are many ways a person might do something like that though”. She gave a thoughtful look before turning towards you again. “Yeah, that person most definitely being him”, You added playfully.

Shoko rolled her eyes with a fond smile at you, “Geto might even encourage it”. “No doubt”, responding back before catching a glimpse of both Geto and Gojo kicking a vending machine.

“Oh god” you said under your breath. Both of them were too engrossed in their fight with a vending to notice you and Shoko. “Someday Yaga Sensei might put them on house arrest”, Shoko said amusingly at the scene in front of her. It was quite an odd sight – Geto had just lost his money to a vending machine and Gojo was just laughing at him, making fun of him as he tried to catch his breath while holding his head in pain. ‘That guy is really something else’, you thought, shaking your head slightly before turning back to Shoko.

You opened up your mouth to continue your conversation with Shoko but the moment you opened your mouth you heard an explosion sound. Your jaw dropped, you looked ahead and saw Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru standing a good distance away. Their faces were completely red in embarrassment, they couldn’t help but stare back at the two of you who had just watched the whole event. “What the hell”, you whispered under your breath. “They just blew up the vending machine that had the good snacks”, Shoko watched in disbelief. Her mouth was agape. “Why didn’t they just leave the stupid machine alone”, she asked herself. “I mean, I know that those idiots don’t care that much about money but…” She trailed off.

You shrugged slightly, not knowing why they blew up the vending machine.

“N/n~”, a high pitch voice sang out. “Look what I found~”, watching as the white haired walked closer to you until his face was right beside yours and you could smell his cologne.

“Ow”, you exclaimed as you jerked away. You rubbed your nose and looked up to see Shoko still staring dumbfounded. “What?”, you asked, giving her a confused look.

She blinked a couple times then looked away, “Sorry, I was just surprised”. “That vending machine took my money”, Geto said as he sulked his way over. Shoko chuckled slightly. “Then maybe you should have thought twice about blowing up a vending machine”. You shook your head slowly in disbelief, “you two are seriously unbelievable”, you commented. “But N/n Shoko don’t be mad at us”, whined Gojo while poking you. “Firstly, quit calling me N/n and two quit poking me”, you said annoyed at his antics.

“Ah come on N/n~”, Gojo pouted. “Let’s not fight. Please~”, he begged. He turned towards Shoko who seemed almost amused at this situation. “Please Shoko, please”, he repeated, putting a hand over his heart. “Tell N/n to not be mad”, he continued.

Shoko smiled, “Poke his eyes out” you conceded looking back at her. You just stared back at her blankly. “You guys are so childish”, she stated plainly. You started walking forwards when someone tapped you on your shoulder. Turning to see, all three of you looked at Geto who’s clothes were burned as he ate the snack that he wanted. “You couldn’t get me one”, Gojo said looking at his best friend exasperated. “You laughed at me”, Geto responded quickly. You watch how Gojo’s figure deflates. “And now look”, he said as he pointed at himself. “See”, he added pointing at his stomach which growled. “Now you owe me”, he finished looking directly at you.

He stuck out his tongue as if to say you were the one who owed him one. You narrowed your eyes, “Why do I owe you?!”, you yelled as you punched his shoulder, well tried since his infinity prevented you from even getting close to him. “Put that barrier of yours down”, you irked . “If you keep that up, I will kick you when you put it down you ass”. “Not funny, you jerk!”, he snapped back, glaring back at you with is cerulean blue eyes with a frown. “I am hungry!” He pointed to his belly.

“Cry about it”, you scoffed

Geto and Shoko could only find the situation hilarious in front of them, both laughing softly at the exchange. This wasn’t the first time they had seen both you and Gojo arguing and bickering in such situations. They had done it since the day they met.

As they continued to watch the pair bicker, Geto heard a notification from his phone. Shoko watched over his shoulder to see the notification. It was a message from their teacher, “No class tomorrow. There was a slight mishap during the last mission that I have to take care of”. Shoko read it aloud. “A small mishap, huh…”, she smirked. “That means we can all hangout in one dorm”. Shoko looked up noticing that you heard the entire thing as a prominent bump was formed on the top of Gojo’s snow colored hair.

“So that means...”, he trailed off, a smirk forming on his face after realising what she meant. “Yes, we can spend the night together at one dorm room”. “Sounds like a plan”, You replied back confidently. “Great! Let’s go then”, Geto said enthusiastically grinning.

The four of you started heading home once more. The sky gradually darkened as the sun began to set behind the horizon. The atmosphere around you became colder. It was starting to get chilly and the temperature had dropped considerably. After all the events of today, most of you were pretty tired out.

Yet that didn’t stop any of the four from setting up the room, preparing the snacks and setting up blankets for sleeping. Once everything was done the group decided to settle in for the evening. Shoko sat to the left you as Gojo sat to the right of you, Geto had been on Gojo’s right in terms of placement. You all look at the TV screen with anticipation of every single movie you had watched.

You yawned, “We’ve watched all the movies today”, you stated quietly.

“Oh really? How many did we watch?”, Shoko asked curiously.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Not that many, just three movies”.

“Three movies”, she repeated. “You sure?”, she asked. You nodded your head in confirmation. She glanced at the clock. “It’s 1:56 am already?”, she asked. “Is it that late”, You wondered.

She grinned, “Yeah, the sun went down a long time ago”. You sighed, glancing at the two to your right you realize they probably knocked out a while ago. Geto had been turned away from Gojo snoring away, his hair had come undone and was all over his face. Gojo had been sleeping on his back with his right leg over Geto, his hair was a disheveled mess. His round sunglasses discarded, feeling shift you notice Shoko laying down to sleep. Following her actions you also layer down, you peaked towards your right. Gojo is really nice to admire when he’s asleep and not talking.

When you first met him, he reminded you of Jack Frost how could you not. Of course that made him offended but you couldn’t have been bothered back then. He was an annoying little asshole who bothered you to no end. Except your own thought made you think otherwise, thinking he was cute- pretty even. A lot of girls your age would fawn over him on the streets, how could they not?

A smile suddenly formed on your lips as you realized just how silly you must sound. But it was true, he is kind of cute. Now that you think about it though, it doesn’t make any sense why he bothers you so much. He annoys you more than he annoys anyone else. Teases you, always wanting to get a reaction out of you. You enjoy messing with him but you actually feel quite happy when you see him or when you finally catch him red handed. Why?

He was right next to you, inches away.

Your breath hitched and you felt your cheeks warm, realizing you had been staring at him. “N/n..?”, a voice mumbled sleepily. You looked up to meet hazy blue eyes, his hair had been covering parts of his face. You gulped, “Gojo, go back to sleep”, you answered hastily as you averted your gaze.

“Eh?”, You heard him whine. Before you knew it you heard him moving beside you. You looked over hesitantly, his expression was completely blank. “Don’t move”, he said blankly before his arm came wrapping around your waist pulling you closer to him. The heat radiating from his body seeped into your cold skin. Your face felt hotter by the minute, not daring to look back at him again. Both bodies had been faced towards each other, his head in the crevice of your neck. He pulled you completely against him and wrapped you in his arms. You felt the warmth from his body radiating into your chest, sending chills through your body. You could feel the tip of his nose brushing against your neck making you shiver slightly. He nuzzled you further. Slowly, you wrapped your arm around him. As your faces brushed each other you couldn’t help but lean into him, the material of his shirt pressing against your hand . Feeling yourself getting lost in his soft, deep voice whispering in your ear; “Good night”.

The two of you slept peacefully in each other’s arms.

You woke up slowly, feeling a pair of arms encircle your torso. You opened your eyes to discover that you were still lying in Gojo’s arms, you were curled up facing him with your head resting on his chest. A shadow glanced over the both of you, looking at the ceiling which was replaced by two figures towering over you. “He’s so annoying”, Geto mimicked smugly. Shoko giving you an eye, indicating you need to talk about where you stand with Gojo.

“We’re just la-“, Suddenly they both tumbled onto the ground, looking slightly shocked before snickering at the fact Gojo had turned on his infinity with only you touching him and no one else. The other two decided to leave not before mentioning to take you out on a date later.

#jjk x y/n #jjk headcanons #jjk fandom #jjk fanfic #jjk season 2 #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #geto x reader #geto suguru #gojo saturo #geto x y/n #shoko x reader #shoko x you #jujutsu kaisen shoko #shoko ieiri #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru fluff #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu shoko #gojo satoru angst #jujutsu satoru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #anime #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

[iovetecchou]

If I Can't Have You... ⧸ Jouno Saigiku

༞ Part 1.

༞ Contains...! angst, dark themes, detailed descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks, gaslighting, mind-breaking, slight!physical abuse, very toxic relationship, asshole!jouno, just absolute pain and suffering. use of pet names (darling, princess)

༞ GN Reader.

༞ 1,557 words.

Everything after that fateful encounter with Jouno was a blur. You have no idea how you even made it back to your shared apartment in one piece. His venom-laced words rang through your mind— over and over again.

You were in shock. This whole time you were nothing but an “Easy fuck.” to Jouno. The man you loved more than yourself. The man who took over your every thought, every action, every semblance of happiness.

You gave everything up for him, and for what? All you could focus on was the ringing of your heartbeat in your ears. Your fingertips going numb from all the anxiety coursing through your body.

“Ah… it’s six already? I need to start making dinner.”

You thought out loud. Your body moving on its own, as though you weren’t controlling your actions. Even now, Jouno held the strings. Present or not… he owned you.

Your brain couldn’t possibly comprehend that this was your reality. All that echoed in your mind was,

“If you so much as think of leaving me… I will know, and I will kill you.”

You knew you were screwed. Even if you began packing your things now, leaving and never looking back. Jouno would find you; and kill you. As promised.

Your mind played out constant scenarios of how you could escape and run away without a trace. But it was futile; Jouno would use everything in his arsenal to hunt you down.

Tears blinded your vision as you continued to prepare supper. Your shaky hands placing two plates atop the dining room table; an act that once brought a smile to your face now tainted.

Meals always brought you two together. You always valued those times spent with Jouno. Laughing over stories about his ‘idiotic’ colleagues from the day as his lips curled up into a soft smile. Complimenting you on your meal, telling you, “No one could compare.”

So all of that was a show? Just an act he maintained to keep you complacent? Did all of your cherished moments truly mean nothing?

The door swung open just as you finished up. Causing fear to course through your entire being. You froze as Jouno's words rang through your shared apartment.

“Princess, I’m home! I knew that divine smell from the hallway was coming from our place. Nothing compares to your cooking, darling.”

You physically could not speak. The words were trapped in your throat as you turned to face Jouno. He was smiling sweetly your way, walking over toward the table and taking his seat.

“Well? Aren’t you going to give me a kiss hello? I did just get home from a hard day of work, you know.”

Why was he acting as though nothing was wrong? You were more than certain that everything that went down today was real… right?

“O-Oh… right, I’m sorry.”

You managed to squeak out. Shaky legs made their way toward an awaiting Jouno. You placed your clammy hand atop the table for support. Leaning in closely toward him, even though every fiber of your being was screaming at you to pull away.

The second your lips captured his, you felt sick. No longer did his embrace feel safe; quite the opposite. Jouno smirked within the kiss at your physical reaction. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, your body trembling in place.

You pulled back as fast as you could. Noticing the lipstick stains on Jouno's collar as you stood upright. You felt nauseous, your stomach turning in knots from the sight alone.

"What's wrong, princess? You seem shaken up."

Jouno quirked a brow, reaching a hand out to soothe your hip. You took a quick step back, dodging his embrace completely. Jouno looked stunned for a split second before his expression twisted into something sinister.

His lips were curved into a nasty frown, eyebrows knitted where they lay. Jouno's whole expression became shaded, and his body became tense too. Your eyes widened as you watched his hands ball into fists from where they rested beside him.

"Oh… so there is a problem then, hm?"

His voice was razor sharp, not even a trace of Jouno's usual witty tone could be found. All you could do was shake your head in disagreement as you took a few more steps backward. Startling yourself as the cold countertop grazed your lower back.

Jouno rose to his feet slowly, making his way to stand before you. He towered over you, his hand grasped your chin firmly. Tugging your face up toward his own before he spoke up once more. "What… did you go mute? Use your fucking words."

"Yes..?"

His fingers dug into your cheeks as he forcefully shook your head in agreement. Pulling a small yelp from your lips.

Jouno smirked at your painful cry, making your heart ache even further. You scored your bottom lip with your teeth, not letting him get that gratification off your pain again today.

"Or no..?"

His grip got even harsher as he shook your head in disagreement this time. A shit-eating grin etched into his features, immensely enjoying the way you shook in his grasp.

To say you were fed up at this point was an understatement. Your fear subsided for a moment, being replaced by rage. You brought your hands up to grasp Jouno's hand. Yanking his digits away from your face and pushing him backward with everything you had in you.

"Of course— yes! There's a fucking problem. Why are you acting like nothing happened today? I walked in on you practically fucking another person— and you told me if I try to leave, you'll kill me. So of course there's a fucking problem, darling."

Jouno's smirk only grew wider at your words. His maniacal laughter filled the room, fueling your irritation even further.

"What? What's so fucking funny, Sai? Hm..? Tell me, was all of this— our whole relationship just a cruel joke to you? I gave up everything for you, everything. My family, friends— hell, I gave my whole life for you! And all you can do is fucking laugh in my face?"

His laughter only picked up the more you spoke. His hands grasped the edge of the dining table as he leaned back for support. Throwing his head back, reveling in his own amusement.

You couldn't think clearly. Your whole world was turned upside down in less than twenty-four hours. The person you loved more than anything was now nothing more than a stranger to you. But the worst part of it all; was that you still loved him— at least, a specific version of him. The one he showed to you, and you alone.

You reached out to him, balling the front of his uniform in your fists. You shook Jouno with all your might. Tears of frustration rolled down your cheeks as you cried out,

"Stop laughing— stop fucking laughing! I hate you, I fucking hate you…"

"No… you don't, princess. And we both know it. I bet the day I asked you to be mine was the greatest day of your life, hm? But to me… it was just another Friday. It meant nothing to me— you mean nothing to me. Accept that this is your life now, Y/N."

His words rattled through your whole being. Cutting you up from the inside out. Jouno was right… that was the happiest day of your life.

Was it so wrong of you to assume he felt the same way? That your relationship, the time you spent together, held any comprehensible significance to him?

You were too exhausted to fight with him further. Too shocked to even process that this was your life now. In that moment of realization, you didn't feel anything anymore. The tears still flowed freely, blurring your vision; but you couldn't care less.

"Accept that this is your life now, Y/N."

"This is your life now, Y/N."

Those words played through your mind like a record that endlessly skipped. You knew you couldn't escape; Jouno would kill you. Your family had no clue where you were and you didn't have friends anymore.

This was the end of the line for you. So were you going to accept it, or fight it?

Your body froze; your hands released the front of Jouno's uniform and went limp at your sides.

All of a sudden, your head snapped up. Jouno listened to your every move, trying to anticipate how you would react next.

"Darling, your dinner is getting cold. Why don't we eat before it all goes bad, hm?"

Your voice was eerily calm as you walked around the table. Making up his plate; as if nothing was awry. Jouno couldn't help the chuckle that slipped past his lips as he took his seat.

He didn't say a word, simply just honing in on your reactions. Sensing for anything out of place, he couldn't find such things. Your heartbeat was regular, body temperature was back to normal. And he couldn't hear any wavering in your voice.

He had broken you; completely. There was no fight, no drive left inside you. All that was left was a shell of the person you once were. An altered version of yourself, one that Jouno molded you to be.

"Same time tomorrow for dinner, Sai?"

"Indeed, same time tomorrow."

#jouno saigiku x reader #jouno x reader #bsd jouno #jouno saigiku #saigiku jouno #yandere jouno #bungou stray dogs jouno #saigiku jouno x reader #bsd saigiku #saigiku jōno #jouno x you #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #bsd angst #bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs imagines #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs angst

[magicalqueennightmare]

Why?

(Eventual) Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

When you're hurt and it's not a product of a hunt you intend to hide away and lick your wounds in private but a certain Mikaelson begins to worry and comes to your rescue.

The first knock at your door you disregarded. Surely it was your neighbor or maybe someone with a wrong address. You rented a small place just outside of the french quarter after all so people having a few too many and reading addresses wrong was a usual occurrence.

You were sore over every inch of your body. You were fairly sure nothing was broken but that knowledge didn't stop the pain that every slight movement caused. More than the pain was the embarrassment that this injury had come at the hands of humans. How could you have slipped up that bad?

You'd nearly fallen back asleep when your phone started to ring. You groaned from the effort of pushing yourself up to a sitting position and reached for it.  The moment you saw the caller id you cursed. It was Elijah. You'd avoided him for the better part of the last week but one of his siblings must have caught wind that you'd made it back in town. You didn't want him to see you hurt. You'd tried to always have your feet under you around the ancient vampire. 

He knocked you off balance so you covered it expertly with vague threats and sass. You weren't up to the usual repertoire between the two of you.

You took a deep breath and hoped it wouldn't show in your voice how exhausted you truly were “Elijah Mikaelson, to what do I owe the privilege?” “My darling little hunter. I heard from my sister that you've been in town for nearly a week. Are you avoiding me by chance?” You shifted in the bed and a groan escaped your lips. You closed your eyes praying he hadn't heard. “Not avoiding you. Just been busy”

He was silent for a moment and the thought hit you that maybe he'd hung up until he spoke “Care to answer the door then?” shit, he was the person at your door. “I'll come by later. Just make sure Klaus knows so it's not an announced thing”  “Come to the door” you could feel the pull in his voice and tsk-tsked “Now now Elijah. You promised a long time ago to not try to compel me. Besides I've got enough wards tattooed on me it's next to impossible even for a vampire of your age” 

“Please come to the door” he tried again and you could tell how much it took for him to add the please. “Ok” you hung up the phone and glanced around the room. Your oversized hoodie looked like the best option so you tugged it on over the sports bra and shorts you were currently wearing. It hit mid thigh and with the hood up covered most of your bruises along with the black eye and how swollen the left side of your face was. 

You slowly walked across the small space to your front door and unlocked all three locks before swinging the door open to reveal the vampire standing at your door. Elijah was always impeccably dressed, today he was wearing a black tailored suit which fit him in a way that would've practically made your mouth water any other day.  He had some stubble gracing his chiseled jaw which just added to how handsome he truly was. 

A slight smirk started to slip across his face when he looked in your door but it quickly fell when his eyes met yours.  “Invite me in” Elijah had come to your place a few times but you'd never extended an invite. It caused too much of a risk. You were welcome in the home he shared with his siblings despite you being a hunter and them originals. 

You shook your head slowly but that made the room tilt and you were forced to grab the door frame for support. “Invite me in” he repeated. You managed a weak laugh “You gonna finish me off Mikaelson?” His eyes narrowed so you decided screw it if he threw the niceties to the side and did snap your neck at least you wouldn't be hurting anymore “Come into my home Elijah” 

The moment he crossed the threshold he pushed your hood down and you saw the monster that always lurked just below the surface darken his eyes “Did this occur on a hunt?” You dropped your eyes “Yeah” you felt him move before his fingers ever so gently graced your chin, pulling your face up where you had no choice but to look him in the eye “I'm going to ask once more and make my question more direct. Who or what did this to you?”

You swallowed hard under his gaze. You didn't want to tell him. It was a couple dozen dirty cops. They wanted to use hunters as guns for hire. Technically most hunters had faked their deaths already so who better to pull off kills then the dead? “A few people who wanted me to work for them and I refused”

“Humans did this? My dear I've seen you fight” you nodded slightly, a grimace gracing your face due to the movement causing another wave of dizziness “They caught me by surprise and a taser is very much a field evener for us mere humans” 

It occurred to you that he was still holding your face so you tried to move away from him but you swayed slightly and before you could protect he was picking you up bridal style. “You need to see a doctor” “No insurance” you mumbled, trying to fight the urge to lay your head against his chest as he carried you over to your bed, pulling the blanket back to lay you down. 

He sat down gently on the side of the bed and motioned to the hoodie “May I?” You nodded and felt him pull the soft material up your body. His touch made goosebumps rise across your flesh and you hoped he'd mistake the way your heart started to beat faster for pain. “I'll bring one to you. Need to ensure you don't have any internal damage then you're going to tell me who exactly was involved” 

“Why do you care, Elijah?” You asked and he simply smiled before pulling the hoodie back down “Perhaps I've allowed myself to become fond of the fact that you're not afraid of me. Quite the opposite you don't mind reminding me just how many of my kind you've killed. You're a hunter, I've made peace with that but this? This isn't your job, this was an attack that deserves an answer and I will gladly deliver one” 

You nodded slowly then asked “Are you gonna pay a doctor or compel one?” He shrugged “Whichever works better” you motioned to where your jacket laid “Keys are in the right hand pocket. Lock the door when you leave then let yourself back in” “I'll be back soon” He promised and you knew he would. He would come back with a doctor and if you asked he'd slaughter anyone who'd ever hurt you, the question was why? 

Closer

#elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x y/n #elijah mikaelson fanfiction #tvd fanfiction #the originals fanfiction #cw the originals #elijah mikaelson fic

[the-power-of-a-pen]

Oh, How I Love Thee

Fandom: Spider-Man 2 (PS5)

Summary: A series of cute moments between Harry Osborn and reader based on Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poem How Do I Love Thee?

Word Count: 3061

Pairing: Harry Osborn x reader (romantic)

Trigger Warning(s): Cursing, 3rd to last scene is reader panicking

A/n: I don't remember the last time I wrote a fic, but I loved the new Spiderman 2 on ps5 and I'm obsessed with/gay for Harry Osborn. Also apologies: English isn't my first language. Also please give feedback -- I have quite a few more of these in my drafts that I'll only publish if these are well-received!

How do I love thee?

Planks, nails, screws, and metal bars were strewn haphazardly across the floor of the apartment you shared with Harry. His eyebrows were furrowed the way they always do when he's determined to solve something. You'd long ago surrendered the instructions to him after his persistent insistence that he could figure it out. Instead, you simply leaned against him as you began organized the mess of a dresser you had attempted to assemble.

"Okay, how the fuck am I supposed to know with one of these screws is the 40 millimeter one?" he complained.

You adjusted yourself so that you were lounging more comfortably next to him with your chin on his shoulder while he wrapped an arm around your waist. “If I had to guess,” you started, “I’d probably read what’s on the top of each screw.”

He scoffed playfully. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

You gestured for him to give you the instructions, which he reluctantly did. "It says we need to put the x12 screws into the L2 bar first. Then we- oh for fuck's sake, why does this manual have pictures only? We're trying to build a coffee table, not a fucking time machine."

"Let's just try using the power drill on these," Harry suggested. "There's probably tons of extra parts in here that we can use if we mess up."

"Okay, Brunel. I thought you were a biochem major."

"Hey," he laughed. "Let a man dream. Can you hold this piece up?"

You obliged, and Harry picked up the nearest 40 mm-looking screw and drove it into the wooden bar at an angle to connect it to the bottom of the coffee table. You gave each other a look. It didn't seem right, but it did what it was supposed to.

"Trust the process?" you suggested. "I'm not going to try and read that chicken scratch again."

Harry shrugged. "Fair enough. As long as it stands up, right?"

The two of you repeated the process for the other four legs and the rack under the table. Finally, you propped it up to stand. It was a horrible mess, slanted and barely standing up. Truly, it looked more like a modern sculpture than a piece of furniture.

After a moment of silence, Harry said, "I'm gonna order something pre-made and get us takeout."

"Yeah," you sighed. "That's probably for the best."

Let me count the ways.

"I claim Yoshi," Harry declared as he selected the character for the round.

"Basic," you jabbed back. "My main's Toad, anyway. Rainbow Road?"

"Obviously."

The rain pattered against the windows outside. It was a perfect night to stay in.

As soon as the countdown finished, Harry sent a green shell your way and curved around you.

"Cheater," you jabbed as you spammed your controller to get back up.

"Hate the game, not the player," he bantered. "Oh, fuck you, Peach."

"How funny would it be if the bots won over us?"

"Not gonna happen," Harry replied. He threw a banana at your mini-kart and, by pure luck, managed not to crash into you.

On Harry's side of the split screen, it showed that he was on his final lap, with you a decent distance behind him. With the finish line in sight, you pulled the last trick in your sleeve. You grabbed Harry's chin and pulled him in for a passionate kiss, making him entirely lose focus. By the time you two pulled away, you were out of breath, and your side of the TV read 1st Place.

"Now who's cheating?" Although he was trying to scold you, the way he was catching his breath took away from it.

"Oh, please," you remarked. "You didn't mind."

Harry dropped his controller and, cupping your face with one hand and pulling your waist towards him with the other, he mumbled before kissing you, "Damn right I didn't.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.

Your phone buzzed, stirring you from your sleep. Rubbing some sleep from your eyes, you fumbled around for it, barely reading 7:23AM off of it. You tossed it over your shoulder and rolled over, hardly getting anywhere before Harry pulled you back into him.

He pressed a soft kiss to your neck and nuzzled into you. "G'morning, babe."

"Morning," you yawned. Your eyes adjusted to the morning light and you tried to massage some warmth back into your hands. A flock of pigeons brushed by your window, tracking in a breeze that brought shivers to your spine. You stirred again, trying to get up this time.

Harry tried and failed to grab for your hand. "Where are you going?"

You smiled to yourself. Harry's morning voice never got old. "I'm just closing the window. It's freezing in here."

He propped himself up on his elbow and commented, "Well, word around town is that I make a pretty good personal heater."

You hummed. "I'll take that into consideration." You sat down on his side of the bed and brushed some wild stray hairs out of his face. "But seriously, just because we have the day off, that doesn't mean we should spend all day in bed. I can make us hot chocolate the way you like it, and we can sit out in the park, maybe try to find something good in Midtown?"

"That sounds great, baby." Harry leaned into your touch. "After a quick nap."

You scoffed as he grabbed your waist to pull you on top of him. "Nothing's quick with you," you remarked.

Your boyfriend just smirked at you. "Part of why you love me." You settled down onto him, resting your head on his chest and intertwining your legs. "Just... five more minutes, babe," he implored you.

"Five more minutes," you agreed, already drifting back off to sleep.

When feeling out of sight for the ends of being and ideal grace.

The movie you had been watching had run its course, and you were beyond tired. You resigned yourself to quickly run through your skincare routine and find Harry so that the two of you could go to sleep.

You finished rinsing the cleanser off of your face and stretched with such force that you got dizzy. Shaking this feeling off, you called for your boyfriend.

"In the kitchen!" he called back. And he was there, but sheltered behind the kitchen island on the floor with his laptop and countless papers strewn around him. The fans in his computer sounded like a helicopter about to take off. "I'm just finishing these last few emails," he yawned. "Then I've got to review the results of bee drones, verify the statistics Dr. Loughran gathered on the organ reproduction project, and then I gotta check if they repaired the particle accelerator yet and-"

You sat yourself down next to him and gently shut his laptop, kissing his temple. "Why don't we deal with this tomorrow?"

Harry sighed and leaned on your shoulder. "I've been putting this off for a while. I'm so close to finishing, just like 30 more minutes."

You ran your fingers through his hair and felt him fighting to stay conscious. "You and I both know that's a lie, babe. The weight of the world doesn't rest on your shoulders. Take a break. The work will be there tomorrow."

"But-"

"What did May always say?"

Harry sighed again, but relented and put his head in your lap. "You help someone, you help everyone."

You arranged the papers around you into a pile and grabbed a cushion from one of the kitchen island's stools to put behind your back. "Let the person you help today be you, okay?"

But Harry was already fast asleep.

I love thee to the level of every day's most quiet need.

"Do you ever wonder what would happen if you used conditioner before shampoo?"

"Not really," you conceded as you took another bite of your ice cream from your place on top of the dryer.

Harry sat on the floor organizing the dark, white, and delicate clothes into piles. "I mean, it's probably better for your hair, no? Like, the whole purpose of conditioner is to break down unwanted particles and moisturize your hair. If anything, it's probably better to do it that way."

"Maybe," you agreed as you hopped down and put the first load in the wash. "But wouldn't that be the same as using fabric softener before detergent?"

"Nope. Fabric softener just coats your clothes in microplastics. It's a long-term way of damaging the bonds between the atoms for temporary comfort. Technically, we should be using something like vinegar instead."

"I'm not putting vinegar on my clothes," you objected.

"Maybe you need to be more open-minded," he teased.

"Maybe you need to keep your head in the game," you teased back, throwing his dirty T-shirt at him. You yelped when he threw a sock your way. "Oh, I'll get you back for that."

"I'd like to see you try," Harry challenged.

By sun and candle-light.

Harry raced past you in the hallway, tugging on a shoe while awkwardly hopping. You sipped your tea from the kitchen island as you stared down the morning crossword.

"Running late?" you asked as he grabbed an apple and tossed it into his bag.

"Yeah," he replied, out of breath as he roughly kissed your cheek and gave you a squeeze before rushing towards the door. "Pete's gonna have to deal with the donors on his own if I don't get there on time. Wish me luck."

"Good luck." You filled out the five boxes for 23-across whose clue read 'Oscar-winner Streep.' "I love you."

"I love you, too," he called as he shut the door. Almost immediately, he opened the door again. "Forgot my keys!"

"They're on top of your nightstand," you called as you heard him tearing your room apart. The jingle of the keys confirmed that he got them, and he bounded over to you again.

"I love you," he breathed, kissing your cheek. "You're the best."

"I know," you chuckled. You leaned around the corner to watch him leave for the second time before returning to your morning routine. You had just finished eating your breakfast when Harry came running in again.

"Missed me already?" you joked.

"Forgot my phone," he explained, grabbing it from beside you. He kissed your cheek again. "But that, too."

"Love you!" you called as he fumbled with the doorknob and you walked to the living room. "Kick ass today."

He gave you a charming wink then slipped out the door.

You turned on the TV and let a talk show play in the background as you cursed at your crossword. This time, it took Harry about 6 more minutes to realize he had yet again forgotten something important. He barged in for the third and last time, profusely apologizing.

"You wouldn't happen to know a five-letter port city of Japan, would you?" you asked without looking up.

"Try Osaka?" Harry filtered through the pockets of his coats in the laundry room until he finally found his wallet.

"That fits."

Harry returned from the laundry room and leaned down, pressing three kisses to your lips. "Okay, I'm leaving for real now. I love you."

"I love you, too, babe. Show 'em how it's done."

I love thee freely, as men strive for right.

"Oh my God, you should've seen the look on Hasan's face when Vijay showed up. Like, I get it, you dated way back in the day, but showing up in all white? So then MJ went to go pull the wine trick on him while I tried to distract Hasan so that he wouldn't notice anything was going on, but of course the universe wasn't satisfied." You huffed and caught your breath in the middle of pacing back and forth in the living room. "You know what happened after that?"

Harry, from his comfortable corner in the couch covered his mouth to hide his amusement. "Jess said something?" he guessed.

"Jess opened her fucking mouth," you continued. "And she was drunk off her ass because she always is, and she comes up to Hasan on his fucking wedding day and starts shouting about Vijay coming over. So at this point, Song is already asking Hasan 'Have you been cheating on me? Is that what this is?' And obviously Hasan would never do that but now Song's upset so the two of them go to argue in the backroom while Keith escorts Vijay out and MJ and I have to babysit Jess for the rest of the evening." You paused and took a sip of your mocktail. "It was literal hell."

At this point, you realize the smile taking over Harry's face. "What?"

He shook his head as he surveyed you in admiration. "You're hot when you're angry."

I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.

"Do I look good?" Harry asked nervously as he adjusted his tie.

You brushed his mess of curls away from his forehead. "You look perfect. You are perfect."

"I really need this interview to go well," he said, biting his lips. "Whatever this guy publishes is gonna be severely edited by Jonah, and if even half of what MJ said was warning enough, we're screwed."

"You're going to be fine," you assured him. When that didn't seem to work, you grabbed him by his shoulders and said, "Your mom would be so proud of you. Don't worry about what you can't control."

Harry took in a deep breath, and, hugging you before going into the meeting room, whispered, "Let's heal the world."

I love thee with the passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

"Good morning," chirped the barista as you walked in to the small café. "What can I get started for you?"

"Just a small pumpkin latte, please," you replied. You shivered and wrapped your scarf tighter around you.

"Anything else I can get for you? Maybe my number?"

"No, thanks -- that'll be all," you assured her, glancing behind you to look for Harry.

You jumped when he touched your arm. "I've got this one, baby," he winked and offered his card. The barista's eyes widened in realization, and she silently finished the transaction. One of her coworkers finished off the order and handed it to you on the other end of the kiosk.

You unlocked your car with your keys and laughed when Harry rushed to open the door for you.

"What's so funny?"

"You're jealous, aren't you," you jested.

Harry mocked offense as he got into the car on the other side. "I haven't the slightest idea what you're referring to, your majesty."

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints.

Harry crossed your arms on your chest and hugged you from behind to give you that comfort of pressure. "Breathe, babe. It's gonna be okay. This feeling will go away."

Your breathing was erratic, your face tingled, and you felt so dizzy you might pass out. "I could've lost you," you managed to get out between gasps. "So much could've gone wrong."

"I know," he said in a low voice. "I know. But everything's alright. Pete and Miles have a handle on things, they always do. That thing's gone. I'm okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

You rested your forehead on your knees, but Harry didn't let go of you. "I tried to get through to you but that thing just kept on speaking to me, and Dr. Connors said you were too far gone and then MJ told me what happened at the Foundation- fuck's sake you were in a coma for three weeks and you just show up-"

Harry crawled in front of you and gently took your face in his hands. "It was scary for me too, love. I thought it was going to hurt you and-" He took in a deep breath. "The worst is behind us, okay? Let's focus on that."

You nodded and tried to slow your breathing. After a moment: "None of that was your fault, you know? It wasn't you doing it."

"I know." He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes with a shaky breath. "I know."

I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life;

"Okay, what do you think of this option?" You came out from the hallway with a new outfit and gave him a spin.

"Gorgeous," he breathed. "You look like an angel."

You sat down next to him on your bed. "Babe, I love you, but if all you do is flatter me, I'm not going to know what to wear to the gala."

Harry traced his fingers over the folds of your sides as you fiddled with the invitation in your hands. "Not my fault that my partner's hot."

"But it will be your fault if we're late," you retorted. "This one, the dark blue one, or the black one?"

He hummed. "This one," he replied with a wink. "It'll be easier to take off later."

He got up to leave the room, but you grabbed him by the tie, saying an inch away from his lips, "We'll see about that, handsome." And with that, you strutted away.

And, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

You moved the needle onto the vinyl, letting the smooth jazz of Thelonious Monk fill the room. You waltzed over to Harry, and, wrapping one arm around his waist and grabbing his other hand, you swayed to the beat.

"C'mon, loverboy," you taunted him. "Show me some rhythm."

"I'm trying," he laughed, shuffling his feet.

"Baby, a little less Electric Slide, a little more moving those hips."

"Why don't you lead me instead?"

You spun in his arms and put your dominant leg between his legs and hummed as you swayed in a circle. Harry put an arm over your shoulder and started singing along.

"Glee Club paying off," you joked.

He bumped your nose. "Very funny."

You spun Harry as the music signalled that it was near its end.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" Harry asked as he caught his balance.

You dipped him with the flourish of the music. "More than I can count."

#spiderman 2 ps5 #harry osborn #harry osborn x reader #harry osborn ps5 x reader #rio's writing

[moremaybank]

Hello, I have an obscene imagination with Klaus, where he is creating his hybrids and she is part of the Mystic Falls gang and she is a wolf and Klaus does not turn her into a hybrid because she is his mate and he has a lot of sexual desire for her. So when he manages to seduce her, he is obsessed with filling her with his son (nik has a breeding kink) when he finally convinces her to have a relationship with him and become a hybrid, the witches kidnap her and tell her that she is pregnant(hope)

TO MAKE HER MINE — k.m

pairing klaus mikaelson x fem!reader

summary klaus comes to mystic falls to begin siring his hybrids and he crosses paths with the woman he believes to be his mate. after weeks of pining after you, and a little help from fate, he finally manages to make you his. forever.

warnings 18+, unprotected sex, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, creampie, accidental but wanted pregnancy

klaus masterlist

"Why didn't you do it, Klaus? Why didn't you kill me that night?"

She was asking a good question, Klaus thought. A great one, even. But in order to understand the answer, they would have to go back to the beginning. The moment where it all started. Where their lives were forever altered.

Senior Prank Night. It was supposed to be a night off, where Y/N and her friends could take a break from the supernatural world's drama and let go. They could act like normal teenagers, if only for a few hours. But unfortunately, fate had other plans. Its goal was to align two hearts as one. Those of Klaus Mikaelson and Y/N Y/L/N.

Klaus stood over Tyler Lockwood, his first successful hybrid. Veins had cracked underneath his eyes and he had fangs protruding from his gums. The realization had set in - Klaus was that much closer to assembling the strongest army the world had ever seen. So he turned to face his younger sister Rebekah and ordered her to fetch him the only other known werewolf residing in Mystic Falls. Y/N Y/L/N.

"Let go of me!" Y/N demanded at the blonde dragging her by the arm into the gymnasium. "Hush, love. There's no need to put up such a fight," Rebekah responded, rolling her eyes. When they reached Klaus, Rebekah tapped him on the shoulder. "Here's your next victim. I'm done with being your slave now, so I'll be outside." Rebekah walked away, and Klaus turned to the girl, their eyes meeting for the very first time. And he felt the air in his lungs leave him.

Over the years, both Klaus and Y/N had heard of wolves finding their mates. They'd been told that when one was finally introduced to their mate, it was almost as if everything had clicked. All the puzzle pieces fit together, and the picture was clear. It was as if one had found everything they'd ever desired. Craved. Longed for. Lived for. Of course, Y/N and Klaus chose to believe that those people were just downright crazy. There was no such thing as having a mate. Right?

Wrong.

Y/N stared up at the man that she was certain was going to end her human life. But as she looked into the most captivating blue eyes she'd ever seen, she didn't see a trace of malice. And she didn't fear him the way she assumed she would. Instead, she was swept into a current of a feeling she could barely decipher. Y/N looked at this truly evil, power-hungry man, and the fire was burning so fiercely between them that she was certain. This man was the one she had been destined for. And she just knew...she was screwed.

As for Klaus, he was almost speechless. Klaus thrived off of being in control. It was a bare necessity for him. He needed to be in a position of power. But as he stood in front of the woman he was sure was concocted from his dreams, he felt that power slipping right through his fingers. The threat of losing control had always left him feeling unsettled, and now that his worst fear was manifesting into reality, he was petrified.

"So uh, is this the part where you kill me? 'Cause I'd rather you make it quick," Y/N spoke, treading lightly. Her voice snapped Klaus back into reality. He could hear her heart racing, but he wasn't sure if it was due to fear, or if she was feeling even a fraction of what he was. So he smirked slightly, looking straight at her. "Actually, darling, I have other plans for you. Big plans."

In the weeks following that night, with each day that passed, Klaus and Y/N's desire for each other only grew stronger. They'd shared stolen glances at each other, had dreamt of the other in their sleep. They always seemed to be in the same place at the same exact time. And the desire and longing they felt for each other were threatening to become too much to bear. That string tied to both their hearts worked to pull them closer and closer until they simply couldn't run from fate anymore. Which had ultimately led Y/N to ask her question.

"Hello? Are you gonna answer me? Or are you gonna force me to stare at your back all night and ignore me?" Klaus took a sip of the bourbon from the glass he held in his hand, turning around to look at the entrancing woman before him. "Do you really have to ask? You know why, Y/N." Y/N scoffed, "If I knew, then I wouldn't be asking." As soon as Klaus had registered what she said, he knew he'd had enough. He was done playing whatever game this was. He wanted out.

"Don't do that. Don't act like fate hasn't been casting us in each other's paths since the night we met. The reason I didn't kill you is that I could never kill the woman I'd been destined to love for over a thousand years." Y/N's eyes were wide. Yes, she had felt everything under the sun for Klaus. But she'd never been brave enough to acknowledge it out loud. That would make it real. Solidify it. And she wasn't sure if she was ready for that.

"You aren't really buying into that 'wolf mate' crap, are you? Klaus-" Y/N began, but Klaus walked up to her, cutting her off. "Do you think I've been enjoying this? I've lost the one thing in this world that I need to survive. Control. I looked into your eyes that night at the high school, and I watched as it left me. As you took it from me," he breathed. With each step of Klaus's, Y/N mirrored his movements backwards until her back hit the wall behind her with a thump.

"What are you so afraid of?" Klaus whispered, his fiery gaze holding her's captive. "Are you afraid that this isn't real? Because we both know it is. We burn for each other, so brightly that it would blind everyone else in our wake if we chose to burn together," he spoke, stroking her cheek ever so lightly with his index finger, "but that's society's problem. not ours."

Y/N could feel her resolve beginning to wither away as she stood nearly chest-to-chest with the man who had completely taken over her thoughts in mere seconds. "It's just an illusion, Klaus. There is no fate. There's no magical bond that causes two wolves to be destined for each other. It's not real."

Yeah, that was a load of bull. Even Klaus knew that Y/N didn't believe the lies she was telling herself. "You're wrong. You are consumed by the raw passion and desire you feel for me. So much so that you're choosing to run from it. But deep down, you know that you will never be able to shake me. I've gotten under your skin, and you've gotten under mine. We cannot just simply ignore this and go on. Not without each other," Klaus spoke.

Y/N looked up at Klaus, and she knew he was right. She'd thought she'd been in love before. She'd thought she knew what it felt like to see someone and just know, beyond any doubt, that they were the person she was destined for. The one she was made for. But she was wrong. Because whatever she'd felt for the men in her past could never begin to compare to the yearning in her heart for Klaus. "You mentioned that you've lost control," she said, and Klaus nodded. "If control is what you need...then you should take it."

The two of them held eye contact, the tension growing thicker and thicker by the second. Their desire for one another was clouding all of their thoughts and their senses, and they both wanted nothing more than to drown in each other. To give in to the temptation they'd been avoiding for so long. So that's just what they did.

Klaus smashed his lips against Y/N's, his hands on her cheeks. Y/N responded immediately and she placed her hands on Klaus's chest, fisting the thin material of his henley shirt as if to pull his chest against hers. The kiss deepened, both their tongues stroking and tasting each other. Y/N moaned into the kiss when Klaus's hands slid down to her thighs, urging her to jump so that he could pick her up. She jumped, wrapping her legs around Klaus's torso as her lips continued to devour his.

Using his supernatural speed, Klaus flashed the both of them up into his bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him and dropping Y/N onto the plush duvet of his bed. Y/N stared up at him with those eyes, breathless. Klaus leaned down, his lips leaving kisses on her exposed neck. Y/N thread her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck and she sighed in pleasure at Klaus's touch. It felt like Klaus was touching every single nerve on her body as his hands roamed over her, and all her senses were taken over completely by the man on top of her.

Breaking the kiss, Klaus pulled his shirt off and threw it on the floor before taking hold of Y/N’s and tearing it down the middle with a harsh yank. Y/N felt a throbbing between her legs at the action, Klaus's rough nature spurring her on even more. Her jeans were the next to go. Then she sat up, helping him remove her shirt before her hands landed on his chest. Her fingers gently ran over his skin, tracing over his tattoo before taking her time to trail down to his abdomen.

Klaus grabbed Y/N's hand and placed it over the large bulge in his jeans. “Do you feel that? Do you feel how hard I am for you?" He questioned. "This is what you do to me, Y/N. This is how much I yearn for you, for your touch. You make me want to memorize and trace every inch of your body with my lips, with my tongue. You make me want to act out every desire my mind has ever conjured, and worship you like a queen. So do not doubt what I feel for you, and don’t you dare doubt what you feel for me. Not anymore."

Mesmerized by the words he spoke, Y/N nodded. Her hand found the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss her as her free hand worked on his belt buckle and zipper. Klaus unhooked her bra and discarded it before climbing out of his jeans. Towering over her frame, Klaus leaned Y/N back onto the bed, and his lips peppered kisses on his way down to her panties. His thumb smoothed over her lace-covered entrance and he felt her desire for him. "You're wet for me already. Good girl," he cooed, and Y/N moaned at his words.

Klaus used his teeth to latch onto the waistband of her panties and dragged them down slowly until they were removed from her completely. His head then came back up and his hands spread her thighs to get a good look at her core. "What a gorgeous little cunt. It's more perfect than I ever could have imagined." His tongue darted out to taste her lightly, and he let out a soft moan, "You taste heavenly, too." Before Y/N could even react, she was flipped onto her stomach, and her limbs were tied to each corner of Klaus's bedframe.

His hands smoothed up her back, "From the very moment I laid eyes on you I've wanted nothing more than to put you on your stomach, tie your hands and legs to the corners of my bed and eat your sweet little cunt until you’re begging me to stop because the pleasure is too overwhelming. And now, my sweet…I am free to do so." And with that, his lips wrapped around her sensitive clit and he began to suck harshly, swirling his tongue around it to add to the sensation.

Y/N gasped at the sudden pleasure, and she bit her lip, "Fuck, Klaus." Klaus' finger came up to tease her entrance lightly, circling it and pressing the very tip of his finger into her and gathering her slick. He plunged it inside of her, and her back arched. His tongue picked up the pace on her clit, and the sucking pressure became much more powerful. Her legs were already trembling, the coil beginning to form in the pit of her stomach.

"Let's see how quickly I can make you come with my tongue and my fingers, yeah?" Klaus questioned, but he really wasn't looking for an answer. Y/N's moans grew louder, her cries of pleasure going straight to Klaus's cock and hardening it even more than before. It twitched at the sounds she was making, and Klaus's mouth watered at the thought of being inside her. Of releasing in her, and making her his for all of eternity. No man would ever have her in this way. Not after Klaus. Never.

Klaus added his middle and ring finger, quickening the pace of his fingers and Y/N was a panting, moaning mess. "Klaus, I'm gonna come. Please don't stop," she cried. Klaus kept up his actions, and he felt her walls closing in around his fingers. Her cries grew louder as she released and her whole body felt numb.

But just because she had reached her orgasm didn't mean that Klaus was done with her. He sucked on her clit with more pressure, and his tongue was toying with her clit at an inhumane speed. "It's too much. I can't, Klaus," she begged. Pulling his mouth away from her, he leaned up to her ear as he slapped her clit and Y/N squealed. "You can and you will."

Klaus resumed his actions, and he plunged his fingers into her again. His mouth found her clit again, and Y/N swore she was losing all her senses. Her vision was gone, and she couldn't feel anything except for Klaus's mouth and fingers. She wasn't sure how the hell she was going to last when she was barely holding it together. But she also knew that there was no other place she'd rather be. No other man she'd want to touch her the way Klaus was. He was all she wanted. Forever.

That familiar coil started to build up again, and by now tears were running down her cheeks as she bit into the pillow in front of her. "Give it to me, Klaus, please. I'm so close," she sobbed. Klaus obeyed, his fingers beginning to curl into her g-spot. The overstimulation left her breathless, and she struggled to get the air into her lungs. And then his touch simply became way too much to bear.

Her juices exploded out of her, and Klaus was quick to lap it up with his tongue, groaning at the taste of her. Y/N's breathing was erratic, and she could barely move. Klaus kissed up her spine, "I want to fuck you. Can I, darling? Can I fuck you?" Klaus questioned. Y/N nodded furiously, "Please fuck me, Klaus. I want you inside me. I want to feel every inch of you."

Klaus wasted no time freeing himself from his briefs. He ran his tip through Y/N's wet folds and grinded against her clit softly. Y/N shuddered at the contact due to her sensitivity, and Klaus ran his hand down her side, gripping and guiding her hips toward his. His free hand wrapped around the base of his member, and he slowly pushed into her. Y/N gasped, and she arched her back to feel him deeper. "You're so big, daddy. You stretch me out so well," she moaned. Klaus was now balls deep, and he remained there, feeling close to her.

"Please move, Klaus," she begged. Klaus sighed as he eased back out of her, and slammed into her again. Y/N let out a small scream, and Klaus gripped her hips again as he began to thrust in and out of her mercilessly. Her ass smacked against his front and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the bedroom. "Can you hear how soaked you are, love? You're dripping all over me," Klaus grunted. Y/N babbled something incoherent, and Klaus chuckled.

Klaus fucked into Y/N with reckless abandon, and since she was tied to the corners of the bed, all she could do was lay there and let Klaus ravish her. Not that she was complaining. He was so deep inside of her that she felt him in her stomach. Tears were pouring out of her eyes, and her moans were transforming into screams. "Yes! Yes, Klaus! Right there!" She exclaimed. "You love the way I'm rutting into you, don't you? I bet you love the way I have you at my mercy, fucking you until you're a babbling, sobbing mess," he spoke through gritted teeth. Y/N nodded at his words as she cried.

"You belong to me now, is that clear?" Klaus asked, but Y/N couldn't answer. All she could do was let out a strangled noise. Klaus began to fuck her harder, pounding into her. "Answer me," he said. Y/N couldn't though, she could barely form words. His fingers found her clit, and he began slapping it in time with his thrusts. "Who's pussy is this, Y/N?" Klaus questioned sternly, and Y/N squealed. "Yours, Klaus. It's y-yours!" She yelled.

Those words went straight to his cock, and Klaus let go of the last bit of control in his grasp. "That's right, it's mine. And I have every intention of filling you to the brim with my seed. So much that I'll be inside of you for days," he grunted. His cock began to twitch, as Y/N's walls clenched around him. "I want you to come for me, Y/N. Now," he said as he continued his harsh thrusts into her. The headboard was smacking against the wall, and Klaus was sure there would be a hole when they were finished.

Y/N's walls clamped down hard on Klaus's cock, hard, and she began to scream. "I'm coming, Klaus! I'm fucking coming!" Y/N began to cream all over his member, and Klaus twitched inside of her for the last time as he shot his seed into her, filling her.

Coming down from his high, he pumped into her a few more times before pulling out of her. He untied her limbs from the bed frame and kneeled her in front of him. "Taste yourself on me," he ordered, and Y/N obeyed his command. Taking his large member into her mouth, she took him to the back of her throat, before sucking her way to the tip and swirling her tongue around so she could taste their come.

"Mm," she moaned around him. The taste was so addicting, Y/N couldn't help but begin to bob her head, sucking Klaus off. Klaus ran a hand through her hair to get a grip on her as she sucked the soul out of his cock. Klaus threw his head back as she began to bob her head faster when she felt him twitch. Saliva was dribbling down from her mouth, running down her body, and her hand came up to massage his balls.

Just as Klaus felt his orgasm building up, he pulled out of her mouth and kissed her as he laid her back and pushed his cock inside of her entrance once again. She gasped into the kiss at the sudden intrusion, and Klaus wasted no time quickening his pace so he could come inside of her again. He pulled away from the kiss and began to suck on the soft spot of Y/N's neck. "Please come inside me, daddy. please fill me up with your come again,” she encouraged, spurring him on. Her hands scratched down his back, drawing blood, and this is what pushed Klaus to release his seed into her once again.

Pulling out, Klaus pulled Y/N to his chest as he yanked the covers over them. They drifted off into sleep, and after that night, everything changed.

In the weeks that followed, Klaus and Y/N established their relationship, Y/N had turned into a hybrid to ensure that their hearts would remain as one forever. And they were now on a vacation in New Orleans, as Klaus wanted to share his favourite place in the world with the love of his life.

But something was wrong. Y/N told Klaus she would meet him at Rousseau's, but she never showed up. Klaus had called her 10 times, each one going to voicemail. He knew she was in trouble. And that fact was confirmed when a witch named Sophie approached him. "Klaus Mikaelson? I have something you're gonna want to see."

Sophie led him to the cemetery, and Klaus's eyes landed on his girlfriend. "Release her right now or I swear to you, your entire witching community will cease to exist after today." Sophie shook her head, "Not until you listen." Sophie then explained to Klaus how he and Y/N were now able to procreate, thanks to the curse being broken, and his werewolf side being embraced. Klaus tried to argue, tried to tell them all that they were insane. But then...he heard the heartbeat. "It's true, Klaus. I'm...we're pregnant."

Sophie revealed to Klaus that the witches wanted to run Marcel Gerard out of the city, and they needed his help. It took some convincing, but in the end, he agreed to aid them on their mission. Sophie and the witches let Y/N go, and she and Klaus returned to their hotel room.

"Are you sure this is okay? I mean, is this really what you want? Because it's okay if you don't. You won't lose me," Y/N said, her hand rubbing Klaus's back as they sat on the edge of the bed. He turned to look into the eyes of the woman he loved, and his expression softened. "I do, want this. I want you, and our child. Forever."

~

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson smut #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries #the originals #the originals imagine #tvd universe #tvdu #joseph morgan

[gl1tteryzebra]

I had a very pleasant interaction with a cute blonde-headed mechanic recently, now all I can think about is mechanic!jj...

the patchy sliver of shade provided by a low hanging loblolly offered a small reprieve from the heat. jj's signature collared shirt was now hanging open as he tinkered away beneath the bonnet of your car – that was how you knew it was truly sweltering.

it was a miracle you'd been able to rummage that half torn napkin from the depths of your centre console. after your engine stuttered to a stop on the side of some desolate road you were certain you were screwed– 6pm on a sunday night, even if you did manage to coax someone out to wherever you were, the rates would surely plummet your bank account into a state of despair– and then you remembered.

a few months back when you last had car trouble, the blonde slid a crumby piece of tissue across the till at his workshop with a wink, a number scribbled in blotchy red ink.

"you should really invest in a business card." you'd said with a grimace as remnants of whatever he'd been eating drifted down like heavy snowflakes.

" uh–well actually," he reached into his breast pocket, removing a wad of neatly stacked cards bound together by an elastic band. "we're one step ahead of you, sugar."

he passed one of the sleek black cards over as well, albeit a little reluctantly."what's this for then?" you inquired with furrowed brows and he laughed at that, genuinely tickled.

"oh that— that's just in case you're ever in need of my personal assistance."

and it was almost as though today was his manifestation coming too fruition.

off in the distance, through the thicket and beyond the marsh, remnants of daylight peeked over the horizon like a fragile yolk ready to spill into darkness at any moment. you wanted nothing more than to be tucked into bed with a warm cup of tea and your favourite book, but whatever was wrong with your car seemed to not be a simple fix.

patting down the pleats of your skirt, you paced leisurely back and forth before eventually clearing your throat. "how's she looking?"

"she?" his blonde head peeked out from behind the hunk of metal, interest glistening in those pale blue orbs.

"yeah, pinkie. are you telling me you don't name your beloved vehicle?" (the vehicle in question: his beaten up honda CRF 230 which currently laid discarded in a pothole with an open tool box spilling its content onto the side of the road.)

he snickered, removing his cap to wipe the sweat from his brow. "guess you got me there– that's bessie, the finest lass on the road."

you scoffed, "why bessie of all things?"

"oh-kay, there's no way I'll be judged by someone who named their car pinkie...and its not even pink."

"it wasn't available at the time!"

his lips tugged into a downward crescent, mocking your face as it contoured into an earnest pout. "now that's a true tragedy– oh, 'n you happen to go through a car wash recently?"

"uh–yeah. today actually, why?"

"welllll you got water stuck in the engine cylinders, blocking up the emission control system. it got real stinky in the cabin right?"

"yeah it did, almost as bad as a guys locker room."

"ha! sounds 'bout right," his ring clad fingers reached above his head to pull the bonnet down. your eyes naturally drifted to his exposed midriff; lean muscles stretching taut, flecks of sun damage marring his pale skin, a defined v dipping below his waistline...

snapping out of your stupor, your gaze lifted to be met with a knowing smirk– shit. you were surprised when he didn't comment on the fact that you'd so shamelessly checked him out, but even more so as he rushed to pack up his tool box almost bashfully. "uh–so fancy this, I don't actually have the tools I need to fix it on me."

"really? I thought you said you kept everything you ever need on hand."

"huh–oh yeah, well one of the boys must've stolen my shit, bloody typical."

"right...what should I do then?" he flicked his grimy hair from his forehead, regarding you with an impish grin.

"come back to the shop. I'll get my guy to tow your pinkie in tonight, get 'er fixed up bright an' early in the mornin' so you can be on your merry way."

"it's not exactly close to my house–"

he shrugged, persistent as ever, "that's cool, no worries, we've got a couch and some blankets if you wanna stay the night."

"what about you?"

"well I can't risk a thief in the night, can I? best if I stay too."

you resisted the urge to snort, what an idiot. "how am I supposed to get back to your shop now though?"

his eyes spoke for themself, gesturing to his bike as is if that was a stupid question. "oh–no, no no no no no, no way." your hands wildly gesticulated. no, absolutely not. you knew enough about jj's reckless and impulsive nature to guess how this would present itself in other areas of his life– most of a concern to you in this moment, his driving.

"hey, there's need to be scared sugar, I always drive extra careful with precious cargo." he cut himself off with a boyish chuckle as your face morphed into something deeply unimpressed. "c'mon, it's not exactly like you have any other choice...so whadd'ya say?"

you settled onto the back of his bike with a grumble, hands shooting up to adjust the helmet he loaned you (his only helmet). the engine revved to an obnoxious start and with a shriek you hurried cling onto his waist– heart thumping erratically behind your ribs.

"comfy?"

"shut up."

"holdin' me a bit tight, sweetheart. sure you're not enjoying this?"

"shut. up."

his chest rumbled with laughter as he took off into the sunset.

~

couldn't be bothered to get down and dirty with this one tonight, think I might just make a pt.2

🎀 @seabunni 🎀

#jj maybank drabble #jj maybank prompt #divider by @firefly-graphics #mechanic!jj #jj maybank x reader #want to write more about this #so if you have prompts send em in!! #especially smutty ones hehe #obx x reader

[mara-tevith-solo]

Fate Thinks She’s Funny

Screw it, I might make this a series. Part of the One Enchanted Evening fic. Reader here has a recycled OC background I made for the MCU. Essentially came to Earth after Order 66 in the 90′s, was forcibly conscripted in the US Military and she gets tangled up in everything because of the Ancient One, the Jedi inability to not meddle, and Billy. It’s a 43k word fic that is no where near complete and probably will never be

Pairing: Adam Warlock x ex-avenger/guardian! reader

Warnings: Canon levels of violence, love at first sight, prospective death, Adam pulling his punches just for you because he hates the idea of hurting you after 0.001 seconds, reader compares him to a Rancor of all things 

Words: 1.8k+

Rated: 18+ as always

It was the crashing that alerted you initially, pulling you from the half-sleep you had managed to finally fall into. You didn't even bother shutting the door to your apartment behind you as you went to investigate, Groot wrapped around something on fire shooting past without much preamble. You were fully awake before he was out of sight, already trying to calculate his trajectory to be there to stop him. You ran over walkways and tight wires, not truly looking where you were going besides making sure the way was clear, making sure that no one would get hurt from the debris. It barely occurred to you that you were only dressed in one of Stephen's old shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts, your main concern being the citizens, and then the attacker.

A mother and child huddled on main street gave you pause, the mother trying to shelter her screaming child as debris began raining down towards them. Protecting them with the Force was reactionary, no really thought put into it until they were safe and you were on the move again. You skidded to a stop on a catwalk as Kraglin's arrow smacked the man harmlessly across the cheek, making him stop angrily in his tracks "Who threw this thing at me?" He demanded sharply, looking around the rubble he'd created. No one dared to answer him, all of them hiding and fighting to remain silent despite their fear. He looked, disarmed by the fear, choosing to move on "Baby." He chided before continuing on his path.

Landing on the attacker was easy, he was strutting through main street like he owned the place, like he wasn't trying to tear it apart bit by bit. He fell to the ground under you with an annoyed yell, your claws sinking into his shoulders before you were moving off of him, twisting and throwing him over your head and down into the ground with a shout. You didn't wait for the dust to settle to grab him again, hoisting him up to his feet as he tried regaining his barrings. For a moment, one single solitary moment, your eyes met, gold giving way to his pupils as they dilated, his breath stuttering as his golden lips dropped open the barest fraction. There was something star struck in his expression, something you forced yourself to not dwell on as you let go of his tunic just long enough to Spartan Kick him further away from where he'd thrown Nebula. He didn't go far, landing on his back with a forced exhale before he was clambering up to his feet with a bewildered glare "Do that again and I'll be forced to kill you." He was warning you as he shook the dust from his person, not taking his eyes off your form.

"Pity." You huffed, calling my saber, reaching back towards your apartment.

"What's that? What is the purpose of that?" He asked, genuinely curious, tilting his head like a puppy. It genuinely caught you off guard, both the fact that he genuinely didn't know what you were doing, and the fact that he seemed so innocent in that moment. You didn't answer him, instead taking a ready stance as soon as the hilt was in your hand, the familiar hum and yellow hue a comfort. He blinked, taking in your position and your weapon before deciding that you were still intent on being a threat, powering up with a frustrated grunt and a silent snarl, his hands engulfed in blades of light. It was like dancing, fighting with him, meeting him strike for strike even though it didn't feel like his heart was fully in it. He depowered one hand enough to grab your saber hand, immobilizing it no matter how hard you struggled, making you grab his arm that was still powered up, holding it above both of your heads in a struggle of wills. "I do not want to kill you." He admitted with a grunt, trying to break the hold you had on him.

"Not the first time I've heard that." You growled back a little bitterly, straining against him for a moment before you saw an opening and took it. Your forehead collided with his, a resounding crack! echoing through your head and the square as he cried out in pain, stumbling blindly back in retreat. "Fucking hell." You groaned, doubling over as you pressed your freehand to your forehead, trying to sooth the ache that was still blooming there. You could feel the tale tell tickle of a small track of blood dripping down the bridge of your nose, but didn't think much of it as you focused an eye on him, watching him recollect himself with that snarl of his.    

"Are you always this stubborn?!" He asked you indignantly, throwing his hands out with exasperation.

You couldn't stop your expression if you wanted to, open bewilderment taking your face by storm as you just stared at him "You're trying to kill my friends! Of course I'm 'being stubborn'!"

"I just want the squirrel." He rebutted as though it was so simple.

"You can't have our friend! He's not property!"

Before he could say another word, Drax grabbed him and began throwing him around "Pick on someone your own size!"  

You wanted to just hide somewhere as you backed away from the two men, your heart pounding deafeningly in your chest as Drax threw him into the headquarters sign "Y/n!" You could hear Mantis calling desperately from the med center, tears in her voice spurring you into action, ignoring the suddenly very determined man as he lifted himself from the dirt. You had to stop, your eyes glued to the scene, as the man met Drax hit for hit, matching every bit of his strength easily. It made you want to throw up. You watched, helpless, as beams of light came from the man's hands again, Drax barely able to stop them, holding the man at bay with groans of strain. "Y/n! Help!" Mantis wailed again, but you couldn't tear your gaze away as the stranger's power began to whine audibly, getting brighter and brighter until he was blowing Drax back with it.    

As soon as he straddled and began pummeling Drax you were in motion, charging without a thought of your own safety. You dove at the last possible moment, only loosing a cry when your shoulder collided with his ribs, ripping him off of Drax and into the dirt with you. Scrabbling for dominance in the dirt with him, you didn't care to use finesse, or any true skill. He'd already proven that he was ridiculously strong, that you had to fight dirty to get any advantage. You barely paid attention to the darkening of his cheeks and neck as you straddled his waist and tried to punch his lights out, your fist raining punishment into his pretty face over and over again as your other hand kept you anchored to him, fisted tightly into the collar of his tunic. He seemed more concerned with trying to fend off the blows than fight back "ENOUGH!" He roared under you, almost succeeding in turning over under you as he tried to protect himself. You didn't listen to him as you pressed him back down, driving your fist into his sternum as you continued to punch the daylights out of him. "I said," He grabbed you by the thighs, his hands engulfing them by nearly half before he was usurping your position, driving your back into the dirt, his weight pressing down between your legs "enough!" It was only at that moment that he seemed to realize the position he had put you both in, making you feel like you were on fire as he stared down at you with those wide doe eyes that just screamed innocence.

You blinked back up at him, suddenly uncomfortable with the vulnerable position, your grip on his collar almost slackening with the shock that you liked it, until Drax groaned in pain, snapping you back to reality. Your legs tightened around his lower ribs, locking at the ankles behind him as you squeezed for all you were worth, not letting up as he sucked in a panicked, ragged breath. His hands found your thighs again as he sat up, dragging you up with him as you resumed punching and he tried pushing, his fingers digging painfully into your flesh, trying to pry you off before you constricted him to death. In a split second he gave up trying to get you off of him, his hand molding around the column of your throat like it was made to be there, cutting off your own breath as he pressed you back down into the dirt with a heavy glare. You tightened your hold on his ribs defiantly as you tried to pry his hand off, snarling right back up at him as he reared his fist back to finally fight back. A glowing blade erupted from his chest, instantly taking the fight out of him as he incredulously looked from you to it "That... hurts!" He breathed as golden blood dripped from the tip of the blade and down onto your shirt, immediately standing out from the blood sweat and dirt that clung to it.

"What a pity." Nebula growled from behind him as his hand loosened around your throat, allowing you to suck in a greedy lungful of air that had never tasted so sweet. The man looked back down at you as you gulped down ragged breaths past your burning throat, a small trickle of blood dripping past his lips as he grunted in pain. You let him go as soon as the blade retreated, letting him fall to the dust beside you. You couldn't look at him, it hurt to and you couldn't figure out why, why his imminent death was going to bother you. He'd been trying to kill your friends since he'd arrived on Knowhere and yet... "Still alive down there?" Nebula's voice broke you out of your thoughts and slammed you back into the moment as the man continued to suffer quietly beside you.

She was fighting a ghost of a smile as she offered you an arm "He hits like a Rancor." Your voice was still rough as it passed your burning throat, your healing taking its sweet time as you accepted her help to climb to your feet. She just shook her head with amusement before going to Drax, leaving you there. You didn't want to, but you looked down at the man, acknowledging his gaze as he turned onto his back, his eyes begging you for help "I'm sorry, I didn't want it to end like this." The words felt right as they hit the air, your chest aching at the idea that he'd die there. You were quick to turn away from him and limp to the Med Center, your thighs shivering with every step. You didn't want to face his death, didn't want to acknowledge it and you couldn't figure out why.  

#adam warlock x reader #adam warlock #adam warlock x you #gotg vol 3

[creedslove]

as a angst lover an idea came to my mind last night while listening to the song when i was your man by bruno mars. the reader is in a relationship with javi p but he doesn't spend time with him and acts toxic. eventually the reader leaves him and finds someone else (maybe javi g because he is a sunshine and opposite of our pena) one day javi p sees them in a bar or another place and he regrets what he did. just like in the song 🥲🥲🥲🥲

Javier Peña x f!reader

A/N: I'm sorry taking forever to write this down my darling ❤️

• you had fallen so hard for Javier it was shocking, you didn't even know it was possible to fall for someone like that, but you did and you couldn't fight that

• Javi was handsome, sweet and charming, and you were just so head over heels, you didn't even mind when people said that Javier wasn't as into you as you were into him

• you just loved him and you thought your heart would burst in your chest at how intense it was

• but just as your friends had noticed, Javier wasn't that into you, he liked you of course, but he thought that maybe you made him overwhelmed, you pressured him too much and it bothered him with how you were after him all the time, calling and wanting to hold him and kiss him in public

• he liked you, he liked the sex, he liked the attention, only when it was too much, then Javi liked to disappear

• he enjoyed spending time on his own, drinking, going out, seeing pretty girls

• and he very often ran out of patience with you, you were so clingy in his opinion he just went hours without calling or answering you

• and there were times he was just too tired to show up at your home for dinner, he just wanted to relax with a drink without you over him all the time

• and when you confronted him, he just went so angry, asking you how dare you to do so, and blaming you for his behavior, by saying he wouldn't do that if it was someone else

• you knew that was a very shitty behavior, but you created a lot of excuses for that, not wanting to see what was just in front of you

• Javier simply wouldn't defend you if any of his friends made disrespectful comments towards you or any jokes, he would just laugh and shrug it off

• you would just pretend nothing happened, always in hopes Javi would improve his behavior towards you and you two would go back to the honeymoon phase you missed so dearly

• but that never happened, and you drew the line when you found him kissing some other woman at the same bar he told you he was too tired to go to, and after that, you simply decided to break things up

• there wasn't a lot of yelling, as you felt apathetic, you didn't know what to say, too heartbroken to say anything other than cry and tell him how much you hated him

• Javier didn't try to apologize or make you stay, he was too broken for that, feeling guilty but also knowing it was for the best, you deserved better

• in the following couple of years you hadn't seen Javi and even if it hurt you a lot in the beginning, you managed to get over him and find someone else

• it was a handsome man also named Javi, but he was Javi Gutierrez, simply the sweetest and most loving man you'd ever met. He was a sunshine and he made you feel the most important person in the whole world

• Javier on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking of you, his guilt grew significantly at the same time he realized how much he truly missed you

• after you, he had never found anyone who was as beautiful as you were, as sweet, as loving towards him, and he couldn't help but think of how things would be like if you had stayed, if he hadn't screwed things up with you

• he decided to cool down a bit and go for a few drinks, he went to that old bar you two used to go, the same one he had cheated on you and he couldn't believe his eyes the moment he saw you with another man

• he seemed to make you really happy as you had your arms around his neck, kissing his lips softly and giggling

• Javier also noticed a big diamond ring on your finger, the kind of ring he would never be able to afford, and he couldn't deny that it stung to see you with another man, even if he didn't deserve you

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfic #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña headcanons #javier peña headcanon

[444rockstargf]

euronymous and reader have a huge fight and euro ends up getting so mad at her that he hits and she starts crying immediately and he feels so bad because he promised her he would never hit her no matter how mad he got anyways he’s like apologizing and kissing her and like carry’s her to their room but she’s still tryna put up a weak fight but she obviously gives up really fast and they just lay in bed while euro holds her and continues to shower her with love and apologies (ik u kind of already made one lik dis but i eat these up everytime mb)

ask & you shall receive (omg i think ive been spelling that wrong the entire time)

"why are you so mean?" | euronymous

meet me in the pale moonlight. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @vanlisbon @simply-stellarr

female!reader x euronymous

word count: 888 (lucky number yall)

contents: angst

“why can’t you just listen to me for once?!” you latched onto his arm as he started to storm off. he immediately pushed you off, shoving you back into the wall. “why can’t you try to have a normal conversation?! having to listen to you whine every day has become such a pain in my ass and i’m sick of it!” he snapped back at you.

euronymous had come home after a bad day. you’d tried to cheer him up by cuddling with him for a little, only resulting in you getting pushed off. you’d asked why he was so upset, but that didn’t go so well, and that’s how you got here.

“can’t you just tell me what’s wrong?! i just wanna help you but you keep shutting me out!” he tried to walk away from you again, but you stood in front of him, blocking his path. he stares daggers at you as he speaks his following harsh words. “well maybe i don’t want a whiny little bitch getting all up in my business. ever thought of that?”

you stood there, staring blankly at him. euronymous had gotten mad at you before, but it had never to the point of him insulting you. a wave of anger washed over you. “how could you say that to me?! i’m you’re girlfriend, for crying out loud!” you started backing up from him a little, bracing yourself for a loud response. 

his pale cheeks flushed red. “oh yeah? well maybe that’s where i went wrong in the first place! you’re so clingy it’s like i’m not even allowed to breathe when i’m around you!” you noticed that his fists were balled and trembling slightly, but you paid no attention to that. “well maybe if you communicated with me more, we wouldn’t even be having this argument! i feel like you don’t even care about this relationship anymore!”

“you think i dont care? you’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. never forget that.” his tone is more cold and bitter than you’ve ever heard before. you think that he might truly mean everything that he’s saying to you, and the thought makes your entire body weak. you feel your heart breaking with every word he says, but manage to get one last thing out. “i wish i never met you! this relationship was a mistake.”

you saw him raise his fist. before you could process another thought, you felt a firm hand strike you right on the cheek, surely leaving a bruise. you fell to the ground, the impact being strong enough to completely throw off your balance. euronymous glared at you as you struggled to get up. “say that again, whore. i dare you.” you managed to stumble up on your feet, holding your cheek gingerly. you looked at him with tear-filled eyes before running off into your bedroom, only catching a glimpse of his regretful expression.

you walked in and slammed the door shut behind you, collapsing onto the ground as you choked out pained sobs. it didn't take half a brain to know that your relationship had been falling apart, but you’d been trying your best to revive things while they could still be saved. but maybe you were screwed from the very beginning and didn’t even know.

your thoughts were interrupted by a gentle, almost nervous knock on the door. you weren’t in the mood to talk. “go away.” your voice was raspy and slightly muffled. “angel… please…” you couldn’t quite make it out, but it sounded like he was crying. you sighed, standing up and walking over to the bed, sitting down with your arms crossed.

he opened the door, sheepishly peeking his head through the crack. he met your angry gaze with one of pain and regret. he slowly walked in, closing the door behind him. he couldn’t look directly at you as he sat beside you on the bed, but you could tell that the argument was killing him on the inside. “...i’m sorry…” he whispered so softly that you could barely hear him.

he scoops you up into his arms, planting a soft kiss on the place where he hit you. you were still giving him the cold shoulder, refusing to let him think that you had forgiven him. he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you like you were a fragile bird that had fallen out of its nest. you refused to even look in his direction, but the way he peppered soft little kisses all over you made it difficult to stay so mad at him.

you half glanced at him, but that was all it took to bring a little smile onto his face. he laid down, pulling you on top of him as he kissed your forehead. “i know i’m an asshole. i’m so sorry for what i did… i-i didn’t mean to break my promise…” his voice broke midway through the sentence. 

you sigh, looking down. he looks at you directly in the eye. “i’ll never hurt you like that again. i swear it.” the way his voice shook told you how much he feared losing you. you rested your head on his chest, hearing his heart racing. he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close to him and letting you know that he would never let anyone hurt you again.

author's note: this was a little rushed, im sorry :(( and it was in my drafts for a long long time. but i hope you liked it :)) xoxo

#rory culkin #euronymous #lords of chaos #lana del rey #444rockstargf

[sky-kiss]

Sending prompt for Dadphael! Maybe the kids getting in trouble but Raphael is low key proud they managed to pull it off. I just need Dadphael in my life and I love baby Orin.

A/N: I can do this. Not the best, but hopefully you chuckle.

Dadphael: He Shouldn't Be Surprised, He Robbed His Dad Too

Raphael's first reaction is blinding rage. A voice in his head screaming how has it come to this? How, in the name of the gods above and below, by all of Asmodeus' grace, could his spawn have been so colossally, unequivocally stupid?

His second reaction is begrudging respect. 

He settles somewhere in the middle, screwing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. In the most even tone he can manage, the devil says, "Explain your vision."  

Orin's brow furrows. In contrast to her brother, who has adopted an expression of absolute contrition, his daughter seems to weigh her answer. Her expression shifts, visibility reactive to the path of her thoughts: confusion, desperation, irritation, all in quick succession. 

She settles on a petulant. "Haarlep?" 

"Are you naming your inspiration? Or enquiring after the source of your damnation?" 

She turns her nose up, crossing her arms over her chest. "Both." 

"Mm, then, in the spirit of fair play," he steps forward, linking his hands at the small of his back. "Yes. They sold you out. Let this be a lesson to you, pet: trust carefully. Better yet, trust none but me." The impudent little thing snorts. Raphael holds his hand out, "And now, an explanation is in order: why have you robbed me?" 

Carlyle steps forward, the pilfered item in question held before him. Orin favors her brother with a look. It is so simultaneously venomous, and so pleading that the boy cannot fathom how to proceed. "We meant to return it, Father, truly. But Korilla would not allow us near portals…" 

"With excellent reason." 

"...and we needed the scroll to contact an associate on the Prime Material." 

"Why." 

"Don't tell him, stupid," Orin hisses.

But Carlyle is determined to come clean, his sense of fair play and respect for his sire winning out over whatever fear his much smaller sibling might inspire. He hands the scroll of dimension door back to Raphael, standing tall and proud. "A gift, father. Haarlep gave us the location of one of your preferred artists. We'd hoped…" he shrugs, attempting a smile. And it is fundamentally strange to see his own expression reflected at him, all on the face of himself in miniature. "To commission something." 

The idea reeks of sentiment rather than bloodlust. Carlyle's idea, then, not Orin. Raphael eyes the pair, suspicious, irritated. "And how did you intend to pay for this work?" Orin produces a back of coin from her pocket, grumbling as she hands it over. "Ah. Is there anything else I should expect to find missing?" 

They answer as one: "No, my duke." 

"And you know better than to lie to me, yes?" 

"Yes, father." 

"Off with you then, little failures. Consider what you might have done to succeed. Learn from this." He is feeling magnanimous, infernal wine still heady in his system, a night of potential pleasure stretching out before him. Let them take this as a lesson and be done with it. 

A decision he comes to regret later. 

The little shits are, in fact, acting as a distraction. Haarlep has slipped from the House (also highly against protocol). Haarlep contracts the artist for the little beasts, and they present their gift to him a month later, beaming and unrepentant. 

He is caught entirely off guard, delighted and horrified in equal measure. Conniving wretches! Little thieves! They beam at him, a united front, unrepentant and full of potential. 

He still sends the little shits to their room without supper and confines them to their wing of the House for the next month. 

He's proud but too petty to pass up seeing the look of betrayal on their little faces.

#bg3 raphael #asks #my writing #dadphael #do you want cavities? #because this is how you get cavities #soft fic

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Thirteen - Jump

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

When you previously thought about battles, you never considered how loud they would be. The amount of screaming and metal hitting metal is something you’ll never forget. Truly, you’re not sure if the ringing will leave your eardrums after this fight.

If you even manage to make it out alive.

Morbidly, you’ve lost track of how many Erban soldiers you’ve taken down. Left and right, you cut through them with your sword in both hands. 

The shield of absorption is still strapped tightly to your back. You prefer to just fight with your sword, but the shield is there when you need it. Since you’ve gotten it, you’ve only trained a few times with it. It felt clunky and obnoxious.

Having just a sword to worry about left you faster and more nimble.

Every soldier had charged down the hill after several rounds of arrows were fired at the Fort.

The enemy soldiers rallied fairly quickly considering the circumstances. They fired back rounds of arrows in a way less synchronized manner than Miroh.

A large battalion had come out of the front gates that were quickly shut behind them. That’s when Miroh charged down the hill and swords finally clashed. 

It was an instant bloodbath. 

A soldier charges from your left and swings at your head, you duck underneath the sword and plunge your sword through his gut. Air is pushed from his chest and blood is coughed up and onto your arm and a bit on your clothes. 

Your face screws up into a disgusted expression and you bring your boot up to kick him off your blade. 

It wasn’t the first soldier to bleed on you, and it certainly will not be the last. 

Another soldier comes charging from in front of you with his battle-ax held high in the air. You step to the side and slice upwards at the same time. A gash opens up in his chest and he falls to the ground. 

Second after second, you cut down enemies. It’s disgusting how easy it is to get through the horde. 

But why does it feel like you’re not making any progress?

Just when you think the army is thinning, the fort’s gate will open for about thirty seconds to let more soldiers out and then promptly shut. The Miron soldiers that make it close to the door are shot down with arrows. 

“Find a way into the Fort!” Changbin’s voice bellows over the field. You have no idea where he is in this mess, you just hope he’s faring well.

His voice was strong and carried through the air, that was a good sign. 

After stabbing and killing a soldier, you look up at the stone walls. They seem impenetrable. Archers are positioned at the crenelations on top of the turrets firing arrow after arrow down below. 

Arrows whiz by your head occasionally, but it’s clear they’re more focused on the soldiers by the gate. 

Your eyes scan down the wall. Not a single crack or chip for you to take advantage of. 

Is there a back entrance? No, Erbus is not that daft. 

A small danger sense tingles in the back of your mind and you duck down as fast as possible. 

The distinct whoosh of a sword zings over your body where you once stood. You kick your leg out and spin around, tripping the soldier who swung at you. 

He falls to the ground with a yelp. You waste no time by straddling his chest and slitting his throat. 

How disgusting it is how easily you took his life. 

You want to feel remorse, you do. So badly you want your throat to tighten and your muscles to give pause each time you go to strike; you yearn to hesitate. 

Blood and dirt cover every inch of your body. Internally, in the back of your mind, a small part of you begs and pleads for your stomach to flip. For chills to zip up your body and bile to rise in your throat from the gruesome and cruel nature of your actions. 

But you can’t. 

Because they never did. 

Never once did you see an Erban soldier hesitate before inflicting such horrible pain upon Elves. 

So, when you watch the fear and horror in this soldier’s eyes fade into milky-white nothingness, you feel fine. 

The grip on your sword tightens and you stand to your feet. With a great flourish and sword spin at your side, you stride up to a soldier with his back turned and slice upwards in a wide arc. 

He screams and falls to the ground.

Not wasting any momentum, you spin and bring your sword back down on another. 

They fall like blades of grass. Like trees in a lumberyard. 

This is battle? Nameless death? 

You can do that. No problem. 

Another swing of your sword, another life taken, another step towards freedom. 

In your path, you see Jeongin. He appears to be holding his own very well. But the enemy seems to take note of that rather quickly. 

The horde turns and focuses on him. 

Easily six soldiers shift their attention to the squire and stalk closer with their swords raised. With armor as shiny and beautiful as his, it’s easy to mark him as ‘important’ on the battlefield. 

Jeongin spins around and fights off two soldiers at once with practiced precision.

But, after endless mornings and afternoons of sparring with him, you’re able to easily pick up on the signs of him beginning to struggle. His eyes are wide as he takes in the sheer number of enemies around him, inching closer and closer.

There’s an imperceptible bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows his fear and steels his nerves. Jeongin grabs his sword with both hands and swings his sword around and cuts in a large arc to slice a soldier who drops to the ground immediately. 

But still, the enemy moves closer to him, creating a circle around him.

Immediately, your boots shift in the dirt and you fight your way over to the squire. 

His hair is dripping with sweat and matting to his forehead. Brows are furrowed in anger and concentration. And, like yours, blood splatters cover his armor. It still shines when it catches the light but so many patches are sullied.

A soldier to his left raises his sword above his head, but Jeongin is too focused on the one in front of him to notice. 

Fear seizes your heart in its vice grip. 

You reach down quickly and unsheath the small dagger you keep tucked in your boot. 

“Jeongin!” You yell across the battlefield. He doesn’t react but you know he heard you. “Duck!”

Faster than you can blink, and all in one motion. You launch the dagger in his direction and he drops to his knees into the dirt. It embeds into the soldier’s chest and he falls backwards and creates a small domino effect with two others. 

With your body still in motion, you finish your sprint in his direction and at the last moment, drop to the ground in a slide, taking out the feet of the original soldier he was against. 

The soldier falls to the dirt so fast and hits the ground with a solid thud.

A sword is immediately stabbed through his chest. 

Jeongin stares at you for two heartbeats from above you. His eyes are shining with an unreadable emotion. Gratitude? Awe? Something else, too.

There’s no time to focus on it. He reaches down and grabs the front of your collar, yanking you to your feet. 

You use the momentum of his tug to propel yourself towards another soldier. 

He’s ready for your slice and meets your sword with his own. Behind you, you can hear Jeongin begin to slash at another enemy. 

Pushing against the Erban soldier’s sword, your swords arc in a circle still joined together. He brings his sword away and then swipes at your left, you meet the strike and parry away from it. 

Three or four more swipes come your way and you dodge each one of them. This soldier wasn’t letting up. The evil glint in his eye only sharpened as time went on.

With a grunt of exertion, you push away his sword, bring your foot up and kick him square in the chest. The soldier barks a cough and stumbles backwards. Within two heartbeats, you swing your sword and take his head clean off his shoulders.

There’s no time to rest, another soldier slides into view and slices at you. Your body leans backwards away from the dangerous swipe. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, he swipes again and you bring your sword up to meet his. You both hit against one another for a few seconds. 

Behind you, you can hear Jeongin taking on his own battles. 

The two of you fought back to back, watching each other’s flanks at the same time. 

Looking down to your left you see your dagger sticking out of the soldier you threw it at. 

In one smooth motion, you lean down and yank it out of the dead body, then you duck underneath the enemy soldier’s swing.

His momentum carries his body into a spin. You reach around and slit his throat from behind. 

He drops to his knees with a few pitiful gurgles. When you turn and look at Jeongin, he finishes off the last soldier surrounding the two of you. 

The two of you make eye contact. Both of your chests are heaving with heavy breaths. 

Any moment now that gate is going to open and release another flood of Erban soldiers, starting the whole process over. 

You look away from him up at the wall, sheathing your dagger back in your boot. 

Miroh needed a way in and they needed it fast. 

You made up your mind in a split second, you charged towards Jeongin and grabbed his arm. He looks down at you concerned, his entire body facing yours and only a hair’s breadth away. 

“Follow me.” You say to him. 

All he does is nod and the two of you work your way through the throng of soldiers, cutting down any enemies that get in your way. 

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

Eventually, the two of you make it out of the horde and around to the side of the fort. 

There are no soldiers back here, it’s almost eerily quiet. The screaming and sounds of battle still close by yet at the same time sound distant. 

Both of you press your backs into the stone to keep your presence unknown. 

Heavy, labored breathing is still coming from both of your lungs. You can’t seem to catch your breath yet. 

“Why?” Is all Jeongin is able to wheeze out. 

“We need a way in. And I can only think of one.” You gasp out and look straight up at the wall. 

Jeongin follows your gaze and then looks back down at your face. “You must be mad. I cannot toss you that high.”

You swallow and clear your throat in an attempt to calm your racing heart. Pushing yourself off the wall, you reach around your back and take the shield off your back. 

“You do not need to.” You tell him, looking down at the engraved metal. 

You strap the shield onto your arm and hold it out to him. 

“Kick this as hard as you can.”

Jeongin’s bewildered expression only gets more confused. “Were you hit in the head?” He exclaims. 

“Your hits are stronger than mine, Jeongin! Just trust me and kick the shield. I can take it!” You order him and bend your knees to keep your balance. 

The two are you are pressed for time and frantic. Every second you spend bickering is a second lost in battle. 

Jeongin’s hand tightens around his sword tightly before he drops it in the grass. 

Your stance deepens and you brace yourself for the impact. 

There’s a shuffle of dirt before you feel possibly one of the hardest kicks in your life bash into the shield. It takes more effort than you expected to stay on your feet. 

A loud grunt and groan tears from your throat and the impact shoots up your arms and into your shoulders. 

The air seems to take a deep breath, the metal vibrates on your arm. 

You lift your head up from behind the shield and see Jeongin staring down at you even more concerned than before. 

“Now,” you say, taking the shield off your arm and thrusting it towards him. “When I jump, you are going to lift and push me up with the shield. And I am going to get up there and find a way to open the gate.”

He listens to your words intently and then stumbles back a step in shock. 

“What? You cannot possibly— By yourself— you cannot be serious!” He rambles and stutters his words. His eyes are wide and his face pales. One of his hands threads through his hair and pulls nervously. 

“Jeongin this is the only way.” You thrust the shield towards him again and he only takes a few steps backwards again, his hands held up away from you. 

“It is not! We will find another way! That is suicide, Y/N!” 

You chase after him with a step of your own. “Unless you can think of another option in the next thirty seconds, this is what we have to go with.”

“No.” He says sternly, although his voice breaks. “Absolutely not, I am not doing this to you. I cannot send you in by yourself!”

“Jeongin.”

“You cannot take on that many soldiers by yourself. It will only end up with you being killed.”

“Jeongin.”

“And if they discover that you are an elf before that—  By The Six, death is the easiest outcome. They will gut you for sport and turn your–”

“Jeongin!”

You reach forward and grab him by the back of the neck, bringing your foreheads together. 

His eyes snap down to yours and his labored breathing fans out over your skin. You can feel how clammy and sweaty his neck is as it drips down from his hair. 

“This is the only way.” You whisper to him. 

A strangled cry comes from deep within his throat and you can practically feel his heart breaking as if it was your own. 

“It is the only way.” You repeat, even softer. 

Jeongin brings his hands up and grabs both sides of your face. His hands are just as hot and clammy as the back of his neck. 

“Y/N, I cannot–” He whimpers and you cut him off once more.

“You will do this for Miroh.”

Jeongin’s nose scrunches. Just by looking in his eyes you can see the internal war going through his mind. 

Finally, he relents with a dismal sigh. His eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears. 

“You come back to us. To me . You open that gate and you come back.” Jeongin utters, he’s trying to sound so strong but fear makes itself evident in his thick voice. To emphasize his point, Jeongin shakes your head slightly.

“I will return, I swear it.”

Both of you stare into the other’s eyes. A bead of sweat drips down the side of his face, exhale after exhale tickles your lips. 

Jeongin’s bottom lip pulls between his teeth and his eyebrows furrow, his eyes flicker back and forth between yours. The cogs in his brain are turning at an alarming speed. The grip on your face tightens a bit.

Time is running out.

You have to go, and you have to go now . 

“Please.” He whispers to you. It feels desperate, pleading. He holds you like if he kept you here long enough, you wouldn’t need to go. “There has to be another way.”

“There is not.”

Your fingers start to slip off the back of his neck and his grip only tightens. 

“Jeongin, we need to do this now.” 

The way his eyes shift turns frantic and the muscles of his face pull into a painful expression. 

“I am sending you to your death.” His voice wavers and his chin trembles.

“You are sending me to our victory.”

After another heartbeat, you stand up on your toes and press a long kiss to his cheek. He takes in a slow inhale through his nose. His skin is wet from perspiration. He turns into your kiss, eyes closing to stop tears from flowing. 

A single sob wracks his chest.

You keep your lips pressed there for a long moment before finally peeling yourself away from him. Jeongin’s hands slowly fall from your face. 

“Now.” You say to him before you can regret it, shoving the shield in his direction. He reluctantly takes it from your arm. His eyes don’t leave your face, they’re concentrated on your movements. Even as he adjusts the shield on his arm, he’s staring at you the entire time.

You’re too busy swallowing your fear to notice. 

You turn and walk away from the wall so that you can get a running start. After three steps, there’s a sharp tug on your wrist and you’re brought back to the squire.

When you open your mouth to question what he was doing you’re silenced with a pair of chapped lips upon your own. They’re pressed against you in a harsh, desperate manner. It’s rushed and full of heavy emotions.

Your teeth almost clack together with how roughly he pulled you in.

A shock of electricity shoots down your spine and in through your toes. Jeongin’s hand moves from your wrist to cup your face again, keeping your lips pressed against his. 

You hear a quiet whimper emit from the back of his throat. A forceful exhale comes through his nose.

As if it wasn’t beating fast enough, your heart rate spikes and thuds against your chest. 

Your eyes widen in shock and then flutter shut after a moment. 

It’s chaste, but so much is said through this simple action. 

The kiss only lasts for a few seconds before Jeongin pulls away, looking down at you with an entirely different expression.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times in shock. 

“I could not let you go and possibly live with regret.” he utters and your heart melts. A painful smile appears on your face and you stare into his eyes before backing away.

You have to go. You have to .

His hand once again leaves your face and the distance between you two feels colder– thicker. The string that connects your heart to his pulls taught. 

You back up about ten paces from the wall, Jeongin stands at the base, knees bent and shield ready to launch you. 

His eyes are shining with unshed tears, his lips pulled in a thin line.

“You will come back to us.” He demands.

“I would not dream of leaving you.” 

He nods, you nod.

With a deep breath, you steel your nerves.

Who knows if this will even work? Only one way to find out.

You stare at the shield and pause for one second before taking off.

At the last minute, you jump into the air, Jeongin’s eyes follow your movements closely.

“Now!” You yell and he pushes up into your legs.

A loud clap rings over the field, an unbelievable force propels you into the air. Wind whips through your hair as you fly upwards. 

It worked!

You’re launched just high enough to grab onto the edge of the wall, your fingers tightly holding onto the stone. As quick as you can, you hoist yourself up and over.

“By The Six,” you mutter to yourself, looking around. “I cannot believe that worked.”

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

There are no soldiers on the wall where you knelt down, they must all be towards the front shooting arrows down below into Miroh’s forces.

The fort itself is surrounded by the large wall you stood on now. There are about four turrets in the middle of the wall all around the perimeter. The section you’re in now was completely empty. Barrels and crates of various supplies line the inner walls.

Ducking down behind the stone, you make your way over to the first turret. Bending down, you pull the dagger out from your boot.

If you’re correct, this should be the only turret you have to go through to get to the main section where the gate was.

In most Forts you’ve seen, the way to open the gates are usually on the wall above them or right below them. You’re desperately hoping it’s up here with you.

You grab the handle of the wooden door and take a deep breath, gripping your dagger tightly. 

Slowly, you push open the door, peering inside as soon as you can. No voices come from inside, but it’s also hard to hear with the battle happening around you.

Crouching, you make your way into the room.

Another door sat on the opposite side, you make your way over that way.

You’re on high alert, your eyes frantically scanning around the room. It’s almost suspicious that there’s no one here with you.

A sharp tug on the back of your head brings a sharp cry out of your throat.

You spoke too soon.

“What do we have here?” A gruff voice says behind you and you reach backwards with your free hand to try and pry his hand off your hair. “Now how did a Miron soldier get all the way up here?”

“Get off me!” You thrash around, but his grip only tightens.

You’re yanked to your feet and he holds you to his chest, a dagger is brought around to press against your throat.

You gulp and your mind begins racing.

“No, I think I will take care of you right here.”

Without a second thought, you bring your boot down on his foot as hard as possible. The soldier cries out and his grip loosens in shock. 

You grab the hand that held the dagger and twist it, bringing it behind his back. Once you’re behind him, you kick in the back of his knees so he falls to the ground.

On the way down, you take your own dagger out and slit his throat without a second thought. Blood spurts out from the wound and he falls face first onto the stone.

It truly is kill or be killed. 

You roll your head around to stretch out your neck. His dagger sits on the stone, you pick it up and hold it tightly. You sheathe your own but keep his in your hand.

A huff leaves your lips and you walk to the door without looking back.

Opening the door, you’re met with a lot more yelling and screaming. 

Looking out along the wall, your eyes quickly count ten soldiers firing arrows over the side. None of them have noticed you yet, they’re too focused on the battle below.

What you also take note of is the large wooden crank on the other side of these ten soldiers.

The gate crank.

Ten? You can do ten.

…

Maybe.

You take a deep breath and then take off running down the wall. All of the archers are leaning over the side, none of them have noticed you yet. 

The thud of your boots on the stone isn’t heard over the sound of battle, this is definitely working to your advantage.

Within seconds, you’re up on the first archer. You drop your shoulder and full force run into him

The soldier screams and loses his balance immediately, his body falling over the edge and down to the dirt. If he’s not dead from the impact, he will be from a Miron sword soon enough.

The archer nearest to him snaps his head over to look at you, before he can make a sound, you throw the dagger in your hand straight into his face. It embeds in his forehead and he falls backwards over the wall. 

Two down, eight to go.

There are crates in front of the next three soldiers. You unsheathe your sword quickly.

Once again, you get a running start and as soon as you make it to the crates, one of the three soldiers notices your presence and yells, alerting the other guards.

By the time the other soldiers turn to look, you’ve jumped up on the crates like large stepping stones and you’re using your body like a battering ram to take the three of them down to the ground at the same time. 

With the momentum from your jump, you’re able to stab through the first soldier and into the next one. 

Pitiful gasps leave their lungs and the third soldier cries out as the heap of you hits the stone.

You’re unable to get your sword out in time, so you grab an arrow from a nearby quiver and stab it right through his eye socket. 

The disgusting squelch that the injury makes almost turns your stomach. Almost. 

Five more.

At this time, the remaining soldiers have all turned their attention on you. Three of them charge at you.

Standing up to your feet, you grab your sword by the hilt and yank it out of the bodies. There’s a barrel on the opposite side of the wall, you grab the top and pull it over.

Once it hits the ground, you kick it with your foot and it whirls towards them.

The first soldier is quick to jump over it, but the other two don’t see it coming and are knocked over.

An arrow whizzes past your arm, but you pay no mind to it. 

You sprint up to the soldier still standing and when he swipes his sword at you, you dodge to the side and swing yours back at him. It gashes through his chest and he collapses.

The two other soldiers have recovered and are back on their feet.

Another arrow goes by you. 

You charge the two of them.

They attempt to flank you on either side. Both of them swing their swords at the same time and you drop to the ground and slide underneath their swords. 

The swords clang as they hit one another. 

Quickly, you stand to your feet before another swipe comes by your head, you duck underneath it. The other soldier chops at you and you evade that one as well. 

A third arrow.

You raise your sword up and block that attack. You push his arm down and force him to recoil.

Swinging your leg backwards, you kick back into the legs of the first soldier. He drops to one knee to recover, you spin on the stone, and bring your sword down to slice at his body.

Dead.

The second soldier lunges at you, you grab his arm and pull it towards you, twisting it to lock his elbow, he turns and cries out in pain.

He’s slightly shorter than you, his head falls back by your collarbone.

Your grip on his arm is deadly tight, you turn both of your bodies at the last minute just as another arrow is shot towards you.

It embeds right into his chest. 

Two more.

You toss the body to the side as if it’s nothing more than a sack of flour.

Both of the archers are staring at you as if you’re a demon that just crawled out from the Void. You’re absolutely covered in blood and dirt. Your hair is wild and flying through the wind.

They’re only about ten or so steps from you, so you take off running.

One of them lets out a fearful yell, it looks like he’s about to turn tail and run the other way. The other one knocks an arrow with shaking hands.

Right as he shoots, you jump to the side and it flies past you.

He only has a bow out, his sword is firmly strapped to his hip. He didn’t even think to take it out.

When you’re upon him, you raise your sword above your head. 

He screams. 

Your sword is brought down into his skull. 

One.

Wildly, you turn your head to look at the other soldier. But he’s long gone, sprinting down the wall towards where you had come from.

You want to care, you do. But there’s nothing you can do now.

A tired exhale leaves your lungs and you turn and look down at the large wooden crank. A relieved smile breaks over your face and you walk up to it, dropping your sword down to the stone next to it.

With every ounce of strength you have left, you grab and crank it as fast as you can.

The battlefield erupts in various screams; some of confusion, horror, and celebration. For a moment you wonder if any of those yells are Jeongin’s.

“Into the fort!” Changbin’s voice is the loudest. “Go! In!”

With a deep breath, you turn and look around for a way to get down to rejoin the fight.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #han jisung x reader #hyunjin x reader #felix x reader #jeongin x reader #seungmin x reader #i.n x reader #skz x y/n #stray kids fantasy au #skz fantasy au #animals without direction

[shioririn]

The Distance Between Us | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a realist. 

Not only does he dislike wasting his time on idle thoughts and worries that are mere inconveniences, but he also preferred dealing with the problems when they surface. And with the current predicament that he’d left untreated for far too long, it’s finally time for him to have is dealt with once and for all - or at least until he manages to screw himself over once again.

The empty space that separates the both of you couldn’t have stretched any longer, nor could it feel any colder than it already is, but seeing the distressed expression on your face only served as the final nail in the coffin that he’d built for himself. If he had known that this would happen, he wouldn’t have stood watching as you ran off, not even attempting to call or check up on you when you needed him the most.

It truly is cowardly of him.

In the months that you’d known each other, you both acknowledges the flaws that each of you carry, but being the prideful people that you are, refused to admit to it until the damage has been done. While Kiyoomi is the one that refuses to allow anyone into his physical bubble, you, in turn, is the one that struggles to show emotional vulnerability, even if you needed to. This alone had caused a lot of friction between the both of you, yet you had left it untreated simply because neither of you had the courage to cross the line that separates you the most. 

While some people would argue that distance would only make the heart grow fonder, Sakusa Kiyoomi wholeheartedly disagrees.

How could he agree when it was the same distance that now drove a wedge between the both of you, with the indefinite promise of reunion floating in the wind idly? 

And when he’d signed the contract with MSBY Black Jackals without much hesitation, the distance only grew even larger as Kiyoomi packed his belongings and hopped on the first flight out to Osaka, leaving what little pieces pieces of his heart in his empty apartment behind. He reminded himself that it was better if he gave you the space you desired - it was not - and that you’d be fine because you’ll always be fine - you were not - so he left.

In hindsight, it was a terrible decision.

To leave you when you needed him, not signing with the Jackals, he repeated.

Komori calls him every Saturday morning to remind him, after all. 

The way he ended things with you was less than pleasant, but he was also only seventeen and ignorant. Ignorant of feelings, and disregarding of yours. 

You had always tried to communicate through light touches - he misses them - be it linking your pinkie finger with his when they brush past each other as he walks you home after practice, or the way he could feel you smile through the fabric of his shirt when he doesn’t recoil immediately when you hug him, and he wonders if you ever understood him through his eyes. He used to think that you did, but perhaps he was arrogant for assuming such, as the flinch you’d given him when those words left his lips were so foreign, and filled with even more hurt.

Perhaps there had always been a distance that neither of you could see. 

He was only ten steps away from you when he met you again for the first time in five years, less, if he were to take larger strides. But unlike the last time he saw you, he harbored no nervousness; because unlike last time, you no longer looked at him like he was a stranger. 

Five steps.

He could almost hear the sound of his own heartbeat thundering against his chest, and he swore that if he were to attempt to speak, his heart would jump itself out of his body, so he didn’t speak.

Four steps.

You held your gaze with his, unwavering, and wonders if his eyes have always held so many emotions at the same time. They seem to jump from uncertainty to hesitation, but you eventually found the one emotion that you’d been searching for since middle school, so you smiled, satisfied.

Three steps.

His palms felt sweaty, but he welcomes it, his finger twitching as if searching for the familiar warmth he’d grown accustomed to.

Two steps.

You resisted the urge to take the last step yourself, so you kept your feet planted where they are, although it didn’t stop you from turning the ring that sat on the ring finger of your left hand, a comforting gesture that you weren’t sure you’ll ever be able to shake off.

One step.

He reached out to cup your face with his hands delicately, as if afraid that you’d suddenly vanish right in front of his eyes, but you remained as you are, and he lets out an involuntary sigh of relief, one that you laughed airily at. 

“Welcome home, Kiyoomi.”

Maybe what we’d perceived to be distant never really is, and all we needed was a little bit of courage to close the distance between us.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x #sakusa kyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu sakusa #hq sakusa #msby sakusa #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #haikyuu x self insert #haikyuu x reader #haikyu #haikyu x reader #sakusa fic #x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x