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taintedcigs · 6 months

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˚ 　　　 . ✧ 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄

vol 1; made to break your heart — king!steve harrington x fgirl!reader

summary: in which you see your ex making out with someone else leaving you with no choice but to fall right into the lap of his enemy, steve harrington. (wc: 5.2k+)

warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, or*l sx (receiving and giving oop), some good ol’ bj, drinking, drgs, weed basically, no use of ‘y/n’, degrading, praises, LOTS OF PRAISES, they are both switches but idk if that counts??, nicknames! reader is kinda heartless basically a maneater, steve is an arrogant bastard, and hes got a big BIG di–heart. some lil’ eddie mention that u might miss if u blink!

authors note: i am kinda thinking a pt.2 of this IM open to all ideas, but i kinda am thinking of making it like a mini-series? and maybe introduce eddie in the second part, and then make part 3 steddie? mmmhmm? what do we think? my asks r open for all and any ideass anyways not proofread bc of my lazy ass. ignore any mistakes.

please like + reblog + interact to support me ! thank u ily

read vol 2 here

Booming music filled your ears, sweaty bodies swaying away from you but you couldn't care less.

Whispers from your back, collected gasps, and all you could do was watch.

Fingertips clutched on your dress in fury, gaze unable to tear away from the scene playing out right in front of your eyes.

Tina’s lips were locked onto Billy’s, you thought it was pretty soon to be swapping salivas considering it had been barely two days since he broke up with you.

The red cup in your hand was almost smushed from the hardened impact of your fists, with a quick go, you downed it, ignoring Tommy and Carol’s cackles as they watched you.

With a roll of your eyes, you were quick to turn away from them, ignoring your friends calling out for your name—you didn’t need this, you didn’t need to be pampered. You just needed a generous amount of drinks, and maybe someone to keep yourself busy with.

Tina and her lame-ass party could go fuck themselves.

Billy was an asshole, no real surprise there. And you didn’t care, because the relationship had run its course, again. Tough shit. You were used to it. Another break up with him.

You didn’t care about it, the only thing you cared about was him crossing the line, making out with another girl in front of everyone.

Each break, the two of you fucked whoever you wanted to fuck, just to end up together again, drunkenly. But this time he made it everyone’s problem, and you couldn’t let him get away with that.

The whispers, and the collective giggles every time you passed by were making your blood boil.

You couldn’t let that dipshit ruin your reputation, you weren’t going to pathetically pine over someone who could barely make you cum. And you weren’t going to let any of those gossiping assholes think otherwise.

You stumble onto the porch with a string of curses leaving your pouty lips, quick to fish out a joint courtesy to that Munson kid, always providing you with the best weed, either free or cheap, depending on how much you adjusted your skirt or batted your lashes at him.

Maybe, you should pay him a visit. For fucks sake, you’ve seen him play, and he could roll a joint blindfolded, he knew how to put those fingers to use.

You could just imagine the scorching look on Billy’s face, his velvety lips scrunched together, a sickening feeling sinking into his stomach, knowing that you fucked Eddie Munson, the guy he always went to get his weed from.

The idea of it brings a delicious smirk to your lips. But it wouldn’t be enough, no. You needed something more, something bigger.

“Need a lighter, honey?” A coarse, smooth tone has your head cocking, the joint sitting on your lips rising with the impact.

Steve fucking Harrington.

Falling right into your lap.

Billy would’ve flipped the fuck out if he knew. He always warned you about him, telling you that Harrington was off limits, no matter what. Well, until now.

Your gaze locks with his, dangerous, filthy, and exactly where you want him. Before you can drag out the joint to answer him, he acts quicker, brushing his fingertips on your chin, almost tugging you closer to him, he licks his lips, wetting them with a chuckle.

With a gentle flicker of his lighter, the tip of the joint smolders, casting a warm glow to your face that accentuates the smirk curved on your lips.

Your dress rides up your thighs when you straighten up, taking an inhale from the joint, you blow the smoke in his face without a care. He eyes each of your movements, the stupid grin sitting on his lips growing wider the more his eyes move up and down your body. You almost want to chuckle at how easy this is.

But you also know Steve’s type, you have to make them chase you a little bit, give them a little thrill, before you finally give in. And you had already been doing that, for the longest time.

Always teasing him, but never giving in. Your hands always brushed past his bicep just enough to let him know you were interested, eyelashes always fluttered at him, teeth biting on your bottom lip as you checked him out.

The little game had been fun, but you never plucked up the courage to fully give in to him, Billy would’ve lost his shit. Besides, you knew his type, and you didn’t want to be one of his other trophies. And you didn’t have to be, you just had to use him to get yourself off, and piss Billy off. The second you walked into a room with him, you knew the party would be buzzing with the gossip.

You had the perfect excuse, the perfect excuse to finally divulge your fantasies, all the cheerleaders always blabbered about him, calling him an ass, but an ass who knew how to properly use his fingers and that dangerous mouth.

Exactly what you fucking need.

You had been pent up enough for the months you were with Billy.

This would be a little reward.

“All alone?” He was smug, he absolutely knew about the break-up and possibly saw Tina and Billy’s show, so he knew this was the perfect opportunity to have you in his palm. In a fucked up way, that made you want him more, the unspoken game grew more intense with that gaze of his, he had the same idea you did. The fucker was smooth.

You nod curtly, not wanting to just fall into his lap. No matter how good he looked in those Levi’s jeans that cupped his ass perfectly. Why was he so fucking interesting to you? Arms all toned, face adorned with tiny moles, he almost seemed mystical.

And oh god, his hair. That soft, perfectly layered chestnut brown locks, so effortlessly cool that you just wanted to run your hair through it, tugging at it the more his lips sucked on your clit.

God, the thought had your thighs pressing together uncomfortably.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be all alone at a party,” he pouted mockingly. “Where’s that boy toy of yours?” He tutted, hand dangerously planted on your back, ghosting over your hips.

That elicited a giggle out of you, “Didn’t you hear all the rumors, pretty boy?” You leaned further, hand extending to offer him a huff. His attention was somewhere else though, eyes widening the more he admired you in that dress, showing off your curves in all the right way, tits almost busting out of your chest.

God, he had been waiting for this moment, an opportunity to have you, the second he fucking met you. But Billy got to you first.

“We broke up.” That brought his attention back to you, a smirk played on his lips when he leaned into your hand, lips wrapping around the tip of the joint, he sucked on it but his dark amber eyes remained on you.

With an inhale, “Good.” He mumbled, “knew that dipshit couldn’t handle someone like you.”

“You need someone better take care of you…” he hummed, nose dipping closer to your features, “someone who knows how to handle all of this.” His hands were placed on your waist, traveling all over your body.

Your breath was quick to get caught in your throat, a whine leaving your lips with how forward he was being.

And shit, you understood the appeal, you always did, but this time, you were sure your hunger for him grew faster than you intended to. You were in his palm, and you were more than okay with it.

“Yeah?” You teased with a giggle, head falling on his shoulder, brain getting fuzzier.

“I can make you forget him.” He’s bold, and it has your thighs rubbing together.

“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember his name, or how to walk.” He’s so close to your ear, breath fanning against your breath as you almost shudder, but you play it off.

“You’re all talk, Harrington.” You licked your glossy lips, head slightly tilted to the side, teasing him just enough.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know you’ve heard the rumors, and I know you want this as much as you do.” The cocky bastard licks his lips, and you want nothing more than to bite them.

“Oh, yeah?”

“The way you press your thighs together, that little whine you just did when I barely touched you… Tells me all I need to fuckin’ know.” He whispers, and you almost whine out when a sloppy kiss is planted on your neck, harsh and needy.

“You’ll be screamin’ and beggin’ for me, angel.”

Your brows raise in interest. “That a promise?”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you a boyish grin.

“You’re on, King Steve.”

It didn’t take the two of you long enough to find an empty bedroom, lips, and teeth clashing as soon as the door closed.

The wandering eyes of the party had followed you up until that point, so you knew as soon as the two of you left the room with your sexed-up looks, everyone would know.

And you would finally have a sweet release after months of Billy’s selfishness.

A win-win.

You let his curious hands wander around your body, quick to almost rip off your dress, he wants to savor this moment, wants the image of your body engraved in his mind, stuck into the back of it just so he can fish it out whenever he can.

But he’s impatient, he’s waited for this. Wanted you longer than ever, and finally, you’re putty at his hands, ready to take whatever he’s going to give—or at least that’s what he thinks— And he’s feeling greedy. His mouth is pressed onto yours, sucking on your tongue before he lowers you down on the bed, you giggle softly when you sink into it, and Steve has never felt like this before, the hunger in his eyes ignites a spark of pleasure within you, quick to dampen your thighs with need.

A shocked gasp escapes your lips once he unhooks your bra with his left hand. Oh, he’s good. “Pretty baby,” he murmurs before his mouth is latched onto your nipples. “Perfect fuckin’ tits,” He groans into your chest, hand toying with your lace panties, shaky breaths escape his lips as he earns more whines from you.

You look ethereal, with your mouth hung open, teeth biting on your glossed-up lips, head thrown back. Just like he knew you’d be.

The more he circles around your panties the more you feel that pent-up desire burning inside of you, all those orgasmless months with Billy, and Steve was going to elicit more with just a flick of his fingers than you ever had through the entire relationship.

Maybe that’s why he always called you a bitch.

“Steve,” your whines come out pathetically as he looks up at you, layered hair already disheveled and that goddamn smirk sitting on his pretty lips.

“Already beggin’, honey?” He mocks with a grin, tugging on your nipple, all teeth and no mercy. His tongue is making its way further down, soft, wet strokes tickle your body.

“Fuck off,” You spit at him, barely, words dying down your throat when he’s quick to rip away your lacy panties. His light honey eyes are so much darker now, head thrown back when he visually drinks in your glistening pussy.

You look so fucking perfect, thighs spread apart, him between them, mouth hung open and ready to take all of him. He makes a mental image of it, burning it to the back of his mind.

“C’mon sweetheart, let King Steve know what you want, what you really need.” His voice is smooth and coarse, fingertips circling around your clit harder the more you whine for him.

“Do you need my fingers, baby? My mouth?” You moan at that, audibly. It has him chuckling darkly once he realizes how depraved you really are, one touch from him and you’re already soaking his fingers, whining like a pretty little slut.

If he knew how much you’d be such a good girl for him, he would’ve done this much sooner. Would’ve ruined your pretty little pussy for anyone else, Billy would’ve had no chance over him.

“Has that asshole not been makin’ you cum?” It was more of a rhetorical question, but the way you shook your head with a pout, had him melting. He really had you and didn’t know how to take good care of you? What a fucking loser.

“Holy fuckin’ shit… not even with his mouth?” His eyes widened, he really didn’t think Billy would be that bad, everything was working to his advantage.

“He- uh- he never…” You stammered, getting uncharacteristically embarrassed because it was, truly embarrassing. All those months with him, and half the time you faked it. Selfish prick.

“Never? Oh, baby…” He coos with a dangerous smirk, lip all pouty and mocking, “No wonder you were so desperate for me. You really needed this, huh?” He almost gave a chuckle, caressing your pussy with his middle finger, getting you all ready.

“Jerk-” You want to curse out his cockiness, tell him you don’t need him. Keep him grounded, but the whines he’s pulling out of you are enough to make him grin like a Cheshire cat.

Your breath gets shakier when his finger easies into your walls. “Sshh, relax, baby.” He coos.

“I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good, doll.” His fingers are slickly working their way in and out of you, filthy sounds mingling with your moans as his nose brushes over your clit, causing your hips to start rocking up to him.

“Had this pretty little thing, and didn’t even know how to take care of it, hmm? What a waste,” He hummed sweetly, index finger thrusting in and out of your sloppy walls.

“If I had known you’d be this fuckin’ soaked, I would’ve done this much sooner,” he taunts, fingers curling inside of you, enjoying the way you gasp out and buck your hips for more.

He dives in, pressing the flat of his tongue against your swollen lips, enjoying, fully tasting you. With a satisfied hum, he brings his eyes to meet yours, all fucked out, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, had this sweet pussy but never even tasted it… What a fuckin’ dumbass… I’ll give you what you deserve, baby…”

He’s going to explode soon, if he doesn’t make you cum and then fuck you senseless. He can feel his balls draw up more and more, each time you whine, each time you plead for his name as a whisper.

He flicks the tip meticulously, giving you attention everywhere and anywhere, just like he knew you’d like it. “You know, I usually would never do this on a first date,” He mocks, grinning all mouthy and you attempt to dive his mouth further into you, to shut his arrogant ass up, and that fucker resists, “But god, you’re an exception… just begging to be fucked, you deserve this honey, can’t be selfish with you.”

His licks are heavenly, sucking on your clit like a man possessed, and his name falls from your lips in such a filthy way that you don’t even care how pathetic you look anymore. You accept it, you let him take full control, trashing beneath him.

“You like that, angel?” His words are muffled into your cunt, the pad of his thumb still circling around your entrance while he sucks on your clit. Your head sinks further into the softness of the bed, eyes squeezed shut, breaking apart with just his tongue. He moans into your soppy walls, sending a shock wave of pleasure to ripple through you.

He doesn’t even need your words, the visual of you squirming underneath him is enough to have him all bricked up, you taste like the sweetest sin. Velvety walls so tight that it has him bucking his hips into the bed, desperate for some friction, he needs you. And he’s sure he never wanted someone this badly before.

“So fuckin’ special, aren’t you? Such a desperate baby…” You can feel his bulge against your thigh, sitting prettily and throbbing against his boxers. You always heard how big he was, but fuck, you finally get to feel it, and it’s glorious.

And he twitched in his boxers just from eating you out? God, he was fucking perfect.

He dips his head just enough to muffle out a few more words, “I wanna taste you fully, angel. Want you to soak my tongue.” He dives in before you can reply, eliciting dirtier moans from you, alternating between his fingers and his tongue.

He doesn’t care about anything else but you, he wants you panting for him, cumming all over his tongue while you scream his name.

Your thighs start to shake once he pushes two fingers inside of you, gentle but rough enough to have you squirming and bucking your hips more into him, you’re at his mercy, and he loves how tight you are. Just the thought of your tight cunt milking his cock dry has his eyes rolling.

“S-steve,” you breathe out roughly, enjoying how his tongue is licking up that sweet spot. “I know baby,” he taunts all cockily, admiring the way your thighs shake with need. You’re going to cum soon and that prick can feel it.

“N-need to cum, please,” your pleading is unintentional, you just need a desperate release, and he’s so fucking good.

“Cum for me, angel, be a good girl for me, yeah?” Your eyes squeeze shut at the praise, and he takes note of that, admiring the way you tighten around his tongue and fingers at the praise.

His fingers are quick, making you scream out his name louder and louder. “That’s it pretty girl… cum for me.” Arrogant fuck, you wish to say, but the way he laps up your juices has you whining like a little slut. And his smirk grows wider, a wet patch forming on his boxers with how hard he’s straining them, pathetically needing to be inside of you.

You tremble, trash, squirm beneath him, his touches and stripes of licks finally enough to have your stomach twisting, with final screams of “Steve!” and “F-fuck!” the coil inside of you snaps, orgasm overtaking you with such force that your eyes are glued shut.

A gush of sweetness trickles along Steve’s tastebuds, you taste so fucking good that it drives him even crazier, lapping up at your juices and not stopping until he’s sure you’ve collapsed under him.

He’s grinning like crazy, lips all glossy with your juices, and he looks so fucking pretty like this. It makes you want to return the favor.

So badly. And the need to know if the title Big Daddy Steve really suits him or not stirs your stomach, your core pooling with need. If it’s true, your mouth waters with the desire to have him, he looks delicious, and you know he’ll look much more yummy while he’s fucking your mouth, pretty praises leaving his pale rosy lips.

The avoidant part of you screams at you to not do this, but your core is begging for more.

Maybe, just maybe, you could return the favor but still toy with him, take control, and mess with his mind.

Enough to have him begging, pleading for more from you.

As if he can hear your dilemma, he drags you back in, wrapping his fist around your hair as he pulls you toward him and draws your bottom lip into his mouth, all teeth, sucking with an exaggerated hum, “Do you like the way you taste on my tongue?” He mutters against your ear, licking a stripe of your neck.

Jesus, fuck. Now, you had to return the favor.

“Tastes so sweet,” you giggle, you are going to suck him off, but you are going to lead the way now. A smirk gleams on your lips. Teasingly, your hands trace the edge of his boxers, enough to earn a rude whine from him as you squeeze him through the harsh fabric.

You’re quick to yank his shirt off of him without a warning, and he’s quick to flaunt his well-muscled, heaving chest.

Asshole.

With a strong flip, you manage to straddle him, taking him by surprise while you grin at him, and to say Steve is intrigued would be an understatement, his cock twitches at your brow raise. “What are you doing, baby?” He still manages to be so cool that your thighs ache.

“Returning the favor,” you shrug with a smirk, eliciting low grumbles from him when you lower yourself on his chest, leaving sloppy kisses, mouth tracing a trail that leads to his delicious v-line.

You lift the elastic away from his waist, freeing his throbbing tip, the red tip slaps against his abdomen, and your brows pinch together in astonishment admiring it.

Jesus fucking Christ, he was not all talk.

King Steve, indeed.

You had to hand it down to those gossipy cheerleaders, they had described him to a t, perfect girth, slightly bent to the left, and big, really fucking big, you probably needed to use your hands along with your glossed lips to take all of him in.

He chuckled at your expression, basking in the glory of your widened eyes, “Like what you see, angel?” Another taunt, but you ignore it with a smirk this time. Pooling saliva in your mouth, you spit on the angry tip, Steve hisses at the impact and watches with a low grumble once you wrap your palm around his shaft.

He reveled in how perfectly your soft manicured fingers looked around his delicate bubblegum pink tip, attending to his every need.

Your warm fingers are working their way around his cock, coating his length with your spit as you tugged at it gently, causing his eyes to nearly roll back in his head.

He tries his best to swallow his groans, but his hips desperately jerk up at your hand, desperately fucking it, rendering you speechless.

“You like that, baby?” Your tone was teasing, and if he didn’t feel like he was about to explode he would’ve gripped your hair and fucked your mouth with such roughness that all that you would be thinking about would be his huge cock, punishing you for being such a tease, but he was the one wrapped around your finger now, literally.

“S’big, Stevie,” you coyly batted your lashes at him, and a shuddered breath left your parted lips as you looked up at him between his thighs.

He almost wept at the sight, shit shit shit, you were all of his dreams wrapped into one, and he could barely speak. Your palm easily glided down his length, saliva working as a lubricant as you teased him further.

Your other palm was quick to cup his balls, massaging them and giving them a gentle tug, while your other hand still glided down his length, enjoying the way he struggled not to let out loud groans in your hold.

Without any other word, your head tilted down, quick to mouth the tip of his intense tip, it was almost hot to touch, waiting to be attended to, so needy. Just like him.

You swipe his tip, collecting his pearl of pre-cum gently. “Jesus f-fuck!” Pathetic coarse whines leave his parted lips, he lets you take control, eyes clenched tightly.

You give his tip more kitten licks, trying to get your throat ready for his lengthy cock. “Just like that, honey,” He praises with his head thrown back, he avoids looking into your eyes, knowing that the fucked out look on your face as your pouty lips wrapped around his cock would be enough to have him spill down your throat in seconds.

And it would be a bit embarrassing for Steve, to lose his reputation to you in a matter of seconds.

“More…” He demands, but you ignore it while you continue your teasing sweet flicks on his tip, feeling him twitch around your tongue. “Pretty girl,” He whines and jolts his pelvis for more, desperate and needy. Just where you want him.

“Mhmm?” You whine with your mouth full, it sends a rush of pleasure through him, “Suck it, baby,” he whines again, this time pained with need. Your greedy eyes smile up at him and he’s sure you have done something to him.

Because he never wanted to cum this bad before. He wants to wipe that smirk off your face while you gag on his cum, struggling to swallow all of it as it spills down your cheeks, glistening your breasts, ruining that gloss forever, and instead, you walk around with his semen all over your face and lips.

It pulls a twisted groan out of him, you make him feel so perverted and he can’t fucking help himself. You finally accept his pleas, and with one glorious tug, you finally wrap your lips around his cock, fully, getting teary-eyed each time you try to take more of his flesh.

Steve can’t help himself, his head is dipped down, and he immediately feels his balls ache at the visual of you, crystal tears staining your cheeks, and even then, that lewd look did not leave your eyes.

“F-fucking slut, just like that,” His groans are uncontrollable, hips bucking further into your mouth. You don’t let him yank you by your hair, just yet. You let your mouth adjust to him, sucking him deep and tight.

“Such a good girl, suckin’ my cock with all she has, mmpf.” His praise has your core clenching, damn him.

He admires your pouty lips fully wrapped around his flesh, sucking and hollowing your cheeks as you wail for him, “Shit, shit, baby, l-look so pretty with my cock down your throat, mmhmm…” He coos, words incoherent.

“Will look even prettier with my cum shooting down that throat, isn’t that right, angel?” You hummed in agreement, looking up at him with your dark, hooded gaze, an unintentional grin playing on your lips.

He mumbled a string of curses, praising you, worshipping you. You continued your stroke on his base harshly, working the head with your tongue, a new angle that had him go absolutely insane.

“Mmmhmm, need your cum, Stevie.” You mumbled, momentarily letting your hand do all the work before you dove back in, taking his stiff cock deep in your throat, he had been struggling before, but your words were his last straw.

Because it was exactly what he fucking wanted, owning your mouth, and fucking it with ease.

His palm turned into a fist the second he held your hair, yanking it down as he pushed you further down on his cock, enjoying the way it hit the back of your throat, you gagged around it, all teary and Steve’s head fell back in pure ecstasy. “Y-yes, yes, fuck!”

“Gonna cum, baby, mmmpf, god-” He panted, his cock twitching more and more you sucked on him.

“Gonna fuckin’ s-shit-” He shuddered, thighs shaking while your throat continued to squeeze the tip of his cock, and once you gave his balls some more attention, he knew he was a goner.

“Fuckin’ give i-it to you,” He barely let out when his eyes glued shut together, almost rolling to the back of his head when you gagged around his cock, with a glorious groan of “Fuuuuuck!” Steve came in your mouth, hips still bucking into your throat as a spurt of his warm load spilled down your throat, coating it nicely.

You only let go of his softened cock with a ‘pop!’ sound once you made sure you sucked him dry, swallowing all of it while Steve watched you with such a dazzled look that it almost made you want to do more with him. But, no. This had been enough.

You enjoyed his salty taste in your mouth and the way his fingers and mouth worked inside of you. And that was enough for you. For now.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He grumbled a chuckle that had you grinning and winking at him. God, men really were easy. One blowjob and Steve was already looking at you like you were the most precious thing in his life.

You had to go easy on him, tell him that you weren’t going to let him fuck you.

Because you got what you wanted, an orgasm, and the reputation of fucking “King Steve”, everyone would be gossiping about the two of you by now, it was a matter of time before that douchebag found out.

He tried to pull you in for a kiss, but you were quick to dodge it, getting up from the softness of the bed with a groan while Steve curiously eyed you.

His brows were quick to pinch together, watching the way you easily slipped your tight dress on your body while you admired yourself in the mirror. Rubbing your lips together to fix your gloss, fingertips cleaning over the smeared mascara running down your cheeks.

“W-what are you doing?” He inquired, his face quick to fall down.

You shrugged nonchalantly, “I want to go dance,” brows then raised in excitement “Ooohh! Maybe I could get some more weed, have you seen Munson around?” You questioned, that lustful look still dancing in your eyes.

“Uhhh…” he stammered, still confused on what the fuck just happened. “Y-yeah I think-”

“Thank fuckin’ god!” You hummed with a giggle, rushing over to his side, sloppily planting a kiss on his cheek, all shiny and smeared with his juices.

You were halfway through the door when Steve’s protests stopped you. “Wait, wait, wait!” He straightened up, softened cock and all, his glistening chest was begging to be touched, but as you decided, not today.

“What the fuck? I thought-”

“What?” You asked cluelessly, brows raised.

“We were just getting started, angel,” He tried, but his voice wasn’t as arrogant or confident as it was before, and it took you so much to not let your lips twitch into a smirk.

One orgasm and he was already broken? Steve was fun to play with it.

Your giggle at him would’ve felt mocking if you didn’t do it so prettily, Steve just watched in awe.

The poor boy.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, would you?” You tilted your head with a pout. Oh, you were good, he had to give you that.

Because once he literally got a taste of you, he wasn’t going to stop.

His lips kissed his teeth, it was surely hypocritical of him to think this was unfair since that’s what he always did to other girls.

“But–”

“See you around, pretty boy,” you cooed, throwing a wink toward his way, and shutting the door with that. Leaving Steve all alone.

He had never felt this way before. The way his cock twitched just the thought of you again had his mind flooding, you used him, gave him the best fucking head of his life, and then left.

Maybe this game would’ve pissed him off if someone else did it to him, if it was any other girl he would’ve lost interest, thinking she was trying too fucking hard, but it was you.

And all it did was drive Steve crazier, and make the chase all the more fun, and Steve was nothing, if not persuasive.

#steve harrington x reader #king!steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #king!steve harrington

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lovebugism · 7 months

Note

AH HI!! so... i love the way you write ditzy!reader, and especially with steve idk it just warms my heart yk? The way they interact 😭 it's so lovely

Since I'm an angsty girly at heart, I thought about a situation where steve gets a teeny tiny bit frustrated with ditzy!reader, but it's just seconds, even less than that but it's enough to make her upset for making him upset but also a super fluffy moment between both of them and steve being mesmerized by her and just so much in love

ahh thank u lovie! pls enjoy!! — steve gets frustrated with his sensitive gf and makes up with her accordingly (hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You keep Steve company during the last half of his shift like you always do.

He’s grumpier than usual, though — all pouty and visibly brooding.

You plop yourself on the front counter of Family Video and ask him what’s wrong, and he tells you that the day’s been hell and he’s just tired. There is no “but I feel better now” like there usually is when he’s upset but doesn’t want you to think it’s your fault.

The “because you’re here” is typically implied.

Not so much now.

You’re having the complete opposite day of your sulking boyfriend. Yours had been dreadfully boring, or at least you say it had been, but you find a million different things to tell him. You’re too excited after having spent so many hours without him, like a dog with a wagging tail. You’ve got the zoomies of the mouth, if you could even call it that.

“—And then I saw the cutest dog on the way over here. His name was Cappy, and he was huge, and the owner was so nice. He even let me pet him, and he literally felt like a cloud— the dog, not the owner.”

Steve is used to this. The whole rambling about nothing thing. He loves it about you, actually. It took him ages to coax you out of that shell after your asshole ex told you that you talked too much, convinced you that no one cared about what you had to say.

You’re more comfortable now, and Steve loves that you are, but right now he just can’t concentrate.

Keith’s been on his ass about inventory all day, and he just learned how to do it on the old, bulky computer this morning — but only after Robin made him an hour late to his shift. Everything’s just too much now. He’s overwhelmed to the point of spontaneous combustion.

For the first time ever, you’re not helping.

“—And, like, I know when we move into our apartment, we’re technically not allowed to have pets, but like… What about a fish? Or a turtle?” you wonder aloud but don’t stop to let him answer. Sitting on the edge of the counter, you kick your feet and flit your eyes to the spotted ceiling. “What if I start feeding the deer in the woods, and they just start showing up at our backdoor? ‘Cause technically—”

“Babe, please,” Steve snaps suddenly when your sneaker knocks his chair. He’s buzzing with anger, and even though it’s not because of you, he doesn’t know where else to put it.

Your eyes go wide at the newfound bite in his tone. He’s not shouting at you, but it makes your heart stop like he is. You feel like a kid again, getting scolded for being “too much.”

“…What?” you squeak.

Steve sighs. A deep, heavy sigh. It doesn’t remove the leaden weight from his chest, though.

“I’m… I’m really trying to concentrate here, and you’re just— you’re making it really hard,” he tells you through gritted teeth, trying hard to keep his composure.

You deflate like a popped balloon. “Oh…”

He can hear the waver in your tone, the way your voice sounds wet with unshed tears. But he’s too overwhelmed — internally raging and selfish with it. His sweltering temper makes his woe feel more important than yours.

“Yeah, so… Can you just— go bother someone else for, like, five minutes?” he asks, fists clenched on either side of the clunky keyboard, his gaze concentrated on the pixelated screen. “Robin’s probably sulking in a corner somewhere. Go find her.”

Your face crumbles like a balled-up piece of paper. Your chest gets all tight, and your eyes start to burn when tears gather behind them.

You’d always been a flower of melodrama — blooming eternally and constantly sensitive. So when Steve cut you off as you fantasized about a family of deer living in the backyard of an apartment you were supposed to share together, it felt like a knife in your chest.

The irrational thought that he no longer wanted any of that with you was fleeting and vivid and burning. Irrational, still.

But now you’re annoying him. He’s told you as much, with an unusual harshness he’s never spat at you before. And now your fears feel much more real.

“I’m bothering you?” you ask him, barely intelligible through the whimper in your throat.

Steve huffs again. His elbows thunk against the desk when he puts his head in his palms, swiping his fingers through his hair like he always does when he’s antsy.

“I just really need to get this done,” he tells you, softer now. He makes himself mad all over again, though, and gets sharper once more. “I need to finish this before I get fired, and then we have no apartment to move into because we have no money, alright?”

There it is. The root of all his anger. A lingering feeling of inadequacy.

He wants a life with you, but all he’s got is a measly Family Video salary — which he’s lucky to have apparently, because he can’t seem to do anything right. It stirs like a fire in the pit of his stomach.

After another deep breath, he finally turns to look up at you. His honey eyes are wet and stern. The chiseled edges of his features are sharp. Gently, he pleads. “I really need to work here, babe.”

You nod, understanding and internally weeping. “Okay. I’m— I’m sorry, I was just— I’ve been missing you all day, and I got too excited, I think,” you confess, wringing your clammy hands in your lap like a scolded child.

“Don’t apologize,” Steve says with a huff, leaning back against the squeaking swivel chair. It’s old and has lost all its cushion. His stiff back aches all the more. There’s no relief, to any of it.

He sits back up again and puts his unsure hands back on the keyboard. “Just— Just go, okay? Let me finish this.”

He leaves little room for argument.

You wouldn’t, though, even if you wanted to. Which you do. You’re just not strong enough.

—————

Steve tells you to go, but you end up in the kiddie corner across the store.

Mr. Rogers puts on a bright red cardigan and sings a tune that makes you feel like crying. You sit on the color-blocked carpet, surrounded by block toys, and clutch a stuffed bunny to your chest. You can’t tell if the vintage VHS is making the screen blurry or if it’s the tears gathering heavy at your waterline.

Robin walks by you, does a double-take, and immediately reports to Steve.

“What did you do?” she interrogates with narrowed eyes, strolling up to the counter with a cart full of tapes to put away.

The hearty tap, tap, taping of the keyboard fills the silence.

Steve doesn’t look at her until he’s finished up the last of his work. Only when it’s fully and finally complete does his hardened gaze dart to her. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. She’s upset.”

“What do you mean she’s upset?”

Robin rolls her eyes at his obliviousness. “I don’t know. She’s singing the Mister Roger’s theme song and, like, crying. It’s weird.”

Steve’s brows pinch. His heart does, too. “Crying?”

“Well— not crying, exactly. It’s this really weird blubbering thing.” She fails to explain it so she tries to imitate it. A sobbing, sniffling sort of noise. She fails at that, too. Her scrunched face goes back to normal. “Like that.”

Deadpanned, Steve nods. “Wow, Robin. That was really helpful. Thank you.”

“Just go comfort your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve still thinks she’s joking. Robin doesn’t lie, but she does have a tendency to overemphasize the mundane.

He goes to see you anyway, though, and doesn’t think twice about any of it — about what Robin said or what he had said to you before that.

He finds you in the kid’s section, in front of the tiny television, surrounded by brightly colored toys. He smiles at the sight of you, exhaling a sharp laugh through his nose.

“What are you doing all the way over here, huh?” he questions to announce his arrival, which you seemingly hadn’t noticed. “This area is usually for kids, ya know? Well, kids and Dustin Henderson.”

He doesn’t sound as annoyed with you anymore. You’re grateful for that much, but you still feel a bit sick about the whole thing.

Your nervous hands pick the cotton of the fuzzy bunny in your arms. You keep your gaze on the television in front of you, but you aren’t really watching it anymore. “I used to watch this stuff a lot growing up. The nostalgia sorta makes me wanna puke. But, like, in a good way.”

Steve scoffs. “Well, maybe we should turn it off then, ‘cause if I have to clean up vomit after the day I’ve had, I might actually go insane.”

He’s kidding. Mostly. The universe tends to be cruel like that, but he’d clean up all your messes a thousand times over if he had to.

He laughs at his own joke as he crouches to sit down next to you. He bends his knees, props his arms on top of them, and looks over at you. You don’t crack a smile for him, which is weird because you always laugh at his jokes. Even the ones that aren’t funny. Especially the ones that aren’t funny.

His smile ebbs to a wavering half-smirk as he knocks his shoulder with yours. “You okay?”

You think for a moment, jutting your lips out, unblinking at the television screen. “No,” you answer after a few seconds of silence. “But I’ll get over it. I think.”

Your honesty makes his heart wrench — like you’ve wrapped both your tiny hands around the beating organ and squeezed. It knocks the breath out of his lungs, a fish so ruthlessly pulled from the water. He tries to speak through the sudden lack of air. “Wh—What happened? Was it… Did I do something? Did you—”

“No,” you cut off his stammering with a firm shake of your head. “I did something.”

“Oh,” is all he says, pink lips pouting and wide eyes darting. “What does… What does that mean? Did you, like, step on a rogue VHS or something? ‘Cause I do that all the time, and technically, that’s Rob’s fault for leaving them out, so—”

You shake your head again, digging your nails into the delicate cotton of the well-loved stuffy in your arms. “No. I was just— I was botheringyou, and now I feel bad,” you confess, all quiet like a meek child who’s learning what it means to be sorry.

Steve — your oh, so oblivious one — goes aflame with embarrassment. He’d been too clouded by his own anger to recognize the venom spilling from his mouth; to understand that it would inevitably hurt you.

With chiseled features twisted in confusion, he shakes his head and stammers. “What? No! You weren’t— You weren’t bothering me!”

You turn to look at him, for the first time since he sat down beside you. Your eyes are glassy and swimming with hurt. You try to keep your trembling features stoic. You don’t want to seem as hurt by it all as you really are.

You feel like you should, anyway. What right do you have to be sad when you were the one being a bother?

“You said I was,” you remind him, still soft but sterner now. “You told me to go bother someone else—”

“Oh, babe…” Steve says, deflating just as you had.

He knows how sensitive you are, how deeply you feel things. You’re vulnerable, raw — it makes everything feel more personal than it really is. It makes grumpy jabs from your dumbass boyfriend hurt like a lemon on a weeping wound.

He tries to apologize, knowing that he hurt you and that it’s not up to him to decide that he didn’t.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to, babe,” he murmurs, swiping a tense hand through his hair and then gesticulating wildly with it. “I was just being a dick, you know? I’ve been super stressed all day and—”

“Don’t apologize. I was being annoying.”

Steve blinks at you with wide, wet eyes — like you’ve hurt him by talking so cruelly about yourself.

“Baby, no. No,” he urges, ducking down to meet your gaze when you look away from him. “I’m just an idiot, okay? I put off inventory until the last second, and Keith’s been on my ass all day about it, and I just— I took that out on you, and that’s not fair, and I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, pursing your bitten lips to the side and twisting the long ear of the bunny between your fingers. “It’s not your fault, Steve…” you murmur, almost inaudibly.

He scoffs. It sounds like a bitter laugh. “Well, actually, it kinda is.”

“I just… I don’t really understand what’s going on sometimes. Or, like, a lot of the time,” you admit with a distracted gaze, eyes flitting everywhere but to the boy beside you. You’re too ashamed to look at him now. “And it’s harder for me to know when I’m talking too much, you know? Or if I’m being super annoying.”

“I know…” Steve nods, trying his best to be sympathetic of you. He loves how soft you are — too much to understand you completely. He loves how gently you treat the rest of the world, how unusually giddy you get in your gentleness.

You swallow through a tightening throat and shrug to pretend your world doesn’t feel like it’s crumbling around you. “And I don’t care about annoying other people— well, I do, but it’s different with you, you know? Other people can’t break up with me for being too much.”

“The idiot that told you you were too much had exactly zero personality,” Steve tells you, mostly because he means it but also to see you smile.

You do, just barely. A grin so soft only someone deathly in love with you could see.

“You’re never annoying me, okay? Ever. I love hearing you talk. I love having you around.”

“Yeah?” you ask him, blinking back burning tears.

“Hell yeah! You’re, like, the best part of my day! The only good part of my day, now that I think about it.”

Biting back a grin, you tease, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Robin made me late today, so we’re kinda not friends right now.”

“That’s mean,” you scold despite the growing smile on your face.

Steve shrugs. “We’ll make up before I clock out. No big deal.”

You go suddenly shy, smiling sheepish and tilting your chin to your chest to peek at him through your lashes. “Are we gonna make up before you clock out?” you wonder quietly.

“Only if you’re willing to forgive me for being an insufferable douchebag,” Steve answers, only half-joking. He very seldomly feels worthy of your softness.

You look at him with it, anyway.

Full on beaming now, you reach across the short distance to wrap him in a firm embrace. The position is only slightly awkward. Sitting side by side with your asses on the hard carpet, your arms wound tightly around his neck — a bit like a snake smothering its prey.

Steve feels grateful to be held so ardently.

His nose smushes into your neck. The sweet scent of your perfume entwines with the warm scent of your sweater. He smiles into your shoulder when it makes you giggle. You pull back from him then, just to steal a quick peck a moment later. Your lips smack audibly against his grin.

“Can we make out before you clock out?” you lilt with a shy smirk.

“…That is the single best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Your giggle fills the empty store when Steve rises suddenly and pulls you with him. He leads you toward the back, tugging you by the hand down the short corridor and rambling all the way. “Keith left for the day, so his office is empty, which means it’s fair game—”

“I am not making out with you in Keith’s office!”

“But his desk chair is crazy comfortable, and also, he’s a dick, so… who cares?”

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

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ddejavvu · 7 months

Note

I can't get the thought out of my head... Animagus r x Sirius and being annoyed with him. So she does annoying cat things back (pushing things off of tables, swatting at pens while he writes, sitting on his stuff). U do such a good job!!

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

"Don't."

Silence, where Sirius's narrowed eyes flatten out even further, the left one twitching, "Do not."

Your paw moves a fraction of a centimeter closer to the glass on the edge of his table, full of steaming tea. It's not a drink Sirius particularly enjoys, but it'll soothe the sore throat he woke up with, and he'd prefer it in a cup, not on the floor.

"If you push that off of the table, I'm placing a permanent sticking charm on that sweater Lily made you," He warns, his eyes harsh and holding nothing but truth. You bristle at the threat, hissing your displeasure.

Confident that you'll leave the cup alone, he turns back to his assignment, "You're acting like a child."

You nip at his finger, and he yanks it into his lap, "Ow, twat! I told you I was sorry, okay? I didn't realize we'd run out until the storm had already started."

The source of your foul mood is none other than the empty bag of salmon jerky that sits in the trash can in Sirius's dorm, your favorite snack while in your feline form. Sirius takes care to keep it stocked for you, but he hadn't noticed the dwindling supply until the blizzard outside had raged well beyond the acceptable errand-running limits. You're stuck inside without your favorite food, and you're pissed.

"I know you're not happy," He acknowledges, and you reach out a paw to bat at the quill in his hand, "But there's no need to throw a temper tantrum.

Temper tantrum? You're not even close to a temper tantrum, and you meow with as much disdain as you can manage, wondering what the best place to bite him would be.

You could go for the hand, but it's already cradled in his lap, and you're not intent on breaking the thin skin of his inner wrists. You could aim for his ear, but it's out of your reach, and he might catch on before you could properly nip him. You leap down to the floor and Sirius seems relieved that you're no longer tormenting his essay, checking for inky pawprints on the parchment that prove to be absent.

"Thank you, darling," He calls, his voice far too haughty for your liking, "See, I told you there was no need to fuss, we'll stock back up on that nasty fish crap-"

Nasty fish crap! You decide on his left ankle.

"-when the storm's- Ow!"

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one-shot #sirius black one shot #sirius black headcanon #sirius black headcanons #sirius black hc #sirius black hcs #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black dialogue #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader fanfiction

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pupkashi · 4 months

Text

mistletoe-go

satoru comes up with a new holiday tradition

a/n: hi friends !! this is a silly little thing i thought of when i went to michaels the other day and saw their christmas decorations ! let me know what u guys think :3

wordcount: 949

masterlist

satoru sees an artificial mistletoe at the store one day, his eyes linger on it for a bit, walking past it and straight to what he needed to buy. the little plant lives in the back of his head the entire time he’s walking around the store, should he buy it? you guys had already decorated for the holidays, what’s one more thing?

he snags two of the small fake plants and adds them to his cart, smiling to himself as he pays for them, already planning on exactly where to put them.

you don’t notice it when you greet satoru in the living room, smiling at him and welcoming him home.

“did you find the right batteries for the lamp?” you asked, watching as he tossed the bag to the side, grabbing what looked like a clump of leaves and tying it up so it dangled from the ceiling.

“yeah i did, can you come look at this? wanna make sure you like the placement” he smiles, holding back his maniacal giggles as you step close and closer to him, until the two of you are finally under the plant. “oh would you look at that! we’re under the mistletoe” he grins.

you can’t help but smile, laughing at his antics and rolling your eyes lovingly. “that we are” you hum, leaning into him a bit, “you know what that means right?” satoru looks into your eyes excitedly, already leaning forward as his eyes dash from your eyes to your lips.

“kiss me sweetheart, it’s tradition” he mumbles, a small smile as you lean in closer to him, lips only centimeters apart when you abruptly stop. it makes his eyes shoot open and brows furrow, lips forming into a pout, “why’d you stop?” he whines.

“don’t you hate tradition?” you tease, watching as he rolls his eyes, one arm slipping around your waist and pulling you flush against him, the other slipping behind your neck as he crashes his lips into yours.

he pulls away with a satisfied smile on his face, eyes practically sparkling as you chase his lips for one last peck, pulling away from him. he doesn’t tell you of the extra mistletoe in the bag, opting instead to sneak it into his pockets, just in case.

it’s two days later when you’re sitting across the kitchen bar from him, mindlessly eating cereal and watching him making himself some eggs, your mind so focused on the muscles of his back moving you don’t see the outline of the faux mistletoe in the left pocket of his sweats. you don’t even register what he’s doing until he’s standing in front of you, fishing in his pocket and holding his arm up over the two of you.

you look up, eyes meeting the same leaves that were hung up only a couple feet away from the two of you. “did you take that down to put it in your pocket?” you laugh in disbelief, satoru only shakes his head proudly.

“i bought two, one for home and one to go,” he explains, leaning over the counter and placing his lips onto yours, you could taste his honey chapstick when you licked your lips after.

“isn’t the point for it to be, i don’t know, random? by chance? like the Christmas spirit bringing two people together?” you ask, twirling your spoon a bit, head resting in the palm of your hand, ogling your lover as he stretched, heart faltering when his abs flexed a bit.

“oh cmon sweetheart, fate already brought us together, i think the Christmas spirit can take this year off,” he smiles, “I’ll be sure to do the mistletoe-ing this year.”

satoru was true to his word, carrying the small decor item everywhere the two of you went. you were caught off guard the first time, you knew he was serious about ‘mistletoe-go’ as he called it, but you didn’t expect him to pull it out in front of the first years.

your face burned as you eyes went wide, satoru already puckering his lips to kiss you.

“ooooo sensei!” yuji teased, giggling, megumi and nobara had made face of slight disgust, still looking out of the corner of their eyes to see if gojo would get rejected.

“cmon sugar plum don’t embarrass me infront of my kids” he whispers, you roll your eyes at him, placing your lips onto his quickly, laughing when the students shout a mix of ‘ew’s and ‘aw’s.

satoru continue to pull the mistletoe out: at the grocery store, on walks together, anywhere around the house, even at a restaurant once.

everytime he’s act surprised, ‘who put that there?’ he’d say, a smile on his face as he furrowed his brows in faux concentration before sighing, ‘gotta do what you gotta do!’ he’s smile, leaning in, ready to catch your lips in his.

you’d indulge him everytime, not caring where you were. you’d both go in for a quicker second peck, smiling into it as you both pulled away. satoru always had pink dusting his cheeks afterwards, though he’d swear you were lying to him every time.

after such a successful first year satoru made it a tradition. mistletoe-go was something he looked forward to every year, never failingto remember, breaking it out earlier and earlier over time.

“this was the best purchase ever” he smiles, holding the bundle of leaves above the two of you.

“i don’t know those batteries were really great too” you tease, leaning in and pressing your lips to his, the familiar taste of his chapstick meeting your tastebuds.

you’d never admit it to him, but you loved mistletoe-go just as much as he did.

taglist (send and ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

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kquil · 1 month

Text

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS

+ MOODBOARD IMAGINES

SET. : in between chapter 3 and chapter 4

LENGTH : 3.4k

A/N : do you darlings remember this (↓) moodboard? well, i thought it would be a good idea to write the scenarios i featured in it just cause... hehe~ (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) i hope you darlings enjoy the read!

On his break, Sirius has a routine, one that involves lighting a cigarette. Usually he would have the decency to step outside but his schedule was stressful for the day and all he really wanted to do was just sit by an open window, slumped into a chair smoking his cigarette until there was nothing left to smoke. Thankfully the rest of the work day wasn’t going to be as packed so he could finally start taking it easy.

Grey eyes drifting over to the clock on the wall, Sirius hums thoughtfully. Almost lunch time. He’ll need to cut his smoke break short if he wants to have enough time for a decent lunch. It’s another ritualistic practice for him to not pack anything for lunch; he was a horrible cook and usually prioritises sleeping in over eating breakfast and preparing a lunch, it’s the same for James and Remus too. Thankfully there’s a pretty good fish and chip shop down the street. Or maybe he could get a medium pizza for himself at the pizza local place? Maybe get a large pizza for the whole group?

Propping his ankle up onto his opposite knee, Sirius drags a slow breath in and waits a moment before releasing the smoke. He tries to aim the fumes out the window as much as possible but the air is a fickle thing and stubbornly lingered around him. Nevertheless, he takes the time to admire the swirling fumes, artistic and free to take any form they so pleased. It was one of the small pleasures in smoking that he could bask in.

“Siri–!” Sirius promptly snaps out of his daze with your call and the opening of the break room door. One step into the room and you were already having a coughing fit. Hurrying to stand, Sirius smothers his cigarette in an ashtray and reaches for a nearby folder of generic designs to fan the smoke out of the open window.

“You okay there, sweets?” he calls, brows furrowed into a concerned crease as he watches your struggle for air slowly calm.

“I-I’m okay,” another slight cough slips past your lips despite the assurance, “sorry for disturbing you,” as most of the smoke escapes the room, pliant to Sirius’ frenetic fanning, you manage a small smile that he shyly returns, ashamed of his inconsiderate actions. Though he truly didn’t anticipate you returning to the shop. His shame doesn’t linger for long, however as he keeps the window open and makes his way over with open arms, pulling you into an embrace.

“What a pleasant surprise, what are you doing here, Doll?” he looks down at you, admiring your sweet face as it scrunches up in slight distaste and his heart drops. What’s upset his sweetheart?

“Y-you smell like cigarettes…” you utter without a single thought and immediately clasp your hands over your mouth, muffling a gasp of realisation. That was so rude!

“Shit–”

“I-I’m so sorry, Sirius. I didn’t mean to be ru–” but your apology was cut short when the tattoo artist steps away and begins pulling his shirt over his head and hurries about the room, looking for something.

“Sorry about that, Princess,” he gives up on his search and turns to you with a bashful smile, his toned torso and idiosyncratic tattoos on full display. Your mind goes completely blank as you admire the chiselled contours of his muscles and the beautiful tattoos that decorate his skin.

“U-uhh…”

“I guess I’ll have to ask James if he has a spare shirt or something…” muttering to himself, Sirius looks up and finally catches your eye, immediately noticing your admiring gaze. Naturally, a devilish smirk tugs at his lips, “or not~”

He has the face of an angel and the body of a jock with the eyes and lips of a demon.

Over time, you’ve come to visit the boys at their parlour more often and the guilt of distracting them from their work has chewed away at you. They were always quick to say that they adore having you around the parlour so your discouragement quickly dissipates. Nevertheless, you wanted to do good by them and started going on snack duties, not only to provide refreshments for them but also for their clients.

As a group and as a business, they agreed it would be a good investment to provide complimentary food and drink for their clients and themselves; getting tattoos was just as exhausting as giving them, especially for the big order clients. Therefore each room was fitted with a mini fridge and basket to host an array of snacks and beverages for anyone to have as they pleased.

The accumulated bill cost a pretty penny but one that the boys were willing to pay, they even managed to strike a deal with the vegan specialty store across the street to provide their best snacks for customers as a form of free advertising. It warmed your heart but it didn’t come close to the butterflies you felt when you found that the boys were first attracted to the shop for their regular donations to a local dog shelter.

You just came back from your trip over to help restock the fridges and snack baskets in each room. Remus was manning the front desk and handling clients and prospective customers. There was a stack of paperwork piled up next to him so he could multitask and stay preoccupied when there was a lull in business.

Meanwhile, Sirius was tending to a client and their massive back tattoo. You remember him telling you that this was just their second session and that he still had one or two more sessions left to go. You managed to slip in and out of the room without distracting him or his client too much; both were very busy, except for the emotional-support friend the client had brought along, who appreciated the restock of snacks and raided the stash even as you were restocking. The two of you giggled at that together as Sirius chuckled under his breath, shouting an appreciative ‘thank you’ while his client grumbled playfully, apologetic about their glutton of a friend. Their interaction made you giggle while slipping out the door and making your way to James' room - you don’t believe he’s with a client right now so you weren’t as anxious over potentially disturbing his flow. Though he was expecting one to arrive soon, according to his calendar.

“Snacks restock,” you call through the door with a knock before stepping inside.

“Thanks, angel,” James was in an all-black attire today. Black jeans, heavy leather Doc Martens and a black, compression shirt that accentuated his slim waist, broad shoulders and sculpted muscles. That along with his black latex gloves and the beautiful collage of tattoos weaving up his forearms stops you in place. It’s undeniable how attractive these men are but, as James sits in his artist chair, posture relaxed but oozing with confidence, dressed like sin with his boyish grin and adorable round glasses on, an antithesis to his dangerous attire, you stop in your tracks and stutter embarrassingly. It has to be illegal how divine he looks right now…

Using the wheels and mobility of his artist chair, James moves to sit before you as he examines the contents of your bag through the opening at the top and mutters about which ones he’s eyeing for himself. However, your stock-still, frozen figure doesn’t go unnoticed and he’s soon staring up at you. His hazel eyes shine with curiosity and thinly veiled mischief.

“Something wrong, Angel?” the pleasant drawl of his voice draws you from your obvious daydreaming and you’re stuttering out a pathetic, incoherent answer as he chuckles quietly, “Have you fallen for me?~”

The fucking tease!

It’s a hot summer day and Remus was sweating buckets up in the office. The heat was torturous and he silently begged for the winter cold to rush back with an icy fever, his desperation for a cool breeze evident in his dishevelled state.

It was common for James and Sirius to go around topless in their shameless, over-confident ways but Remus was stubborn about keeping a shirt on. They had been warned about the rising heat thanks to earlier weather warnings but preparing with a breezy linen button up wasn’t enough for Remus to keep to his strict dress code. For once, you were seeing him half-naked (almost) and like you were with Sirius and James the first time they surrendered to the heat, you stood in shock as an additional heat tormented your cheeks.

You didn’t know what to expect.

Clearly James was the muscular one of the three, Sirius was skinny but it didn’t mean he didn’t have any muscle – his arms and abs were especially defined, his thighs too, probably from his motorcycle. Remus was tall so, as the stereotype went, you didn’t expect him to have much muscle definition. However, as he laid back in his seat, his linen shirt unbuttoned but still tucked into his trousers and draped over his broad shoulders, you’re able to observe significant definition in his chest and the ridges of washboard-abs along his torso. Your eyes almost bulge out when you see the cuts of a V leading into his crotch area.

Remus despaired over feeling like a sweat-drenched dog, foul-smelling and unsightly with clumpy, sweaty hair when, in actuality, he couldn’t look better. Ths sweat made his skin glisten and helped keep his hair pushed back in the most attractive way. With his head slumped backward, his adam’s apple prominent, his tattoos on full display along the toned expanse of his torso, Remus looked heavenly. Especially with the sun shine pouring in from the open window and showering him in specs of gold.

So caught up in your silent admiration, you don’t notice when Remus peeks one eye open and spots you with a soft smile.

“You alright there, Dove?” he asks, chuckling as he sees the exact moment you were brought back to the present, “I see you’ve gotten my water for me,”

“Oh! Y-yeah,” you shyly walk up to him and hand over the chilled bottle of water from the mini fridge downstairs.

“You really are an angel,” he accepts the bottle and kisses the knuckles of your hand in thanks before taking a thirsty gulp. His sweet action of gratitude makes you want to squeal out loud but you bite your lip, not wanting to expose yourself. It was already embarrassing enough having to be caught staring.

It was then, however, that you took notice of a small, faded tattoo that didn’t match the gallery of inky art collaging Remus’ torso, “That tattoo looks different,” you say without thinking as you point towards the slightly faded crescent moon on Remus’ chest.

“Oh!” Remus chuckles and caresses his inked skin gently, fondness swimming in his chocolate-pool eyes, “This one is quite special actually,”

“Really?”

He nods and launches into the story when observing the curious look in your eyes, “When the guys and I finally graduated secondary school, we all got drunk off our asses and went to a hole-in-the-wall tattoo parlour to commemorate the occasion,” you both share a laugh at their reckless but typical behaviour as teenagers, “each of us got a silly little tattoo and the next day, when we were hungover, half-naked in James’ room – James on the floor, Sirius in the bathtub of his ensuite and me leaning against his bookcase, nobody on the bed –” you both laugh again, “we all found out we got different tattoos and from that, came our nicknames,”

You brows raise in interest, “You mean–”

“I have a moon so I’m ‘Moony’,” Remus confirms as your eyes sparkle with delight, a sight that Remus adores more than he’d ever admit aloud, “Sirius got a dog paw–”

“So that’s why you call him ‘Padfoot’, makes sense. What about James?”

“A stag head so he’s–”

“Prongs!” you cheer and giggle at finally discovering the reason behind their peculiar nicknames. It all made so much more sense now!

“My Angel calls for me?~” James’ voice sings through the door before he’s sauntering in and opening his arms, expecting you to fall willingly into them. It was tempting, considering he was shirtless and you’d love nothing more than to be held against his muscles but today was already swelteringly hot so you politely decline, to which smug expression James’ drops into that of a pitiful puppy’s.

It’s not a secret that the boys adore you, not only were you kind and sweet and the prettiest little thing they’ve ever laid their eyes on but you also cook like an absolute angel and they can never get enough, especially when compared to their own mediocre cooking skills. After being spoiled by you so often, they can no longer fathom eating their own inferior cuisine. They’ve expressed this to you multiple times so, whenever you could, you would cook dinner for them and you’d all eat together at their flat. It usually happened over the weekend and they always offered to pay for the ingredients needed.

Tonight, you had something special in mind to cook for them but weren’t well stocked on ingredients so it was agreed that Sirius would pick you up on his bike when you were finished shopping at the store. You made sure to text the tattooist a predicted time for when you would be finished with your shopping, remaining faithful to your shopping list so that you didn’t keep him waiting too long out in the overcast, chilly weather. Typical England.

Hurrying to get past self check out, you smile at the singular bag of ingredients you held in your hand, excited to spoil the boys with another night of good food. You aren’t shy in admitting how attractive Sirius was but it was unfair how sultry he looked when on his bike, wearing his all-black, leather outfit, his huge helmet and fingerless gloves. The many eyes eating him up were evidence enough of his ethereal beauty. And with his helmet on too. Perhaps it was the mystery of who he was behind the mask that these strangers fawned over him so much. You couldn’t fault them though, you would be the same in their shoes.

Having made this trip multiple times already, you recognised him and his bike in an instant.. Behind the visor of his helmet, Sirius suppresses an affectionate coo over how you visibly perk up when your eyes land on him. There was no need for sun when Sirius had your smile to light up his day.

“You good, Doll?” Sirius’ voice comes out muffled by his helmet as he dismounts his bike and opens up the storage compartment under the seat. He exchanges the spare helmet stored in the hidden compartment for the bag of groceries in your hand, “You got everything?”

“Yeah, thanks for waiting, Siri!”

You don’t see it but he smiles happily at the sound of your twinkling voice, “No worries, Doll,” he mounts the bike once more and takes it off it’s stand, “hop on,”

At this point, he expected you to be able to put your helmet on by yourself but he doesn’t account for the slight delay as you make sure it’s fitted over your head properly. Unable to help himself, Sirius waits leaning forward with his hand propping his head up as his elbow rests on the body of his bike. The stance makes him look as though he was admiring you like some lovestruck, teenage boy. When you catch sight of him after finally getting your helmet on, you laugh and throw your head back with the movement but end with placing your hands on your hips - scolding his actions, almost, although it was all in good fun. His response was to blow you a kiss by, first, touching his fingers to the front of his helmet and then laying his hand flat towards you.

You clutch at your stomach to contain the giggles as your shoulders shake before finally deciding to play along and return the gesture, imitating a flying kiss that he catches and holds to his chest. Whenever the helmet was put on, the two of you always got into the habit of exaggerating your movements seeing as your facial expressions were obscured. But that mask gives you two such confidence that you’re more comfortable with being flirtatious with each other.

You don’t complain but it makes your heart thump with want and a desire you were too afraid to fulfil.

“Sirius loves his bike,” Remus explains, “and James loves his car,” both men were too distracted taking maintenance of their respective vehicles to listen to Remus’ explanation of their attentiveness. It was the weekend and you had arranged to have Remus keep you accountable for completing your upcoming essay. At some point, you two join James and Sirius in the garage as they do the regular checks of their beloved ‘rides’. Their vigilant focus as they mill about the engines and operations of their car and bike were a great motivator for completing your essay and now that you’ve finished, you observe them in their element.

Both men had their muscular, tattooed arms on full display, clad in only their tight tank tops, ones that already had stains to begin with so they didn’t mind staining more as their fingers blackened with motor residue.

“What do you love, Remus?” you ponder, needing a distraction from the beguiling display before you but also curious. Did Remus have a secret love for a particular motor vehicle like the other two as well? You were beyond curious, although you couldn’t think of any other motor vehicle he would likely obsess over.

“Can’t say,” the tall brunette shrugs, subtly peering down at you from his higher vantage point, “I’m pretty sure those two love it just as much as I do so it won’t count,” his answer leaves you curious but he doesn’t elaborate further. Was he talking about a motor vehicle or something else entirely?

Giggling beside Remus, you watch the exchange unfold before you with amused eyes and a warm smile hidden behind your fingers. Seeing James and/or Sirius become whiny and pouty wasn’t an everyday occurrence but it happened often enough that you were used to their shenanigans and didn’t give in as easily as you used to, especially with Remus at your side to keep the boys in check. Such as right now. If it weren’t for Remus, you’re sure James and Sirius would have continued to whine and throw a strop until their clients got impatient, left and then proceeded to write a very passionate review about the lack of service. Thankfully, the piercer shooed them away as efficiently as always, reminding the two of their responsibilities and scheduled patrons.

“Stupid Moony,” James mutters under his breath as he walks away with Sirius, “...always getting Angel all to himself…”

As soon as the two are out of sight, Remus takes his usual seat behind the front desk and pulls out a small paperback book to keep him occupied. With warm eyes directed at you, he smiles and asks, “would you like to join me for a good read, Dove?” as he speaks, he brings his hand down to rest on his thigh and, with your reeling mind, you mistake the gesture for an invitation that you couldn’t refuse.

Remus never expected you to look so adorable when approaching to sit with him for a read at the register but, other than that, he never expected you to sit on his thigh. You didn’t meet his eyes at first so you didn’t see his shocked state or the creeping grin tugging up the corners of his lips.

It was embarrassing but this isn’t the first time the boys had you sit in their laps. This was just the first time you were made to sit on your own accord. You don’t think your embarrassment could get any more drastic, however, until you finally look up to see the surprised look on Remus’ face and finally realise your mistake.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry!”

He laughs at how adorable you are and winds his strong arm around your waist before you could even attempt to hop off his thigh.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” unable to resist, Remus presses a soft kiss against your temple and pulls you even closer to him, “you’re welcome to use me as a seat anytime,” he smiles adoringly at your bashful demeanour, “in fact, I encourage it,”

NAVI. | SERIES MASTERLIST

A/N : for those of you that don't know, the moodboard was requested by my darling moot @diputy on my 1k milestone event (now closed) but if you're curious, here are the links to the event and the request masterlist : 1k EVENT | 1k MLIST

TAGLIST : @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @mangodamochiii @queerqueenlynn @l3xiluve @brain-has-left @bunbunbl0gs @kneelforloki @citrusiove @virtualbuni @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @that1nerd-20 @wolfstar4everbitches @skepvids @dearmy-diary @littledollfacebaby @mylifeisnothing @em16cor @krazyk99 @imdoingbetternow @realalpacorn @remussbitch @swiftieeras1989 @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @canthavetoomuchchaos @rckstrbee @b-i-h-i @ennycutie @kneelforloki @theteaobsessedbug @padfoot1313 @d1gital-data @venezsuwayla @melllinaa

#poly marauders x reader #poly marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #poly marauders x you #poly marauders imagine #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #marauders #poly!marauders #hit series #hit series : +imagines #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction #hp marauders

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

Note

hii can u maybe do like all the pogues are stuck on poguelandia and the reader is sarahs sister (and the reader isn’t necessarily a pogue like sarah) but the reader had been secretly hooking up with jj before everything happened, and they decide to make it official after the pogues see them doing a lil sum sum on poguelandia

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Unlike your sister, you didn’t adapt easily to the island life. You were sick of eating coconut and fish for every meal, sick of sleeping on mats made of braided leaves, sick of feeling dirty and having tangles in your hair.

You were a Kook to the bones. You loved and missed the comfort of your old life — and everything in-between…including your little affair with JJ Maybank.

Every Tuesday afternoon, after working on the Carroway’s boat, he would sneak to Tannyhill for a good time. The house was always empty at this hour, so it was perfect. He was your little secret, and you were his.

On the island, the secret was more difficult to protect. You tried to put an act around the others, picking small fights and make it look like you were annoyed by JJ when in reality you were burning with desire for him more and more each day.

‘’We can’t continue our…thing on the island. It’s too risky to get caught,’’ you had resonated with JJ a few days after arriving on Poguelandia.

But your desires became too much to ignore and you both succumbed to the temptation and started playing with fire.

Back pressed against a tree, JJ's mouth was on yours, tongues playing together as his hands danced all over your body as moaned into his mouth. He pulled at your small top, easily exposing your breasts to the island air, and rolled your nipple between his fingers.

You broke the kiss and your head fell back against the tree. ‘’Mmh, J…’’

JJ smirked and kept playing with your nipple. ‘’I’ve missed this,’’ he said before attaching his mouth to your neck, the new placement of his mouth adding to your pleasure.

Your hands found the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his blond hair as you hooked a leg to his thigh, needing more. ‘’Please don’t stop.’’

JJ chuckled as he moved a little higher, nipping your earlobe. ‘’Wasn’t planning on it, princess.’’

The corner of your lips turned into a smile, the silly banter between you and him ever present. Kook Princess. That’s what JJ called you back in Kildare. You hated it and he knew it, so he kept calling you that just to see the annoyed look on your face.

One of your hands slipped from JJ’s hair to slide down his neck and chest to reach the button of his shorts, but the crack of a branch and a shocked ‘holy shit’ snapped you and JJ out of your bubble. You both turned, your faces mimicking a deer caught in headlights, and saw Pope staring right back at you.

JJ tried to play it off, but no words were coming out of his mouth. ‘’Pope, I—’’

‘’Holy shit,’’ Pope repeated while you fumbled to pull your clothes properly and cover yourself.

Pope didn’t say anything to the others, but your red face and the way you and Pope avoided each other’s eyes that evening gave away that you were hiding something.

‘’What’s the weird thing between you and Y/N?’’ John B. asked during dinner, sensing the awkwardness between you and Pope.

The latter shook his head and denied. ‘’There’s nothing weird.’’

‘’Bullshit,’’ Kiara called out, not believing him. ‘’You used to sit together at dinners, but now you’re sitting opposite sides and can’t look at each other.’’

‘’Kie is right,’’ Sarah added, taking a bite of coconut. ‘’You’ve been acting like this since you came back from picking wood.’’

Keeping secrets was unfortunately not Pope's fort. He was a terrible liar, too. You could see it on his face when he was hiding something and that was not good for your and JJ's secret.

He gave you an apologetic look and sighed. ‘’I may have walked in on something I was not supposed to see.’’

You released a relieved breath. Pope's answer was vague enough not not give your secret away, which was good for you and JJ, but it was not enough to satisfy the others. They wanted more.

‘’Could you be less specific?’’ Kiara said.

Sarah’s eyes shifted to you and caught you looking at JJ, who was smirking down while eating his fish. ‘’Oh my god.’’ Everyone turned to Sarah, but her eyes remained on you and the blond she grew to call a friend. ‘’JJ?! No way!’’ She covered her mouth, shocked by the news.

Pope looked down, mumbling something. ‘’They weren’t just making out…’’

You groaned and covered your flushed face.

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx @sweeterheartxamerica @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj outer banks #outer banks #outer banks imagine

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niningtori · 2 months

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to know him is to love him, and i do | chapter one: do you not love me? like at all?

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, kang taehyun x you

summary: you love beomgyu more than anything. you just wish he loved you, too. or you finally break up with beomgyu and move on, but as for him? maybe he's starting to realize too little too late.

genre: romance, angst, angst with a happy ending (?)

word count: 2.1k

notes: hi friends! ... r u mad at me? be honest (*´ｪ｀*) i'm sorry i've been gone for so long, but i've had the worst writer's block with my other story. i decided to just post this because i couldn't get the idea of toxic!beomgyu out of my head. don't worry, he will suffer. anyway, i hope you like it!! if not, please don't hurt my feelings i beg.

"i told you it was nothing. why are you freaking out?"

"she was fucking you with her eyes, beomgyu!" you exclaim in frustration.

"and that's my fault how?"

"it's not your fault, but i'm sick of you entertaining women, let alone your actual fucking ex, while i'm standing right next to you!" his ex is just another fish in the barrel, or at least that's what he says, but the thought that they were intimate together at one point still makes you feel sick. truthfully, your boyfriend is handsome, so you've spent the better part of the past 10 months warding off the women who circle him like vultures. you wouldn't mind as much as you do if he seemed at all interested in helping you do so, especially when faced with his ex that you suspect he still has feelings for, but he does not. quite the opposite, actually. it's like he thrives off of the attention and god it hurts.

"i'm not entertaining anybody. i told her i have a girlfriend now," he, well, you would say argues, but it's said so nonchalantly it doesn't warrant the term.

"a girlfriend you proceeded to ignore while she hung off of your shoulders and laughed all night! i just don't understand how you don't understand how much it hurts my feelings. i'm a human too! how would you feel if my ex, who was very clearly interested in me, hung around me right in front of you?" and it's like you're explaining empathy to a child.

"me? i wouldn't give a fuck because it's not that serious," he replies with a slightly irritated shake of his head.

it's always like this. always. you're always the one who cares more between the two of you. you were the one who asked him out in the first place. you were the one who initiated your first kiss. your first fight. hell, even your first reconciliation. you're not stupid, you know he doesn't feel quite the same way you do, but he has to feel something, right? otherwise, why would he say yes to you when he's rejected so many other women? your brain hurts trying to wrap your head around it all.

"you're missing the point! if you were me, you would—" you begin frustratedly, but you cut yourself off. "you know what? i don't even have the energy to explain this to you. i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" you all but shriek.

"you don't have to do shit, just leave if you're that fucking unhappy," he spits out angrily, which is the first real emotion — besides mild annoyance — you've seen out of him this entire conversation. he gets impatient when you're like this, which usually results in you relenting, but not tonight. you're far too hurt to let go so easily.

"you're right! i am unhappy! i just — why don't you care that i'm unhappy? what can i do to make you give a fuck about me?" you have a brave face on but you can feel your eyes getting hot and your voice trembling ever so slightly.

"you could try not being so damn needy, maybe that'd help."

your eyes redden even further and your lips unintentionally twist themselves into a sour frown. you hate it when he calls you needy because you do need a lot from him, it feels like. his time. his care. his attention and affection. yet you never seem to get it.

"do you not love me? like at all?" you ask. all of the venom in your tone has been sucked out mercilessly and you sound more helpless than angry.

"do you not realize how fucking crazy you sound?" he scoffs as if he can't fathom why you'd be upset. as if he's not watching you break down in real time.

"why won't you give me a straight answer?" you question, voice softer than it was before.

he does nothing but scowl and you know beomgyu well enough to know that he's avoiding your question. that's enough of an answer as it stands, really. he doesn't care. never has. probably never will.

"then why'd you even say yes to dating me?" you truly don't understand. you thought you were different. you thought he saw something in you he didn't see in his harem of other suitors, and trust that there were many.

"i dunno. i was just bored, i guess," he answers with a shrug and your world as you know it collapses. the man you love sees you as nothing more than a way to kill time. he's picking you up right now just to toss you away when the next shiny toy presents itself. and so far, you've let him drag you around because you love him. that's how much you love him. but looking at him now, at how unbothered he is, you wonder if you've even got anything left to give.

"i really do love you," you manage to squeeze out with a bitter smile. your poor heart is on display for the naked eye to see and it seems like he really couldn't care less, but that won't stop you from asking. "does that mean anything at all to you?"

"well, i'm sorry you feel that way," he says simply, "but that's not my fucking problem."

your heart sinks to your stomach and you feel like you're going to throw up. in this moment, as you watch the love of your life dismiss you like you're a fucking dog begging for scraps of food, you feel an overwhelming sense of clarity as you realize he doesn't love you. he doesn't even like you. he probably hates you, actually. like a mental montage, every moment in which he showed you that exact sentiment plays all at once in your head.

all those times you let him choose everything from movies to dinner because the idea of a compromise was inconceivable. all of those occasions, special and otherwise, where you were supposed to go out on a date, but he'd bail without a word and you'd forgive him with no apology. when you'd offer him your share of dessert because he ate all of his and you knew he wanted more, and he'd take it without so much as a thank you. how you'd sit and listen to him tell stories about how amazing his friends were, but he'd never even ask about your day. when those same friends would jokingly call you the perfect girlfriend and you thought it was an indication of how good your relationship was, but in reality, it was a way to tease him because the thought of actually being with you was so abhorrent and ridiculous that it must be a joke. all those times you told him you loved him and he'd just smile and kiss you deeper. memories like these flood your brain with a vengeance so cruel it makes your head ache, and in a way, you realize it's ridiculous to be surprised when there was so much proof of his feelings in the first place.

"oh. okay," you say with what you hope is a soft and unbothered laugh, but comes out more as a choked one. "i guess there's nothing left to say. i'll get my shit and go."

you hesitate for a few excruciatingly awkward moments before collecting yourself enough to start gathering your things, which are scattered haphazardly around his apartment from his bedroom to his bathroom. it's like a walk of shame, almost, and you feel even shittier when he plops down on the couch with a long suffering sigh as he begins to massage the bridge of his nose. you feel so small in this moment — like a petulant child who just got done throwing an unsuccessful tantrum — and you're now soaking in the sobering aftermath and sitting with the thought that he just watched you have a meltdown like he was watching a monkey putting on a show. how much more is he going to humiliate you? enough is enough, you think, so before you can actually finish collecting all of your belongings, you're scurrying out of the apartment. before you go, you glance back at him one last time. "beomgyu?" you ask tentatively, tears clouding your eyes.

"yeah?" he replies with a sigh. this is it, you think.

"i don't want to see you ever again," you say firmly. before he can reply, if he ever intended to in the first place, you slam the door.

there's a lot to love about beomgyu. for one, he's handsome, which is obvious, but he has a certain allure you could never help but be drawn in by. he's always been a charming man, but even more so when he's talking to a woman he's interested in. as interested as he could be, that is. he's funny and comically pompous when he wants to be, but still somehow down to earth despite it all.

he's been described as a mood-maker, and while he grew to resent that term, you thought it was at least partially true, if only in the context of your relationship. when he's sad, you're devastated. when he's happy, you're over the fucking moon. his feelings are your whole world. or were, you guess, since all that's over now.

it wasn't all bad all the time, you think. there were times where you thought he really might reciprocate even a fraction of what you felt for him, and most of the time, that was enough. you could work with that. love looks different for everyone, you would reason. maybe he just had a funny way of showing it.

there were days where you'd laugh together and end the night lying in each other's arms while you'd cradle him like he was the most precious thing in the whole world because, to you, he really was. he was normally so boisterous when with his friends, but while he would never admit it to anyone else, he'd tell you about some of his insecurities while you gently combed your fingers through his long, silky hair. he'd speak of regrets and longing for people to take him more seriously. he'd never say it, but he wanted people to see you like you saw him. the real him. you'd let him cry while your hands cupped his cheeks and you'd shush him while he fiddled mindlessly with your hair like a child. you'd kiss his the tip of his reddened nose until he laughed instead of cried. times like those, you'd really think you were someone special to him. but now you realize you were wrong. you were just an outlet for him, and anyone willing to be an emotional dumping ground would do the trick too.

after a few weeks of moping, your sadness has begun to morph into anger and resentment. you spent nearly a year of your life trying to make an emotionally stunted man care about you, and that's not even counting the years of pining over him before you finally worked up the courage to ask him out. it was difficult to see it in the moment, but after being away from him for so long, it's crystal clear that he was honestly just an asshole who didn't really like you. nothing more, nothing less. maybe he'd find someone to change for someday, maybe he'd even work things out with his ex, but for whatever reason, you weren't her. that's just the way it goes, you guess. what really bothers you are the "what if's" of the situation. what if you were prettier, or smarter, or kinder. would he have seen you for who you really are? would he have grown to appreciate you if you had given him more to appreciate?

either way, there's no use crying over spilled milk now. you won't be going back to him any time soon and he certainly won't come crawling back to you. you'll continue to think of him less and less until your time together fades into a distant (and unpleasant) memory. you smile at the thought.

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rafeysbafey · 1 year

Text

⭒to the rescue⭒

⭒summary. rafe comes to your rescue when drunk.

⭒warnings. fem!reader, drinking, cursing, slight angst if you squint, fluff, protective rafe

⭒word count. 654

you were attending one of topper’s parties, usually with rafe but this time with sarah, getting drunk and dancing your worries away.

she had persuaded you to come along, labeling it as a girls night, but you knew the real reason why she wanted to come.

and plus rafe was doing work for his father, so why not?

but things had started going downhill once you downed three…four? shots. the alcohol running through your veins as you felt your confidence shoot through the roof.

all was fine, dancing with sarah and making friends with the random girls around you, until some touren decided to test his limits with you.

“i s-said stop,” you slurred, shoving him against his chest in a weak attempt to get this random boy away from you, sarah backing you up by shoving him in the side.

“topper!” sarah yelled, trying to grab the kook’s attention while keeping an eye on you, your eyes fluttering shut as your body swayed.

“cmon, i’ll show you a good time.”

you tried not to vomit, the smell of beer and whatever god awful musk he was wearing suffocating your scent.

“i-i have a boyfriend,” you mumbled, body relaxing at seeing topper and kelce approach the situation. kelce quickly grabbed the guy before sarah dragged topper over.

“leave her the fuck alone, bro” kelce spat, shoving the guy as topper quickly took out his phone to dial your boyfriend.

rafe let out a groan at the sound of his phone going off, his attention taken away from the scattered papers covering his desk.

“what, topper?” he snapped, annoyance clear in his voice.

“u-uh, we have a problem,” topper started off, moving away from the phone for a second to yell something in the background, only ticking off rafe more.

“spit it out, topper. i don’t have time for this-”

“y/n is like- wasted. and some touren won’t leave her alone.”

that was all rafe needed to know for him to leave tannyhill, forgetting about the piles of paper work ward was forcing on him.

when he arrived, it wasn’t hard to miss his girlfriend who was drunkenly fighting with kelce and topper.

“you said he was coming!” you whined, throwing your head back as you leaned into sarah.

“y/n he is-”

“hey, baby,” rafe called, grabbing your attention as your eyes shot in his direction, a drunk smile making its way on your face.

“rafe!” you gasped, stumbling to him before throwing your arms around him, “i-i’ve missed you!”

“i’ve missed you too, baby,” he chuckled, pulling you away to fix your messy hair, strands sticking to your forehead.

“i heard there was a boy problem here?”

your eyes went wide as you gave him a pout, tears threatening to spill, “i didn’t d-do anything!”

“oh i know, shh it’s okay,” he whispers, frown on his face as he runs the pad of his thumb over your cheek.

“i’m just here to get you home.”

your frown was quickly replaced by a smile, letting rafe bring your figure closer to his.

he felt warm and smelled good, bringing immediate comfort to the situation.

“thanks top for calling,” he said, grabbing the boy’s attention, “and kelce for helping. you too i guess, sarah.”

sarah gave her brother the finger before letting you two head back, rafe’s arm wrapped firmly around your body as he fished for his keys.

“can we get food?” you mumbled, rafe helping you into the passenger seat before buckling you in.

“it’s 1 in the morning, gorgeous.”

“pleeeaaaasssseee,” you whined, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. he let out a sigh before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“i’ll make you some pasta, how does that sound?”

you gave him a peck on the lips, your smile making him melt on the spot.

“i love when you cook for me,” you sighed, rafe rolling his eyes before shutting his door and joining you a few seconds later.

“oh! what about milkshakes?”

“don’t push it, sweetheart.”

#rafe fic #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafeblurb #rafe #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe x y/n

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avtrbee · 2 years

Text

love game. ii

a/n: you guys were screaming about how angsty love game was so i grant you 1 (one) barely fluffy scene for 1 (one) moment only. gif is not mine :> also, from the love love game had received many of you had asked me to tag you and i have tried my best to tag everyone!! please message me/comment if i missed you. thank u and enjoyyyy 🫶🏽😋

“Oh what would I do to have Dream grovel in front of me?” called out a velvet voice lounging on your bed. “He won’t keep his promises,” it warns.

You stop at the sight of them before sighing in defeat.

“Couldn’t you at least knock?” You question. “Or, I don’t know, let me know before you stop by?”

“Mhm,” Desire replied, not bothering to answer your question. An Endless must ask another Endless permission to enter a their realm. You, however, were not an Endless. Desire has taken to your bed like it was a second home since they found the loophole, disregarding every protest. You warmed up to it eventually. It was nice to have someone to talk to sometimes.

Desire was laying on their stomach with their hands propped up to support their chin. They are wearing the cat outfit today- one of their favorites- with small cat black ears peaking through perfectly styled hair. There was a cunning smile plastered on their face and a tail that swirls around in circles and curves almost seductively. They were a perfect image of a cunning cheshire cat.

“I meant what I said,” they murmur, golden eyes watching you as you plop to the space beside them. “I know my brother better than anyone. He is as cruel as he was before his capture, my Love.”

“He’s not cruel, just cold.” Your murmur in his defense, sinking into your bed. “He has never done anything bad, Dream is only…neglectful.”

The last word sparked your companions eye. Desire sinks in the bed with you and lays in their side. They reach an arm out to play with your hair lovingly. “And me? Have I ever been neglectful?”

You snort immediately and push their looming head away with a laugh. Many of your husband’s siblings and Dream himself raise an eyebrow to your strange…friendship. But the line between love and desire are thin and often crossed. “You’re fishing for compliments so badly today.” You accuse and Desire smiles. They do not deny it.

There was a beat of silence before you spoke again. “I am not naïve,” you say slowly. “But he is finally being…” you rack your head for the right word. “…kind to me. I know it won’t last forever, but is it a sin to relish in it while it lasts?”

Sighing, Desire shifted to capture your palm. Soft kisses travel slowly over to the back of your hand until your temple, to where Desire kisses it last. “Is that what you desire? He does not deserve you.”

You heave a sigh before rolling off your bed. You do not deny Desire’s statement. I know, you want to say. But if you do then they will ask why are you giving their brother a chance and you cannot give any answer. You don’t know yourself either.

“I have to go,” you tell them, straightening yourself up. You feel a tingle inside your head and soon enough, your husband’s quiet voice slips into your thoughts telling you to come to him. “He’s calling for me.”

You were already slipped through the Dreaming, too late to seeDesire’s eye roll back in annoyance.

“My lord, I-”

“Wife,” he greeted. “Love.” He amended quickly after.

Morpheus gestures behind him and steps aside. At his back stands a long wooden table fit to cater twelve people.There were all sorts of fruit, cheese, and varying plates from different cultures. From where you stand you could identify what you think may be a charcuterie board filled with cheese, toasted bread, olives and grapes. There was bowls of soup, the reddest apples you have ever seen in a bundle next to a basin of colorful berries. Candles that do not melt sprout tall from the food, while decorative flowers lay beside some dishes. The table ressembles a hungry man’s sweetest dreams.

The palace was in a much better shape than you saw it last. There weren’t any more fallen debris on the floor, no more weeds growing at its cracks. No dust hangs from any corner of the room and the floors were pristine like it was newly polished. It was almost shining.

“Dine with me.” Morpheus has seated at the head of the table, and you start to move opposite him to reach the other end- the farthest seat away from him.

But before you can take a step Dream conjures a chair beside him from sand, on the right side of the table. You sense something strange about your husband…he seems stronger now. Not as weak as he was three days ago, nor was he as powerful as he was before he disappeared.

You could feel Morhpeus’s eyes stare at you as you move. You crane your face up to observe the room, a pathetic attempt to avoid meeting your husband’s sharp gaze as you walk to your seat.

The details in the room were intricate and clean, like how Dream created it to be. It was as if he was never missing for a century. But it was so quiet. Every step you take towards the table echoes across the room and every breath sounds as loud as thunder. The Dreaming was not meant to be so silent.

It does not help that you do not know how to talk to your husband, and neither does he know how to talk to his wife. It has been centuries since you last had a conversation with him that extends from commands or formalities. The clinks of your forks and knives were the only sounds emitting from the both of you as you ate in silence.

You have always prided yourself to be a good conversationalist having succeeded to have decent and polite conversations with your enemies when you need it, but this was something else. The silence makes you want to shrivel up into a ball and retreat back to your realm and cringe at this memory forever. How ironic is it that you get along better with the people who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you than your husband? You rack your brain for things to say, but your usual conversation starters have failed you. Have you ever been in love? Well, guess who I am! Yes, he has, Dream had lovers before you and you before him. Your husband is also well aware of who you are. At this point, you wouldn’t have minded melting into a puddle.

As if reading your agony, it was Dream who spoke first. “I apologize if this feast overwhlems you. I did not know your favorite dishes.” He admits.

“Yes, um,” You perk up immediately, eager to hold the conversation lest the silence takes over once again. “I…I like spicy dishes and…” you trail off your words as your eyes search the plates and bowls full of fruit. You reach towards a bowl to your right with a small smile on your face. “...and peaches. I love peaches.”

From your preiphiral you see Morpheus’ forehead crinkle at the new information and in a second, the food on the table faded away to sand only to be recounjured as countless spicy dishes appeared and bowls and bowls of all kinds of peaches- yellow peaches, white peaches, and nectarines litter the table. Some were untouched and whole, while a small cup full of sliced peaches appeared on your plate.

“And you?” You asked awkwardly, but not before raising a slice of peach in your mouth. You were touched, truly, but you can’t help to think that the table resembled a glitter-rabid kindergartener’s Valentines day card. Still, your heart flutters and skips a beat. The Dream Lord isn’t callous for no reason, he has priorities. It has just never been you which makes rare moments like these make you think that you could actually love him…until your anger comes back at the memory of neglect.

Morpheus looks at you then back to the table. “I have no preference.”

“You’ve gotten your pouch of sand back,” you realized, finally pinpointing what has changed. You recall how Morpheus conjured the chair you were sititng on with sand, how abundant the amount of food is and how easy he replaced them.

“I have,” Morpheus agrees. “It was with an occult detective who left it with her lover. I should have asked you to join me, you would have made it easer. I intend to travel to Hell next.”

“What business do you have with Lucifer Morningstar?” You ask slowly, frowning at the mention of Lucifer’s realm. Nobody has ever visited Hell unless they were desperate or insane, and an even lesser number has come out alive. You have had a few visits down to Lucifer’s realm but all visits were either summons from the fallen angel or as yourself serving as a representative of yourself, never of personal reasons.

“One of the demons have my helm.”

“My lord,” you start, weighing your options. Does he intend you to accompany him? Is this his idea of being kind? You have not heard of any summons for Dream in Hell, so you suspect him to enter uninvited. Having you beside him on his way might give Lucifer an excuse to see your act as some form of war causing more chaos. “Love is weak in Hell. I am willing to help, but I can only do so little to help you.”

“Fear not, Love,” he says, before helping himself to a peach slice. “I am not asking you to accompany me. This is something i must do alone.”

“Alone? You cannot survive Lucifer alone.”

“I must.”

“What- is this goodbye, then, Morpheus?” You gesture widely to the table and to its extravagant excess of spicy dishes and peaches. “Is this what this is?”

You glance at the table and push your plate away, finding yourself full and suddenly disgusted by the amount of food on the table. Deep inside you didn’t expect this supper to go anywhere, but a small part of you hoped. You would be lying if you said that the naive girl you have pushed away from your earlier years came back.

Morpheus stays silent at your accusations you scoff. “What happened to your promises? I knew it was never going to last, but your promise had only lasted a mere week.”

“I intend to keep my promises, wife.” Morpheus reminds you gently, like he was talking to a cornered animal. “When I come back-“

“If you come back, my lord.” It isn’t lost to him how you drop back to your courtesies so easily, and how he reverts back to call you wife so quickly. “You and I know you will be walking into a trap.”

“I will come back.” Morpheus growls. Somehow you can always sense his annoyance from miles away. The slightest hint of it was always your cue to go, lest you infuriate him more.

“Isn’t that what you told Lucienne before you disappeared for a century?”

You somehow always make him angrier. You make him doubt himself, make him seem like he wasn’t worthy of you. Deep inside he knows its true- he had come back weaker than he was before and had treated you cruelly. You didn’t have to rub it in his face.

A fist bangs at the table making plates and you jump in surprise. “You forget yourself, wife.”

“I am used to it. You have always forgotten me.” You stand, pushing your chair back. You turn around to leave, no destination in mind, just eager to get away from the Dreaming, from Dream-

Morpheus stood unmoved, but his nose flared in anger. “Alright,” he relents, scarily calm. “Who would accompany me? You?”

You stop your tracks immediately. Your head twists slowly back to the table where your husband still sits. His gaze meets yours daringly. “Why do you talk to me like that? Like I am useless.” You let out a small breath in wonder. Finally, it seems like the haze from your vision cleared, like you had just experienced epiphany. “I mean so little to you, don’t I? You see me as fragile, a weak-”

Morpheus runs a hand over his face exasperatedly. “No, no, that is not what I meant, wife-”

“What else could it mean?” Your voice was getting louder in every word, your voice bouncing off the pristine walls of the dining room. “You are Endless and I am just a goddess, but I am not weak! How dare you call me that.”

“I said no such thing.” Morpheus is shouting now, too. “If I take you to Hell with me and Lucifer bargains you for my helm, what then? I cannot lose you, Love.” He asks widely gesturing to you.

“Your concern over losing me is only a recent development.” You remind him, chest heaving from the deep breaths you take to calm yourself. You watch as Dream’s face softens only for a moment before hardening again. “But what of you?” You ask, forcing your voice to soften. “If you stay there, what then? What of the Dreaming? What of Corinthian who has wrecked further havoc in the waking world? Of loyal Lucienne?” Of me?

“You think I have not thought of that? I am not as wreckless as you think I am.”

“I just ask of you to be careful.” You finally plead, exhaustion finally taking a toll on your body. “I understand that what had happened to you is unfair, but every single choice you make impacts billions. I’ve already lost you once but you seem so eager to go so quickly.”

Morpheus face softens at your declaration. “I have no choice.” Blood boils in your veins. Your warnings go through his ear and comes out of the other so quickly. You feel a hand touch yours and your eyes snap to his to realize he is holding your hand to comfort you. “But I shall bring a someone with me,” he amends. “Matthew.”

As if on cue, his raven caws inside the room and looms up to the crystal chandeliers before landing gracefully on Morpheus’s shoulder.

Your raven? You want to scream, I am right here!

“Alright.” You reply instead.

In every single place you would dare not to call anywhere home but your realm. It is here where you feel the most safest, able to let your guard down any time. There is no one more powerful than you here. There is only you and the endless sky stuck in an eternal sunset.

Today your bed is gone and is replaced by a huge mirror that you stand in front of. You have been staring at yourself for hours now wondering what had Morpheus seen in you that made him think of you as fragile. Then something shifts.

It was the feeling of lust that overwhelms you first, then you notice how thick the atmosphere has become making it a little hard to breathe. There is an empty hole in your chest that gape widely and you are flooded with the urge to fill it despite not knowing how.

A voice purrs behind you. “Hello, my love.”

You sigh and turn around to meet your old friend. Desire stands in all their glory in a pristine white suit and pants.

“Desire, darling,” you greet tiredly, but ever so fondly. The memory of your fight with Morpheus brings a frown on your beautiful face. “Have you come to gloat?”

Desire gave an innocent shrug but their lips smugly curved. “Was I right?”

From the mirror you watch as Desire sashays to where you are, wrapping their arms around your shoulders. Their touch grounds you somehow and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut for a moment then reaching up to hold their forearms. “Is it wrong to be worried?”

“You are truly astounding. My brother whispers a few good promises and he has you wrapped around his finger.” Desire plays with a stray strand of your hair, golden eyes looking at your locks then to your eyes through the mirror.

“If it’s any consolation, you were right.” Desire drawls, looking at your eyes through your mirror. They turn their head until his lips are in front of your ears and whisper. “He might not come back.”

as always, if you like my work, please check out my masterlist! dont forget to tell me what you think, your comments make my day <33

taglist (love game)

@newromsntcs, @wt-fxck, @acdassenza, @archikina, @perhaps-just-june, @humongousgalaxycoffee, @tiens-letters, @blue-and-yellow-jjk-pjm, @winxchester, @ace-27749, @lunaleah, @thecrazytealady, @niname92, @notibotiswear, @thesadvampire, @dont-staple-waffles, @mavelfanatic, @lu123sworld, @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass, @asexualaromosafezone

#morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus imagine #dream of the endless imagine

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luveline · 2 years

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Hii! Could u perhaps write something with marauders friendship group x luna lovegood reader please? :)

I love this like... this could be an entire fic. i want three idiots obsessed with one idiot thank u for ur request! ♡ fem!reader

James isn't very surprised when you appear. Used to your quiet movements by now, he doesn't flinch as you sit down beside him with a soundless whoosh. Sirius, on the other hand and on your other side, flinches hard.

"Fuck, babe, can a guy get some warning?"

You turn to him with an adoring smile. "Sorry, Siri. I'm gonna sit down."

Remus snorts. James snickers behind his hand and reaches out to mess with your hair, which is in a mad disarray.

"You haven't been out in the wind, have you?" he asks worriedly, fishing a small leaf from the back of your head.

"You'll catch your death," Remus reprimands.

"Or hypothermia," James adds.

Remus rolls his eyes and dog ears a page in his book before setting it aside. "What did you find?"

You push a hand deep into your pocket and pull out a tattered piece of toilet roll. You unspool it to reveal a shiny purple beetle.

Sirius stands and walks away. James peeks over your shoulder curiously.

"Is it alive?"

"No," you say, sounding maybe a little bit sad. "I was going to try pinning it, now that it's passed. It has very pretty wings when they're spread. It's called a Judas Beetle."

You close your hand suddenly around the beetle and sneeze, a fit of them. When you're done you tear off a small piece of the beetle toilet paper and wipe your nose.

James frowns and curls a hand over your shoulder protectively. He hates when you go out in the cold. You have no gauge of temperature, or if you do it doesn't bother you until it's too late.

"You've made yourself ill," he says.

"Or I'm allergic to the beetle."

"Definitely the second one," Sirius says from the door. He keeps his distance, but his concern is obvious. "You couldn't have worn a coat?"

You sink into James' grip, like a puppy sometimes with how much you like affection. He indulges you by rubbing your shoulder. Now that he's looking at you this close, you look rather under the weather. Glassy eyes, dry lips.

"James," you begin.

"What?"

"You smell like roses."

He looks at the other two smugly. "Rosewater in my hair. Wanna smell?"

You lift your head and smell his hair. "That's nice. Will you put it in my hair?"

"Sure will. Remus, come take over on cuddle duties."

Remus swaps with James. He has no qualms about being so close to you, wrapping an arm around your neck to squeeze you against him.

When James returns you've sunk into the settee and acquired a water bottle. Sirius sits near but not touching you, stating he doesn't want any mysterious illnesses or bugs to transfer. Still, he watches you out of the corner of his eye, and James knows it's his water bottle in your lap.

James sprays rosewater into your hair, listening to you babble about bugs though it's all lost to Remus' sleeve.

#marauders era #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders x reader friendship #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #marauders x reader platonic #i think it can be read as platonic or romantic tbh #poly marauders #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #fem!reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader

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elsweetheart · 1 year

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havduaha hello hi i think i'm inlove with you- anw i reaaaaaaalllyyyy love your writing. got me giggling and kicking feet fr hdjashaj soooo i just want to request somethin or whatnot just... dealer!ellie... whatever you want to do just make my dreams come true so i can pass away in peace (just kidding... or not) just gonna leave it here, again i think i'm really inlove with you HAJDHWJSHA BYE MWA

hiiii omgomgomg thank u!! i’m so happy u like my writing + you’re so sweet of course i will write dealer!ellie she is so chefs kiss 💋

beginners luck — dealer!ellie

tw// drug usage !! not smutty just flirty <3 more to come tho !!

• you and ellie were always seeing eachother around campus, or at parties where she’d be doing business. so much so, that the two of you would often laugh to eachother and chat at social gathering about how often you bumped into eachother. things were definitely a little flirty from your perspective, but you didn’t wanna read into it too much. so she’s not a total stranger — you just wouldn’t consider her a friend, and you wouldn’t wanna be stuck in the friendzone anyway.

• she’s always wondered why you’ve never tried to buy from her and then simply put it down to you seeming too innocent to wanna smoke and honestly she thinks it’s cute.

• that is until you can’t sleep one night, mind super frazzled from staring at a computer all day that you decide fuck it, now is the perfect time to start.

• so you march over to ellie’s dorm, and everyone knows where ellie’s dorm is because everyone buys weed from ellie. you didn’t think to change out of the tank top that’s just a little too tight and your cute pj pants, and before it’s too late you’re knocking on her door.

• she opens up pretty fast, and she looks like she just got back — wearing a carhartt jacket over her hoodie, her sneakers still on. she lets you in and honestly she’s surprised and confused as you’re the last person she expected to come knocking at 1AM.

• “i want to… erm, i’d like to buy a…weed.” you try and sound confident but you shrink down when she chuckles, stepping aside and letting you into her room. “i got plenty of those.” she replies as she pulls out a metal box and you don’t quite catch that she’s slightly making fun of your naively worded request.

• she lets you fish through all the pungent baggies with labels you don’t understand on them before you’re looking up at her with doe eyes and a shrug. “i don’t really know what i’m looking for here.” you admit defeatedly.

• “you never smoked before? like not even at a party or anything?” she doesn’t sound judgemental, more curious and you feel more comfortable to be truthful.

• “no, never. just struggling to sleep and i think it might help me.” you respond earnestly and she thinks for a moment, seeming to analyse you before taking the metal box and closing it, storing it away.

• “i don’t usually sell to beginners. they don’t know what they’re doing and then they go away and smoke more than they can handle and then come freaking out at my door saying i laced them or some shit, which i obviously did not. but… i dunno, you’re always nice to me when i see you, and plus i know what it’s like to not be able to sleep. so, i’m gonna help you out.” she ranted, digging through another one of her drawers before she stood back up, holding a smaller tin.

• “thank you, ellie. you’re a lifesaver. what is that?” you ask shyly with your eyes on the tin. she pries it open and nods towards her bed. “sit down.” she offers in a softer voice and you do, watching as she gathers her equipment. “it’s my personal stash. the good stuff, you know. you don’t smoke pretty girls out with the cheap shit i sell.” she chuckled like it was obvious, continuing to set up her little rolling station at her desk, perching on her chair. you flushed all over at her calling you pretty and smiled.

• she talks you through how to roll and prepare the blunt, and you’re trying to listen — you really are. but you’re both finding it hard to concentrate when she’s that hot and explaining things to you, and you’re showing her how good of a listener you can be by responding with small dreamy “mhm”’s to her instructions. you swing your legs as you stare at her, her fingers continuing to do the last bit of rolling and twisting of the pink rolling paper she let you select.

• “now the boring parts out the way…” she smiled as she stood up, flopping down on the bed next to you and pulling her lighter out her pocket before setting them down on the bed between you and shuffling out of her jacket. you felt your body heat up and the close proximity and you kicked off your slippers, crossing your legs and facing her.

• she placed the joint carefully between your lips, eyes flicking from your mouth to your eyes as if for permission before lighting it. “now inhale and you’re gonna hold it for a few seconds, alright?” her voice was calm and quiet and it eased your nerves slightly as you did what she said.

• she let you take a few more hits commending you with a “see? you’re a natural.” before taking her turn, inhaling with more confidence as she relaxed back against the wall beside her bed.

• the two of you get talking as you smoked, and you clicked instantly, talking about her day and then talking about yours and laughing together. you almost forgot what you were doing, as after a while it became second nature.

• the fogginess started to hit you as she was talking and you began giggling, eyes now pink and watering as you observed how pretty she was as she spoke. she trailed off, taking a drag of the blunt and you moved closer to her on the bed.

• “your freckles look like little stars.” you tried to widen your eyes so you could see more and she chuckled, tilting her her slightly to catch your eye.

• “you good? it’s hitting you huh?” her voice was laced with amusement as you bit your lip and nodded with an innocent grin. “does it feel good?” she asked, in reference to the high but the question made your eyes flutter anyways. “mhm.”

• the good feeling lasted for what felt like forever, but when she made you laugh at a stupid joke a little too hard you found that your heartbeat sped up just a little bit too much. you tried to play it cool, taking a deep breath as you flattened your back against the wall, staring at her bedsheets.

• she moved her head slightly, trying to catch your eye. “you in there?” she cooed, placing a hand on your shoulder.

• “yeah. m’okay just... focusing on breathing.” you breathe out, a little whiny and trying not to panic. ellie barely reacts, reaching under her bed and pulling out a water bottle from a multipack, opening it for you and handing it to you lidless. “you’re alright, just smoked a little more than you can take for now. just relax, ‘kay?”

• she pulled her laptop up and put some kind of animated comedy on the screen to distract you, and somehow you ended up with your head resting in her lap as the two of you watched, ellie smoking another to herself. you relaxed yourself, and the high felt good again. you rolled over to look up at her, watching her smoke as her beautiful features were lit up by the glow of the screen. her eyes were pink and glossy now too and the room was smokey. you noticed the sock over the smoke alarm on the ceiling just past her head in your eyeline and giggled, attracting her attention.

• “what you looking at?” she smiled down at you and you shrugged it off, instead choosing to play with the drawstrings on her hoodie.

• “how much?” you asked sweetly. “before i forget.”

• “how much what?” she stroked your hair back.

• “how much do i owe you for this premium experience.” you giggled. “can see why so many people buy from you now. y’must be popular with the ladies.”

• she chuckled, but in a modest and almost nervous way as she leant back more against the wall— taking the moment to really look at you as you stared back. the weed induced haze gave you the confidence to hold her gaze without looking away.

• “i guess a beginner wouldn’t know that pretty girls smoke for free.” she smirked and you bit your lip in girlish excitement at her calling you pretty again. “especially pretty girls that are extra pretty when they’re all giggly and smoked out with big pretty pink eyes.” her voice was smooth and your heart fluttered again, but in a good way this time.

• “i suppose you should be paying me then.” you joked quietly and she laughed, nodding. you sat up slowly, eye contact not breaking once and your faces close.

• “so… do you let all your beginners lay in your lap and smoke with you?” your eyes danced between hers and her eyes were heavy lidded, lazily staring at your lips before blinking up at your eyes, stubbing out the last of the roach into the ashtray.

• “first time for everything. figured i’d try it out on the cute girl i see around campus that i was too much of a pussy to talk to.” her voice was quiet, almost lusty and you licked your lips.

• “me?” you breathed out sweetly and she smiled again.

• “clever girl.” she praised, pulling you in to meet her lips.

i don’t rlly like this but hey ho i can’t be bothered to write it again :))))

#ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams prompt #modern!ellie williams #ellie williams au #dealer!ellie

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dearharriet · 1 month

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HII!! CAN I REQUEST TEN THINGS I HATE ABT YOU + JAMES POTTER PLEASE 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 I FOUND UR BLOG AND I AM OVSSESSED !!!!!!

hi hi you’re so lovely!!! i had to think on this one for a while but i think i like how it came out! james seems much more like cameron than patrick, i hope u don’t mind <3 (wc: 1.2K)

You get the sudden feeling that you’ve been completely messed about at this stupid house party.

Down the driveway, your so-called friend is climbing into the passenger seat of a Porsche, leaving you behind in less than ideal autumn-garb; A red dress that falls too short and clings too thin to your wind-whipped torso, and a sad excuse for a shawl are all you have for warmth.

And if things could get any worse, you’re likely going to have to walk home in the kitten heels you insisted on wearing.

Behind you, a clunky wooden front door heaves open, producing the sweet but hopeless guy who’s been following you around all night. James, you think is his name.

He’s relatively attractive, in a sort of lost puppy way. Big brown eyes and pouty lips, a softness to his tone that could probably buckle knees if he took better advantage of it. Still, he’s thinner and scraggly, and lacks any kind of social quip to make that likely.

He skips down the steps, his dress coat flung dejectedly over his shoulder, and a frown tying his brows together. His friend from earlier is nowhere to be seen.

“Hey,” you say tentatively and his hung head picks up, though his mouth only hardens its angry line. He takes in your unlucky state, and any trace of the puppy-love softness he’d shown you all night is gone.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

You scoff. “Please. He’s not my boyfriend.” His face remains stony and unaffected. “I don’t know what I ever saw in him.”

James reaches his free hand up to push back his hair, and you stare at his tensing arm without really realizing it.

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, hiking his jacket further over his shoulder and walking past you.

In a small window of time, you realize he has keys that he’s fishing out of his slacks pocket—car keys—and your aching feet override your nerves.

“Uh, James?” You both spin towards each other, your back now to the house and his to the cars. You realize that’s probably not the only thing that switched between you tonight. Ironically, you’re the one chasing after him now.

“Yeah,” he says, agitated, when all you do is stare. You look to the empty space where your ride once was, and back to James.

“Could you give me a lift home?”

Something about the way his expression slackens turns your insides out. When was the last time someone looked so disappointed in you? As far as you know, most of the decisions you make go over very well, and no one is ever upset with you (save your sister, who is never happy if she can help it).

But here is James, with eyes holding the most loathing likely ever directed your way, and with every right.

He shakes his head, but says, “Yeah, whatever.”

Somehow that might be worse.

Trailing after him, you come up on his old sedan, a car that seems like it’d have a myriad of mechanical problems. He has to stick his key in the driver’s door to unlock it.

When he gets his door open, he unlocks the rest of them, and you slide awkwardly into the leathery bench beside him. James seems to notice your unfamiliarity and shreds your self esteem further with a scoff.

“It’s not a convertible, I know. Sorry to disappoint.”

“No,” you immediately defend, warm from his apt assessment of you. James gives you a sideways glance of warning. “I mean, yes, I was expecting something else, but it’s—I’m not…”

“It’s fine,” James sighs, turning the car on, “it’s just a lift home. You made it pretty clear that that’s all you want me for.”

As James pulls into the street, you watch the house slip away, party like a fizzling ember fighting the midnight cold.

“That’s not true,” you say, though you’re not sure you feel it at all. Your voice is overly sweet, an attempt at the voice that serves to get you what you want, when you want it.

You’re not entirely sure what you want anymore, but James brushes it off anyway, like it’s a revolting bug.

“Yes, it is.”

It astonishes you how easily he can cut you down. He’s hardly speaking loud enough to be heard above the radio, just a bitter rake of a comment, but you’re floored all the same.

The car falls silent, and you stare at your lap instead of out the window. You feel thoroughly scolded, dissected and left to put yourself back together. You don’t think you’ll cry, but you’re not ruling it out.

When James pulls past a stop sign, approaching your neighborhood, he glances over at you.

“Yknow.” He pauses, licking his lips. “I didn’t even expect you to like me back.” His eyes return to the street “And it’s fine that you don’t, but—but you could’ve just told me.”

You rub your hands over the hem of your dress, a foreign set of nerves gripping your chest. Realistically, you could weather the storm until he drops you off, but for some reason you desperately want to rectify the situation.

You want to tell him that yes, of course you liked him all this time, because that should be true. Except it’s not.

James’ car rolls up to the curb outside your place. He sighs, gripping the steering wheel.

“I really cared about you. I went to that party for you, and I ignored everyone who said I was stupid for doing it.” Shaking his head, James looks at you, anger peeling back to reveal raw hurt. “But you’re so conceited.”

You expel a painful breath, all the wind knocked out of you.

“I know.” Breaking eye contact, you flick your eyes to your shoes. Flattery and shame twine together in your throat. “Did you really go to the party for me?”

James nods.

“Went to the party, got that guy to date your sister,” he lists. “I even learned French for you. And what did it get me? A whole lot of—”

Without really thinking, you surge forward and pull James’ lips onto yours. They lay warm and firm over your mouth, and you can’t deny how right it feels.

You’re expecting James to pull back, to push you away, but he does the opposite. One hand laces into your pristine hair, holding you to him, and the other wraps around your back.

It’s a perfect kiss, the kind that you always dreamed of, and it makes a giddy laugh bubble out of your mouth.

When you pull away, you’re dizzy and a little self-pitying. You could’ve been kissing James like this whole time instead of chasing after some pea-brained asshole in a nice car.

James seems to watch the thought wash over you, because he kisses you one more time to remind you that it doesn’t matter, that you’re here now. Then he lets you go, and you relish in the way his hands linger over your waist, your neck. The giddy feeling comes back twofold.

“Night,” you say through a prim smile. “Thanks for the lift.”

James’ eyes crease a little at the edges from his returning smile. “G’night, beautiful.”

thank you for reading! xx

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