hiii there! i'm jess :) i write, sometimes… i'm hoping to get back into the habit! here's a handy dandy navi post!
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#sfw recs ❤︎₊ ⊹ - sfw fic recs! anyone can (and should!) check them out!
#n.sfw recs ⋆｡°✩ - nsfw fic recs, for those 18 and up!
!! a few disclaimers !!
i do write 18+ content from time to time. please, if you are a minor, do not interact with any nsfw writing or you will be blocked.
additionally, i do not consent to having my work "continued" with the use of ai. if you would like a continuation to any of my works, please ask me. i do not consent to having my writing copied onto other websites outside of tumblr. if you would like to do a translation, please ask me first.
"by the way, which way is ballonlea?" | champion leon x reader
leon, to no one's surprise, is lost. you spot him in the glimwood tangle, curious as to why he's deep in these enchanted woods.
warnings: none | wc: 988
a/n: somehow this is shorter than the last one, but felt longer while i was writing it... hmm... anyway! new fic! it's inspired by the episode "the sweet taste of battle" from the master journeys series! such a good one! enjoy :3
“By the way, which way is Ballonlea?”
The question comes from a voice you don’t expect to hear this deep in the Glimwood Tangle, where you find yourself on the search for a very specific glowing mushroom. However, the mushrooms would have to wait as you decide to investigate the unmistakable voice of Galar’s beloved Champion, Leon. You make your way through the forest, careful to avoid many of the playful Impidimp. You come out of the brush, dusting off your pants as you look around the trail you’ve stumbled upon. You spot him when you turn your head to the left.
He’s really not hard to miss.
There’s a Spritzee and a Swirlix floating around his shoulders. A Galarian Ponyta trots in front of him, no doubt guiding him towards the small town of Ballonlea. You're quite curious as to how Leon got himself lost this bad. He’s normally terrible with directions, but this was a new kind of lost.
“Leon?”
He stops and turns around, relief flooding his features when he spots someone other than a Pokémon. Despite Galar being as vast a region as it is, you’ve managed to become sort of an acquaintance to the Champion himself. Many times, you’ve found yourself stumbling into him, his natural aversion to going in the correct direction being the reason you see him so often. It would be a rather charming quality of his, if it didn’t happen so often. Nevertheless, he grins when he sees a familiar face, jogging towards you. The Ponyta leading the way stops and follows him to you, as do the Spritzee and Swirlix. You pet the Ponyta when it pauses near you.
“Hello… I seem to be lost,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, sheepishly. “Do you mind helping me find my way to the Ballonlea Gym?”
A smile spreads across your face. You’re always happy to help the random passerby, so helping Leon isn’t even out of the question.
You two (and the Pokémon) fall into a comfortable pace, heading in the direction of the cozy town of Ballonlea, nestled deep in the Glimwood Tangle. As much as you loved your home in Wyndon, you found yourself travelling to Ballonlea often, finding it strange and mysterious in all the right ways. You’re not sure how Leon has ended up in the forest, though.
“What brings you to Ballonlea?”
“Opal’s thought up a new challenge. She hasn’t told me what it is, but I’m looking forward to it!” He raves, beaming at the thought of whatever Gym Leader Opal has in store for him.
“A challenge? Like the Gym Challenge?” The most recent Gym Challenge had just concluded a few months ago, which Leon had won as he had all the previous ones.
“Ah, sorry… Opal likes to come up with these smaller challenges, usually among the Gym Leaders between Gym Challenges. Sometimes they’re battles, other times, who knows! I’m hoping for a Pokémon battle, though. I find Fairy types to be fascinating battle opponents!”
A thrilled grin finds its way onto his face and a warm smile spreads on yours.
-
The lights of Ballonlea come into view through the trees in front of you. By now, the Ponyta had rejoined its herd of Ponyta and Rapidash and the Spritzee and Swirlix had floated back to their friends, leaving you and Leon to walk with each other. The pace was slow and steady, Leon took his time, despite knowing he had somewhere to be. Usually, something like this would stress you out, never wanting to be the reason someone was late to an important event. But walking and talking with Leon, all your worries melted away. He exuded a comforting aura, making you feel safe and at ease.
So at ease that you failed to notice the tree root that grew through the path.
It’s broken through enough ground that you trip over it, causing you to lose your balance with no time to recover. You brace yourself to hit the ground.
Instead of dirt, you feel arms around your waist. Leon’s…
“Careful there!” Leon breathes a sigh of relief. You know you wouldn’t have broken a bone or anything if you had hit the ground, but the smile on Leon’s face when he saw that you were all in one piece sent butterflies all throughout you. You place your hands gently on his chest. The material of his jersey did nothing to conceal the firmness of his chest. Heat rises to your cheeks at the closeness.
“Thank you, Leon.” A soft smile, different from the exuberant grin he usually had for the cameras, spreads on his lips as he pulls you upright. His hands drop from your waist (your heart aches at the loss). However, one of his hands finds one of yours, he intertwines his fingers with yours and the heartache you felt is quickly replaced with a warm feeling.
You’d hold his hand forever, if he let you.
-
The Ballonlea Gym sits up ahead, beautiful and grand as ever. Which means you’d have to let go of Leon’s hand.
“Well… we’re here,” you do your best to hide the disappointment you felt. Leon squeezes your hand, his usual grin now on his face. His eyes sparkled at the sight of the Ballonlea Gym.
“Thank you! I’m sure without your help, I’d be stuck in a never ending game with some pesky Impidimps!” He lets go of your hand, before pulling you into a hug.
“Of course, Leon, I’m always happy to help. Besides, you're good company. Good luck on the challenge, I’d love to hear about how it goes!”
“Maybe I can tell you over dinner?”
Your heart could burst out of your chest. Surely, he could hear how hard and fast it’s beating. As lovestruck as you were, you managed to sputter out a response.
“I… I’d really like that, Leon. I’ll see you then.”
summary: you and fred had been friends for so long that it never occurred to the both of you that everyone thought you were dating.
pairing: fred weasley x gryffindor!reader
includes: fluff, the both of you being mischievous, kissing, cursing, the two third years being wingmen when they don’t even know it
a/n: officially working on requests the second this gets posted!
You and Fred had the same routine every Sunday night after dinner. The routine was simple and familiar—so familiar that even the younger students knew it all too well. Every Sunday evening, you would typically read the Daily Prophet or do final touches to your essays while Fred would find a way to bother you until you finally gave into him and give him attention. That’s how Sunday nights would always go.
Except for tonight. For some reason, today felt off and neither of you could place a finger on it. The evening started off normal, but the longer you ignored it, the more the feeling intensified.
You were supposed to be working on your Charms essay, but all you could think about was the small feeling nagging at the back of your mind. You were so absorbed with the thought that you didn't realize you were biting the tip of you quill until Fred pulled your hand away from you, propping his feet up on your lap.
"What's with the face, Faucett? Need help with your Charms essay?" Fred asked, pouting dramatically when you snapped out of your trance and pushed his feet off your lap. "You hate me."
You scoff and roll up your parchment, placing it away on the side table. "I do not hate you, Fred."
“You do.” He teased and angled you to face him, pulling your legs to lay over his lap instead. He watched you rest your head against the cushions of the couch, making him tap your knee in concern. “What’s wrong?”
You huff and play with the threads of you sweater that Molly had made you this past Christmas, meeting his eyes that were filled with more emotion than you could place. “Nothings wrong with me, but it feels like something in this room is, you know?”
Fred looked over at the other people in the room. There were hardly any people in the Gryffindor Common Room on Sunday evenings. Everyone was out either making use of the last few hours of freedom they had before classes started the next day or in their dorms, trying to cram for any surprise quizzes.
The only people that were in the Common Room were a group of first years comparing notes, some fourth years playing exploding snap, and a pair of third years conversing quietly in a corner, tucked away from prying eyes and voices—such as Fred Weasley himself.
Fred raised a brow at the two boys who looked away quite quickly when they met the older boy's gaze. He turned back to you for a quick second, replying quietly to your previous comment. “Maybe…”
You crease your brows and look over at the pair of boys as well, “What—?”
“Oi!” Fred hollered at the two third years, making the entire room snap their heads over at the sudden boom of a voice. You blew a piece of hair away from your face in exasperation, giving the other students apologetic looks for the commotion.
“What are you blokes whispering about?” He called out, making the third year on the left burn bright red.
You poke Fred's arm when you saw the poor boy's face, not deterred by all his muscles underneath his own sweater. “Fred, stop bothering them."
The same boy looked away from you two, swallowing thickly while his friend pursed his lips in an effort to not laugh at the current situation. While the rest of the room went back to what they were doing, Fred continued to watch the pair, waiting for a response from either one of them.
Finally, after the two boys whispered back and forth—for Godric only knows how long—one of them spoke up, making the red-head beside you perk up instantly.
“Nothing important.” The teen on the right said for the sake of his friend, waving a dismissive hand in your general direction. “Just trying to figure out how to ask this girl out."
The second you both heard those words come out of the boy's mouth, you looked over at Fred who was already looking back at you with a grin that could only be described as smug.
You sighed, knowing you couldn't do much to stop whatever Fred planned on doing. “Freddie, don’t—“
He stood from his spot on the couch, hands placed on his hips like he suddenly knew the answers to everything in the universe. “Luckily, you’ve come to the right man—“
“—Boy—“ You quipped from his side as you followed him to ensure he wouldn't do or say anything stupid.
“Shut up.” Fred half-heartedly pushed you to the side, still catching you when you stumbled over your feet. He stuck his thumb in the other teen’s direction, “Anyway, who does he fancy?”
You roll your eyes at his antics and give them a warm, reassuring smile, hoping it would take their minds off whatever foolishness Fred has in plan. “First, what are your names?”
“I’m Oliver, and he’s James.” The boy on the right said tentatively, the one on the left—which you both now knew was James—nodding in agreement.
Fred clasped his hands together and nodded mindlessly, keeping his eyes trained on the boys. “Alright, I’m Fred and she’s the pain in my arse—“
“Can you focus?” You groan and shove him to the side, laughing loudly when he threw you over his shoulder to get you to stop interrupting—although the two of you knew it was hopeless.
“Oliver, who does James fancy?” Fred asked, ignoring your calls and protests.
You continued to wiggle yourself free from his grasp, huffing when he held onto you tighter. At that point, the rest of the Common Room gave you odd looks, making you flush a bright pink in slight embarrassment.
Oliver opened his mouth to speak, hesitantly as he stared at you and Fred in concern and confusion, unsure what to do in the situation. “Uhm… He fancies this girl in Hufflepuff named Lila—“
You gasped and hit Fred hard in between his shoulder blades, earning a groan as he dropped you from his arms. You spun around and gave James a soft look, knowing exactly who Lila was. You had tutored her last year in Potions—and based on your five minute interaction with James—the would be the perfect pair.
“She’s really bright and gifted in Herbology.” James says softly, making your heart ache at how he spoke about Lila in adoration.
“Have you tried to ask her out before?” You ask and watch him fidget with his hair.
He shakes his head, eyes darting away from your face toward the ground. “I’m too nervous.”
After recovering from you sudden attack, Fred clapped his hand on James’ back, ruffling his hair when the boy looked up at him. “Don’t be, you look handsome and clearly you’ve got the brains for it.”
In an instant, you saw an increase of confidence in the thirteen year old, making you grin at the sight. Maybe Fred being nosy in other students’ conversations wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
You watched for another second before murmuring something to Fred about finally finishing your Charms essay, giving the two boys one last smile. Before you left for the couch, Fred subconsciously pressed a kiss to the top of your head, knowing you were leaving even though he barely listened to you as he continued to speak to the younger students.
“Ask her out to a picnic by the lake or in one of the outdoor gardens—Not Hagrid’s, of course. That would be a nightmare.” Fred clarified with a small smirk decorating his face, leaning back on one of the armchairs behind him as the boys listened intently.
“Thanks, I’ll ask her tomorrow after class.” James replied with a new found determination in his voice.
Finally snapping out of his small trance, Oliver switched his gaze from Fred to your spot on the couch, tilting his head with a raised brow. “How did you ask your girlfriend out?”
Fred copied his facial expression, turning his head to follow the boy’s eye line when they landed on you. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue before clearing his throat, waving a dismissive hand in the air.
“Oh, we’re not dating.”
“Sure seems like it.” Oliver crossed his arms and raised both brows this time, judging Fred like he was a liar. “You can’t give out advice about dating without having a girlfriend yourself.”
“My advice is fool proof!” Fred blurted, almost baffled that a thirteen year old accused him of spreading false information—though he has done that multiple times before to everyone he knew
“Then how come you don’t have a girlfriend?”
Fred opened his mouth and shut it, putting his index finger up toward the boys before turning and walking over to you. He stood in front of you with his hands in his front pockets, waiting until you finished your thoughts on the essay before speaking.
“Did you know people think we’re dating?” He said quietly, earning a wide-eye look from you. Based on your reaction, you probably didn’t know either. “Yeah, weird. Those two boys thought we were dating.”
“That’s the weird feeling I was getting in this room.” You say as you twirl your golden charm necklace between your fingers, looking over at the two boys who suddenly looked guilty and mischievous at the same time. You raise a brow and look back at Fred with a small smirk, making him grin back.
“Can you imagine the shock on their faces if they believed it took you two seconds to land a girlfriend?”
Fred bent over by the waist, lips mere centimeters from yours. “And what do you have in mind, Faucett?”
Your smirk widens before you pull him in by the collar of his sweater, lips meeting his faster than anyone could have expected it. As if someone flipped a switch in Fred’s mind, he quickly reciprocated, hands coming up to cup the back of your neck and cheek.
For a second, the two of you were completely immersed in each other that you didn’t realize that—once more—the Gryffindor Common Room stared. This time, they stared only for a brief moment before looking away. It seemed like everyone expected it since the moment you both walked into the Common Room together on any Sunday evening.
You separate after the kiss that lasted longer than you both thought it would last, the two of you slightly out of breath, but still wearing eat-shitting grins at fooling the two third years in their small corner. Fred glanced at them from the corner of his eye, winking at Oliver specifically when he stared with a gaped mouth.
“That’ll be the best piece of advice they’ll ever get.” You laugh quietly as Fred plops down beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arm around your abdomen, warm against your skin under the sweater. “You’re not going back to those two boys?”
“Nah, it’ll ruin the fun.” He drawled and looked up at you with his pretty brown eyes, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder unexpectedly. You looked down at him and raised a brow, waiting for an explanation from the one Weasley you liked a little more than the others.
“So, you? Me? Next weekend? Hogsmeade?” He asked with a confident smile, twirling a piece of your hair in between his index and thumb.
You bite back a smile and pat his cheek, his own smile never wavering. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, Weasley.”
“Is that a yes?” He questioned, looking between your eyes.
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” You say as you go back to finishing your essay, not caring for the blush that rose to your cheeks.
You and Fred have been friends since first year, but it never crossed your mind that you could ever be in the relationship everyone assumed you were in. Not until this year. It felt like you clung to every single word he spoke to you this time, and it felt so different.
All the pranks he would plan with Lee and George was always relayed to you, every gift he planned to give to his family members went through you—you were practically his without officially being his.
“I plan for many things, Faucett.” Fred moved to sit properly and dragged your legs back on top of his lap, messing with the embroidery on your jeans. “But I never planned on someone like you kissing me just to mess with two thirteen year olds.”
“You went along with it.” You clarify, knowing damn well that he also wanted to prank the two teens. Besides, it’s not like it was your first time kissing Fred. Not at all.
Your gaze meets his, “So what, you actually want to take me out on a date now?”
“Yep.” He continued to grin and trace the embroidery.
You carefully tuck away your Charms essay once more, continuing to hide the smile that came with the thought of going out with Fred Weasley. “I guess I’ll go on a date with you.”
Fred didn’t even know his grin could get bigger, but it did. He pulled you as close to him as he could, arms wrapped securely around your waist as he tilted his chin down to meet your eyes. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
“You are bad news.” You laugh and melt into him when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You raised a brow at him, “Never planned huh?”
“Nope.” He popped his syllables with a smile so bright you swore the sun would shake in it’s presence. “Never planned.”
falinks, the formation pokémon | gym leader raihan x reader
you're really not sure how he didn't see your falinks, but raihan is quite determined to be on the couch with you.
warnings: none. | wc: 1.1k
a/n: inspired by a prompt from @writersisland - having to fight for their place on the couch with their pet. i love falinks <3 they're just little guys <3
The apartment door flies open, slamming against the wall behind it as it does. It’s a sight - and sound - you’ve become accustomed to since moving in with Raihan. Still, the impact makes you wince, just a bit. The neighbors have stopped complaining by now, but you’re well-aware they aren’t fans. You lift your eyes briefly away from the book you’ve been engrossed in for the better part of the day. As your gaze lands on Raihan, who’s grinning ear-to-ear as he marches into the apartment, an easy-going smile of your own settles onto your face. His Flygon flutters in behind him, tail closing the door just as loudly as it was opened.
Like Trainer, like Pokémon, you think.
They’ve just come back from training in the Wild Area, just outside of Hammerlocke. Raihan chatters away about the Dynamax den he decided to head into on a whim. Flygon settles down in an armchair diagonal to the couch you’re curled up on, its own chirping sounds mixing with Raihan’s excited recounting, as if to tell you about its point of view.
Your attention has been fully pulled away from your book, by this point, much more interested in hearing about your boyfriend’s battles, even against wild Pokémon. Raihan, ever so absorbed in his own storytelling, plops down into the empty spot on the couch next to you.
Or… what he thought was an empty spot.
An incorrect assumption by a long shot.
You’re not sure how, but Raihan managed to overlook your Falinks that had been snuggled up with you. Raihan’s groan and the Falinks trooper’s noise of discomfort blend together as his story is abruptly cut off. You let out a surprised giggle, which you immediately stifle with a hand to your mouth as Raihan shoots you a displeased look. Flygon looks equally surprised, its chirping ceasing suddenly.
“Er… Sorry, little guy…” Raihan winces, rubbing his bottom. The Falinks trooper looks to the brass, who seems to forgive Raihan’s offense with a quick chittering noise.
But, they don’t move. Which is what Raihan was hoping would happen, the expectant look on his face dropping immediately when the Falinks settles back into a comfortable pile on the couch cushions. He looks at you for help, it is your Pokémon, after all. You give him a sheepish grin, finding it rather sweet that your Falinks wanted to lounge around for the day. Usually an all-business Pokémon, you were very surprised when it came out of its Pokéball on its own to cuddle up with you on the couch. There was no way you were going to shoo your sweet little Falinks from the couch it was more than welcome to enjoy.
“Sorry, Rai… they’re just so comfortable here… I’m not gonna make it move…”
He takes offense, mouth dropping open quite dramatically, hand coming over his heart as if the statement made it shatter. You give him a soft laugh. That, accompanied by the gentle hand you lay on one of the Falinks troopers, for sure breaks Raihan’s heart. So, he turns up the theatrics.
“Falinks, pleaseee… I’d like to spend some time with my wonderful and lovely partner. I battled my heart out in that Dynamax den, I’ve definitely earned a couch cuddle,” Raihan pleads and matter-of-factly states as he drops to his knees before your Falinks.
It doesn’t budge.
In fact, the brass wiggles further against the couch, slyly eyeing Raihan out of its peripheral, almost in a taunting manner. You snort, going back to your book and continuing to pet the trooper laying against your thigh. Raihan groans, but he isn’t defeated, yet. He wasn’t expecting to battle your Pokémon after battling so many wild ones, but he’s never been one to back down from a battle.
However, this was not going to be a battle in the traditional sense of the word.
You glance up, rather curiously when Raihan jumps up and walks towards the front door.
“Say, love, you up for a battle? Maybe Falinks there would like a bit of sparring?” You raise an eyebrow at him, causing him to grin and wink at you. Your cheeks burn from the attention. While the offer of a playful battle against Raihan was tempting, and something you and your Falinks hated turning down, the brass didn’t make any movement of interest. One of the troopers did, but it settled back down once it realized the rest weren’t going anywhere. Raihan’s face crumpled and he huffed under his breath as he made his way to the kitchen.
Raihan’s Flygon, who had been napping peacefully, awoke and perked its head up at the sound of something rattling in a container. You knew what that was.
And so did the brass.
It opened one eye, looking towards the kitchen. You could tell it wanted to investigate, but stubbornly wanted to keep hold of the spot. It brayed out a command, causing one of the troopers to hop off the couch and march its way to the kitchen.
“Ah, ah! If you’d like some kibble, I need all of you here, not just one.” You giggle at Raihan’s attempt to get your Falinks to move. The trooper makes a noise of frustration and you hear it march back, watching as it jumps back onto the couch and rejoins the pile.
“Good try, Rai,” you say, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair as he bends over the back of the couch to lay his head on your shoulder. He groans, pressing a sad, defeated kiss to the crook of your neck.
“Jus’ wanna sit with you, ‘s that too much to ask…” You laugh, then an idea pops into your head. As much as you love the company of your very loyal Falinks, you miss the feeling of Raihan’s arms wrapped around you just as much. You turn your head and whisper your idea into Raihan’s ear, he gasps and moves to act it out.
You knew he’d be able to pull it off, but you’re still surprised at how quickly you’re pulled off the couch and then pulled down onto Raihan’s lap. Falinks wasn’t able to register the move on time. The brass has a clear expression of anger on its face, but it can do nothing but bray angrily at Raihan, who now has you on his lap. He grins at your Falinks, before pressing a loud, smacking kiss to your cheek.
You return to your book, snuggled up with your Pokémon and your boyfriend, who is soaking up his victory against it. Laying your head against Raihan’s chest, you sigh.
i do write 18+ content from time to time. please, if you are a minor, do not interact with any nsfw writing or you will be blocked.
additionally, i do not consent to having my work "continued" with the use of ai. if you would like a continuation to any of my works, please ask me. i do not consent to having my writing copied onto other websites outside of tumblr. if you would like to do a translation, please ask me first.
falinks, the formation pokémon | gym leader raihan x reader | you’re really not sure how he didn’t see your falinks, but raihan is quite determined to be on the couch with you. | fluff. 1.1k words.
“by the way, which way is ballonlea?” | champion leon x reader | leon, to no one’s surprise, is lost. you spot him in the glimwood tangle, curious as to why he’s deep in these enchanted woods. | fluff. 988 words.
i LOVE a good prompt list! i'll link any i use below!
Warnings/contains: gn! reader, smut/nsfw content, size kink (the reader is mentioned as being smaller than the Doctor in terms of size but no other physical traits are mentioned), penetrative sex (reader receiving, not specified as either vaginal or anal as the reader's gender neutral), top Doctor/bottom reader, soft sex (lovemaking if you will), slight power imbalance, belly bulge, brief mentions of the Time War, praise kink
Prompt list used | Naughty November 2025 masterlist
Beginning notes: I think it's hot just how big and tall nine is what can I say
The Doctor towered over you due to his massive height. Hell, the Doctor towered over most people, though you were certain no one else took pleasure in it quite the same way that you did.
He noticed this, of course. It was rare that something slipped past him. And naturally he used it to his advantage.
"I bet you're enjoying this, aren't you?" He murmured in a low and raspy voice next to your ear while inside you, his body practically engulfing yours as he hovered over you. "The way that I'm so much bigger than you are, the fact that I could break you if I so desired."
His so-called 'threats' were barely that, and even if they had been spoken more seriously you both knew just how empty he meant them to be. He could never actually hurt you, he just liked riling you up.
"Can you feel just how big I am?" His hand reached for yours, gently taking it in his and directing it down to your stomach.
You could feel the warmth from his touch, the way his hand appeared massive compared to yours. It stirred something in your stomach and caused your heart to beat even faster than before.
But then your attention was directed to what he wanted you to feel for, what he wanted you to notice, and you swore you almost became faint. The outline of his cock impaled deep within you could be seen in a faint outline along your stomach, and it moved in time with each gentle thrust that he gave.
"Y- You're so big," you managed to reply in a hushed murmur, breathless at not just the size of his cock but everything else about him too. It caused your legs to tremble and your body to ache with need.
He gave you a soft little smile--an actual smile, not smirk. It wasn't smug, more adoring. "That's right. And you're so small compared to me," he cooed out, the hand not still keeping yours pressed down against your stomach gently grasping onto your hip, holding you in place beneath him.
Not that you planned on going anywhere.
You knew that he'd been someone else before he met you. Someone different. Someone who'd seen the horrors of war and lived to tell the tale.
But the man above you, the man inside of you, the same one who cradled your face when you cried and held your hand tight when exploring new planets together and carefully wiped you down after sex? He was one who would never, ever hurt you.
That much was certain, no matter who he might've been before.
Anytime you looked into his eyes, like you did now, you only found affection staring back at you. He leaned down after holding your gaze for a moment or so, placing a few tender kisses to your face and neck.
"You're so good, did you know that? So good for me," he lovingly praised, his hand finally pulling yours away from your stomach so he could lace your fingers together.
The bed creaked while you sighed and tilted your head back as he continued with his slow and steady movements, eyes fluttering shut as you took in the feeling of him on top of you. Not only was it pleasurable, but it was also soothing as well, like your own version of a weight blanket.
When you came, he held you close and whispered words of encouragement in your ear, which continued even after you were both done and he'd cleaned you up. Your hand still held onto his as it encased yours, seeking comfort from what you deemed to be nothing more than a gentle giant.
Maybe that's one of the reasons why you enjoyed just how big he was compared to you. Instead of using the physical power he had against you, he chose to use it as a way to keep you safe.
And you were safe with him, that you were sure of.
End notes: oh nine how I love you 😔 he was gone far too soon I still think about him all the time
Likes < reblogs | comments greatly appreciated | requests are currently open | divider by @/thecutestgrotto
Main masterlist | Doctor Who masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist? | my Kofi
𓆈 Tends to put things on higher shelves so you have to ask him to get it for you. It's not to the point where it's annoying, just some antics.
𓆈 He also dangles things above your head so he can bargain a kiss in return for whatever he thieved.
𓆈 A lot of 'how's the weather up there?" Jokes thrown his way. He thinks it's kind of funny when you do it, it never gets tiring.
𓆈 You get the special privilege of thieving his hoodies, a ton of posts are online of you sitting around in his dragon hoodie with a bunch of heart stickers.
𓆈 Speaking of posts, he loves taking pictures of you two together. Has albums full of you guys' adventures.
𓆈 Is permanently banned from the kitchen because he genuinely just sucks at cooking. Has tried to use one of his Pokémon to light the fire.
𓆈 Gets you a front row seat every time he has a battle, definitely tries harder when he knows you're watching him.
𓆈 Has gifted you dragon type Pokémon plushies, like four times. They are now taking over your bed. They're life sized.
𓆈 Absolutely THRIVES whenever you give him compliments on his battle skills, will not shut up for days after.
𓆈 His favorite date is going to an arcade. I have no idea why but he would love arcades. Likes winning you little things from claw machines.
𓆈 If you wait for him outside the stadium with a drink after his match, he will love you forever.
𓆈 Incredibly flirty for no good reason. Refuses to stop using pick up lines on you even if you've been together for a long time. A lot of 'hey beautiful, you come here often?'
Heya mei!! I js got a funny thought of a police character (hotch, hopper, maybe a police au) where r's pirating a show with no shame when he walks in and he's like "🧍♂️why am i even here"
hotch x fem!reader
--
Your laptop is overheating where it plays your show balanced on your belly, rising and falling with each soft, sleepy breath you take. The fan is beginning to sound like a jet engine pre-takeoff, but you're not willing to sacrifice the fluffy blanket you're under, so it'll have to deal. Aaron's footsteps approach your bedroom from the hallway, and you glance at the time to see that it's been thirty minutes since he took Jack to bed. You'd kissed the boy on the forehead before sending him off, but it had been Aaron's turn to grapple with the 'one more story' arguments tonight. Judging by the fact that most of Jack's books are ten pages long, you're certain Aaron had lost at least five times.
He finally appears in your doorway, looking like he'd been minutes away from falling asleep himself in Jack's cramped little bed. His hair is mussed, sticking up in the back, and his white t-shirt is wrinkled from where his son had clung to him. But he looks happy, a father with a sleeping son in the other room, a husband climbing into bed with his wife.
"How many stories?" You ask, glancing briefly from your show to watch Aaron slide beneath the covers.
"Seven." Aaron reports, "And honestly he could have wrestled an eighth out of me if he hadn't finally fallen asleep."
"You're a sucker," You grin, letting Aaron's arm snake around your waist, just in front of your computer as his nose presses into your neck.
"I know," He laments, his breath hot against the junction of your shoulder and your neck as he peers at your screen, "What are you watching?"
He doesn't recognize the name of the show you've got on, but you're not surprised. It's more of a Penelope show than an Aaron show, but he feigns interest for your sake.
"Put it on the tv," He murmurs, eyes drifting shut, "I'll watch with you."
"I can't. And no you won't." You laugh, a breathy sound as you melt into his side. You and Aaron seem to be magnetized in bed, sticking against each other and staying tightly wound together, "You're falling asleep."
"No I'm not," He grumbles into your neck, his voice thick with fatigue as he struggles to watch your computer screen, "Why can't you put it on the tv?"
"It's not on any streaming services."
You feel his brows furrow against your skin, "Hm?"
"It's on some shady website," You eye the url, afraid to even click the 'full screen' button, "I can only access it from my computer."
The magnetic attraction between you flips. All of a sudden he's pulling away, face set in that stony frown he levels kidnappers and serial killers with, "You're pirating a show?"
"Yeah?" You furrow your own brows, mirroring his expression back at him, "Who cares?"
"I work for the FBI." He informs you, like you'd missed that tidbit of information, "You know we have a whole department dedicated to catching people like you?"
"People like me?" You laugh incredulously, "Aaron, it's a shitty show from the mid-2000's that Netflix dropped months ago. It's nowhere to be found- unless you want to buy me the box set?"
"Absolutely not." He scoffs, "I'm reporting you. They'll be here in thirty minutes to cuff you and haul you away."
"You were watching it too!" You accuse, sticking an accusatory finger out towards him, "We're both guilty."
He groans into his pillow, crossing his arms in front of his chest to stop them from reaching for you, "I'm going to lose my job."
"Jack's going to have such a bad example- two criminals for parents."
"That's always how it starts," Aaron sighs, tucking his face into the pillow and stubbornly closing his eyes as if he's not still intrigued by your show, "Derek will be kicking down his door before he's ten."
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | smoking with eddie was supposed to help you relax... instead, it forced you to decide how far you're willing to go to keep your record clean.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.7k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | dubcon/noncon smut (oral m receiving and creampie), slight innocence kink, significant age gap, semi-public sex, kinda mean hopper, handcuffs, coercion, bargaining, abuse of power, very slight/ambiguous eddie x reader if you squint, thicc pre-season 4 hopper the way god intended, slight angst
Eddie did have a tendency to get a little paranoid during a smoke session— a side effect of the product— but maybe you should’ve listened to him this time.
“Do you hear that?” he hissed as you handed the rolled paper back to him. “Dude, there’s someone out there!"
“Who would be in the woods, this far from town, this late at night?” you rolled your eyes.
Well, the answer to that question is two-fold: stoners, and someone who’s looking for them.
A flashlight suddenly appeared from the trees, and your eyes went wide.
"Shit!" Eddie yelped, jumping up and tossing the joint— even though it was quite too late for that— and starting to run around like a chicken with its head cut off for somewhere to go. But he couldn't exactly hide behind a tree, because this wasn't a cartoon, and getting back in the car wouldn't really get him anywhere.
So, he ended up basically circling the van and slamming directly into Chief Hopper who looked even more pissed than he had when you first spotted him.
"Uh, hey— funny running into you here, Mr. Chief, sir," Eddie joked as you sighed in disappointment and irritation at his idiocy.
"Get back over there, dummy," Hopper groaned as he shoved Eddie aside, tossing the guy into you— you would've both fallen over if you hadn't basically caught him, and your friend looked pretty disoriented by the whole thing.
The chief flicked off his flashlight; it wasn’t actually really necessary, with how bright the moon was tonight, but your eyes had to adjust to the dark all over again.
"Two kids smokin' dope in the woods," Hopper observed. "Munson, this is far from our first conversation— but you—"
He ran his gaze over you as you leaned back against the back of the van, and you felt conflicted about your body's response to his sizing-up.
"I expected better from you."
He reached for the cuffs at his belt, quickly grabbing Eddie by the elbow and turning him around with an unceremonious thud against the van.
"H-hey, not so rough," Eddie chuckled thinly, "it's my first time."
You rolled your eyes; did he always have to make stupid jokes like that? "It is most certainly not, Munson," Hopper returned firmly. "And I'm sure the judge will take that into account before he goes easy on you again. You might wanna practice that 'not so rough' line again before you end up in jail, kid."
Eddie winced, and not from the tightness of the cuffs. He was finally taking this seriously— finally realizing he was looking at more than community service or a fine this time.
Hopper stepped up to you next, but you didn't put up nearly as much of a fight— and he was more gentle with you, far more… he even seemed to linger for a moment as he held your wrist.
It was incredibly subtle, but it was all it took for you to know you had a chance. A chance you were just desperate enough to take.
"Why?" you asked suddenly, heart already racing.
"Hm?"
"Why did you expect better from me?"
There was a silent moment as Hopper considered that question, and Eddie gave you a confused look.
"I heard you were a good girl," Hopper eventually answered.
You smirked a bit, turning around to face the chief with a feigned look of confidence. "Well, you heard wrong."
"V'never heard of you gettin' in this much trouble before," he replied. "Not with the law, at least."
"That's ‘cause I don't do bad things to get into trouble, sir," you added pointedly, looking up at him and seeing the look in his eyes change a bit. "I do bad things to get out of trouble."
You didn't really notice him getting closer until you felt it— felt that gap close as his body brushed against yours, and fuck he was tall 'cause you had to crane your neck all the way back to keep your eyes on his face (though they did briefly dart down to the badge on his chest).
"You know, I never saw you smoke," he noticed, voice lowering. "Maybe you were just an innocent bystander. You kinda have that look about you— innocent…"
He ran his finger over your jaw, until he was lifting your chin a little too forcefully.
"I like that," he added.
Your stomach dropped, but you couldn't back away— he had you pressed up against the van, every part of you was at his mercy now, even your freedom.
"Don't fucking touch her, pig," Eddie growled.
"Eddie, shut up," you snapped at him, not wanting him to dig the hole any deeper— or blow your chances of getting him out of it.
“Why don’t you get in the van and mind your own business, son,” Hopper encouraged, stepping away from you to hold up the key for Eddie’s cuff’s teasingly. “Think you can do that?”
Eddie sneered at first, looking away. “Ed, please,” you said, a little softer, and he sighed. Hopper approached Eddie, who looked like he was barely containing his rage and disgust, as the chief unlocked his cuffs less than a minute after he’d put them on.
“Old creep…” Eddie muttered under his breath when he was freed, rubbing his wrists nervously, before he looked at you. “Are you seriously gonna—?”
"Eddie," you said sternly. "Get. in. the van."
He groaned but obeyed, walking past you both with a grimace, hopping up in the driver's seat and shutting the door behind him.
"That your boyfriend?" Hopper asked when you were (sort of) alone.
You sighed. "Just a friend," you insisted.
"Hm," he replied, smirking a little. "Bet he wants you."
"What makes you think that?"
"'Cause who wouldn't?" he purred. "Body like this…"
You shivered as his hand ran down your back, slowing down as it slid over the curve of your ass.
"A boy that age would have no idea what to do around a body like yours, honey," Hopper added, humming as he brought his hand back up. "Need a real man to take care of all this."
"Didn't think this was about you taking care of me, Hop," you returned, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at him with his lip between his teeth. "Thought it was about working my way out of these cuffs."
He grinned at you, though it wasn't exactly a friendly smile. "No, baby— the cuffs are staying on."
As he pulled you into him, you felt a firm bulge rub against your hip; you gasped a little, fighting the urge to pull away, and tilted your head back as he leaned down to kiss your neck. "Eddie, too," you whispered. "If we do this, no charges for Eddie."
Hopper grunted disapprovingly, but you looked up with him with your best ‘please, Daddy’ eyes and bit your lip slightly. It wasn't quite enough for him, though. "What's in it for me if I get your friend off?"
"Whatever you want," you blurted out before you really considered what that might entail— you just couldn't let Eddie go to jail.
He purred and grabbed your ass tighter. "You drive a hard bargain, honey. But I can't promise anything until you show me what you can do."
Figuring what that likely meant, you slid down until you were on your knees, keeping your eyes up— on him. It would’ve been harder to keep your balance with your hands behind your back if it weren’t for the van’s bumper right behind you to lean on. “Y’gonna get it out for me?” you asked him expectantly, and he smirked at you a bit as he reached for his belt.
There was something about the way he sighed as he did it, about the way he had to reach under his thick belly to do this, about the way his heavy belt clinked as he opened it… you told yourself this was just about the bargain, but you knew there was more to it than that, on some level.
His cock was only half-hard when he pulled it out of his jeans, but already so thick— you were salivating already, but pretty fucking nervous, too. It was pretty overwhelming to be confronted with what you were about to do in such an obvious way: it all gets a lot more real when there’s a big fucking cock in your face.
Not wanting to make him wait anymore, you leaned forward and took the tip into your mouth, coating it in your spit as you suckled gently… at first.
He hummed a little— you honestly barely heard it— and stiffened a bit more in your mouth. Soon enough, it was so big that you had to keep your jaw open wide to fit it, and soreness was already starting to set in.
When you shut your eyes, it was a little easier; you were a little more confident, and you tightened your hands into fists behind your back to stop them from shaking. Leaning forward more, you took him deeper until his belly bumped against your forehead. Why did that make your thighs clench together?
His fingers combed over your hair, not quite guiding your head yet but certainly encouraging you to go on. "Yeah, fuck, that's good— that's really fucking good, keep sucking, baby…" he mumbled, voice thick and sweet like syrup. The deeper you took him, the more talkative he got; and when you took him all the way to the base, with your nose buried in a patch of curly hair, he moaned louder than ever.
"Shit," he hissed, grabbing the back of your head when you tried to pull away. "N-no, stay down, need to feel that throat a little longer, fuuuuck…"
You fought harder to pull back, getting dizzy as your coughs and sputters did nothing to give you air. Only when tears ran down your cheeks and spots filled your vision did he let go, giving you a chance to break away and gasp for air.
He was chuckling lowly as you coughed, smiling down at you proudly even though you weren't much of a sight right now— face swollen and wet with tears, red eyes (even worse than before), on your knees in the leaves and dirt…
"Stand up," he ordered, and you gave him a confused look as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.
"Huh?"
"Did I stutter?"
"Don't you wanna finish?"
He smiled wider. "That's cute— you were gonna swallow it, too, right? And you thought that would be enough?"
You started to feel particularly stupid as he yanked you up to your feet. There was a long, tense silence as he started touching you again— running his hands slowly over your waist, your neck, your hips…
He started to slowly push your shirt up, but his eyes stayed trained on your face; you must have looked, for once, as nervous as you felt.
He hummed a little as he got your shirt high enough and tugged your bra down; your nipples hardened right away from the chilly breeze, and he toyed with them for a second with his thumbs before groping your chest more confidently with his whole hands— god, they were big, and strong, just like the rest of him.
After unbuttoning your jeans for you, he turned you around quickly and pressed himself against your backside with a purr, slipping a hand down the front of your pants and into your panties. “Mm,” he emphasized, cupping you and holding you tightly; still cuffed, the position made your hands grab onto his thighs through his pants.
He groaned as his fingers slid between your lips, and you let out a quiet whimper of your own.
"Oh, fuck— look how wet you are, sweetie," he cooed beside your ear, starting to rub circles around your clit a bit too roughly. "You like sucking cock in the woods? Or is it the cuffs?"
You only whimpered a little as he held you tighter.
"Or," he continued, speaking even closer to your ear until his mustache tickled your skin, "is it whoring yourself for a man twice your age? Is that what gets you off, honey?"
He didn't wait too long for you to answer— he must've known you weren't going to— before he pulled his hand out of your pants and yanked the denim down. You felt cold and weird and stupid with your bare ass out in the woods; you swallowed down a lump in your throat when you heard Hop shoving his pants lower, too. "Do you have a condom?" you asked shakily.
"You think I bring condoms on patrol? What kind of cop do you think I am?"
My pants are around my thighs, Hop, I don't think you're exactly clean…
"No, baby, we don't need one anyways," he decided, rubbing his head around your flexing hole with a sigh. "God, it's so wet…"
That was his last warning, if you can call it that, before pushing inside; and you accidentally grabbed onto his shirt when your fingers made fists, the sting of pain making your toes curl inside your shoes, too. You bit your lip so you wouldn’t be too loud, though… you remembered, for a second, that Eddie would hear if you weren’t careful. That made guilt churn your stomach even more than the Chief’s hand coming down to spank your ass all of a sudden.
“Damn, s’tight,” he chuckled darkly, groaning as he picked up his pace and held your hips steady. “Sweet fuckin’ pussy… y’like it, sweetie, y’like being fucked?”
Swallowing, you nodded. “Y-yeah,” you panted softly.
“Louder, honey.”
“Yeah, I like it,” you replied, a little more confident but not exactly ready to shout it out, either. “Feels good…"
"Bet you wanna cream all over me, huh, baby?"
Well, that would certainly make this more enjoyable— but you didn't need to, really; the pain of the stretch had finally faded and honestly, you were surprised it happened so quickly. With how thick he was, you were prepared to struggle longer, but if anything your body was giving in, encouraging him, making your back arch deeper and your walls pulse whenever he filled you to the brim.
His hands reached around to cup your tits, and he moaned louder as he felt you up while he fucked you. When his fingers tweaked your nipples— not too hard, but still a startle— you tensed up inside; and he noticed. “Oh, they’re sensitive, hm? Sweet girl…”
Of course, he just did it repeatedly, and more aggressively, until your legs were shaking and you let out a pathetic whine. “Chief, c’mon…” you pleaded nervously.
“Chief? Don’t need to be so formal, honey,” he laughed, leaning in a little closer. “Just call me Jim, okay?”
You really didn’t wanna do that, and you were having a hard time getting much of anything out now anyways: he’d started fucking you harder, deeper, a lot faster… your head was spinning. At first you’d really just wanted to get this over with, but right now, you never wanted it to stop. It was so difficult to keep your thoughts straight, you almost told him that, before noticing what a stupid thing that would be to say—
“Fuck, are you close?” he taunted.
“Don’t stop!” you blurted out. “Please don’t stop, fuck…”
He chuckled proudly, and yep, it was just as stupid a thing to say as you thought it would be; he sounded way too cocky now, and even the way he moved his hips seemed to be more… gloating, than before, if that’s possible. “Little slut,” he spat, though the insult sounded just as much like a compliment.
“Fuck,” you whispered again.
“I get it, y’know— you’re young and you need a little rebellion,” he said, and in your current state it really didn’t make any sense. “But reefer’s not worth the trouble. Why don’t you just let me fuck you when you’re feeling naughty?”
Right now, that didn’t seem like too bad of an idea; you already got the sense this may not be the last time this happened, even if he didn’t catch you smoking pot again. That feeling was already swelling up inside you, and your throat was dry from breathing heavily— and nearly sore from moaning, even though you’d been trying to fight it. Your eyes kept rolling back in your head even when they were shut, which they usually were until he brushed your hair aside with his hand and told you to look back at him.
And damn, he was a sight: that look in his eyes was unforgettable, the strain on his face as he drove himself into you over and over. The curve of his cock stretched you in a way you’d never really felt before, his grip on you was so aggressive and his pace was overwhelming. He was right, it turns out, when he said that thing before about Eddie and how you needed a ‘real man’ instead. You protested to that term, but compared to guys your age, this was entirely different— and better. And supremely fucked up. And the best dirty deal you’d ever made.
“I-I’m close,” you finally admitted.
“I know,” he mumbled, “go ahead, baby— just come for me.”
It was the way he said it that shook you so much, unexpectedly gentle after so much gruff mocking; it still took you a few more minutes, but you ended up obeying his command pretty easily.
He felt it when you came, groaning through a smile and praising you in a low voice. You could even hear it, the sticky sound as your cunt soaked him, and he snarled as he looked down at it— he grabbed your ass and pulled it out of the way so he could watch his cock fill your hole. “God, that’s perfect,” he announced, “you’re so fucking cute.”
Not really the adjective I was expecting after I came on your dick, but I guess I’ll take it.
“Wanna make you do it again,” he admitted, making you swallow nervously, “but we don’t have much more time… and I’m so goddamn close, fuck, you’re just so tight, honey…”
You whimpered and bit your lip, your post-orgasm haze working overtime to keep your shame at bay— but the clarity was due any second now, and it was hard to ignore who this was when he kept moaning louder and louder, sighing your name, touching you and running his hand down your back and promising to fill you with his load—
Wait, he’s gonna do what?
"Pull out," you whimpered. "Fuck— pull out…"
He only held on tighter to your hips, driving into you deeper as his head fell back in a grunt.
"Hop, pull out!" you yelped, only for a thick, clammy hand to cover your mouth as he bent down behind you— his forehead rested on the back of your shoulder, each hot breath fanning over your skin.
"God, sorry, I'm sorry," he panted, "need this— fuck, so good…"
You struggled harder, but all your strength was useless compared to him holding you there, keeping you exactly how he wanted you.
"Ah, fuck— you don't need to fight it, baby, s'gonna be so good… your pussy's milking me, c'mon, it's what she wants— she wants to be filled up, I can tell. You want it, baby? You want me to come? Fuck I'm so close…"
He grunted a few more times before he suddenly stopped— his hips pressed forward until he couldn’t go possibly any deeper, then even just a little more after that; he held you tight as a tear ran down over his hand on your face. Relaxing with a heavy exhale, his grip loosened on you slightly but you were far too weak to fight it now, so you just stayed there: bent over, still crying slightly, with a panting and heavy man just behind you (and inside you) catching his breath.
“Fuck,” he said again, pulling out quickly and letting you go; you didn’t realize how weak your legs were until you had to hold onto the van to stay up, awkwardly lowering your bare, sore bottom onto the small lip of the back bumper so you wouldn’t just fall to the ground.
You were pretty out of it for a minute; the smell of cigarette smoke brought you back to reality, and you looked at Hopper, having a smoke as he looked out into the woods. He caught you staring, and raised an eyebrow. “Y’want one?” he offered, and you nodded.
Fishing the pack out of his pocket, he shook out a cigarette for you, holding it for you to lean forward and capture with your lips. After lighting it for you, he watched you take a long drag and sigh.
“I’ll take you out of the cuffs in a minute,” he promised, but you’d already kind of forgotten about them.
He did, though; help you out of them, that is, and you were able to get your clothes back in order on your own after that. You wondered if you should say something, or if he should. What was there to say? Thanks for the bribe? Nice cock? Pleasure doing business with you?
So, he didn’t say anything, and neither did you. Until just as he was starting to walk away, and you noticed his flashlight had fallen from his belt onto the ground.
“Wait,” you said, leaning down to grab it, and when you stood up to hand it back to him, you saw something strange in his expression. You wondered, for a second, if he’d been hoping for more when you said that. “You dropped this.”
He took the flashlight and nodded at you. “Thanks,” he said, and you took the last drag of your lended cigarette as you nodded; watching him leave, you dropped the butt to the ground and snuffed it out with your shoe.
For some reason, you waited a little longer after he left to get back in the van’s passenger side. Eddie didn’t look at you when you got in, and you didn’t say anything; he just started the van silently and began the drive back to the trailer park. You were halfway there when you decided you should let him know, “you’re not going to jail.”
PETALLLLLL i’m gonna need some eddie smut it ur feeling up to it!!
I’m thinking like eddie and reader have mutual friends (the rest of the gang) and they get along fine, but don’t really know how to act around each other so they end up just clinging to one of the others to avoid looking stupid in front of each other. But one night they’re all hanging out, having a glass of wine and yap sesh and end up bonding over something, like maybe someone says their opinion on something and reader and eddie are the only ones who disagree? Idk. But that makes them kinda stick together for the rest of the night and they end up falling asleep on the couch together or something?? Idk what kind of stuff you’re comfortable writing, but if you want to add some dirty talking smut in there i’d love that sorry im bad at requesting i swear my mind just blanks the second i go to request
to request • eddie’s masterlist • petal’s masterlist
Friend of a Friend
Eddie Munson x afab!Henderson!Reader
Summary: It isn’t the first time your living room has been filled with the voices of the lovely people you wouldn’t know if not for your brother. It definitely won’t be the last. It is, however, the first time you’ve said more than a few words at a time to the strange, friendly, denim clad man that Dustin is so enamoured with. Finally now, you see what Dustin sees, and more…
hiiii!!! i’m sorry if being dustin’s sister isn’t quite what you had in mind, but i am a SUCKER for henderson!reader so here we are… but i hope you like it!!! i’m trying to pump out ST content before I watch the first half of st5 today!!!! Thank you so much for requesting! Love, Petal
word count: 2.7k (not proofread)
Warnings: swearing, smut, alcohol, making out, marking, grinding, slight dirty talk, dry humping, nipple sucking, premature ejaculation, dubcon (the kind where you’ve both had a little bit to drink)
You'd given up your spot on the couch so Max could sit there- she didn't know you did that of course, but that's why you sat on the floor, in between Steve and Robin, and across from Eddie.
These group hang outs were a very regular occurrence, a more recent occurrence was them happening at your house. Ever since you and Dustin's mom switched to the night shift, that left an open and empty house each night, perfect for dnd, movie nights, or game nights, like tonight.
Right now you were playing some card game Dustin learned at nerd camp. Or everyone else was. Dustin had tried a dozen times to teach you but you found it confusing, and a little boring. So you and Steve were on a in which you and him both worked together, but you somewhat threw him to the wolves, and he was losing terribly.
You often had trouble fitting in, into any group. Of course, these were some of the most welcoming people ever, but you struggled a bit. For the longest time, you just felt like you were the weird older sister, inserting herself into her little brothers friend group. Then organically, you got closer with Steve, he'd become your best friend. Of course, you felt weird, inserting yourself in his plans with him and Robin, but then you were more than welcome, and now Robin is your other best friend.
You knew all of these people well. Except Eddie. At first, you didn't like him, some strange, grown up super senior who you knew was into drugs, hanging around your sweet little brother. But then you realized it wasn't much different than Steve, and Steve was great. Eddie proved himself to be just as great pretty quickly.
Still however, you were just painfully awkward around him, he picked up on it, so he became just as awkward. It wasn't entirely his fault, you just sucked at being around new people. It happened with Robin, Steve, each of Dustin's friends. You remembered the day your family was invited over to the Wheelers' for dinner. 'Go play with Nancy!' just for you to stand awkwardly in her room while she read a book.
Eddie was different though. Maybe it was because he was loud, abrasive, unpredictable. Maybe the rumours you heard about him had some kind of influence, which you really hoped wasn't the case. But he just turned you into an idiot whenever he was around. But it was much easier with extra people, that's why you were wedged tight in between Robin and Steve, Using them as a shield.
"Seven?" Steve whispered to you, showing you the cards in his hand, and all you could do was shrug and nod. You had no idea, and neither did he. He shrugged back to you, went with 7, and lost 3 points for you both.
He groaned, threw his head back, all of the dramatics he displayed with a few beers in his system, the alcohol in your own had you giggling airily.
"What if maybe we played a game that isn't impossible?" He grumbled, only earning a few eye rolls and another giggle from yourself.
You perked up, leaning forward, "Let's play canasta!" You offered, receiving what seemed like extreme disagreement from all around your coffee table. You shrugged. "What's wrong with canasta?"
Dustin rolled his eyes, "canasta totally sucks."
"No it doesn't!"
You and Eddie spoke in unison, eyes finding each others. His lips quirked upward into a smirk that made you feel like you were going to throw up- in a good way.
He nodded at you. "Canasta, Dustin, requires strategy and patience and it is a fantastic game." he said, lolling his head to the side as he looked up at Dustin through his eyelashes, arms crossed over his chest in disagreement.
You nod in support of him, subconsciously copying his form, arms over your own chest "And plus it's way more fun." You look up at your younger brother where he sits on the couch where he looks down at you, entirely unconvinced. You hear Steve snort and you look over at him with a pout.
He shrugs at you, laughing under his breath at your face, at this conversation. "This game blows... but canasta? fat chance." He shakes his head, taking a sip of his beer.
You huff and stand. "Whatever- i'm sitting with Eddie, since he has half decent opinions. I'll be on his team." You said- despite the fact that this game didn't have teams, Dustin just threw you and Steve together because he figured that two halves of a brain put together make one whole brain.
As you walked around the table to Eddie, your heart leaped into your throat. The wine and cherry vodka were controlling your legs for you, bringing you over to the musician and plopping you down alongside him. Forward as ever, and encouraged by his own beers, his arm quickly wrapped around you. Much to your surprise, but not at all to your dismay.
The game went pretty smoothly after that, minimal conversation, it was the kind of game you had to really focus on- not your kind of game. Steve lost and Max won, unsurprisingly. As it came to a close, you helped Robin put away cards and Eddie stood for a smoke break, walking outside your front door.
Less than a minute had gone by before you saw Eddie's jacket on the floor where he had been sitting. It was chilly out; crisp autumn leaves falling to the ground under the night sky. He was only wearing a short sleeve shirt, he must be cold.
Before you could decide what to do, it seemed you were already walking outside, jacket in hand.
He smiled when he saw you, gratefully taking the jacket from you and tilting his head back, beckoning you to stay outside with him. You smiled, pulling yourself up onto the ledge of your patio, leaning against the pillar.
"So... d'you only talk when your drinking?" He asked sheepishly, pointing at you with the jacket in his hand. You can only roll your eyes and shake your head.
"I'm just weird with people- for a while at least. I'm not really good at making friends or having conversations and stuff." You shrug.
He nods, in support, maybe in a deeper understanding that lies beneath the words he doesn't say. "I think you're alright." He says, moving closer to you and draping his jacket over your shoulders. Obviously you'd brought it out for him, but that doesn't mean you don't appreciate the thick fabric protecting you from the icy Hawkins air.
"Can I tell you somethin'?" You asked him, he nodded. When did he get so close, you wonder. "I'm not real good at canasta either.." You blush, like you'd told your deepest secret.
He barked out a loud laugh, throwing his head back before looking at you, bemused face contrasting your sheepish one entirely.
"I don't even know what canasta is-" He grinned. "I just didn't want you to be on your own against those punks. Team canasta till death." He chuckled, and you couldn't help but laugh with him. He was so close. You could smell the cigarettes on his breath, and the cherry chapstick you'd seen him put on earlier.
"I'm sorry I didn't... socialize with you sooner... I always feel like i'm taking over Dustin's friends, i don't have many of my own" You laugh and he shakes his head.
"This is good, you’re alright."
His simple affirmation had you reeling. You could feel your face burning with your blush, but it was chilly out, so maybe he'd assume it was from the cold. But the smirk on his face told you otherwise.
He leaned in a little closer. “I could’ve made the effort to get to know you, I mean I should’ve” He laughed softly. “I didn’t know you were just shy, Figured you must’ve just hated me or somethin’” He laughed, but in return you just shook your head and pouted.
“What? Of course I never hated you- just dunno how to talk to you. You’re so cool and- loud…” You let out an exhale that was close to a laugh and he laughed in return.
He moved closer again, his knee bumping yours, you could feel his breath on your face, and surely this instance had you feeling more drunk than anything you’d had to drink.
“It’s okay… I’ve never been to sure how to talk to someone as sweet and pretty as you.” He looked down at you, tongue in cheek. His eyes were on your lips, unmoving. You might not be the smartest person ever, but you weren’t dumb, you knew what was happening.
“If you want to kiss me, you can..”
The biggest smirk you’d ever seen, and then his lips were on yours, his big hands finding the sides of your face to hold you still, rings cold on your blushing skin. His hips slot between your legs where they spread as you sat on the rail of your patio and you shivered.
Timidly, your hands moved to his waist, gripping his shirt as he kissed you deeper, tongue sliding over your bottom lip. You didn’t quite know how you got here, but you weren’t complaining either.
“Y’know I noticed you way before I ever met Dustin.. thought you were breathtaking” He whispered, trailing kisses from your lips, down your neck.
“R-really? How come you never said anything?” You asked, out of breath over so little. He snickered in your ear as his tongue found your lobe, making you whimper in his ear, which had him already aching in the restriction of his jeans.
His hand slid under your shirt, slowly, resting on your stomach so that you could protest. When you didn’t, his hand slid up further, infighting goosebumps over your ribs. “You were always hangin’ around King Steve- didn’t think I was the kind of guy you wanted talking to you… now look at you.” He smirked, burying his head in your neck.
You tilted your head to the side to give him more room at the same time as you pulled him closer to you by his shirt. “You are.. the kind of guy I want talkin’ to me” You whispered, one of your legs hooking around the back of one of his. You didn’t consider the fact that you were outside, that any one of your friends, your brother, could see you through the window if they peaked out the curtain. You couldn’t really bring yourself to care about anything except for Eddie’s lips on your skin and the heat he brought between your legs.
He laughed against your collarbone, tongue snaking long the divot there. “Yeah I got that now” He laughed, one hand sliding to your back, holding you up as he leaned into you, the other hand gripping your breast, kneading the soft flesh in his hand. “Look at you… Not so shy now.” He whispered against your skin, as if he wasn’t just as awkward around you.
Your hands moved up his chest to rest on his neck. “You’re not hard to feel good with.” You answered as if he’d asked a question. Your words earned a smirk twice the size of the one that seemed to just permanently rest on his face.
“Got that right.” He laughed, Rolling his hips against yours, and you both let out a strangled moan each, wanting to be quiet but the alcohol and lust was taking over you both. “So fuckin’ perfect, look at you… sound just as pretty as you taste.”
His words had you whimpering, each sound you made had him going crazy, his head hurt from how overwhelmed with his own lust he was.
You push your hips toward him, grateful for the form fit of his jeans, you could feel his entire length against your core. “Shit..” You whimpered, eyes catching his, he smirked, humming in question. “You feel so big.” a whisper from your lips, your gaze quickly moving down to memorize the shape of him.
He groaned, blushing himself. He buried his face in your neck again, sucking on the skin below your pulse point, humming softly. It had you whimpering, a domino effect. Your whimper, his hips jerking, you moaning and scratching at his neck when you felt his length push against your heat once more, you rolled your hips, and suddenly you were both just grinding desperately against one another.
His hand gripped at your chest and you pulled your shirt up for him to see better, which had his eyes bugging out of his head, before those soft pink lips of his were wrapped around your nipple.
You moaned at the feeling, it was drunkening and you heard, and felt him laugh around your hardening bud. It felt fantastic, but you missed the feeling of him.
So, you grabbed his hair, not hard, but firm. Guiding him back up to your face, and kissing him deeply, teeth catching on his bottom lip.
Eddie let out a broken whine, sounding almost startled, but beyond blissful. Your sudden confidence had his knees weak, your mouth on his, your hand in his hair. But what was the end of him, was your hand grabbing his already sensitive dick through his jeans.
His breath caught in his throat, he looked up at you with his mouth hung open, eyes wide, needy, grateful, guilty. You felt the new warmth on your hand before you actually realized anything, and with the long, drawn out moan that was close to a sigh, you realized.
“Holy shit..” You smirked, he only blushed as deeply as anyone possibly could, staring at you wide eyed. “Did you just cum in your fucking pants?” You asked, a smile painting your voice.
He shook his head before he nodded. “I- Shit- I’m so sorry-” He stammered, stepping back. He was about to continue his apologetic, embarrassed ramble before you cut him off.
“Don’t be sorry! That was kind of.. like, extremely hot. It’s okay, I’m not bothered” You pulled him back closer to you.
“Jesus… thank you” He said, awkward not knowing what to say, not sure what exactly he was thanking you for, still blushing. You didn’t really know what to say either, it was laughable how quickly the air of awkwardness had returned between the two of you. But you didn’t feel nervous, not at all.
He kissed his teeth, looking down at himself and then back up at you. “What do I even do about this? Leave?” He laughed, but you knew he was embarrassed, and you didn’t want him to leave.
“You can take a shower… I have some of Steve’s clothes in my room, they’ll fit you.” You offered with a smile and he raised an eye brow at you.
“Why do you have Harrington’s clothes in your room?” He pried, a teasing lilt to his voice that let you know you didn’t have to answer. “Thank you, really.” He said, a genuine smile before he helped you off the fence.
You walked slowly, aching from the wood that had been digging into your ass for the longest time, you hadn’t noticed, how could you when there was Eddie to focus on.
You stared at his back as you both walked to the front door. “Hey.. why don’t you stick around tonight? I’m sure Dustin wouldn’t mind.. maybe we can hang out tomorrow?” You asked, heart pounding in your chest.
He turned back to you and smirked. “Yeah, I guess I can take you on a Date or somethin’” He said as he opened the door for you to enter first.
He walked to the bathroom, and you hoped your blush wasn’t noticeable as you found Steve in your kitchen.
You tapped his shoulder, bringing his attention to you rather than the food in your fridge. “Eddie’s gonna take a shower, I told him he could wear some of the clothes you have here” You said, leaning back against the counter.
Steve nodded absently before he actually looked at you, his eyes flitting from your messy hair, to your pink cheeks, hickey on your neck, and finally Eddie’s jacket still hanging off your shoulders.
summary | late nights listening to music lead to late-stage realizations (aka, jonathan finally realizes you have a thing for him)
warnings | childhood best friends, reader likes pop music, minor steve harrington slander if you squint, don't fact check my 80s pop culture references, got this idea while listening to dizzy on the comedown by turnover, fluff
word count | 2.6k
Your gasp rivaled the too-loud volume of The Clash's latest album spinning in Jonathan's record player, sat up on the old vinyl shelf that always looked to be one ill-timed breath in its direction from collapsing.
Jonathan was on the floor beside you. He sat with his back against the side of his messily made bed, your socked feet resting in his lap as he read some comic Will had asked him to check out.
At your gasp, he immediately looked up.
You shot him a toothy grin from over the top of this month's Teen Beat. "You'll never guess what happened."
The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "Try me," he dared.
Flipping the magazine around, you tapped excitedly at a blurry photo of Cher and Val Kilmer, caught locking lips in the back of a limo after some glitzy Hollywood party.
"They're dating!"
Jonathan dropped the comic, putting on his best I Love Gossip voice. “You're kidding."
You cut your eyes and flipped the magazine back around. "Don't mock me, J."
"Does that sound like something I would do?"
"Indubitably," you announced, dramatically turning a page.
"No," said Jonathan. "It's just, it's exactly like you said." It was obvious he was trying hard to stay serious, to keep that shy smile of his from taking over. "I can't believe it."
Laughing, you tossed the magazine at his face.
He dodged, but only barely, too busy laughing right along with you.
If Joyce was home, now would've been when she'd knock on Jonathan's door. Exhausted, yet kind as ever, she would've reminded you both that it was quarter past nine and she had work in the morning. Just...try to keep it down, okay?
If Will was home, then approximately five minutes ago would've been when he'd invited himself inside, settling on Jonathan's bed to hover sweetly over the top of you and Who's dating? while craning his neck for a better view of the magazine.
But they were both out right now. Joyce working a closing shift at Melvald's, and your favorite drama queen playing D&D at a friend's house.
It was only you. Only Jonathan.
And The Clash, of course.
"You're insufferable," you eventually told him, still glaring playfully.
Jonathan squeezed your foot. "Says the one obsessed with crappy magazines."
"Oh I'm sorry, J — am I too lame for you? Is my love for pop culture ruining your street cred?"
Another laugh framed his pretty brown eyes with the most precious crinkles. "Who says street cred?" he asked incredulously.
"Lame-os, apparently."
It was his turn to cut his eyes. "If either of us lame," he contended, "it's definitely me."
The urge to frown was unbearable, but you tried resisting it.
Jonathan talking down on himself was a frequent occurrence. He'd always been insecure, even back in elementary school when you were both too young to know why older kids picked on him for his too-big coat and out-of-style sneakers.
High school had made it worse, though. A lot worse.
Sometimes you wished all of Hawkins High could see Jonathan the way you saw him. Understatedly funny with impeccable music taste; a photographer NYU would be lucky to teach; smarter than half this damned town and caring to a fault.
Other times — selfish, greedy times — you were glad they didn't.
Hawkins didn't deserve Jonathan, anyway.
Gently, you nudged him in the stomach with your foot. "If you're lame, then I'm lame by association," you told him. "Which actually means you're not lame at all, because I—" you laid a hand on your chest "—am the coolest person to ever exist."
"Didn't you just call yourself a lame-o?"
"Have you never heard of a joke, J? A bit of witticism? An old chestnut, even!"
With a groan that was both embarrassed on your behalf and thoroughly amused, Jonathan tossed his head back against the bed. "Great," he said to the ceiling. "So we're both lame."
You had full intent to argue for argument's sake, to make some exuberant claim as to why you were the furthest thing from lame (as if you weren't spending a Saturday night on your best friend's bedroom floor raving over celebrity romance while wearing fuzzy socks with cat in rainboots on them) when the room went totally silent.
The album had ended.
Jonathan lifted his head.
The two of you shared a look.
And then—
You shrieked when Jonathan shoved your feet of his lap, both of you scrambling to get off the floor. His room became a flurry of limbs and shouts and shoves, each fighting the other to cross the mere feet that separated you from the decrepit vinyl shelf.
Jonathan beat you.
"No fair," you whined. He was already lifting The Clash record off the platter and sliding it back into its sleeve. "You picked the last two albums. It's my turn, Byers!"
"You know the rules," he teased. "You snooze you lose."
"We should play rock-paper-scissors for it."
He dragged a finger over the records on his shelf, deciding which to play next. "You wouldn't say that if I was the one who lost."
"It's not losing if the competition's rigged!"
This whole Race to the Record Player thing was an unfair challenge. Not only were his legs longer than yours, but he had home-field advantage! His room was in such disarray that if you ran too fast, you were likely to twist your ankle on a lone Converse living under a denim jacket.
Jonathan turned his head to smile at you. It was so boyish and sweet, so unknowingly adorable, that you almost forgot to stay mad at him.
"You know," he said, "no one likes a sore loser."
An Oh, phooey! was already halfway up your throat when he slid a record out and showed it to you for approval.
One look at the cover and your Oh, phooey fizzled into a gasp.
"You're kidding!"
Jonathan's taste was eclectic but leaned into post-punk rock territory. Talking Heads, Joy Division, The Psychedelic Furs. Spending so much time with him meant you had come to love all those bands too — but unlike him, you weren't immune to the bubblegum bite of the pop-music bug.
Cyndi Lauper was your new favorite artist.
And now — in Jonathan's beautiful, beautiful hand — was her first ever studio album, She's So Unusual.
Released less than a week ago, there was no way he'd gotten it without spending a pretty penny. A valuable penny. One that could've been given to Joyce for extra groceries or put aside to replace the starter in his car. He could've even bought himself a new record, instead of spending hard-earned money on an album he wouldn't even listen to outside of your presence.
"Remember when I called you insufferable?" you asked.
He tipped his head to one side, pretty brown eyes crinkling as he pretended to think. "Vaguely."
"Well consider this my apology."
Before he could react, you lifted onto your toes and grabbed his face in your hands, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek. His skin was soft, a little prickly where he'd missed a few spots shaving. He turned red so fast you felt warmth bloom under your lips. When you pulled back, admiring his new cherry complexion, you decided you liked making Jonathan blush.
Trying to seem unfazed, Jonathan busied himself with putting the record on. "I'll take it under consideration," he said, but the awkward way he cleared his throat before speaking made it obvious: you were definitely forgiven.
He lowered the needle. Money Changes Everything floated through his room, a lively beat that made your bones tingle.
You flopped backwards onto his bed, sighing comfortably. It smelled like him, bar soap and laundry detergent. If he hadn't turned to face you, you probably would've buried your nose in the sheets.
"So." You needed to talk. Otherwise you'd spend too much time admiring how cute he looked, unsure what to do with his hands, unable to hold your gaze but incapable of looking away. "Will," you said.
Concern took him immediately. "What about Will?"
You laughed. "Calm your engine, sports car. I was just gonna ask if he was going to the Snow Ball."
The infamous middle school dance was next weekend. An old teacher of yours had reached out to ask if you'd help with snacks for it, and you maybe promised to bake and ice two hundred cupcakes by next Friday — a venture you fully planned on wrangling Jonathan into.
Jonathan shrugged. "I don't know...I think so."
"Good," you chirped. Because if he'd said no, you would've had to conjure a last-minute plan to convince Will that school dances were So Cool and not Life Ruining Awful. "What about you?"
He gave you a look. "I'm pretty sure I aged out of middle school dances."
You chucked a pillow at him. "Not the Snow Ball, dummy. Our dance."
Winter's Dream, they were calling it. They being Hawkins High's budget friendly planning committee consisting of cheerleaders and theater kids. According to the fliers, the whole gym would be transformed into an ethereal frozen paradise — cotton ball clouds strung from the ceiling along with papier-mâché snowflakes; plenty of twinkle lights; fake snow covering the linoleum.
They had made crowns, too, for whichever lucky students were voted to be the Winter King & Queen. Everyone was gossiping over who would be crowned queen.
There was no doubt who would be king.
Jonathan edged towards the bed. Sat, and immediately started fiddling with a stray thread on his black jeans. "I don't know. Probably not."
"Trick question." You shot up straight, knocking your shoulder into his. "You're definitely going. So, onto our next question: who are you gonna ask to be your date?"
You expected him to say 'I don't know' again.
Instead, he reluctantly replied: "Who's your date?"
You bit your lip against a smile. "No one."
"No one's asked you?"
"No one worth saying yes to." Truth was, there was only one person you'd say yes to. "Connie heard that Steve Harrington's gonna ask me on Monday, but you know Connie. You'd be better trusting a call-in psychic."
"You love call-in psychics."
"But I don't trust them," you said, bumping his shoulder again.
Jonathan kept picking at the thread on his jeans.
On accident, he snapped it right off.
"Well...if Steve asks," he started, still focused on his lap, "will you...I don't know, say yes, or..."
Do you want me to say yes?
"I'm offended," you said solemnly. "Honestly, you're supposed to be my best friend, J! If you don't know that I'm gonna tell Steve Harrington where to shove it, then who will?"
He forced a chuckle. "I don't know...I mean, it wouldn't so...strange, I guess, to think maybe you'd actually want to go with him."
"Why? Because he's got nice hair and a BMW?"
Brown eyes flicked to yours in a sidelong look that said Uh, yeah?
Your jaw fell. "Don't tell me you really think that a BMW is all it takes to win me over."
"Of course not," defended Jonathan. Then, with a too-shy smile: "I think nice hair is all it takes to win you over."
You reached back for his other pillow and whacked him in the face with it. He burst out laughing, stole the pillow, and tossed it clear across the room.
That didn't stop you.
You swatted his arms, his chest, shouting I can't believe you! and Take it back, dummy! Jonathan just kept laughing, dodging hits and trying to catch your wrists, failing and resorting to tickling your sides.
You didn't know how you ended up on top of him. Only that you were, both of you smiling and breathless, your hands pinning his wrists to the bed on either side of his head.
In the background, Time After Time hummed so softly you worried he could hear the sound of your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.
"I take it back," you mumbled, making his brow furrow. "Turns out you really are insufferable."
"Because I don't think you're immune to King Steve's charm?"
"Because you're an idiot." You let go of one of his wrists. His chest froze mid-breath, your fingertips grazing just above his eyebrows, brushing a strand of hair to the side. "Steve Harrington's not the only boy with nice hair, y'know."
Pretty brown eyes were blown wide, his throat working around a swallow. "My hair is...bad."
"To you, maybe." He never complained, but you knew he'd never liked that they didn't have enough money for his hair to be anything but a product of love and kitchen scissors. "I think it's perfect," you whispered, when what you meant was I think you're perfect.
Because he was, wasn't he? Always playing along with your silly Hollywood gossip, buying records he wouldn't like because he knew it'd make you happy.
How could I ever want Steve Harrington, you wondered, when Jonathan exists?
Stupidly, you murmured, "Hey."
He said it back, just as stupid.
"I've got an idea," you said. "What if we go to the dance?"
You weren't sure his eyes could get any wider. "As...friends?" he asked.
"Or a date," you suggested too quickly. "Unless you think it'll hurt your street cred, being spotted with some pop culture lame-o."
"What happened to being the coolest person to ever exist?"
"Depends on the moment." And right now, you certainly felt like a lame-o.
Jonathan considered a long moment, gazing at you all the while.
Finally, he said, "I don't have anything to wear."
"I'm sure we could find something."
"I don't have a BMW, either."
You cut your eyes and leaned in so close that the tips of your noses nearly touched. "If you allude to Steve Harrington even one more time," you threatened, "I promise to smear blue icing all over your face."
His brow furrowed. "And you just...keep icing on you, or...?"
"Did I not tell you?" you asked, knowing full well you hadn't. "I signed us up to bake two hundred cupcakes for Will's dance."
"Two hundred?!"
"Oh, c'mon! It's for your brother," you told him. "I'll even let you lick the whisk!"
"Is that supposed to convince me?"
"Convincing implies choice, which last I checked, I didn't give you."
An easy laugh tumbled from his lips. Without thinking, he brought the hand you'd freed up to your waist, squeezing light enough to make you squirm at the tickling sensation. "Have you ever considered that maybe you're the insufferable one?" he asked.
You shook your head. "Not even once."
His gaze flitted to your lips. You thought of all the times you'd wanted kiss Jonathan over the years, imagining what it'd be like to feel the warmth of his mouth and taste his toothpaste on your tongue, and wondered if maybe, just maybe, he'd been wanting to do the same.
He brought his hand to your face. Grazed his knuckles along the curve of your cheek, so soft you could barely feel it.
He swallowed. Asked, "Can I—"
The door swung open.
Will stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, a cheerful "I'm home!" cut short when he caught sight of you straddling his older brother.
None of you spoke.
Then Will darted back into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him as he shouted, "ABOUT TIME!"
You immediately started laughing.
"This isn't funny," Jonathan protested, cheeks flushed. "You know he can't keep a secret. He's gonna tell Mike, who's gonna tell his sister, who's probably gonna tell the whole school and then—"
You shut him by running your fingers through his hair.
"So. About that dance," you said. "Are we going?"
He looked at you like you were crazy. Like he was so sure this was all some mistake, a prank gone too far. You couldn't actually want him to be your date, and any minute now he was counting on you to remember that, to say so and send all the surreal beauty of this moment crashing down around him.
But that never happened.
So he gave you a faint teasing smile and said, "Pick me up at eight."
// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //
a/n | don't mind me, just thinking of all the ways the Winter's Dream dance could go (+ making cupcakes with Jonathan). ugh.
